Georgiana burst into tears.
Mr. Darcy’s faith that I could help his sister was utterly misplaced. Apparently, I have uttered exactly the wrong words.
Awkwardly, she pulled out her own handkerchief and offered it to the young woman. She grabbed it and industriously mopped up tears. “F-forgive me for being s-such a watering pot,” she said between sobs. “B-But…you understand! You…I have never been able to account for these sentiments to another woman. Everyone else simply says I only need to meet the right man.”
Oh, I did not cause her pain. In fact, she now realized, Georgiana’s breakdown greatly resembled Elizabeth’s when she spoke to Mr. Darcy by the stream. “Perhaps you will meet the right man, but I know many women who never marry and are quite happy. Although they have an appalling tendency to be poor. At least that does not need to concern you.”
Georgiana gave her a watery smile.
“It seems to me you need not make a decision about marriage at this moment. You are still quite young,” Elizabeth continued.
The girl’s face sobered. “No, I am not. I am to make my debut, and I will already be older than most of the girls.”
Oh. Now Elizabeth was getting a clearer picture of the dilemma. “You do not want to enter the marriage mart.” It was not a question.
“No!” Georgiana said it with such relief it was like air hissing from a tea kettle. “I do not want to come out, and I do not want to seek a husband.”
“Have you said this to your brother?”
Georgiana scrunched up her face. “How can I? What woman does not want to marry? It is unnatural! It is not sensible.”
Elizabeth smiled. “On the contrary, I think you are quite sensible indeed. I do not see how men are terribly useful.”
This provoked a startled snort of laughter. “Useful? But, of course, they are useful. They are men.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Husbands are handy if you want children and a house. But if you do not want children and you already have a house, perhaps a man would not add materially to your happiness.”
Miss Darcy’s smile was like a sunrise. Elizabeth had given her permission to feel something she had never dared to consider. “Oh…! Could it possibly be that simple?”
“I think it can. No doubt some people will think you are a bit odd, but when you are wealthy, they usually label it ‘eccentric.’”
Georgiana laughed.
“Is there something you would prefer to do if you do not marry?” Elizabeth asked.
“Prefer?” Georgiana’s brows drew together as if she had never considered the matter before. “I…paint screens and play the pianoforte and harp. I am fond of music.”
“So, if you do not wed, you would play music?”
Miss Darcy bit her lip. “Perhaps not all the time.”
Elizabeth guessed there was something the other woman concealed. “What else would you do?”
“Astronomy.” The young woman practically whispered it. Elizabeth gestured for her to continue. Georgiana took a deep breath. “The stars are fascinating, but of course, girls do not do such things.”
“There is no reason you cannot.”
“But women are too emotional for science.”
Elizabeth nearly fell off the bench. “Why would you—? Who told you that?”
Miss Darcy shifted uneasily on the bench. “Everyone says so. Especially Mrs. Bolton.”
“Who, pray tell, is Mrs. Bolton?”
“She was the head of the finishing school I attended, Gilson Academy. When I arrived, she asked what I wished to study, and I said astronomy.” Georgiana gave a bitter laugh. “Such a foolish thing to say! I should have known better than to confide in her. I should have known you could not study science at a school for girls.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached for Georgiana. “It is not foolish. Not at all! Have you read about astronomy?”
Georgiana’s eyes shone. “Oh yes! I have only found a few books in the Pemberley library, but they were fascinating.”
“And you understood them?”
The girl looked uncertain. “I think so. Of course, the mathematics was beyond me, but the concepts are not so difficult.”
“Easy for you, perhaps. I have always found astronomy to be confounding.” Georgiana eyes widened. “My father studied astronomy; sometimes he discussed it with me, but I did not share his fascination. No doubt his books are moldering away in his old study. I should ‘borrow’ some for you to read.”
“That would be lovely!” Forgetting her earlier diffidence, the young woman clapped her hands.
“Tell me, when you read the books, did your emotions interfere with your understanding of the subject?”
“No…I do not believe so.”
“So perhaps women are not too emotional for rational thought.”
The other woman considered this for a moment. “But…the books were about very simple astronomy. Perhaps I might not understand the more complex aspects of the discipline.”
Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. “I have a book at home which I will lend to you. The author argues that women are not inherently emotional or silly, but that they have simply been deprived of a man’s education. Men want women to be pretty and quiet. But when we are pretty and quiet, then they say we are irrational and incapable. If you had attended Cambridge like your brother, perhaps you would now be a famous astronomer.”
Georgiana regarded Elizabeth with her head tilted to one side. “Who is this author?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Mary Wollstonecraft. The book is A Vindications of the Rights of Women.”
Georgiana gasped. “But is she not a dreadful, fallen woman?”
Elizabeth had anticipated this objection. “Her life was…unconventional. She lived with a man she had not married, perhaps because she feared becoming his property. But such choices do not invalidate her views.”
Georgiana hesitated, then nodded. “I would like to read the book.”
“I will lend it to you.” Elizabeth leaned forward, taking the other woman’s hand in hers. “And, my dear, you must tell your brother the truth.”
Georgiana bit her lip. “Which truth?”
“That you do not want to have a coming out and enter the marriage market. You may have a small family party, declare yourself ‘out’ and be done with it.”
Georgiana sagged against the back of the bench. “That would be lovely. But must I tell William I do not wish to marry?”
“If you do not, you will spend a lot of time dodging the men he throws your way.”
Georgiana rubbed her chin. “Yes, but…do you think he will understand?”
“If he does not, then I am completely mistaken about his character.” Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest. “But rest assured, I will tell him where he went wrong.”
Georgiana had a fit of giggles. “That I would like to see!”
When the other woman had sobered, Elizabeth continued. “He is very concerned about you. No doubt he will be relieved to know what has been troubling you.”
The young woman tapped a finger thoughtfully to her lips. “But perhaps I should not mention reading Wollstonecraft.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Perhaps not immediately.”
Georgiana gave a decisive nod of her head. “Yes. One scandal at a time.”
Chapter Eleven
Darcy had vowed not to visit Longbourn the day after dining there—and he managed to keep his promise, showing remarkable restraint that nobody else could truly appreciate. By all rights, he should want to avoid the place like the plague. Between making inane conversation with Collins and ignoring his attraction to Elizabeth, Darcy might be slowly going insane.
But his share of her conversation had been far too small the previous evening. Of course, he could have conversed with her all night, and it would not have sufficed; he had been starved of Elizabeth’s presence in his life for far too long. Knowing that she was a mere three miles away represented a great temptation. He endeavored to
distract himself by perusing Pemberley’s ledgers, reading a book of poetry, and writing correspondence. But his imagination revisited again and again the image of a laughing mouth and fine eyes.
Netherfield’s butler informed him that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had called upon Georgiana and that they had quitted the house to take a turn about the garden. This was the last blow to Darcy’s peace of mind. Fortunately, or unfortunately, for him, the windows of his bedchamber overlooked Netherfield’s garden. Without bothering to conjure even the feeblest of excuses, he planted himself in the window seat, where he could savor the sight of Elizabeth in the garden.
He watched her tilt her head and gesture with her hands as she spoke with his sister. His heartbeat accelerated at the sight of her smile—as if his heart pulsed only for Elizabeth. God, I am like a schoolboy in the throes of his first love! On the terrace, he had believed she was not unaffected by his presence. He thought he caught a glimmer of attraction, but then he had angered her. Was anything possible between them? As her tiny figure moved gracefully about the garden, he desperately wanted the answer to be yes.
You do not have the right, he chastised himself. There can be nothing between us. His clandestine observations suddenly felt completely wrong, something he was not entitled to, a violation. He pushed himself away from the window seat as his stomach twisted itself into knots.
He idled away the time until Georgiana returned alone from her walk. It was all he could do not to pounce on his sister immediately with questions about whether she had mentioned his name.
But those concerns had been quickly eclipsed by what his sister said when she unburdened herself. Tearfully, she had confessed that she did not desire a great London debut, in fact that she would be pleased to miss most of the Season altogether. Darcy had been shocked at first but then relieved.
He himself did not perform well to strangers and had not been best pleased by the prospect of an entire Season with the cream of the ton. Her reluctance was somewhat of a relief to him. He had assured Georgiana that she could have a small coming out party with family and then attend a ball in Derbyshire. He certainly would not press social events upon her unwillingly.
With relieved tears glistening in her eyes, she alluded to more information she needed to share. But they were both just as happy to save it for another time.
That evening, Georgiana was in a much happier frame of mind, laughing and teasing him as she usually did. Elizabeth had worked a miracle—which rendered it impossible to avoid a trip to Longbourn the next day. It would be the height of ingratitude not to express his appreciation to Elizabeth in person. Darcy had managed to avoid Longbourn the previous day, so he would reward his restraint with a visit today.
Of course, he would have to go through the tiresome process of sitting in the drawing room with Collins and Mrs. Bennet, but perhaps that would maintain the fiction that he was a friend to the Bennet family rather than an overeager suitor. Hopefully, he was fooling the inhabitants of Longbourn because God knew he was not fooling himself.
As Darcy neared Longbourn, his eye was drawn by movement at the back of the manor, so he reined in his horse to observe. A woman, dressed plainly as a farmer’s wife, knocked on a back door that must lead to the kitchen.
When the door opened, Darcy was not at all surprised to see Elizabeth emerge. Of all the house’s inhabitants, she seemed to care the most for the tenants, but Darcy still ground his teeth together. Was she always pressed into kitchen service so early in the day? A fist closed around his heart. He had not forgotten her admonition the night of the ball, but he could not prevent a small sliver of his heart from viewing her as the future mistress of Pemberley.
He wrestled with the desire to race down the lane and whisk her away that minute. The simple act of marrying her would restore her to the life she should be living. He tried to push such delighted imaginings away by reminding himself that he would be marrying into a family with low connections, a family in disgrace. And yet that reminder did not conjure the disgust that it should.
The other woman seemed quite distraught. At one point, Elizabeth even put her arms around the other woman’s shoulders. Finally, Elizabeth’s words calmed the woman sufficiently that her tears ceased. She listened to whatever Elizabeth said, nodding eagerly, and then hurried away. Elizabeth slipped back into the house.
What was the cause of such agitation? It could simply be a matter of a tenant farmer with a neighborhood dispute or a hole in the cottage roof, but they would be unlikely to bring that to Elizabeth. No, Darcy would wager Darcy House that word of the woman’s concerns—whatever they were—would not reach Collins.
The farmer’s wife had been seeking assistance that only Elizabeth could give. How interesting. Elizabeth had no official role on the estate; she was not the landowner or his wife or daughter. In fact, she was barely above a servant herself, and the tenants’ wives were approaching her for help.
It was of a piece with other odd happenings at Longbourn. Elizabeth purchased lambs for the estate, and Collins did not know. She had grown agitated when he had mentioned the seed drill, a device a gently bred woman should not even recognize. And she had an unusually close relationship with the tenants’ wives. There must be a pattern behind all of this strange behavior, but Darcy did not discern it.
Perhaps he could learn more. Darcy guided the horse to Longbourn’s front door, arriving just as Elizabeth was exiting the house, tying her bonnet ribbons under her chin.
When he dismounted, she gave him a fleeting curtsey but practically quivered with urgency. “Mr. Darcy. Good morning.”
He strove to keep his tone casual. “Where are you going so early, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Town. I must fetch the apothecary for one of the tenants. A little boy is quite ill.”
Darcy frowned. “Could they not send for the apothecary themselves? That hardly seems an errand that requires your assistance.”
Elizabeth hesitated before speaking. “They cannot afford to pay the man and were reluctant to summon him at all, but I will bear the cost.”
“Not Mr. Collins?” Darcy would never allow one of his tenants to suffer so.
Her gaze flicked back toward Longbourn. “I did not wish to disturb him.”
In other words, she knew he would not expend the resources, the sanctimonious little toad.
“Surely you can send a servant for the apothecary.”
Her feet shuffled in the gravel, clearly eager to be gone. “Nobody else can be spared at the moment.”
She was about to sweep past him, but Darcy put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Please allow me to collect the man,” he said impulsively. “I have a horse. Help will reach the boy much faster.”
For a moment Darcy thought Elizabeth might argue, but then she nodded. “That is a most gracious offer. I thank you. That will allow me to take some supplies to the family immediately. Do you know where the apothecary is?”
“Yes, I remember.” Darcy strode toward his horse. “Where should he go?”
“The R—Greeves house.” She stumbled over her words. “Mr. Jones will know where it is.”
Darcy placed his foot in the stirrup. “I will be as fast as possible.”
“Godspeed, Mr. Darcy.”
***
Darcy had no need to accompany Mr. Jones to the Greeves house. He could do nothing to help a sick child and doubtless would overcrowd the cottage. But Elizabeth’s behavior struck him as suspicious. While her concern for the tenant’s family was admirable, Darcy sensed she was concealing something.
So, he waited while the apothecary gathered his bag and saddled his horse and then rode with the man to the small village of Longbourn. The Greeves house was identical to its neighbors, perhaps a little better kept than some.
Mr. Jones’s knock was answered by a plump woman with a baby on her hip. She greeted the apothecary warmly, but her eyes widened at the sight of Darcy. He introduced himself to Mrs. Greeves and explained that he had hoped he might lend some aide.
She nodded dubiously and yielded to admit him.
The room they entered served as the kitchen and drawing room, with a door in the back wall that must lead to the family’s bedroom. The sick little boy, perhaps four years of age, had been laid on a pallet near the fireplace. At the other end of the room, an older boy played quietly with a child about three and another little girl about five. Hmm. Were they twins?
Elizabeth occupied one of the room’s only chairs while the distraught woman Darcy had seen earlier hovered over the sick boy’s pallet. They both stood upon the men’s arrival. Elizabeth started and frowned at the sight of Darcy, but she quickly smoothed her features into a welcoming smile. “Mr. Darcy, you made excellent time. Thank you for fetching Mr. Jones. You have met Mrs. Greeves.” She gestured to the plump woman. “And this is Mrs. Wiley, one of Mrs. Greeves’s neighbors.” Elizabeth indicated the woman who had come to Longbourn’s door.
Darcy surveyed the room, striving to ascertain the source of subtle wrongness he experienced.
Why was Mrs. Wiley in the cottage? Perhaps Mrs. Greeves had sent her friend to summon help while she cared for her ill son, and maybe her friend remained to lend assistance. But that did not account for Mrs. Greeves bustling around the room, her face etched with lines of worry, while Mrs. Wiley had tear tracks on her face and was unable to draw her attention from the sick child. While Mrs. Greeves was neatly attired, Mrs. Wiley’s dress was disheveled and wrinkled—while her hair fell in wisps around her face. How strange.
Elizabeth herself seemed uncharacteristically anxious, hovering around Mr. Jones as he crossed the room to the pallet and knelt by the sick child’s side. “Why this is—” he started to say.
Elizabeth took the man’s hand. Had she given him something? “I know it is shocking to see little Tommy like this, Mr. Jones. He is usually so lively and quick. His mother assures me this fever came upon him very quickly.”
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