by Leenie Brown
Georgiana smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt. “Because Miss Bennet is in town,” she replied without looking up at him.
Darcy stared at her. “How do you know that?” There was no way she could have read Bingley’s letter. It had just arrived, and he had just finished reading it himself.
“I saw her,” Georgiana answered, lifting her eyes to him.
“Where?”
“At her aunt’s house,” Georgiana swallowed and waited for him to reply, hoping that he would not raise his voice too much or worse speak in that low, sad, disappointed tone that always tore at her heart.
“In Cheapside?”
“No, Gracechurch Street,” she replied. “The Gardiner’s home is very nice,” she added. “It’s not large, but neither is it small. The furnishings are very tasteful. Everything is well-kept, and the servants seem happy. I suspect Mr. Gardiner is a very well-to-do merchant and no mere shopkeeper.” She stopped her rambling as she saw his lips purse and brows furrow.
“Why were you at Miss Bennet’s aunt’s home?”
“To visit her, of course.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Mr. Bingley happened to mention that Mr. Wickham was in Hertfordshire, and I did not wish for Miss Bennet or her sisters to be tricked by him as I was.” She held her breath. His eyes had grown wide, and his expression did not look pleased.
“You intended to tell a complete stranger about Wickham?”
“Yes.”
“Georgiana.” Darcy stared at her in disbelief. How could she be so careless with her reputation? He shook his head.
“Fitzwilliam, you know how he hurt me.” She scooted forward in her chair so that she could be a tiny bit closer to him. “How could I allow that to happen to another if I had it in my power to prevent it?”
“But a stranger, Georgiana? How did you know she would not bandy your story hither and yon? The Bennets are not heiresses. They have nothing with which to tempt him.”
“They are pretty,” Georgiana replied. “Even a pretty maid is not beneath his notice, not that he would pursue her for her money, of course.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Darcy’s eyes grew wide. “You know about that?”
“One hears things occasionally,” Georgiana replied, lowering her eyes. “It was told to me to assure me that I had lost nothing in not being loved by Mr. Wickham. It helped me understand your disapproval for what it was — not a condemnation of him because he is not a gentleman but because he is a rogue. ”
“The connection would not have been good either,” Darcy replied, “but you are right, I worried more about your happiness and safety than about his standing.” He blew out a breath. “And do you believe Miss Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner will treat what you have told them with care?”
Georgiana nodded. “As will Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s brows furrowed. “You gave them permission to tell her?”
“No,” Georgiana said with a smile, “she is also in town.”
In town? Elizabeth was in town? Bingley had not mentioned Elizabeth being in town, only Miss Bennet. Darcy rose from his chair and paced to the window. He was not ready to face his trouble just yet. He had not had ample time to work at forgetting her. Perhaps he should go to Pemberley for a time.
“She is quite lovely,” Georgiana said to him as he stood in front of the window, running a hand through his hair. “I can see why you love her.”
He spun towards his sister. “I do not love her,” he snapped. He did not love Elizabeth, did he? He was only infatuated with her blasted fine eyes and keen mind.
“Do you not?”
“I do not,” he answered with little certainty filling his mind. In fact, doubt, great heaping amounts of doubt, was creeping in around the edges of his thinking. Love. Love would explain why rather than thinking of her less with each day he was in town, he had found himself thinking about her more, would it not?
Georgiana stood. “She is a gentleman’s daughter, Fitzwilliam. True, she has relations in trade, but so does Bingley, yet you accept him regardless of what any of our relatives say. I do not know the state of your finances, but I cannot believe that, with as careful as you are about everything, Pemberley is in need of funds from a wealthy wife.” She crossed to stand next to her brother, who was once again looking out the window. “Fitzwilliam,” she said as she wrapped an arm around his waist, “do not sacrifice your heart.”
“I am not,” he said softly as he placed an arm around her shoulder and drew her close.
“Consider it?” she asked, looking at him with pleading eyes.
He nodded slowly. He would likely be unable to not consider it now that such a thought had been placed in his mind, and his sister knew it. He kissed her forehead. “I will consider it.”
“Excellent.” She gave him a squeeze and then released her hold on him. “You know she is actually quite beautiful.”
“I know,” he muttered. She was captivatingly beautiful.
“Then why would you say she was merely tolerable?”
Darcy, who had taken his place at his desk, started and looked up at her. How did she know about that?
“You hurt her, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy blinked, and his stomach dropped. Elizabeth had heard him. No wonder she had done her best to avoid all his attempts to engage her in anything other than an argument.
“You should likely apologize,” Georgiana said. “Or, at least, prove to her you know how to be civil.”
Darcy gave a sharp nod of his head. Being scolded by one’s younger sister was not pleasant.
“Miss Darcy.” Mr. Wright stood behind her at the door, “you have callers,” he said softly.
“Thank you, Mr. Wright. Would you be so kind as to see that tea is arranged?”
“Certainly.”
“Will you join us, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy shrugged.
“It is not Miss Bingley,” she whispered.
Darcy chuckled. “Then who is it?”
A look of pure enjoyment suffused her face. “Miss Elizabeth, her sister, and her aunt.”
~*~*~
Darcy stared at the place where his sister had stood before she flounced out of the room. Flounced! He shook his head. Georgiana had actually flounced out of the room. She had not flounced or behaved so carefree for very nearly three-quarters of a year. He smiled as he rose from his chair. It was good to see that part of her personality returning. He straightened his jacket, patted his hair, and checked his neckcloth before exiting his study. He knew that if he was to avoid his sister’s displeasure, he would have to make an appearance and at least greet her guests.
He walked the length of the corridor from his study to the drawing room slowly. He could hear the rise and fall of female voices engaged in pleasantries. He paused before he reached the door. Elizabeth was in his home. Here under this roof where he had imagined her being. He shook his head. His sister’s scolding would be better than seeing that vision come to life. How would he rid himself of it once he had witnessed it? He turned and walked halfway back to his study before the pull of curiosity and the shame of cowardice compelled him to retrace his steps to the drawing room. Again, he paused outside the door that stood ajar, but this time, with one last tug at his jacket, he pushed the door open and entered.
He paused and stood like a mute fool just inside the door. Reality was even better than his imaginings. Green was a very becoming colour on her, and she was sitting in the very chair he had imagined she would favor. He wondered for a moment if it had been her choice to sit there or if she had merely taken the chair next to her sister.
“Brother.” Georgiana waited for him to turn his attention to her. “I know you have already met Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, but please let me introduce you to their aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner, this is my brother, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Darcy turned toward the one lady in the room whom he did not know. He opened his mouth to give her his greeting
but upon taking in her appearance, found himself lost for words. She was impeccably dressed. Even Miss Bingley would not be able to find fault with the lady’s appearance, but that was not what had struck him about her. He gathered his wits. “Forgive me. It is a pleasure to meet you, but I feel as if I have already met you somewhere. You look very familiar.”
Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “I have a twin sister, and we both resemble our mother.”
Darcy was unsure why this information might clear his mind. So he waited expectantly for the lady to continue but before she could, his eyes grew wide with recognition as an image of a lady he had seen many times in his childhood flashed through his mind. “Mrs. Pettigrew?”
“Is my mother,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.
“You are from Lambton?” Darcy asked with interest as he took a seat.
“Indeed, I am, although, very little of my family remains in Derbyshire. In fact, it is only my cousin, Mr. Cooke, who still remains. Both my sister and I have husbands here in town, and our brother is long since passed — a childhood illness not long after my mother died,” she added in explanation.
Darcy slumped from his normal rigid posture. “I remember that year. Illness seemed to be everywhere at once.”
Mrs. Gardiner nodded. “It did. Many families were affected. Mine, those of friends, yours.” She gave him a meaningful and sympathetic look. “Your mother was a wonderful lady. She frequented my father’s shop often and was always so kind. I was telling my nieces about her after your sister’s call. Miss Darcy resembles her both in expression and kindness.”
“She does,” Darcy agreed with a smile for Georgiana. “There are few hearts that are more generous and caring.”
“That is a testament to your care for her,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
“It was my father,” Darcy replied.
“I must disagree,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a shake of her head. “Your father may have laid the groundwork, but if I am accounting years properly, when your father died, Miss Darcy was at an age that is a threshold from childhood with several tender years between then and now when she is on the verge of her presentation to society. You, sir, have done well.”
Darcy bowed his head in acceptance of the compliment. He was not entirely convinced that he had done much to help his sister become the lady she was. He had paid for school and made certain he was home whenever she had a holiday, and he had now employed two companions to see to her final preparations for her debut — one, Miss Annesley, had been a very good choice, while the other, Mrs. Younge, had been an instrument in bringing Wickham and near ruin to his sister.
Just then, the tea arrived, and Darcy assisted the maid with setting up the table. “Thank you, Nellie,” he said as the maid finished arranging the things she was carrying. She curtseyed and slipped from the room without a word.
“I had not thought to see you in town,” Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth when he had returned to his seat.
“And I had thought to see you still in Hertfordshire,” she replied, raising one eyebrow. “It was a shock to the whole neighbourhood when everyone from Netherfield left so suddenly.”
Though her tone was light and teasing, he could see her displeasure in the flash of her eyes. “It was a sudden decision,” he replied. “Perhaps not thought out as well as it should have been,” he admitted. “And you? I do not remember hearing you or anyone else speak of a journey to town.”
“Must I publish my intentions to travel?” Elizabeth retorted. “One might have plans that are not known to the whole of an area.”
“Yet, I am accused of a hasty departure that has caused some acrimony in Hertfordshire.”
“Mr. Bingley had said he was to return.”
“Which he has,” Darcy replied.
“Yes, well, that is not what Miss Bingley’s letter said.”
Darcy blinked. “Miss Bingley’s letter?”
“The one she sent to Jane on the day your party left Netherfield. It made it very clear that her brother was not returning.”
Darcy shook his head. “I did not know.” Of course, he should have expected that Caroline would have done something like that. That woman could not make a quiet, graceful exit if her life depended upon it.
Elizabeth’s head tipped, and her brows drew together just a touch as she scrutinized his face. “Very well, you are acquitted on that count.”
Darcy dipped his head. “You are most generous.” A small smile accompanied the statement which seemed to startle Elizabeth. “I do hope you can understand my reluctance to be away from my sister and to be confined to Netherfield with Mr. Bingley’s sisters.”
The startled expression on Elizabeth’s face grew, and he knew that he had most assuredly made a very poor impression on the lady who captivated his every thought. It was quite likely if he were to pursue her and offer his heart, he would have it handed back to him in short order and without ceremony. The thought did not sit well with him. He should count it a blessing for the knowledge of such a thing should make it easier for him to overcome whatever infatuation he had with the woman, but instead, it cut at his heart, causing him to once again wondered if his sister might not be correct. He might indeed be in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
“Miss Bingley would like nothing better than to be the next Mrs. Darcy,” Georgiana said. “However, my brother would rather not have her as his wife.”
Darcy gave her a disapproving look. These were not things of which she should speak in company.
“There are many that would like to be the next Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Annesley added. “But, their desires and those of the good gentleman in question do not seem to match. But that is how it is in the marriage market, is it not? There are the pursued and the pursuers. Things can get jumbled. Feelings can be roused and crushed, or hidden for fear of rejection.” She clucked her tongue. “It was not so different when I was young.”
“Indeed!” Mrs. Gardiner interjected. “Matchmaking,” she said with a shake of her head, “gone wrong is the reason my nieces have come to visit.”
Darcy saw both Bennet ladies cheeks grow rosy.
“My husband’s sister was not pleased when her second eldest refused an offer she considered adequate for Elizabeth.”
“Aunt,” Elizabeth cried.
“She has five daughters to see well-married,” Mrs. Gardiner continued, ignoring Elizabeth completely. “It is understandable that she would be anxious about accomplishing her task.”
“Oh, it is,” Mrs. Annesley replied.
“Who?” The question slipped from Darcy’s lips. He had not intended to ask, but the shock of Mrs. Gardiner’s revelation had him sixes and sevens. Someone had offered for Elizabeth? She could right now be someone else’s save for her refusal? Surely, it was not —
“Mr. Collins,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a hint of amusement in her tone. “Not exactly the sort of sensible gentleman our Elizabeth would appreciate, but then my husband’s sister is more hopeful than sensible at times.”
“Mr. Collins?” Darcy repeated in surprise. “They would certainly not suit,” he added.
“And why would we not?” Elizabeth demanded. “Am I so deficient as to not be worthy of an offer of marriage?”
Darcy could not contain the shock that such a question brought. His sister was not wrong in that he had hurt the lady beside him most severely. He shook his head. “No, having been admitted to your presence, I would have to say that only an idiot would find you deficient in any way. I meant that the match would be unequal. You are far superior to Mr. Collins.”
“Well said, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “If only her mother could see that. However, she cannot. At the moment, all she can see is her hopes to have two daughters cared for have been dashed first by Elizabeth’s refusal of a good home and then by Mr. Bingley’s defection.”
Darcy turned his gaze from Elizabeth to Jane, whose head was bowed and a tinge of pink stained her cheeks. Had he been wrong in assessing her feelings for his friend?
“So, Mrs
. Bennet has sent them to me in hopes that one might express herself more clearly and the other might, by some miracle of grace, find a man willing to accept her.” She held up her hand. “Those are not my words. I find nothing lacking in either of my nieces. A man could not do better than to marry either of them.”
“Aunt,” Jane pleaded quietly.
“Very well, my dear, I shall leave off.” And she did.
The conversation turned to what sorts of activities the Bennets might partake in while in town. Darcy added a few suggestions that he hoped would be appealing to Elizabeth. She had nearly been another’s? The way his heart had felt as if it would stop beating to hear such a thing was all the proof he needed that his sister was correct. He loved Elizabeth Bennet. Now, he just needed to decide what he was going to do with such information.
Chapter 6
Darcy paced the length and breadth of the library at Matlock House. It had taken him some time to find his cousin. He had not been where he was normally wont to be at this hour of the evening, but Darcy had finally run him aground.
Richard Fitzwilliam was not the sort of gentleman to be lounging about home when there were more interesting entertainments to be found in town. Yet, to Darcy’s surprise, home was precisely where Richard was.
“Darcy,” Richard greeted as he stepped into the library and secured the door behind him. “What brings you to visit and has you looking so…” he tipped his head and looked his cousin up and down, “unsettled?”
“She is here.”
Richard looked around the room. “Who is here?” he asked.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied, dropping into a chair near the hearth. “She and her sister are visiting their aunt.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Georgiana told them about Ramsgate.”
“Georgiana did what?”
“I was not pleased to hear it either,” Darcy assured him. “However, she insisted that she could not allow others to be fooled as she was if she had it in her power to prevent it.” He was still surprised that she had shared the story almost as much as he was by her reason for sharing it.
