12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Darcy flipped the letter with a sharp snap and tossed it onto the growing pile of correspondence. Another tenant dispute. Another complaint about grazing rights. Another problem he could do nothing about from London.
The knock at his study door came before he could reach for the next letter. “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and Mrs. Younge stepped inside, her hands folded neatly at her waist. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy.”
He sighed. “I assume this is about Georgiana,” he said, not bothering to disguise his impatience.
Mrs. Younge nodded once. “Yes, sir. I regret to say, I think it best if we discuss her behavior.”
Darcy pushed his letters aside with a grimace and gestured for her to continue.
“She has been increasingly difficult these past few days,” Mrs. Younge began, stepping further into the room. “This morning, she dismissed the new French tutor after ten minutes, claiming his accent was unbearable. Yesterday, she informed the music master that the pianoforte is a ‘tedious instrument for tedious people.’”
Darcy arched a brow. That sounded uncomfortably familiar. “And what of last evening?” he prompted. “Did you ever learn why she declined to join me in the drawing room?”
“She claimed she had a headache, though I suspect sloth or defiance to be the cause.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the polished wood of the armrest. “Has she given any indication as to why she is behaving this way?”
Mrs. Younge hesitated. “She seems restless, sir. Isolated. She spends most of her time reading alone in her room, but when encouraged to join company or attend lessons, she becomes sullen. I believe she feels… disconnected.”
Darcy frowned. “Disconnected from what? ”
Mrs. Younge’s lips pressed together as if weighing her next words. “From society, sir. I believe what Miss Darcy needs is a change of scenery. A seaside retreat, perhaps. Ramsgate is quite fashionable this time of year, and the fresh air might do wonders for her disposition.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “You have mentioned Ramsgate before.”
“I have, sir. You brought me on for my experience, and in my experience, young ladies require some… consideration for their sensibilities. The sea air and freedom from the pressures of London could offer her some… refreshment. She may benefit from some time away from the restrictions of this household.”
Darcy’s gaze darkened. “Georgiana’s problem is not the household, Mrs. Younge. She has been given every opportunity to thrive here, but she refuses to engage. I will not reward her obstinance with a seaside holiday.”
Mrs. Younge inclined her head, though the faint downturn of her mouth suggested she was not pleased with his response. “As you wish, Mr. Darcy. I shall suggest she try a new painting.” She left the room as quietly as she had entered.
Darcy stared at the door for a long moment after it clicked shut.
Ramsgate . The idea of Georgiana away from him, exposed to influences he could not control, set his teeth on edge. She had already proved that, left to her own devices, she was prone to poor decisions.
No, he would not risk it.
But perhaps…
Darcy pushed back from his desk, standing abruptly. If Georgiana was restless, then perhaps what she needed was not the sea, but him .
He would take her to Hyde Park that afternoon. A quiet walk, some conversation, and perhaps a reminder that she was not as isolated as she believed.
The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting soft patterns across the parlor floor as Elizabeth stirred her tea, more out of habit than any real desire to drink it.
She had been up for hours, restless and unable to settle her thoughts. Every event of the past week replayed in her mind—the earl’s demands, Mr. Darcy’s brooding presence, the unrelenting scrutiny of London society. And above it all, the quiet fear that whatever damage had been done to her reputation would ripple far beyond her own life.
Her aunt was seated near the window, writing letters of her own, when Wilson entered with the morning post. “A letter for you, Miss Bennet,” he announced, offering the single envelope on the tray.
Elizabeth’s heart gave a small leap. She recognized her father’s familiar, slanted handwriting immediately.
“From Longbourn?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, glancing up from her correspondence.
Elizabeth nodded, already breaking the seal with eager fingers. She unfolded the letter, the familiar scent of home—ink, Mama’s rose water, and something faintly like dust—wafting up from the page.
My dearest Lizzy,
I trust this letter finds you in no worse condition than when you departed, though I must assume London’s fine air and finer company have done little to improve your stubborn tendencies.
Elizabeth snorted quietly, earning a curious glance from her aunt.
Your mother, I regret to inform you, has taken to her bed once more, though I am confident it is only a temporary affliction brought on by the loss of her audience. She assures me she is near death, but I remain skeptical.
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. She could practically hear her father’s dry tone as she read.
As for your sisters, Kitty appears to have made a miraculous recovery—either due to the medicinal properties of fresh air or the discovery that her complaints were being overshadowed by Jane’s more delicate constitution. Jane and Lydia still show signs of the fever, but neither seem to be in mortal peril, much to your mother’s disappointment.
Elizabeth’s smile faded slightly, though the reassurance was there. Kitty improving was a good sign, but Jane’s lingering illness tugged at her heart. She continued reading, her eyes narrowing as the tone of the letter shifted slightly.
I feel it my duty to inform you that rumors of your exploits in London have reached even our quiet corner of Hertfordshire. It seems you have become quite the subject of conversation at the Meryton assembly rooms. I am told you were last seen at a grand ball, entangled in some nefarious scheme involving a French dignitary and a folded piece of paper. While I have always admired your flair for the dramatic, I must confess I did not anticipate hearing of your debut in the morass of high society theatrics.
I trust this is merely an exaggeration, but should you find yourself in need of rescuing from the clutches of an overzealous suitor, I am willing to dispatch Mr. Hill with a wheelbarrow to retrieve you.
Elizabeth gasped, half in horror, half in disbelief.
“Is something amiss?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, setting her pen down.
Elizabeth shook her head, though her cheeks were growing warm. “It seems my reputation has traveled faster than I anticipated.”
Her aunt arched a brow. “What does he say?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat and continued reading aloud .
I should, of course, remind you that your behavior reflects on the entire Bennet family. However, knowing your inclination toward mischief and my inability to stop it, I shall simply advise that you avoid causing any further international incidents.
At this, Mrs. Gardiner laughed outright, covering her mouth with a handkerchief. “International incidents, indeed! Your father has always had a way with words.”
Elizabeth set the letter down. “It is no laughing matter, Aunt.”
“I beg to differ, Lizzy. Your reputation is now guarded by no less of figure than the Earl of Matlock. I think you can do no better than to treat any such rumors as preposterous sources of amusement, nothing more. If you can laugh about the matter, it will give others leave to do the same until it is quite forgot.”
Elizabeth scowled and toyed with the edge of the paper. How simple her aunt made it sound! But the rumors had already spread.
If word of her association with Mr. Darcy also reached Meryton, it would not be long before the gossip twisted into something even less favorable. Why, any number of her more envious neighbors would be quick to point out that Elizabeth herself had few attractions that would appeal to a wealthy, well-positioned man such as Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire. They would make assumptions…
And whatever scandal clung to her name would not stop with her. It would settle over her sisters like a cloud, dimming their chances of respectable marriages. Elizabeth sighed, folding the letter carefully and placing it on the table beside her.
Mrs. Gardiner reached over, resting a gentle hand on her arm. “You will see, Lizzy. It will all come out quite all right.”
Elizabeth nodded, but the words rang as hollow. If she did not find a way to restore her own reputation, her sisters would suffer the consequences.
And that was something she could not allow.
Darcy adjusted the reins as the open carriage rolled through the gates of Hyde Park, the rhythmic clatter of hooves muffled by the dust of the well-worn paths. Beside him, Georgiana sat stiffly, her posture impeccable, her face a careful mask of indifference.
It was a perfect day for a drive—the autumn air was crisp rather than stifling, the trees rustled gently in the breeze—but Georgiana barely glanced at their surroundings.
“You might try enjoying yourself,” Darcy muttered, steering them toward the quieter paths near the Serpentine.
”I am enjoying myself,“ Georgiana replied flatly, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Darcy sighed. If this was enjoyment , he dreaded to see what displeasure looked like.
They continued in silence for several minutes, the awkwardness between them as persistent as the soft creak of the carriage wheels. Darcy had hoped this outing might coax Georgiana from her sullen mood, but she remained as withdrawn as ever. What was the point? This was a waste of time.
He was about to suggest they return home when a familiar figure in the distance caught his eye. A woman, walking alone along one of the shaded paths, her bonnet tilted just enough to reveal a cascade of dark curls.
Darcy’s grip on the reins tightened instinctively.
Elizabeth Bennet.
She moved with an easy, unhurried grace, as if she belonged here—as if the bustling heart of London had no claim on her. But what unsettled him most was the fact that she was alone. No maid, no companion, not even a footman trailing discreetly behind.
Before he could reconsider, Darcy pulled the horses to a gentle stop. “Georgiana, shall we take a turn on foot?”
Georgiana shot him a suspicious glance, but nodded. They disembarked, and Darcy secured the horses at a nearby iron post. Then he steered them onto the path, his strides longer than usual—enough so that Georgiana gave him an odd look and tugged at his arm until he slowed somewhat. As they drew closer, Elizabeth turned at the sound of their steps behind her, her face lighting with mild surprise.
“Mr. Darcy,” she greeted, her voice as composed as if they had planned this meeting. “Oh! I do not believe I have had the pleasure.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Miss Bennet. Allow me to present my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
Georgiana dipped into a polite, if somewhat perfunctory, curtsy, and Elizabeth Bennet… well, her curtsy was rather more elegant .
He cleared his throat. “I did not expect to see you here.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with something that might have been amusement. “No nefarious arrangements of Lord Matlock’s, sir, I assure you. But I suppose Hyde Park belongs to all of us, does it not?”
Darcy’s lips thinned. “Indeed. However, I am surprised to see you without a companion.”
Elizabeth’s smile did not falter. “My aunt and her companion were otherwise engaged this afternoon, so I came alone. I make it a habit to walk here as often as I can while in London. The air does wonders for the mind.”
“ Alone? ”
Her brow lifted slightly. “Yes, I believe we already clarified that. I find it gives me time to think.”
Darcy could scarcely believe it. A single woman, unchaperoned, strolling through London’s most frequented park as if it were the countryside? It was scandalous. And now, with their names already publicly linked, her impropriety reflected on him as well.
Before he could form a proper response, Georgiana chose that moment to actually address the lady. For an instant, Darcy was proud that she was speaking when his own words had faltered.
“I suppose,” she said, her tone cool, “you must find London quite overwhelming, Miss Bennet, coming from the countryside.”
Darcy froze.
Elizabeth’s smile wavered, but only slightly. “Not at all,” she replied, her voice warm despite the sting of Georgiana’s words. “In fact, I find London very much like the countryside—full of people with their own small intrigues, eager to mind everyone’s business but their own.”
Darcy felt the heat rise in his neck. “Georgiana,” he said sharply, “that was unnecessary.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if she might defend herself, but Darcy’s glare silenced her.
“Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy,” she said lightly. “I rather like a bit of impertinence. It shows a quick mind.”
Darcy’s irritation shifted, replaced by something else—a reluctant appreciation. Elizabeth’s grace in the face of his sister’s rudeness was… unexpected. And disarming.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, but she waved him off with a soft laugh .
“I assure you, Mr. Darcy, it is quite unnecessary.” She turned slightly, glancing toward the path ahead. “But I will take my leave now. I would not wish to interrupt your afternoon.”
Before he could protest, she dipped her head in farewell and continued down the path, her steps unhurried, her posture untouched by the awkwardness she left behind.
Darcy watched her go, the curve of her retreating figure lingering in his mind longer than he cared to admit.
Beside him, Georgiana shifted uncomfortably. “I… did not mean to be rude,” she muttered, her voice small.
“You were rude,“ Darcy said, his tone softer now but firm. “And you owe her better manners if you wish to be treated with respect in return.”
Georgiana’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time that day, she looked truly chastened.
Darcy exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest refusing to ease. Miss Bennet was proving to be more than just a reluctant partner in his uncle’s scheme. She was becoming… complicated .
And complications were the last thing he needed.