Chapter 26 #2
Of course she was. She had come uninvited by him, however warmly invited by Bingley. Georgiana, who feared imposing, who feared displeasing, who still sometimes believed affection might be withdrawn if she stepped wrong.
Something in Darcy’s chest ached.
“My dear Georgiana,” he said, and drew her into his arms.
She came at once, all hesitation gone, and held him tightly.
Darcy bent and kissed the top of her head, as he had when she was little and would run to him after his months away at school.
She was nearly grown now, or thought she was, but in that moment she was his little sister again, and he was more grateful than he could have said.
He held her away from him and looked her up and down. “When did you grow into a lady?”
Her smile brightened. “I feared you might be vexed,” she whispered.
“Vexed?” He drew back enough to look at her. “Your presence is the only thing that could make me happier.”
Her eyes filled immediately, though she smiled. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
Richard made a sound behind them. “Well. That is disappointingly tender. I had prepared three defenses, two apologies, and one dramatic offer to remove your sister at once if you flew into a rage.”
Darcy looked over Georgiana’s head. “Have you ever known me to fly into a rage?”
“No, but I have always hoped to see it. One likes novelty.”
Georgiana gave a watery laugh, and Darcy kept one arm around her shoulders as they turned toward the house.
Bingley stood in the doorway, beaming with satisfaction. “Welcome to Netherfield. I hope the journey was not too uncomfortable.”
“Not at all,” Richard said. “Your roads have only shaken one kidney loose, and I had a spare.”
“Richard,” Georgiana murmured.
“What? I am praising the roads. A weaker man might have lost both.”
Darcy felt laughter rise in him, sudden and easy. He had Georgiana beside him, Richard in front of him, and Elizabeth only three miles away at Longbourn. The world, which had so often demanded sacrifice before joy, seemed for once to have given him both duty and happiness in the same generous hand.
As they entered Netherfield together, Georgiana looked up at him shyly. “Do you think Miss Elizabeth will mind my coming?”
Darcy’s smile deepened.
“No,” he said. “I think she will be very glad.”
And for the first time in years, Darcy felt certain that Pemberley’s future had begun not with a bargain, but with hope.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth looked up from her needlework as the door opened to admit Darcy and Bingley.
She had been expecting them, of course, as he and Mr. Bingley had called often enough over the past week that Mrs. Bennet had begun arranging the drawing room each morning as though the gentlemen might materialize out of the carpet if only the chairs were properly placed.
Elizabeth had also expected Miss Bingley, perhaps, or Mrs. Hurst, if they could be persuaded into civility by the promise of observing Longbourn in all its inferiority.
She had not expected the tall, fair-haired girl who entered behind Darcy with wide, anxious eyes and a blush already rising in her cheeks.
Darcy came to Elizabeth first, his expression warmer than propriety allowed and yet not so warm that anyone but Elizabeth, Jane, Charlotte, half the servants, and probably Mrs. Bennet might have noticed it.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing. “May I present my sister, Miss Darcy? Georgiana, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Georgiana dipped a graceful curtsy, though her hands tightened together as she rose. “I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her voice was soft, almost too soft for the room, and she looked as though she feared Elizabeth might not return the sentiment.
Elizabeth’s heart warmed at once. “And I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Darcy. I had no notion we were to be so fortunate today.”
Georgiana’s blush deepened. “I hope we are not intruding. I—that is, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I—Mr. Bingley was kind enough to—”
“To aid and abet us,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said cheerfully from behind her.
“You see before you a conspiracy, Miss Elizabeth—if I may be so bold as to speak to you without an official introduction. When Darcy’s letter arrived, my young cousin here expressed a wish to meet you.
How could I say otherwise to such a charming girl?
Besides, I wished very much to see Darcy rendered speechless by our sudden arrival. We were both satisfied.”
Darcy gave him a look of long-suffering resignation.
Elizabeth glanced between the cousins, then allowed herself a smile. “Do you mean to say such a state is uncommon? I had begun to think Mr. Darcy’s silence one of his more reliable accomplishments.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed outright. Georgiana looked startled, then delighted, as if she had not known whether she was permitted to laugh at her brother and was grateful someone else had decided the matter. Darcy’s mouth curved despite his attempt at severity.
“I see I have been betrayed on all sides,” he said.
“Not betrayed,” Elizabeth replied. “Only accurately represented.”
Mrs. Bennet, who had been staring at Georgiana as if Darcy had brought a duchess instead of a sister, recovered herself enough to flutter forward with every expression of welcome.
Miss Darcy was so elegant, so tall, so graceful, and surely fatigued from travel, and would she not sit?
Colonel Fitzwilliam was introduced next and received with great pleasure, especially once Mrs. Bennet realized he was the son of an earl.
Lydia brightened at the word colonel, then dimmed slightly when she perceived he was not in uniform.
Kitty whispered something that made Lydia giggle.
Mary looked solemnly prepared to say something improving about military life, but fortunately did not.
The room soon became a confusion of greetings, chairs, inquiries, and Mrs. Bennet’s exclamations. Elizabeth, seeing Georgiana’s color rise with each new address, took pity upon her.
“We were just preparing to walk into Meryton,” she said. “There are new ribbons at the milliner’s, or so Lydia has informed us at least a dozen times this morning. Would you and Colonel Fitzwilliam care to join us?”
“Oh, yes!” Lydia cried before anyone else could answer. “There are blue ones, and pink, and some with little stripes. I saw them in the window yesterday, but Mama would not let us stop long enough, because Mr. Collins was discoursing upon the moral dangers of extravagant trimming.”
Mr. Collins, who had been standing near the mantel with an air of injured patience, straightened.
“I merely observed, cousin Lydia, that a young lady’s ornamentation ought always to reflect modesty, sobriety, and due submission to the judgment of those better acquainted with propriety.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh has frequently remarked—”
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Bennet said hastily. “Very improving, Mr. Collins. Mary, you had better remain at home and study Fordyce, had you not?”
Mary looked up in surprise. “I had thought to walk.”
“Nonsense. You said only this morning that the passage on female humility required contemplation. Mr. Collins may assist you if any portion is obscure.”
Mr. Collins’s expression wavered between reluctance to lose the exalted company and gratification at being acknowledged as an authority. “I should, of course, be honored to be of service in any matter of clerical instruction.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Bennet said, with a satisfied little smile that Elizabeth admired despite herself. “Then you shall stay with Mary. The rest of you may go, but do not be long. Miss Darcy must not be fatigued. Lizzy, mind you attend to her.”
“I shall do my best, Mama.”
Elizabeth met Jane’s eye and saw her sister’s amusement.
Mrs. Bennet had discovered, with surprising speed, that Mr. Collins was best managed by placing him beside Mary and any printed sermon within reach.
If Mary did not mind—and Mary seemed pleased by the prospect of having her reflections received with such solemnity—then Elizabeth was certainly not disposed to object.
They set out a few minutes later: Jane with Mr. Bingley, Kitty and Lydia ahead with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth with Georgiana, and Darcy walking near enough to hear but not near enough to intrude.
Elizabeth suspected he had arranged it deliberately.
His concern for Georgiana was plain in every glance, but he did not hover over her.
He gave her room to speak, room to falter, and room to be answered by someone else.
That alone told Elizabeth something of his love for his sister.
At first Georgiana said very little. She answered Elizabeth’s questions politely, but with a shyness that seemed to fold her inward after every word.
Elizabeth did not press. She spoke instead of the road, of Meryton’s shops, of Lydia’s enthusiasm for ribbons, and of Jane’s recovery, allowing silence to fall comfortably between them whenever Georgiana needed it.
After a little while, the girl’s shoulders eased.
“Is this your first time visiting Hertfordshire?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes,” Georgiana said, then glanced quickly toward her brother as if to be certain the answer was acceptable. “I have not seen much of it yet, of course, but it is very pretty. Softer than Derbyshire.”
“I have never seen Derbyshire.”
Georgiana’s face brightened with true feeling for the first time. “Oh, it is beautiful. Pemberley is—” She stopped, blushing. “Forgive me. I should not speak so grandly of my own home.”
“Why not? If it is beautiful, it would be unjust to pretend otherwise.”
Georgiana looked relieved. “It is beautiful. The hills, the woods, the stream, the park. I do not live there now, which I regret very much, but I love it still.”
“You live with Lord and Lady Matlock?”