Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Darcy stretched as the horses were changed out once again.
Georgiana was in a shop purchasing sweets that she claimed were the most delicious along this road.
He indulged her, as he often did. Had he indulged her too little or too much in the years since she had been in his care?
She was well behaved and kind, appreciative and accomplished.
Yet at Ramsgate— No. No. No thinking of that time.
“Mr Darcy,” called his coachman, “we are ready.”
He nodded and went to fetch Georgiana, but found she was exiting the shop, an enormous smile on her face.
It was good to see her smile again. For too long, she had looked at him warily.
Apologetically. Those expressions hurt him more than considering what she had nearly done, and he was pleased that his assurances were finally taking root.
What was in the past was in the past. They had to move forward. No more guilt.
The next stop would be an inn and then another long day on the road.
Stopping in London would be preferred, and the staff could easily have readied their house on Grosvenor Street, but they had to reach Rosings in time for the funeral, set for two days hence.
Bingley knew he could make the journey in time, and best not to delay.
As the sun grew low on the horizon, Georgiana finished her sweets.
Much to his amusement, she was visibly enjoying each bite.
Their parents forbade indulging in pastry and cakes, only allowing for sweets when guests were at the house.
Georgiana, he realised, would never have experienced a dinner party or any gathering hosted by their parents, as she was still too young to have joined when they died.
They had been the sort of parents that desired a daily visit with him each evening, but otherwise, the nanny and governess were his only company until he went to school.
Though largely similar for Georgiana, she had told him that their mother also visited with her on nice days, taking her on walks through the gardens for a few minutes.
Darcy had shared that, during his summers at home from school, their father had taken him to meet tenants, to walk the estate to inspect the groundkeepers’ work, and to listen as he spoke to their solicitor.
Darcy never conversed or ate or visited with their parents in a casual manner, and with few exceptions, neither had Georgiana.
Yet she did not hold bitterness towards them as he did, perhaps because she had had lovely times with their mother she could hold on to, or perhaps because their temperaments were different.
Georgiana turned to her book. She could read as they rode, but he could not, which left him too long with his thoughts.
Again and again his mind turned to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Her neck. Her lips. Her fingers. Her eyes. Those eyes that saw all and danced when he said something amusing. He strove to make them dance.
Yet the last time they had been together, she had been stormy and refused to speak with him at length.
Her accusations were absurd. It had not been his duty to remain at the site of the accident.
Mr Collins was dead. His cousin was left to make arrangements and to care for Mrs Collins.
It was enough. It was! His sister’s well-being was of more import, and if he had to repeat those moments again, he would not hesitate to do as he had done.
Georgiana’s presence with him now was proof that he had chosen correctly.
And yet, there were consequences. He had hurt Miss Elizabeth and her sister with his departure, and he did regret that.
His coachman had been shaken by the accident so severely that Darcy had paid him handsomely and sent him home for a month with the promise that the man could return to his employment.
Mr Hayes was driving them at this moment, having recovered from the shock by passing time with his family.
Darcy was rarely restored by family. Georgiana and James were a balm for his spirits, but his parents never had been, nor had his aunt or other relations.
In truth, he hoped regrets would be sent, and none would attend the funeral.
Lady Catherine was dead. He would shed no tears for her.
He had learned to manage her comments and expectations, and had avoided marrying his sickly cousin, Anne, who was alone now.
He would no sooner marry her than he would take on the overseeing of Rosings.
He did not know who would do it, but he would not volunteer, of that he was certain.
How did he become the man that all looked to for answers? It was exhausting.
To his surprise, that exhaustion overcame him and he must have fallen asleep, for he was jolted awake when Georgiana announced they were at the inn.
What had he been dreaming of?
Oh. Miss Elizabeth.