Chapter 14 #2
The simplicity of his answer might once have discouraged further inquiry, but Georgiana did not look away. She studied him for a moment, as though trying to reconcile what he had said with what he had not, before her thoughts moved on of their own accord.
“We are to go to Rosings soon.”
Darcy’s expression shifted, though only slightly. “Yes.”
Georgiana rested her hand lightly against the edge of the pianoforte, her fingers tracing its surface without purpose. “I do not know that I am equal to it,” she said, and though her tone was calm, there was no mistaking the seriousness beneath it.
“You do not wish to go,” Darcy said, not as a challenge, but as a clarification.
“I wish to,” she answered quickly, lifting her head at once, as though unwilling to have her meaning misunderstood.
“At least, I think I ought to wish to. It is my duty to visit our aunt, and I know she expects it. But I cannot forget how she is. She does not like me to be silent, and I am often silent without intending to be so. I do not always know how to answer her.”
Darcy watched her as she spoke, noting not only the words themselves, but the effort with which they were expressed. “You are not required to answer her in any particular way,” he said, careful lest the words should sound dismissive. Nothing could be further from his intention.
“She thinks I am,” Georgiana replied, her fingers stilling against the instrument as she looked back at him.
“That does not make it so,” Darcy said firmly. “I am your guardian, not Lady Catherine. Speak as you always strive to, with propriety and integrity, and I will be well satisfied, whatever our aunt thinks.”
She considered that, her expression thoughtful rather than convinced. “I do not wish to disappoint her,” she said after a moment. “But I do not wish to be afraid of her either.”
Darcy leaned back slightly in his chair, regarding her with a seriousness that matched her own. “You are neither obliged to fear her nor to satisfy her in everything,” he said. “She has expectations which she is accustomed to having met. That is not the same as having a right to them.”
Georgiana lowered her gaze briefly, as though measuring that distinction against her own experience. When she looked up again, there was something more resolved in her manner. “I think,” she said slowly, “that I should like to try.”
Darcy nodded. “You will go with me, then?”
“Yes.” She drew a breath, steadying herself, though her voice did not waver. “I have avoided such things before, when I might have done otherwise. I do not wish to do so again. If I am to improve, I must not remain always where I am most comfortable.”
He did not immediately answer, but the approval in his expression was clear. “That is very well considered,” he said at last.
“I may not succeed in being equal to it,” she added, with a faint smile that carried more honesty than apology. “But I should like to try.”
“You will not be alone,” Darcy replied, leaning forward slightly as he spoke, as though to make the assurance more tangible.
Georgiana met his eye, and this time there was no hesitation in her answer. “No. I shall not.”
The quiet confidence in her voice was new enough to be remarked on, though neither of them chose to do so.
Darcy felt the change all the same. There had been a time when even such a declaration would have been beyond her.
That she now made it willingly, and with an understanding of what it required, was a progress he valued more than any outward display of accomplishment.
“We shall go together,” he said. “And Fitzwilliam will be there.”
At this, Georgiana’s expression softened into something almost playful. “He will not allow me to be too solemn.”
“Our cousin will not allow anyone to be too solemn,” Darcy returned with a chuckle.
“And you,” she added, watching him more closely than before, “will not allow me to be too frightened.”
His expression altered, though only slightly. “I shall do what I can.”
She seemed content with that, and the conversation, having reached its natural conclusion, shifted without effort into more ordinary matters.
They spoke of the journey itself, of what might be expected upon their arrival, and of those small particulars which, though insignificant in themselves, often serve to lessen the weight of anticipation.
At length, Georgiana rose, smoothing the folds of her gown with an absent motion before turning back toward him. “I am glad we spoke,” she said, and though the words were simple, they were not lightly given.
“So am I.”
She hesitated for a moment, as though something more remained, then added quietly, “Thank you.”
Darcy shook his head and smiled at her. “There is nothing to thank me for.”
“I think there is,” she said, with a small firmness that did not invite contradiction, and with that she left the room.
Darcy remained where he was for some time after she had gone, his thoughts no longer fixed on the immediate subject of their conversation, but on what lay beyond it.
The visit to Rosings, which he had at first regarded as an obligation of little consequence, now presented itself differently.
It would not be an easy engagement for Georgiana, nor, in all likelihood, a particularly agreeable one for himself.
Lady Catherine’s expectations were seldom moderate, and her manner of expressing them still less so.
That Georgiana should choose to face it willingly altered his own sense of it.
He would not allow her to be made uncomfortable where it could be prevented.
Fitzwilliam would understand this without being told.
The bold colonel had all the courage of a man who has faced Napoleon’s troops and an ease of address that made him the centre of any room he entered.
Better still, as Georgiana’s other guardian, he loved her dearly.
Between them, they would ensure that Georgiana was not left to bear the full weight of their aunt’s attention.
Yet even as he considered this, his thoughts did not remain entirely fixed on Rosings. Georgiana’s earlier question returned to him with a persistence he did not attempt to dismiss.
You must think very well of Miss Bennet.
He did. Darcy had answered as he thought proper. Whether he had answered fully was another question.
He rose at last and crossed the room, pausing beside the pianoforte where Georgiana had been sitting. The music lay open as she had left it. He closed it with a quiet, absent motion, his mind already moving ahead to what was to come.