Chapter 6 #2
“It seemed the kindest course, if Miss Bennet’s affections were not engaged,” Mr. Bingley said, oblivious to her growing distress. “To continue in her company would only deepen my attachment without hope of return.”
“How considerate.” Elizabeth was unable to keep a hint of irony from her tone. “And now? Have your feelings changed?”
Mr. Bingley flushed. “Not in the slightest. If anything, absence has strengthened them. That is why I wished to inquire... to know if there might still be hope.”
Elizabeth softened at his obvious sincerity. Whatever Darcy’s role in separating them, Mr. Bingley himself was blameless, a man whose only fault lay in trusting his friend’s judgment over his own observations.
“Jane is not demonstrative by nature. She guards her feelings carefully, especially in public. But I assure you, Mr. Bingley, her regard for you was genuine and deep.”
Hope transformed his expression. “Truly? You believe she might still welcome my addresses?”
“I believe she would,” Elizabeth said, though adding cautiously, “assuming your intentions are honorable and your feelings constant.”
“They are indeed!” Bingley declared this with such obvious sincerity that Elizabeth could not doubt him. “I have thought of little else since leaving Hertfordshire. I confess I have been contemplating a return visit, perhaps next week.”
“Jane would certainly be pleased to see you.” Whatever her husband might think of the match, she could not deny her sister a chance at happiness with the man she loved.
Bingley departed soon after, his spirits visibly lifted.
Elizabeth remained in the parlor, her earlier pleasure in establishing her household authority entirely overshadowed by the revelation of Darcy’s interference.
How could the man who touched her with such tenderness in the night be the same one who had so callously separated two people who loved each other?
She was still contemplating this contradiction when a messenger arrived with a note informing her that Georgiana Darcy would arrive that afternoon, earlier than expected.
“Mrs. Darcy.”
The soft, hesitant voice drew Elizabeth’s attention to the doorway of the drawing room where a slender young woman stood, her posture betraying a shyness at odds with her considerable height and elegant appearance.
“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, rising to greet her sister-in-law with genuine warmth. “How lovely to finally meet you. Please, call me Elizabeth.”
Georgiana Darcy approached with the careful grace of someone habituated to moving cautiously in the world, as though afraid of taking up too much space despite her tall frame.
Her features held a delicate echo of her brother’s, refined into feminine beauty that would be striking once she fully matured.
“My brother has written so much about you,” Georgiana said, accepting Elizabeth’s offered hands. “I feel as though I know you already.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Has he indeed? All good things, I hope.”
A hint of a smile touched Georgiana’s lips. “He says you are intelligent and spirited, with a mind that challenges his own. And that you play the pianoforte with great feeling, if not technical perfection.”
The assessment was so accurate—and the revelation that Darcy had discussed her in such terms with his sister so surprising—that it momentarily disarmed her.
“Your brother observes more than he reveals,” Elizabeth said finally. “Please, sit. You must be tired from your journey.”
As they settled into conversation over tea, Elizabeth found herself revising her expectations of Georgiana Darcy.
Far from the proud, accomplished young lady she had anticipated, Fitzwilliam’s sister revealed herself to be thoughtful and sweet-natured, if painfully shy.
Her genuine joy at her brother’s marriage seemed entirely untainted by suspicion or resentment.
“Fitzwilliam has been my guardian since our father died,” Georgiana explained when Elizabeth inquired about their relationship. “He has always put my welfare above his own happiness. When he spoke of finding a wife at last, I could hardly believe it.”
“It was rather unexpected.” Elizabeth carefully avoiding any mention of the circumstances that had necessitated their hasty union.
“The best happiness often comes unexpectedly,” Georgiana said. “You see, Elizabeth, though I am a biased party, I would declare my brother to be as deserving of joy as anyone else in the world.”
This simple statement she delivered with such sincerity Elizabeth could scarcely find the words to respond.
In that moment, the drawing room door opened to admit Darcy himself, returned from his business in the city.
“Georgiana!” The transformation in his countenance was immediate. The stern lines of his face softened, delight replacing his usual reserve as he crossed the room to embrace his sister. “You were not due to arrive until tomorrow.”
“Mrs. Reynolds had my tutors complete their lessons earlier than I had estimated.” Georgiana returned his embrace with obvious affection. “I hope my early arrival has not inconvenienced Elizabeth.”
“Not in the slightest.” Elizabeth watched with fascination as Darcy continued to hold his sister’s hand.
“Has Mrs. Darcy made you welcome?” he asked, glancing between them.
“She has been kindness itself,” Georgiana said. “We were just becoming acquainted when you arrived.”
Darcy nodded, appearing pleased by their rapport. “Excellent. I had hoped you would find in Elizabeth the sister you have long wished for.”
As the afternoon progressed into evening, Elizabeth observed Darcy’s interactions with Georgiana, noting how his entire demeanor softened in his sister’s presence.
He listened attentively to her modest accounts of her studies and musical progress, offering encouragement without the critical edge that often characterized his assessments of others.
At dinner, this gentler version of Fitzwilliam Darcy created a more relaxed atmosphere than any previous meal in the London house.
Georgiana, though still quiet, gained confidence in her brother’s presence, even venturing the occasional gentle tease about his seriousness that drew a tolerant smile from him.
“My brother used to lift me onto his horse when I was small,” she told Elizabeth at one point. “Even though our father said I was too young to ride. He has always indulged me terribly.”
“Because you have always been sensible enough to deserve indulgence.” Darcy’s reply was full of affection. “Unlike some young ladies whose heads are filled with nothing but lace and gossip.”
“You sound like a disapproving grandfather rather than a brother.” Elizabeth was unable to resist the gentle provocation despite her lingering anger.
Georgiana laughed. “He has always been both brother and father to me. Sometimes, I think he forgets I am almost grown.”
“I am delighted to be reminded of it now,” Darcy said, his gaze moving between the two women with evident satisfaction. “Seeing you both together at last.”
The genuine pleasure in his tone suddenly grated at Elizabeth. How could a man capable of such feeling be so dismissive of the pain he knew his judgment would cause Jane when Mr. Bingley gave up on her?
The question haunted her throughout the evening as they retired to the music room, where he persuaded Georgiana to play. Her skill at the pianoforte far exceeded Elizabeth’s own, her slender fingers drawing forth music of exceptional beauty, the notes light and effortless.
“You play wonderfully.” Elizabeth clapped when she had finished a particularly moving sonata. “Your brother did not exaggerate your talent.”
Georgiana blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. Fitzwilliam has always encouraged my practice, even when our aunt, Lady Catherine, insisted I focus more on drawing.”
“My sister has natural gifts that Lady Catherine, for all her determination to manage everyone around her, cannot suppress.”
Lady Catherine, to Elizabeth, sounded altogether unpleasant.
“Will you play for us now, Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked shyly. “My brother says you perform with great expression.”
Elizabeth demurred. “I fear your brother has been too generous in his assessment.” She was never the less secretly pleased by this evidence that Darcy had observed her playing with something other than criticism. “My technique cannot compare to yours.”
“Please.” Georgiana insisted. “I so rarely hear anyone but myself play.”
Unable to politely refuse, Elizabeth took her place at the instrument, selecting a lively country air rather than attempting a classical piece beyond her abilities.
As she played, she became aware of Darcy watching her, his expression softened by the candlelight.
The awareness of his gaze made her fingers stumble briefly before she recovered, finishing with a flourish that drew appreciative applause from Georgiana.
“How charming!” the younger woman exclaimed. “I wish I could play with such natural joy. My teachers always stress precision above feeling.”
The evening concluded with Georgiana retiring early, fatigue from her journey finally overtaking her youthful energy.
As the door closed behind her, Elizabeth found herself alone with Darcy for the first time since Bingley’s revelations that morning.
The anger she had set aside in Georgiana’s presence resurged with renewed force.
Darcy seemed oblivious to her change in mood, crossing to where she stood by the fireplace. “I am pleased to see you and Georgiana getting along so well,” he said, his voice warm in a way she had rarely heard outside their bedchamber. “She has few female companions of suitable disposition.”
“She is delightful,” Elizabeth said. “Her sweetness of temper does you credit as her guardian.”
“Georgiana’s nature is innately good,” Darcy said. “My role has merely been to protect and guide her.”