Chapter Five
7 September, 1812
Lymington, Hampshire
Darcy sighed as the carriage began to move, bearing him and his sister away from the lodgings where they had passed another happy summer together. They both took delight in seaside holidays, but as their period of respite from reality drew to a close, it was too easy for Darcy to be drawn back into the worries of his life.
“I am looking forward to meeting Mr. Bingley’s new bride, though I confess I hope his sisters have remained in Scarborough.”
This was a wish Darcy cherished on every occasion that he visited his friend, though Georgiana had never echoed it so unabashedly. In fact, he had always supposed that she enjoyed the company of Bingley’s sisters. Georgiana had few friends her own age, and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst always lavished her with praise.
When Darcy made no reply, his sister leaned her head to one side, trying to catch his eye. “You would have preferred to go to Kent.”
Darcy could neither deny this, nor admit it aloud. Humiliation burned his face. “I would have preferred Anne join us on holiday; her birthday has just passed. But Anne says her physician advised against it.”
“ Anne says ,” Georgiana huffed, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Anne says a great deal to you in her letters, though I am beginning to believe her an apparition in reality. But I suppose it is for the best. I have still not recovered my figure, and I could not bear our aunt’s comments about it.”
It had been more than three months since Georgiana had delivered her child in secret at their family’s Scottish estate, and though two months of sea-bathing and walking the beach had done wonders for her, there yet remained undeniable changes to her lovely visage and her once willowy frame. Darcy had assured her it was an improvement, for she would inevitably have altered as she grew into womanhood. Even so, she was right to fear their aunt’s inquisition.
“Our aunt is always assuming that everybody has some great secret they are keeping from her. Sir Lewis was hardly an honest man, so I can scarcely blame her for it.”
“Well, I can,” Georgiana said. She had been far more candid in expressing herself since having the baby, as if the painful ordeal now entitled her to speak her mind as freely as she chose. Darcy had allowed it, though he knew he ought to begin coaching her on the manners that would be expected of her when she came out in society. As if daring him to chastise her, Georgiana squared her shoulders. “Our aunt assumes the worst of everyone except her spoilt daughter; I believe I hold that distinction.”
She certainly did; Georgiana had objected to their engagement from the very beginning, and Darcy had not wished to wound his sister by informing her of her own stake in the matter. He had, at first, been just as cross about the betrothal that was forced upon him, but his feelings had undergone such a material change over the last year that he hoped Georgiana would eventually come around, too.
“And if Anne is really so unwell, ought she not to have accepted our invitation and accompanied us to Lymington in the first place? I heard from Roberta that they expect to see Anne in town next month, and London has not the health advantages of the sea coast – quite the reverse! Her so-called physician ought to have informed her of that. Why did Lady Catherine not insist upon it, when she is determined to have you for Anne?”
Darcy sighed, near the end of his patience for the whole mortifying situation. “Anne does not care for the seaside.”
Georgiana wrinkled her nose with distaste. “Who does not like the seaside? It is entirely agreeable, unlike certain….”
“That is enough, Georgie,” Darcy snapped at last. He instantly regretted his severity, which had caused her to recoil in wounded surprise, and yet he wished his sister might spare a thought for his feelings. It had been his hopes disappointed, his heart that had taken another bruising at Anne’s latest avoidance, and yet his sister’s indignation took up so much space in the carriage that Darcy felt he could scarcely breathe.
He closed his eyes for several minutes, the tense silence suffocating him as it wore on. “Perhaps it is for the best, as you say. Bingley will have us both in better spirits by Monday night, I am sure of it.”
Georgiana leaned forward and took his hand in her own. “I do want what is best for you, William. You have done so much for me – sacrificed so much for me – I only want it to be worth it. You deserve to be happy, and I know you are not.”
***
5 June, 1813
Sanditon, Sussex
Darcy drew in a deep breath, feeling the morning sun begin to dry his damp clothing as he sat with his legs splayed out in front of him. He leaned back, his hands behind him, sinking into the soft sand. He knew he ought to put his boots and coat back on, or retreat to Sandpiper Cottage and dress himself. He ought to begin his day properly, but here he was, indecent and unable to compose himself. The seawater dripping from his hair might conceal from any odd passersby that he had been weeping since dawn, but he could not hide his shameful despair from himself.
And then he saw her, the sun glowing through her thin muslin gown, illuminating the supple curves of her silhouette as she strolled toward him. Anne hesitated at the sight of him, and as he began to stand, she turned around, her hand reaching up just a moment too late. Darcy sprang to his feet as she spun, a white hand cutting through the air in an attempt to capture the wayward straw bonnet as it tumbled away on the wind, ribbons billowing behind it.
She laughed, a musical sound, and for a brief and beautiful moment Darcy let the loveliness of it overpower him. Besotted fool that he was, he let himself revel in the elation of the moment, daring to hope that she had come to him, that all would be put right. As if afraid that she, too, would be carried away at such a moment, Darcy brought a hand to her elbow and gazed down at her, ready to let her see that his adoration had not diminished.
His face was inches from her own when she turned back to him, dark curls coming loose and gathering around her full cheeks as her grey eyes widened at the shock of his touch. Miss Elizabeth Bennet gasped and took a step away from him, sweeping her eyes down his dishevelment. “Sir, I….”
“Forgive me – I mistook you for….”
“For Miss de Bourgh?” Miss Bennet’s lips twitched as if suppressing a smile, and worse yet, there was pity in her eyes.
Darcy simply bowed his head in assent. He felt ungrateful for wishing her away after she had generously offered him the use of the cottage that her uncle’s family had once lived in, before they had elected to reside in the apartments above the hotel’s ballroom. Even so, he could scarcely bear her charity. Richard had spoken too openly the previous day; it must be evident to Miss Bennet, whose every expression betrayed her intelligence, that Darcy had been rejected by his cousin and was now playing the lovelorn fool. Or perhaps she simply thought him a madman.
“We are engaged – were engaged,” Darcy blurted out, suddenly desperate for it to be known that he had not acted entirely without reason.
But Miss Bennet had spoken at the same time. “I have just come to inquire after your….” She stopped and offered him a tight smile.
Darcy glanced down at his bare feet as they sank into the sand, which had clumped around the bottoms of his rolled up trouser legs. She had likely come to inquire after his sanity, which she must presume he had taken leave of.
When he said nothing else, Miss Bennet took a small step closer, offering him an encouraging smile. “I came to inquire after your party’s comfort at the cottage. It has been shut up since October, when my aunt died.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Darcy said, the words tumbling out of him even as he felt himself a clumsy clod for interrupting her a second time.
Miss Bennet stared up at him, the sunlight shining in her grey eyes as she studied him. “I am sorry for yours, too, sir.” She fidgeted, attempting to tidy her blowsy hair, though it occurred to Darcy, in some distant corner of his mind, that she looked rather fetching in such a state of disarray. How strange that he had mistaken her for Anne; he must have imagined what he had wished to see.
Darcy drew in a breath, grasping for a way out of his awkward verbal quagmire. “Mrs. Bingley spoke very warmly of you when I visited Netherfield. I believe you are her favorite sister.”
“Oh, I am tolerable, I suppose,” Miss Bennet said with a smirk. “But my dear Jane always speaks highly of everybody; I have never heard her utter an unkind word.”
“Bingley calls her his angel, and that was my impression of Mrs. Bingley, as well.”
“Mr. Bingley has spoken of you with equal appreciation; I know he must be very gratified that you approve of his choice of wife. As I recall, on the night they met, you declared her to be the only handsome woman in the room.” The smile Miss Bennet offered him was innocuous enough, but something else glinted in her eyes that Darcy could not make sense of. But then, the list of things Darcy could not make sense of seemed to be ever increasing.
A voice called out to him, and Darcy turned at the same moment as Miss Bennet. Georgiana was descending the narrow stone steps set into the hillside that led from Sandpiper Cottage down to the beach. She lifted an arm up and waved enthusiastically at them, a beatific smile on her face as she squinted into the sun. When a cloud passed over, making the light more bearable, Georgiana’s eyes suddenly widened, betraying her surprise at the sight of her brother speaking to a lady of such recent acquaintance while clad only in a soggy shirt and trousers. Her smile brightened.
Miss Bennet waved back, then turned her gaze back to Mr. Darcy, her face suddenly flushed. “Forgive me for detaining you. My uncle will be wondering why I have not yet returned from my morning walk.”
“Miss Bennet, do not run away before I have thanked you,” Georgiana cried, bounding down the final steps. “Sandpiper Cottage is just as charming as you promised. I daresay it is infinitely superior to staying in the hotel – that is, the hotel is everything lovely and charming, though certain guests must make it less pleasant than….”
Miss Bennet’s eyes again glistened in such a way as to suggest a lively wit suppressed by civility, and she glanced over long enough to notice the look of reproach Darcy had given his sister. “The hotel is suited to those whose first aim is to move in fine society, or to be seen doing so. I delight in observing how such people behave together, but I think Sandpiper Cottage is the finest place in the county for enjoying the most superior sights and pastimes of the seaside. The air on this side of the cliff is especially invigorating; I always find it restorative when I am in low spirits.”
Darcy smiled approvingly at Miss Bennet’s diplomatic observations, but she did not appear to seek his approbation, for her focus was now firmly fixed on his sister. Georgiana was just as pleased with Miss Bennet, and another radiant smile softened the weariness that had settled into her countenance over the last year. “I intended to call upon you later this morning – I must confess a little curiosity to see the residence your uncle has considered superior to the one he quit last autumn.”
Impertinence infused Miss Bennet’s laughter. “I am obliged to defend my uncle’s judgement, for he has been exceedingly kind to me since I left my father’s estate. I will admit that our apartments above the ballroom are more convenient, and the views are incomparable, but then I cannot think of a single home in Sanditon that should not please me.”
“I should love to live above the ballroom,” Georgiana sighed, clasping her hands together under her chin. “Is it true you have weekly assemblies there?”
“We did when the hotel opened last summer, but this year we have elected to hold the assemblies every other week. Of some delights, you see, a little goes a long way – and I can promise you shall not want for amusement while you are in Sanditon. In fact, you are welcome to call upon me whenever it is convenient, and compare for yourself the comforts of the Gardiner apartment to the coziness of the cottage, and your entire party must certainly join us tonight for Saturday Supper Club.”
“Saturday Supper Club!” Georgiana’s grin was broader than Darcy had seen it since she was a child, indulged in her every whim by their doting father. “That sounds like great fun.”
“It is a tradition we have kept at a weekly frequency, open to guests and locals alike. Your aunt and cousin attended last week and seemed very well pleased, and the residents of Sandpiper Cottage are most cordially invited. The epicurean cuisine is always first rate, and we have a record number of exceedingly interesting guests at the Tremont, so it is sure to be excessively diverting.”
Darcy had stooped to collect the outerwear he had discarded before wading into the sea that morning, but now hastened to bow and thank Miss Bennet as she curtseyed and bid them good day. He watched her walking away until she disappeared from view, entirely mystified by their chance encounter. He reconsidered every word she had spoken, and then, to his staggering dismay, he remembered his churlish behavior at the assembly he had attended with Bingley in Meryton.