Chapter Two
London
Darcy
Fitzwilliam Darcy stood at the window of his study, his thoughts returning to the afternoon he had spent with Georgiana.
His sister had admired half the contents of the modiste’s window, rejected his offer to purchase the most expensive gown among them, and laughed when he accused her of possessing an economy entirely unbecoming a Darcy.
She had eventually permitted him to buy her a length of ribbon, though only after exacting a promise that he would purchase nothing else.
At fourteen, Georgiana remained shy with strangers and inclined to silence in company, but Darcy knew the warmth concealed beneath her reserve.
Miss Ellicott, her governess for the past year, knew it too, which made her approaching departure particularly unfortunate.
Her father, already advanced in years and long in declining health, had worsened considerably, and as his only unmarried daughter Miss Ellicott considered it her duty to return to Yorkshire and undertake his care.
Darcy could find no fault with the decision, though reason did little to make the necessity of replacing her more agreeable.
A familiar knock sounded at the door, and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam entered without waiting for an answer. Such ceremony as might once have attended his visits had disappeared long ago, and during Darcy’s present stay in Town his cousin had called often enough to make his appearance unremarkable.
"I met Georgiana in the hall," Richard said, removing his gloves as he crossed the room. "She looked remarkably pleased with herself. What extravagance have you committed in her name?"
“None, as it happens.”
Richard raised a brow as he settled into the chair opposite Darcy’s desk.
“I offered to purchase a gown for her, but she would not accept it,” Darcy said.
The colonel feigned shock. “Refuse to spend her brother’s money? Is she ill?”
“She informed me that she possesses three of a similar colour already and has no need of another.”
“Good God. A sensible woman in the family.”
Darcy regarded him without amusement, which only increased Richard’s.
“She did permit me to purchase a ribbon.”
“Ah. There is hope for her yet.”
“She spent nearly ten minutes deciding upon it.”
“Then perhaps she is a Darcy after all.”
Darcy crossed to the sideboard. “Will you take some brandy? I may as well offer it, since you appear determined to make sport of everything I say.”
“You know perfectly well I shall.” The colonel chuckled.
Darcy poured two measures and handed one to him before taking his own chair. Richard accepted the glass with a nod and stretched his legs towards the fire.
“Now,” Richard said, glancing towards the letters arranged upon the desk, “have those letters anything to do with this sombre humour of yours?”
Darcy followed his gaze as he took a sip of his brandy. “Miss Ellicott leaves us in a fortnight.”
The amusement wiped off Richard’s expression. “So soon?”
“Her father has worsened. She wishes to be in Yorkshire before the end of the month.”
“I am sorry for it. Georgiana is very fond of her. How has she taken the news?”
“She cried this morning, though not before Miss Ellicott. She waited until we were alone.”
“That sounds like Georgiana.”
“She asked whether Miss Ellicott might return when her father recovered.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That I could make no promise on another person’s behalf,” Darcy said. “Moreover, I cannot know whether Miss Ellicott’s father will recover, nor what she may choose to do if he does not.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “That is sensible.”
“Georgiana did not find it comforting.”
“Comfort and sense are not always intimate acquaintances.”
Darcy’s attention returned to the correspondence upon his desk. There was nothing to be gained by wishing Miss Ellicott’s circumstances otherwise, yet he disliked the necessity of placing a stranger where familiarity had served Georgiana so well.
“So that explains the letters,” Richard said. “How many have you considered?”
“Three.”
“Three possibilities?”
“Three rejections.”
Richard gave a low whistle. “In such a short while? Remind me never to seek employment from you.”
“The first spoke to Georgiana as though she were nine years old. The second appeared chiefly interested in the connections the position might afford her.”
“And the third?”
“Unsuitable.”
Richard waited, plainly expecting more. Darcy saw no reason to oblige him.
“Ugly?” his cousin ventured at last.
“Do not be absurd.”
“Ancient?”
“No.”
“Given to drink?”
“Richard.”
Richard lifted his glass. “I ask only from a desire to understand your standards.”
“She spoke at considerable length upon the proper folding of linen. There was something rather mechanical in her manner.”
Richard considered this gravely. “I withdraw my objections.”
Darcy almost smiled.
“What precisely are you seeking?” Richard asked. “Another governess?”
“Not in the ordinary sense. Georgiana’s masters will continue to attend her for music, drawing, languages, and the rest. She requires someone who may reside with her, accompany her, and provide the sort of guidance neither of us is particularly qualified to give.”
“A companion, then. Must she be married?”
“Not necessarily. A widow might answer, provided her character and connections are respectable.”
“And her age?”
“Old enough to exercise judgement. Young enough that Georgiana does not feel she has acquired another aunt.”
Richard’s mouth twitched. “Take care. Lady Catherine may hear of this.”
“Then I shall deny it.”
“There are a great many things for you to deny.”
Darcy ignored him. “I want someone with whom Georgiana may be easy. Miss Ellicott has managed that remarkably well.”
“Which is not something a reference can promise.”
“No.”
Richard regarded him over the rim of his glass. “You are worried.”
“I am being careful.”
“With you, the distinction is sometimes difficult to discover.”
Darcy chose not to answer.
“She will be fifteen next summer,” Richard continued. “Whoever you choose will have considerable influence over her. And does Georgiana approve of being supplied with a stranger?”
“She understands the necessity.”
“That was not my question.”
No, it was not. Georgiana understood a great many things she did not like. “She would prefer Miss Ellicott to remain, naturally. But I will not engage anyone with whom she cannot be comfortable.”
“I know.”
Darcy reached for one of the letters before him, but Richard’s attention shifted to another lying near his elbow.
“Is that not Rosings on the address?”
Darcy followed his gaze. “Yes.”
“Then perhaps I ought not to ask.”
“You will regardless.”
“Naturally.” Richard turned his glass idly between his hands. “My mother wrote yesterday. Lady Catherine has been corresponding with my father again.”
“Concerning Anne?”
“Concerning you and Anne, which in our aunt’s estimation amounts to much the same thing.”
“There is nothing to discuss.”
“Lady Catherine disagrees. She believes another year ought not to pass without some understanding being reached.”
“An understanding already exists. I have no intention of marrying Anne.”
The Colonel considered him curiously. “Have you ever told our aunt so in precisely those words?”
“No.”
“Then you must admit you have left her some room for invention.”
“I have never courted Anne. I have never spoken to her of marriage. Whatever expectations my aunt has formed are entirely her own.”
“You know perfectly well that Lady Catherine does not require encouragement. She manufactures her own.”
“That does not oblige me to satisfy them.”
“No. Though I should very much enjoy being present when you finally explain it to her.”
“You will not be.”
“Such a pity.” Richard took another sip of his brandy. “If not Anne, what sort of woman do you mean to marry?”
“I have never thought it necessary to enumerate her qualities.”
“I am disappointed. I had expected a list of considerable length.”
“I require nothing unreasonable.”
“Excellent. What do you require?”
Darcy ought to have dismissed the question. Yet his thoughts went unexpectedly to Pemberley and to memories old enough that their edges had softened without disappearing entirely.
“My parents were happy,” he said.
Perhaps perceiving the seriousness in his cousin’s tone, Richard allowed the smile that had lingered throughout most of their conversation to fade.
“My father valued my mother’s judgement. He sought her company when there was no obligation to do so.” Darcy paused. “I remember hearing them laugh together.”
He remembered his mother seated beside the fire at Pemberley, his father standing behind her chair while she attempted, unsuccessfully, to maintain a severe expression at something he had whispered. The words themselves were lost. Her laughter was not.
“The house was different after she died,” Darcy said, rousing himself from his reflections.
“You were young.”
“Not so young that I have forgotten.”
Richard inclined his head.
“I do not imagine affection sufficient in itself,” Darcy continued. “There must be respect, suitability, some agreement of principle. But if I am to spend my life with a woman, I should at least wish to find pleasure in her company.”
“Steady, Darcy.” Richard gestured with his free hand. “Take care, or you shall have us believing you a romantic after all.”
“I am being practical.”
“Of course.”
“I should like to admire my wife and respect her judgement.”
“And love her?”
Darcy hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”
Richard stared at him.
“You need not look so astonished.”
“I am not astonished that you should wish it. I am astonished that you admitted it.”
“You asked.”
“I ask you many things. You generally answer only those which suit you.”
Darcy reached for the correspondence. “Then enjoy your victory quietly.”
Richard laughed. “I shall wait with great interest to meet this extraordinary woman.”
“You may wait a considerable time.”
“Then for both our sakes, I hope she appears soon.”
Darcy selected one letter from the small pile. “In the meantime, there is another woman I should like you to meet.”
Richard looked from the letter to him. “You move quickly.”
“For Georgiana.”
“Ah. Far less interesting.”
Darcy passed him the letter.
“Mrs. Agatha Younge,” Richard read.
“She was recommended by the agency three days ago. Eight-and-twenty. A widow. Well educated, accomplished in music, and accustomed to the society of young ladies. Her circumstances are respectable, though not affluent.”
“References?”
“Three.”
“And naturally you have written to all three.”
“Of course.”
“Why did I ask?”
“One is from a clergyman in Surrey who has known her family for several years. Another is from a lady with whom she resided following her husband’s death. The third comes through a Lady Metcalfe.”
“I know the name.”
“She does not claim an intimate acquaintance with Mrs. Younge, but knows enough of her connections to speak favourably of them. The other replies were equally satisfactory.”
Richard returned his attention to the letter. “Then she has survived where three others failed.”
“Thus far. But references establish only so much. I intend to judge her manners and disposition for myself.”
“Naturally.”
“She calls here on Thursday at two. I should like you present. You are Georgiana’s guardian as much as I am.”
“Then I shall be here.”
“And Georgiana will meet her as well,” Darcy said. “I have no intention of deciding without knowing whether she can be comfortable in the lady’s company.”
“Good.”
Richard returned the letter and finished his brandy before rising. “Thursday at two, then. I shall endeavour to appear respectable.”
“That would be novel.”
“It is the least I can do after you have entrusted me with your secret hopes of love and matrimony.”
“I entrusted you with nothing.”
“I shall treasure the confidence nevertheless.”
“Get out,” Darcy said, pointing towards the door with an expression that made a mockery of the command.
Richard laughed as he collected his gloves. “Give Georgiana my love.”
“You may give it to her yourself. You said she was downstairs.”
“An excellent point.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam reached the door, then glanced back. “She will be well, Darcy. Miss Ellicott’s leaving will distress her, but Georgiana is not without people who love her.”
“I know.”
Richard nodded and left.
The room seemed unusually quiet after him.
Darcy remained at his desk, his attention settling once more upon the letter his cousin had returned.
He could not prevent change merely because the present arrangement had proved satisfactory, but he could exercise every reasonable care over those whom he admitted into Georgiana’s confidence.
Miss Ellicott had deserved her trust. Darcy meant to see that her successor deserved it also.
He drew the remaining letter towards him. The recommendations were uniformly favourable, and his enquiries had produced no contradiction, no doubtful connection, no circumstance which gave him reason for uneasiness.
There remained only the woman herself.
Mrs. Agatha Younge.
On Thursday, he would judge the lady for himself.