Chapter VII #2
“Oh, aye,” replied she. “I must suppose that he has seen their like in every corner of the kingdom.”
“I shall not say you are incorrect.”
“It is shocking that you will return to London after only a brief visit,” said Miss Lydia at that moment, her fluttering lashes a testament to how agreeable she found him. “If you were to stay in Meryton, you would be most welcome.”
Miss Kitty said something to support her sister, though as she was much quieter, Darcy could not hear what she said. Fitzwilliam, to his credit, handled the girl with his usual assurance.
“Ah, but I must return to my duties in London, Miss Lydia.” Fitzwilliam offered a winsome smile. “These militia officers may socialize and dance with the local ladies, but serving in the regulars is serious business.”
“Have you served on the continent?” asked Miss Kitty.
“I have, indeed,” replied Fitzwilliam.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth as Fitzwilliam related another tale. “I can see your cousin is quite skilled.”
“He is, but do not tell him that—he will grow insufferable.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy grinned at her. Then he became serious again.
“When Fitzwilliam came to Netherfield, he brought another with him—my sister, Georgiana.”
“The infamous Miss Georgiana Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, her smile taking away any suggestion of irony. “That is most curious, Mr. Darcy, for the way Miss Bingley spoke of her, I might have thought her towering presence would become known to us long before her arrival in the neighborhood.”
“Georgiana is not what Miss Bingley described,” replied Darcy. “I love her dearly, but she is no imposing miss. She is cursed with the Darcy reticence, but in her it is manifest as shyness—she is eager to make friends, but does not always know how to go about doing it.
“If I have your approval,” added Darcy, wanting Miss Elizabeth to work some of her charm on his sister, “I should like to bring her by to introduce her to you.”
Though appearing flattered, Miss Elizabeth could not allow the moment to pass without a tease. “Do you think it is altogether wise, Mr. Darcy? Too much time in my sisters’ company may end with your sister emulating their behavior.”
“Or perhaps she might affect them more than the reverse,” replied Darcy, a challenge in his tone.
“If she can do that,” replied she, her tone laced with irony, “she is a worker of miracles. We should be pleased to make her acquaintance, Mr. Darcy.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy.
Conversation with Miss Elizabeth was always interesting, such that Darcy had no desire to relinquish her company for that of any other.
When the half hour had passed, they rose to leave, and Darcy addressed Mrs. Bennet about introducing his sister as was proper.
Mrs. Bennet was surprised, but she was not unwilling.
“Of course, Mr. Darcy. We should be happy to make your dear sister’s acquaintance at any time convenient.”
“Then we shall come tomorrow,” replied Darcy.
When they were situated in the carriage for the return journey, Fitzwilliam eyed him, making the same witticism that Miss Elizabeth had made.
Darcy, knowing his cousin was not concerned at all about the introduction, only shook his head.
Bingley, who did not know Fitzwilliam so well as Darcy did, inserted his opinion into the mix.
“Do not concern yourself. Miss Darcy is well enough behaved that she may withstand Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia’s ways.”
“I do not doubt it, Bingley,” replied Fitzwilliam. “What I am more concerned about is the potential presence of your sister. I did not see Miss Bingley—is she skulking about somewhere out of sight? With Darcy present, I might have thought wild horses could not prevent her from this estate.”
It was much more than Darcy might have said, but Bingley did not take offense, nor had Darcy supposed he would. Instead, he laughed, more than a little chagrin tinged his mirth.
“That is a close portrayal of my sister, indeed. To the good fortune of us all, Caroline is visiting friends at present, though I must suppose she will return soon.”
“Keep your foil at hand, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam. “With it, you may succeed in fending her off.”
Amid such banter as this, they returned to Netherfield, and when Bingley had excused himself, Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy as they made their way above stairs.
“Tell me, Cousin,” said he, “I am curious about your position beside one of the Bennet ladies the entirety of our visit. As you avoid the attention of any lady, I wonder what you mean by it.”
“Nothing at present,” replied Darcy.
“But you do find her agreeable.”
“I do,” confirmed Darcy.
Fitzwilliam nodded, appearing satisfied. “I had not much opportunity to speak to her, but she does not seem to be of the same ilk as her sisters.”
“Not at all,” agreed Darcy. “Should you have occasion to come to know her better, you will find a lady as articulate as any you have ever met, easy in company, and interesting.”
“That is high praise from you, Darcy,” observed Fitzwilliam.
“And not undeserved.”
Fitzwilliam slapped him on the back. “Then I hope to have more time to come to know her before the wedding, old man. She sounds like she might be the making of you.”
With that, Fitzwilliam returned to his room, leaving Darcy to his thoughts.
After some time considering her, Darcy was forced to agree—she would be the making of him.
All he needed to do was persuade her. That was not as sure a prospect as it would have been for just about any other woman in England.
GEORGIANA DARCY WAS not certain what to expect.
Her brother paying attention to any woman was a surprise—he fled rather than speaking of them with unconcealed respect and scarcely hidden affection.
That alone told Georgiana that it was possible she was meeting her future sister that day, which made her pay attention.
The prospect of meeting a woman who may one day exert an influence in her life was intimidating, but Georgiana tried to meet it with the fortitude she had been trying to obtain.
“Miss Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth when her brother performed the introductions.
Miss Elizabeth took her hands, her pleasure in the introduction unfeigned.
“How pleased we all are to make your acquaintance. Why, I have heard so much about you that I wonder how I shall endure the luminosity of your presence without being intimidated.”
“Intimidated?” blurted Georgiana. Her eyes darted to her brother, even more astonished by his complacency, and even a hint of amusement.
“Yes, of course.” Georgiana could see the joviality in Miss Elizabeth’s manner, but she struggled to understand it.
“Why, I have it on excellent authority that you are a towering example of sense, education, and accomplishment, play the pianoforte very well, and possess a certain something in your air to which mere mortals can have no hope of aspiring.”
By now, Georgiana was certain Miss Elizabeth was jesting, though she could think of no way to respond. It was fortunate that Mrs. Hurst, who was standing nearby, rescued her.
“I believe, Miss Darcy,” said she, her glance flicking to Miss Elizabeth, “that Miss Elizabeth refers to my sister’s praise of you. Caroline spoke of you one evening when we were all in company together.”
Georgiana made a valiant effort to refrain from making a face, though she was not certain how successful it was. Miss Elizabeth chose that moment to take pity on her.
“I apologize, Miss Darcy, for making sport with you. Yet I must own that I have anticipated making your acquaintance since that evening, though I was not certain it would ever come about.”
“I had thought my brother fixed in London,” said Georgiana, her anxiety easing a little. “But I am not displeased with the opportunity to make your acquaintance.”
“Then I shall do my best to make you comfortable among us.”
Comfort at Longbourn was not difficult to attain, though true ease remained elusive.
That was not because of the locale, but the people who inhabited the estate.
Miss Elizabeth was everything pleasing, and what Georgiana could see of Miss Bennet suggested she was estimable, though quieter than her sister.
Miss Mary had some observations about music that guaranteed a common subject of interest.
Mrs. Bennet, however, was loud and unrestrained, and her youngest daughters were little better.
Though Kitty and Lydia Bennet exclaimed their pleasure at making her acquaintance and insisted she sit with them for a time, the subjects they discussed—the most prevalent concerning a regiment of the militia quartered nearby—were not at all to Georgiana’s taste.
Georgiana sat with them until Miss Elizabeth rescued her from their clutches, but she said little—that did not seem to matter, as the girls rarely required a response.
“That was most curious,” ventured Georgiana when she returned to Miss Elizabeth’s side.
“What, particularly?” asked Miss Elizabeth, though her expression was knowing.
“Your sisters’ interest in the militia,” replied Georgiana.
“Oh, aye, Kitty and Lydia like nothing better than a man in a red coat.” There was in her response a mixture of exasperation and fondness, though it was heavily weighted to the former.
“I must suppose that you, having a cousin who is colonel, must consider such subjects as the officers uninteresting.”
Had Georgiana thought Miss Elizabeth was speaking in censure, she was uncertain she could have mustered a response. “Are you as interested in the officers as your sisters?”
It was a challenge Georgiana had not thought she had it in herself to voice. Miss Elizabeth was not bothered at all by it—she smiled, and nodded.
“You have caught me, Miss Darcy. When the officers came to Meryton, they were a novelty, but that soon waned in favor of my usual routine.”
Georgiana considered this, along with everything she heard. “Mr. Wickham’s name arose when I sat with them.”
“Yes, of course,” Miss Elizabeth said. “I should have realized that name would be known to you.”
“It is,” agreed Georgiana, not wanting to speak of Mr. Wickham or the specific sins against herself. “That he is gone is a most welcome development, for he is not a good man; he used my brother most ill.”
Miss Elizabeth seemed to consider this. “Do you know that when he came, I thought him a good man? He spoke of your brother in such terms as to render belief of his assertions natural.”
“I can well imagine it,” said Georgiana, shaking her head. “Once I also thought him to be a good man.”
“Then perhaps that is all we need to say about him,” replied Elizabeth. “I have often said that I only think of the past as it has power to bring me pleasure; as no thought of Mr. Wickham brings pleasure, the only recourse is to not think about him at all.”
“I agree,” replied Georgiana.
They set to it with a will; by the end of the visit, they had dispensed with formality and agreed to refer to each other with their Christian names.
As eager to form friendships as Georgiana was, she appreciated Miss Elizabeth’s open demeanor and willingness to speak to a girl who was several years younger.
“Well, Miss Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley when they were in the carriage on the way back to Netherfield Park, “did you enjoy your first exposure to my neighbors?”
“The Bennets were very interesting,” replied Georgiana. “I especially enjoyed Elizabeth’s company, though I share some interests with Miss Mary.”
“I see you have already eschewed formality with Miss Elizabeth,” said Mrs. Hurst.
Had it been her sister, Georgiana would have expected ill-concealed displeasure mixed with her usual brand of insolent advice spoken in that condescending tone she often employed.
Mrs. Hurst only looked on with curiosity.
Mrs. Hurst’s demeanor had changed, it seemed, though Georgiana supposed she had always been more silent than insistent like her sister.
“I enjoyed Miss Elizabeth’s company,” said Georgiana, reverting to formality.
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth is quite engaging,” agreed Mrs. Hurst.
“If you wish,” said Georgiana, feeling rather diffident, “I am also pleased to dispense with formality between us.”
“That would be acceptable,” said Mrs. Hurst, squeezing her hand.
Georgiana was pleased. Miss Bingley had often assumed informality between them, though Georgiana had never agreed.
Mrs. Hurst appeared genuine, as if she understood Georgiana’s reticence and meant to draw her out.
Mrs. Hurst was not like Elizabeth, who exuded familiarity.
But Georgiana thought she could like this new Mrs. Hurst tolerably well.
When they returned to Netherfield, Georgiana caught her brother, intending to ask him a particular question. William appeared to be expecting it, for he agreed to her request for a private conversation without comment.
“Tell me, Brother,” said Georgiana, deciding that directness would serve, “have I just met my future sister?”
Though she had not expected a reprimand or an instruction to mind her own concerns, she had also not expected his soft smile, one that was quietly distant. “It is yet much too early for such considerations, my dear. However, I will confess that I like Miss Elizabeth well, indeed.”
Georgiana considered this then nodded. “That is well then, for I also like her.”
After a pause in which she considered the wisdom of saying what had entered her mind, Georgiana ventured: “Though it seems silly now, at one time, I had wondered if you were considering . . . another for the role.”
William was no less than knowing. “By saying another, can I suppose you mean the sister of this estate’s master?”
“From my perspective, I will assert that it should not be surprising. While I will acknowledge you never spoke in such a way, you also did not disabuse her obvious intentions toward you.”
“No, I did not, but that was only because of my respect for Bingley. Miss Bingley has never been a consideration—not when I made her acquaintance, and certainly not now. There is no plausible scenario in which I could ever justify offering for her.”
“Then I shall express my gratitude and remain silent otherwise.”
By now, William sported a wide grin. “You are not cast down at the notion of losing such a sister? Why, Miss Bingley is the most logical choice to become the mistress of my estate. She owns it herself!”
Georgiana laughed with her brother. “Then I am pleased that logic will not dictate your actions, for Miss Bingley would make a most disagreeable sister.”
“That, my dear Georgiana, pales compared to how disagreeable a wife she would make.”