CHAPTER FIVE
By the end of the first week, Elizabeth had fallen into a rhythm at Pemberley that surprised her with how little she resented it: mornings in the study with the ledgers, afternoons increasingly claimed by Georgiana, who had attached herself to Elizabeth with the fervent, slightly desperate loyalty of a girl unused to female friendship and determined not to waste the opportunity now that one had arrived, and evenings in the drawing room, where Mr. Darcy said little but watched a great deal, and Elizabeth found herself, against every prior intention, increasingly aware of being watched.
She told herself it was simply the natural awareness of any person under close observation.
She did not examine, too closely, why she found herself dressing with slightly more care for dinner, or why she had begun, without quite deciding to, saving her sharpest observations for the evenings, when she knew he would be present to hear them.
Caroline Bingley's continued presence at Pemberley, ostensibly for Georgiana's benefit, had begun to feel considerably less benign.
"I had the most curious conversation this morning," Miss Bingley said, on the seventh day, as the ladies sat together over their needlework while the gentlemen rode out to inspect a tenant's drainage complaint.
"With Mrs. Ashworth, you understand, from the parsonage at Kympton.
She had heard, from I cannot imagine where, that Mr. Darcy has taken in a young woman from Hertfordshire to manage his household accounts, in exchange for forgiving some debt owed by her father.
" Miss Bingley's needle paused, delicately, over her embroidery.
"I told her, of course, that I could not credit such a vulgar tale.
But it is remarkable, is it not, the things people will say, when a gentleman of consequence appears to be doing a favor for a young lady of considerably less. "
Elizabeth's hands went still over her own work. "I do not know what you imagine you are implying, Miss Bingley, but I would be obliged if you would simply say it plainly, rather than dress it in the costume of a story you claim not to believe."
"I imply nothing, Miss Bennet. I only observe that such stories, once begun, are rarely stopped by anyone's protestations of innocence, true or otherwise.
The world is so very quick to assume the worst of a young woman in your position, and so very slow to assume the worst of the gentleman, whatever the actual facts of the arrangement might be.
I should hate for you to find yourself the subject of unkind speculation, when I am quite certain none of it is deserved. "
It was, Elizabeth understood, not a warning but a threat dressed as concern, and she felt something cold settle into her stomach even as she kept her face composed.
"You are very generous with your certainty, Miss Bingley, given that we have known one another scarcely a week."
"I am generous with very little, Miss Bennet, as my brother will tell you.
But I am observant, and I find I have observed rather a great deal, this past week, that I think Mr. Darcy's wider acquaintance would find of considerable interest." Miss Bingley smiled, and returned to her embroidery, the matter, as far as she was concerned, evidently concluded.
Georgiana, who had said nothing through the entire exchange, caught Elizabeth's eye across the room with an expression of such open alarm that Elizabeth understood, with sudden clarity, that this was not the first time Miss Bingley had deployed this particular weapon, simply the first time Elizabeth had been present to witness it.
That evening, Elizabeth found Georgiana waiting in the corridor outside her rooms, twisting her hands in the particular manner of someone working up to a confidence she was not entirely certain she should share.
"You must not mind Caroline," Georgiana said, without preamble. "She has always been like that, since before I can properly remember. My brother says it is because she wishes very much to be mistress of Pemberley herself, and has never quite forgiven the world for not arranging it."
"I had begun to suspect something of the kind."
"She will say things to other people, you know.
Not just to your face. She will say them in letters, to people in town, and by the time anyone thinks to question whether they are true, the story has already gone everywhere it is going to go.
" Georgiana's voice had dropped, the particular quiet of a girl who had learned, somewhere recently and badly, how quickly a story could travel and how little truth had to do with its speed.
"I would not want that to happen to you, Miss Bennet.
You have been kinder to me than almost anyone. "
Elizabeth looked at the girl's face, young and anxious and entirely sincere, and felt the last of her irritation toward Miss Bingley curdle into something closer to genuine alarm.
"Has it happened to you, Georgiana?" she asked gently. "Something of that kind?"
Georgiana's eyes filled, sudden and unexpected, and she shook her head quickly, too quickly, the particular refusal of someone who very much wanted to say yes and had not yet decided she was permitted to.
"Not tonight," she said. "I am not ready to tell it tonight. But I think, perhaps, soon. You are the only person I have ever wanted to tell."
Elizabeth took the girl's hand, and said nothing further, only stayed with her in the quiet corridor until Georgiana's breathing had steadied, and thought, walking back to her own rooms a while later, that whatever Caroline Bingley imagined she was protecting at Pemberley, it was very much smaller than what was actually at stake within these walls.