Chapter 12
Fitzwilliam Darcy
By the time Darcy reached his townhouse, the sun had set.
The lamps along Grosvenor Street cast a soft golden light across the damp pavement while the carriage rolled to a stop before the familiar entrance.
Despite the late hour, London still moved restlessly around him.
Distant wheels rattled through the mist, accompanied now and then by the muffled calls of coachmen farther along the street.
For the first time that day, Darcy became fully aware of his own exhaustion.
The day had altered course so completely from anything he might reasonably have expected that parts of it still possessed an unreal quality in retrospect. That morning he had expected nothing more eventful than a brief journey into Meryton for books.
Instead, he had found Elizabeth Bennet preparing to flee Hertfordshire alone, escorted her to London under circumstances ripe for misunderstanding, and capped it all off with a visit to her aunt’s drawing room, only to be informed by a small child that he looked very serious. The recollection almost made him smile.
Darcy stepped from the carriage and handed his gloves absently to the waiting footman as he entered the house.
Warmth met him, carrying with it the familiar scents of beeswax, polished wood, and coal smoke. Within moments quick footsteps approached from the rear corridor.
“Mr Darcy!” Mrs Stark appeared visibly surprised by the sight of him. “My apologies, sir. We had no expectation of your arrival today.”
“I regret that I could not send word,” Darcy replied. “Circumstances altered unexpectedly.”
The housekeeper recovered quickly, as competent people generally did. “Miss Darcy will be delighted, sir.”
Something in her tone softened the words beyond mere politeness.
Darcy felt a brief stab of guilt. In all the confusion of that day, he had scarcely thought of Georgiana, who ought to always be his first consideration. “I shall be very glad to see her.”
Mrs Stark smiled approvingly. “She is in the east drawing room, sir. At the pianoforte.”
Darcy chuckled at that. “Of course she is.”
Mrs Stark allowed herself the smallest hint of amusement before turning to direct the servants regarding his luggage. A few words sufficed to explain Edith Smith’s presence; almost before he had finished, the woman was chatting to his London housekeeper as though they were old friends.
Darcy crossed the house almost automatically after that, familiarity guiding him through the quiet halls with little conscious thought. As he approached the east drawing room, the sound of music reached him clearly at last.
Georgiana’s playing was more lovely than ever.
He recognised the piece, an adagio by Albinoni.
She played it with far more confidence now than she had during the summer, the difficult passages flowing cleanly beneath her hands instead of faltering from uncertainty.
The improvement would have pleased him in any case, but tonight, it affected him more deeply than it might otherwise have done.
After Wickham and the devastation he had wrought on Georgiana’s life, Darcy doubted he would ever again take simple peace for granted.
And in Elizabeth Bennet, he had seen an example of courage that he hoped his sister would never have to emulate.
He opened the door.
Mrs Annesley looked up first from her seat near the fire. Surprise crossed her face immediately, followed by a smile of welcome. “Mr Darcy!”
Georgiana turned so quickly upon the pianoforte bench that the music stopped in the middle of a phrase, several unfinished notes lingering in the silence that followed. “Brother?”
Darcy had barely crossed the threshold before she rose and hurried toward him, all graceful composure forgotten in her astonishment.
“You are here!”
Mrs Annesley stood as well, smiling warmly as Georgiana reached him several seconds later.
“I am,” Darcy replied.
Georgiana caught both his hands tightly in hers as though reassuring herself he had truly appeared and had not simply been announced in error. “You never wrote that you were coming.”
“The decision was made rather suddenly.”
“I do not care. I am delighted.”
The open happiness in her voice stirred the earlier guilt more sharply than before. He had intended Netherfield as a brief visit only. Instead, he had remained away for weeks while Georgiana waited patiently in London, never complaining, and never asking him to shorten his stay.
Darcy bent and kissed her forehead lightly. “I am very glad to see you, Georgiana.”
Mrs Annesley moved nearer the fire, tactfully granting the siblings a moment before speaking. “This is a most welcome surprise, Mr Darcy. Miss Darcy has missed you exceedingly.”
Georgiana flushed. “Mrs Annesley exaggerates.”
“Very little,” Mrs Annesley replied.
Darcy looked more carefully at his sister then and recognised the truth beneath her embarrassment. Georgiana carried loneliness quietly, perhaps too quietly. It was only too easy to mistake her gentleness for contentment; she disliked burdening others with unhappiness.
Georgiana released his hands at last, though with visible reluctance. “You have only just arrived?” she asked. “Mrs Stark said nothing.”
“Because Mrs Stark knew nothing,” Darcy replied. “I arrived scarcely five minutes ago.”
“And from Hertfordshire directly?”
“Yes.”
Curiosity brightened her expression. “There is certainly a story attached to this visit.”
Darcy gazed briefly into the fire, allowing himself a moment to arrange the necessary fiction into something sufficiently natural.
“Only a small complication involving travel arrangements,” he said evenly.
“I happened upon an acquaintance from Meryton in need of transportation to London and altered my plans accordingly.”
Mrs Annesley’s brows lifted slightly.
Georgiana’s interest sharpened. “An acquaintance?”
Darcy recognised the tone and almost regretted speaking so vaguely. “Yes.”
Her eyes brightened further. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Darcy looked at her steadily enough that Georgiana’s expression became instantly innocent. “Yes, as it happens. How did you think of it?”
“Your letters mentioned several meetings at Netherfield,” Georgiana replied carefully. “And the assembly, and Mr Bingley’s ball, too. I was surprised to find you mentioned a young lady by name, for you never have before.”
If Darcy was not much mistaken, Mrs Annesley hid a smile at that.
Georgiana, however, continued studying him with growing curiosity. “And Miss Elizabeth required assistance reaching London?”
The question was delicately asked, which only made it more suspicious. Darcy glanced once toward Mrs Annesley, who had become very occupied indeed with arranging her embroidery silks beside the fire.
Traitors. Both of them.
“She is visiting relations in Gracechurch Street,” he replied. “As I was already travelling to town, offering her the use of the carriage was the simplest arrangement.”
“But you had not written to me that you intended to come,” Georgiana remarked with suspicious innocence. “How fortunate for Miss Elizabeth that you happened to be travelling just then.”
Darcy regarded his sister with increasing suspicion. Georgiana returned the look with remarkable serenity for someone plainly attempting to gather information.
“You sound disappointed,” he observed.
“Not disappointed,” she replied. “Only curious.”
“Dangerously so.”
Mrs Annesley abandoned all pretense of concentrating upon her embroidery long enough to say mildly, “Curiosity is generally strongest where information is withheld.”
Darcy looked at both women in disbelief. “I begin to suspect a formal alliance against me.”
“You have been absent a considerable time,” Georgiana said. “We have naturally been obliged to entertain ourselves.”
The remark was delivered with such composure that Darcy almost laughed.
Georgiana resumed her place at the pianoforte then, though she did not begin to play again. Instead, she rested her fingers lightly against the keys while continuing to study her brother with quiet attentiveness.
“Was your journey with Miss Elizabeth pleasant?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, quite uneventful.”
“And her relations received her well?”
Darcy hesitated before answering. “Very well.”
Something in his tone appeared to interest Georgiana further. “You like them.”
It was not phrased as a question.
Darcy sat down, considering it. “Mrs Gardiner is an intelligent woman,” he said. “Her children were surprisingly fearless with me. Yes, I did like them.”
Georgiana looked pleased with his answer. “You sound surprised by your own opinion.”
Darcy gave her a dry look. “I assure you I do not require instruction in forming one.”
“No,” Georgiana agreed mildly. “Only occasional assistance in admitting it.”
Mrs Annesley lowered her head, clearly concealing amusement. Darcy had the distinct impression that the entire household had become altogether too comfortable in his absence.
Georgiana finally began playing again, softer this time, the music filling the room with easy familiarity. Darcy listened in silence, allowing the calmness of the scene to settle gradually over thoughts still disordered from the day.
It struck him suddenly that he had not experienced a single quiet moment since entering Meryton that morning. Everything afterward had been motion. Decision and urgency.
Elizabeth, standing beside the stagecoach with fear carefully hidden beneath composure. The memory returned with uncomfortable clarity.
“You are thinking about something unpleasant,” Georgiana observed gently, without looking up from the pianoforte.
Darcy blinked. “Am I so transparent?”
“To me? Sometimes.”
He leaned back slightly in his chair. “The day was more complicated than expected.”
“That is becoming increasingly obvious.”
A faint smile touched Darcy’s expression despite himself. Georgiana glanced toward him then, and whatever she saw appeared to reassure her. Some of the careful watchfulness she had carried since his arrival eased.