“You believe in me. It makes me braver. But I could never ignore Fitzwilliam’s wishes, not after what happened the last time.”
“You told me Wickham convinced you Darcy would be pleased if you married him.”
“I remember.” Georgiana flushed. “I could not have beenreallyso foolish. I must have known.”
“You were fifteen. Donotunderestimate your potential for foolishness at such an age.”
Georgiana rubbed her cheek. “Nowonderyou do not blame me for what I did then. A girl capable of believingthat…” Georgiana shook her head and whistled in awed disgust.
“You are different today. Wise and sensible.”
“Never against Fitzwilliam’s wishes. Perhaps he will oppose… I amnotwho I was.”
“If he argueslisten. But when you have better knowledge from your own reasoning, act on whatyouknow. Your brother is only a man, he makes mistakes.”
“How could you marry him if you think that?”
“I love him — I expect him to listen to me.” Elizabeth smiled. “Mr. Peake listens to you?”
“Oh, yes! I can tell him anything. But heiswiser than me.”
“You do not think he is wiser ineverything? If so, I fear you will be disappointed.”
Georgiana giggled. “Noteverything.”
“I am glad you know. An unequal marriage is never a good thing.”
Georgiana bit her lips and grinned. Then she looked down. “But what if he is not fond of me in such a manner?”
“Then you will depend on my advice to make you prettier, and more forward. A man likes to know he is liked before he ventures on such a venture. Show him that. Bring him to ask you — ask him first if it comes tothatnecessity.”
“Surely not!”
“Would you not like to be so brave?”
“It would be ridiculous — you did not! Not with my brother?”
“No — Iwasa little forward to encourage him. A lady ought never simplywait. Your brother had made up his mind — well before I had determined my own. You shall find this a difficult matter to believe, but he was nervous. I gave him a little reassurance.”
“Lizzy, I am so glad you are to marry Fitzwilliam.”
“I amevenhappier.”
Georgiana grinned.
“Especially since you are to marry Mr. Peake so soon.” Elizabeth added smilingly, “It would not do to leave Fitzwilliam alone in Pemberley.”
Chapter Nineteen
The morning after Bingley’s fine fox hunt — a day as good as he’d been promised — Darcy whistled and grabbed an apple tart from the piled plate on the wide table in the breakfast room. It was freshly baked so that the family and guests could enjoy whenever they woke. He savored the sugary richness of the apple combined with the flakey tenderness of the crust. Even food tasted better now that he was to marry Elizabeth. Darcy put the tart down and poured himself a strong mug of coffee from the carafe set out and mixed in the cream and a lump of sugar.
He tasted it, and the coffee tasted better than it ever had before. Taste. Her lips. The velvety taste of her tongue. The friction of lips rubbing against each other.
The house still slept, despite the hour being past nine. The dissipation of the past night had not ended until many hours after they toasted the bell tolling midnight. Bingley yet lacked thirty;hehad excuse for not sleeping, but the bed had called too strongly to Darcy for him to resist, or even try to resist, after Elizabeth and the Longbourn party left.
Why would hewishto resist and spend hours with Bingley’s other guests when he could dream of Elizabeth?
Darcy’s entire being glowed at the memory of their dances last night. Her hand. Touching her hand. Her trusting smile. Her laughter. Her flashing eyes. The sweet curve of her bosom.
