Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Whether or not Miss Grantley was aware. I shall be sad when you marry, Darcy. It is great sport watching you be hunted.”
He might not ever marry now, depending on what they found in Hertfordshire. He might not be able to afford it. Itwas a humbling thought. Darcy was silent for a moment too long, for he saw Fitzwilliam’s expression change as he realised the same. They exchanged a glance—Darcy’s stoic, Fitzwilliam’s apologetic.
“And the Hursts?” Georgiana inquired. “Will not Mrs. Hurst need to be there as hostess?”
Darcy shook his head. “We will only be there for a few weeks. Bingley will see that Miss Bennet is not really interested in him, and he will want to close the place up again.”
His sister’s eyebrows pinched together. “She is not interested? Does Mr. Bingley know that?”
He sighed. “I do not think so. But if he still has feelings for her after Christmas, it would be kinder to allow Miss Bennet to decline his suit definitively rather than to linger in London and wonder.”
“That sounds rather harsh,” Georgiana said, a touch of reproof in her tone.
Darcy shook his head. “Miss Bennet is a very kind woman, Georgiana. She will not be cruel—it is not in her nature.”
Fitzwilliam was not following their discussion of Bingley. “A fortnight ought to be enough to learn if there is more to the story,” he said with a nod. “The absence of Bingley’s family will give us the freedom we need to look into Mr. Bennet’s background. We will start by confirming his connections.”
Despite the uncertainty of his situation, Darcy felt a renewed sense of determination. They would not be leaving this investigation to chance. Pemberley was too important, and if there was any honest way to prevent the estate from falling into unworthy hands, they had to take it.
Once the ink was dry, Darcy folded and sealed his note, then rose and moved to the door to hand it to a waiting servant with instructions to deliver it with all haste. “Wait for a response if Mr. Bingley wishes to send one.”
As the door closed behind the servant, Georgiana shifted in her seat, her expression thoughtful. “This might be the final Christmas we spend in this house.”
Darcy turned toward his sister, feeling a pang of guilt. Christmas was always a special time for them—an opportunity to celebrate quietly, to remember their parents and festive seasons past.
“I had not thought of that,” Darcy admitted, his voice heavy. “If things go as I fear, this may indeed be our last Christmas here. But it will not be our last Christmas together.”
Georgiana’s eyes brightened slightly. “If we are to leave, I would like to plan something special. Perhaps a small dinner—just the three of us. And we could decorate the house ourselves, rather than have the servants do it.”
They always decorated a few rooms at Pemberley when they were in the country for Christmas, but in London locating greenery for such a purpose was more difficult. Darcy smiled. He had always appreciated Georgiana’s ability to find joy in small things. “That sounds like a fine idea, Georgie.”
“Yes,” Fitzwilliam added, clapping his hands together with a manufactured cheer. “It will be just the thing.”
They spent the next hour discussing plans for the holiday, the conversation a welcome distraction from the looming uncertainty. Georgiana talked eagerly about their usual Christmas decorations, how she wanted to find new garlands for the house, and which of their old traditions she wished to carry on this year.
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Darcy’s servant entered, holding a letter with Bingley’s seal.
“He was even quicker than I expected,” Darcy murmured. He took the letter and dismissed the servant.
He opened it to read the contents, a relieved smile flickering across his face as he read. “Bingley is happy to accommodate us.He writes that we are welcome to Netherfield as long as we need, and Miss Bingley will remain at Miss Grantley’s estate for the foreseeable future.”
Richard let out a low laugh. “Bingley is pleasantly predictable.”
Darcy nodded, folding the letter and placing it on the desk. “It is settled, then. We shall leave for Hertfordshire the day after Christmas.”
Chapter Three
The table at Darcy House, dressed in fine linens and gleaming silver, bore the remains of an elaborate Christmas feast. Darcy leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of port. Fitzwilliam, seated across from him, had just finished recounting a particularly amusing anecdote from his time abroad, earning a hearty laugh from the assembled company. Georgiana sat to Darcy’s left, her eyes bright as she dabbed delicately at one corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“The problem with Whitehall,” Fitzwilliam concluded, “is that they never consider that the other side might understand strategy too.”
Georgiana giggled behind her hand, and even Darcy allowed himself a faint smile.
For a moment, he allowed himself to relax. The warmth of the fire in the hearth, the cheer of the company. Everything was as it should be.
The moment was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door, and Mrs. Garrett, the long-serving housekeeper, entered. She curtsied slightly before addressing Darcy.
“Pardon the intrusion, sir, but Anders has returned. He asked if he might see you before retiring for the night.”
