Darcy offered a tight expression. “I had not.”
“Well, it is quite true. Can you imagine? And she, a newly married woman!” Lady Matlock shook her head in mock disapproval, though her tone betrayed her delight in the scandal.
“Indeed, Aunt. How... unfortunate,” Darcy replied, struggling to muster appropriate concern.
Lady Matlock barely paused for breath before continuing. “Oh, and you must have heard about the Barclays? Rumor has it they are on the brink of financial ruin. Such a shame. And after Lady Barclay just hosted the most splendid ball! They say Sir Randall lost all his fortune speculating on the Continent, but—”
“But there is no profit in speaking of it. What am I to do on the occasion?”
She sighed. “Honestly, Darcy, you are so tiresome. What harm can there be in a little talk? Besides, I wager you have not heard of Lord Wexfield. Oh! Your uncle speaks of nothing else. I’ve no head for politics, but it certainly seems like somethingyoumight be interested in.”
Darcy shifted in his chair, his eyes flicking to the clock on the mantel. Blast, there was that twinge behind his left eye again. The megrim was looming, and he had best return home before other symptoms followed. “I dabble very little in politics, save where it directly concerns my interests.”
“And how are you so certain this does not? Your uncle speaks of nothing but reforming constituencies and pocket boroughs, and… oh! I know not what else.”
Darcy thinned his lips into an approximation of a smile. “Perhaps I will have a drink with him some evening and speak with him more on the matter.”
“Well, I care nothing for any of it, anyway,” Lady Matlock said, waving her hand dismissively. “What youreallyought to know about are the lovely young ladies making their debut this season. The Honorable Miss Amelia Fairfax, for instance. Such a beauty, and her dowry is said to be substantial.”
Darcy’s attention snapped back to his aunt. “Aunt, I—”
“Oh, and Miss Clara Winthrop! A true diamond of the first water, and so accomplished. I hear she plays the pianoforte divinely.” Lady Matlock’s eyes twinkled meaningfully. “Perhaps you might call on her when next you have a free morning?”
Darcy cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Aunt, while I am sure Miss Winthrop is a charming young lady, I have no intention of—”
“And let us not forget Lady Penelope Rutherford. Such a sweet girl, and from an excellent family. Her connections alone would make her a most advantageous match.”
“Aunt, I appreciate your... concern for my marital prospects. However, I assure you, I am quite content at present.”
Lady Matlock tutted disapprovingly. “Fitzwilliam, you cannot remain a bachelor forever. It is high time you settled down and provided an heir for Pemberley.”
“I am well aware of my responsibilities, Aunt,” Darcy replied, his tone growing firmer. “And I have decided against seeking a bride this season. Not until…” He allowed a faint smile. This little notion would do the trick. “Not until Georgiana has been presented at court, and we see which way the wind is blowing. My remaining single could prove… advantageous in forming the right connections.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she tapped a finger on the arm of the sofa. “Very clever, Fitzwilliam. But I still say the greatest danger is in losing opportunities to others.” Lady Matlock frowned and looked as though she would have liked to argue further but was mercifully interrupted by the opening of the door. Georgiana entered, and Darcy had never been so relieved to see his sister.
Georgiana’s eyes, wary at first, lit up upon seeing Darcy. She curtseyed to Lady Matlock before turning to her brother, her face breaking into a warm smile. “Brother! What a wonderful surprise. I had no idea you were coming today.”
Darcy rose, embracing his sister briefly. He noted the way she clung to him, just a moment too long. “Georgiana, my dear. I wanted to see how you were faring.”
As Georgiana pulled back, Darcy caught a flicker of apprehension in her eyes as she glanced at Lady Matlock. His aunt would likely interpret Georgiana’s effusive greeting as a sign of confidence, not the neediness it truly was.
“I am well, Brother,” Georgiana said, her voice slightly too bright. “Aunt has been most kind.”
Lady Matlock beamed. “You see, Fitzwilliam? Our Georgiana is thriving. Perhaps your concerns were unfounded.”
Darcy placed a gentle hand on Georgiana’s shoulder, squeezing lightly—a silent signal to temper her enthusiasm. “Indeed, Aunt. Tell me, Georgiana, are you enjoying your stay?”
Georgiana’s brow creased. “Very much. Though, I do fear I am little credit to our aunt. I…” She winced faintly. “I am afraid I do not perform well to strangers.”
Lady Matlock waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense, my dear. You simply need more practice. Now, shall we take tea and discuss plans for your debut?”
As they moved towards the tea table, Darcy caught Georgiana’s eye. He gave her a small, encouraging nod. She returned it with a grateful smile, her posture relaxing slightly. She maintained a brave face for Lady Matlock, engaging in polite conversation and expressing her gratitude for her aunt’s hospitality. However, Darcy could sense the underlying turmoil that she carefully concealed.
Some ten minutes later, Lady Matlock excused herself to attend to a household matter, and Georgiana’s calm facade faded as soon as the door closed. She sank onto the settee, her shoulders drooping slightly.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she moaned, “I am trying so hard to be what Lady Matlock expects me to be. But I feel... confused.”
Darcy sat beside her, taking her hands in his. “Tell me, dearest. What troubles you most?”
