She looked up, offering a smile that was surprisingly bright. “Fitzwilliam. Good morning.”
Darcy took a seat beside her, his head already beginning to pound. Good heavens, not again. “You are looking better today.”
Her eyes lit up with pleasure. “Thank you, Brother. So are you. Do you like the new style for my hair? Lady Matlock’s maid suggested it.”
“Very fetching,” he agreed, then added with a ghost of a smile, “Very ladylike.”
She touched a tendril that the maid had left to curl down her cheekbone. “Do you think? I was hoping she could teach Catherine before we go to Pemberley. What day are we to leave? I am so looking forward to it.”
Darcy held his breath as he studied her eager expression, his mind reeling with the fear and uncertainty that had plagued him since his conversation with Dr Westing. The possibilities gnawed at him incessantly, making it hard to focus. Stalling would do no good, so he might as well out with it.
“That is what I came to speak to you of today. I am concerned that revisiting Pemberley might stir up old memories of Wickham.”
Georgiana frowned slightly. “But Fitzwilliam, I want to see Pemberley again. I have missed it terribly. And I am looking forward to spending time with Cousin Richard. And I like Mr Bingley very well, too. Is that it? You do not want me spending time with your friend?”
Darcy shook his head, and he could swear it felt like his brain was jangling around inside. “Not at all. Bingley is a fine enough fellow, but he and Richard and I will be occupied with the shooting party. We will not be good company for you.”
Her enthusiasm wavered, replaced by confusion. “But I enjoy watching you all shoot. And I can spend time with you in the evenings.”
Darcy leaned forward, his tone more insistent as the pain behind his eyes grew sharper. “Georgiana, I think it would be best if you remained here in London with Aunt and Uncle. There is more for you to look forward to here. Moreover, Lady Matlock’s guidance will be beneficial for you as you prepare for your come out.”
Her expression turned to one of frustration. “But why? I do not come out for another year. Surely!” She gave a short laugh. “A month or two at Pemberley could do no harm to my prospects. I want to be with you and Richard.”
“You need to focus on your duties here,” Darcy asserted, struggling to keep his voice steady. “You cannot let yourself get lost in the past.”
Georgiana bolted to her feet, her fists clenched. “I am not lost in the past, Fitzwilliam. I just want to go home.”
Darcy’s voice hardened, more from the pain and frustration he felt than any real anger. “You are not going to Pemberley. I am making this decision for your own good.”
Her jaw tightened. “Why are you treating me like a child? I am perfectly capable of deciding where I want to be!”
Darcy stood as well, his patience thinning and his head pounding. “Because you do not see the danger in indulging those memories. I think it is better for old attachments to weaken and new ones to grow in their place. Here in London—”
Georgiana’s eyes flashed. “I have no friends in London! How am I supposed to create an attachment to anything?”
Darcy snorted, wincing at the sudden sharpness of his headache. “You have not been listening, either to our aunt or to me. I am sorry, Georgiana, but I do not think it best for you to come to Pemberley with us.”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she held his gaze as her lip trembled with a melodramatic promise. “You cannot keep me away from Pemberley forever. I will go back someday.”
Darcy placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the weakness in his arm and hating the new terror of wondering when his body was going to fail him next. “Of course you will, but not now. Please hear me, sweetling. It is not that I do not want you near. I simply think this will be the best choice for you right now.”
She looked away, her voice cracking. “Very well, Brother. I will stay in London.”
Darcy nodded and sighed. “Thank you, Georgiana. I will not be away for long, and I trust you will find vastly more amusements here than there.”
Georgiana scowled, still staring at the floor. “I doubt that.”
Darcy’s head throbbed mercilessly, and he knew he had to leave before his sister saw just how unwell he was. “I... I should go now, Georgiana. Rest assured, we will discuss this further upon my return.”
Her gaze softened slightly, worry replacing her frustration. “Are you well, Fitzwilliam? Youlookwell enough, but you do not quite seem yourself and after the other day...”
Darcy hesitated. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her he was perfectly well, but the words stuck in his throat. “I... I am just a bit fatigued, Georgiana. The journey and recent exertions have taken their toll. It is nothing to worry about.”
She frowned, her concern evident. “You must take care of yourself, Brother. Promise me you will rest.”
Darcy managed a faint smile. “I promise. Now, you focus on your lessons with Aunt. I will be back before you know it.”
Several hours later, Darcywas at his desk, poring over the intricate details of his father’s will. He could have sworn there was a note in there about Wickh… well, no matter, for it seemed he was remembering it incorrectly, or it was never there at all. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow across the study, making him feel groggy and sluggish. His eyelids were beginning to sink, and his senses slowing so much that he barely registered the knock at the door.
