Darcy stood taller, his voice measured. “What I risk, Aunt, is my own. Not yours, nor my uncle’s.”
“Is that so?” she shot back. “Do you truly believe you can shield this family from the consequences of your actions? You have always been stubborn, Fitzwilliam, but this… this is madness. If you have any sense left, you will leave the whole wretched business behind and focus on your future.”
“My future is precisely what concerns me,” Darcy replied. “And I intend to shape it with purpose.”
Her jaw hardened. “I can hardly refuse you, Darcy, but I must demand that you reconsider.”
“Ask her,” he insisted, “to speak with me privately, Aunt. I have considered, and I find this to be in her best interests.”
“A fine sentiment, but how does this reflect on Georgiana? You are asking her to mingle with these… projects of Sir Thomas, while risking the opinions of any reputable families present. She is to make her debut next year, Fitzwilliam. This could very well tarnish her standing.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, but he did not rise to the bait. “It is Christmas. And they are but people, Aunt, just as you and I are. People who have been dealt harsh blows and deserve compassion, not judgment.”
“Compassion,” she echoed dryly. “A sentiment best saved for decent people who will actually feel the honor of it.”
Darcy’s blood heated. After the confusion with Elizabeth, the crushing of the only hope that had inspired his heart in… well, in far too long… this was all too much. “Aunt, I will brook no disputes on the matter. Please ask my sister to come down.”
Lady Matlock’s ample breast rose in a resigned sigh. “You are your father’s son in all the ways I least expected, Fitzwilliam. He would never have dreamed of such… audacity. Very well, speak to her. But do not say I did not warn you.”
Darcy turned at thesound of footsteps, and a flicker of warmth crossed his face as Georgiana entered. She hesitated on the threshold, her hands loosely clasped, her expression an uncertain mix of curiosity and delight.
“Brother?” she said, her voice lifting slightly. “I did not know you were here!”
Darcy rose, crossing the room to greet her. “Georgiana. I came because I have a matter to discuss with you.” He glanced toward Lady Matlock, who watched with narrowed eyes, then back at his sister. “Would you sit with me?”
Georgiana’s brows knit slightly, but she nodded and took a place on the settee. Darcy sat beside her, his posture relaxed yet deliberate, as if willing her to feel at ease.
“Bingley and I have been staying in Hertfordshire, at Netherfield Park, for some weeks now,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “It is a house with an unusual history—one tied to a man whose courage and selflessness have saved lives, including my own.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened slightly. “Yes, you wrote something of that. You met Sir Thomas again?”
“Yes.” Darcy inclined his head. “He has taken in people in need, offering them safety and a chance to rebuild. Bingley and I have been assisting him with an effort to unite his household with the surrounding community.” He paused. “And I would like you to join me there for Christmas.”
Georgiana’s lips parted in surprise. “Join you? At Netherfield?” She glanced at her aunt, who was already stiffening in her chair. Then she turned back to him, her expression guarded. “But why me? What could I possibly contribute?”
“Your presence, for one,” Darcy said gently. “You have a gift for making people feel at ease, Georgiana. And I believe you would find it as enriching as I have.”
Lady Matlock let out a derisive sniff. “Enriching? Georgiana, I must remind you that you are to make your debut next year. Fitzwilliam, desist from this nonsense. Do you honestly think mingling with such company will elevate her standing?”
Darcy’s gaze hardened, but his voice remained even. “If Georgiana wishes to decline, she is free to do so. But I will not have her pressured into a decision by fear of appearances.”
Georgiana hesitated, her eyes darting between them. “Will it… will it cause harm to your plans if I refuse?” she asked, her voice soft.
Darcy leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “Not harm, no. But your presence would mean a great deal—to me and to others.”
Georgiana studied his face for a moment, her expression searching. Slowly, she nodded. “If you believe it is right, then I will come.”
Lady Matlock’s chair creaked as she shifted. “You are making a mistake, Fitzwilliam. Mark my words.”
Darcy stood, offering Georgiana his hand. “Thank you, Aunt. Your hospitality, as always, has been most illuminating.”
Lady Matlock’s lips pursed. “If this folly casts a shadow over her prospects, Fitzwilliam, you will have only yourself to blame.”
Darcy inclined his head, his tone calm but final. “If it does, Aunt, then I will answer for it.” Turning to Georgiana, he added gently, “We will stay at our townhouse for tonight, and possibly tomorrow—depending on how long my other business takes. You will need to have your trunk packed. Ask the maid to assist you. I will wait.”
Georgiana nodded, her eyes flitting nervously between her aunt and her brother before she disappeared down the hall.
Lady Matlock’s gaze bored into Darcy. “This is reckless, even for you.”
