Darcy handed his gloves and hat to the waiting footman. “It is hardly past the hour.”
Richard grinned. “Late by your standards, then.”
Lord Matlock looked up from the deck of cards he was shuffling, his gaze flicking from Darcy to Georgiana. “I trust your journey was uneventful.”
“As one would expect,” Darcy replied, guiding Georgiana toward the empty chairs.
Lady Matlock poured tea, her movements elegant and unhurried. “How are you finding your new dancing master, Georgiana? I understand he is much in demand by all the finer families.”
Georgiana gave a small shrug, her gaze fixed on the patterned rug beneath her feet. Darcy’s jaw tightened slightly at her lack of response, but he said nothing as he settled into his seat.
Richard leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You have missed some excitement in Derbyshire.”
Darcy arched a brow. “Of what sort?”
Richard’s grin widened. “Stanton’s steward has been busy. He has been seen pressuring the smaller landowners, making promises about tax remedies and land access that Stanton has no intention of honoring.”
Lady Matlock raised an eyebrow. “And the fools believe him?”
“They are desperate enough to believe anyone who offers relief,” Richard replied. “Stanton listens just enough to keep them hopeful.”
Darcy reached for his teacup. “They will realize soon enough that Stanton’s promises are empty.”
Richard gave a short laugh. “You give them too much credit. Who else is there to listen to?”
Darcy lowered the cup, narrowing his eyes at his cousin.
Richard only leaned forward, sharing a glance with his father. “It is true, though—they are tired of empty words. They want someone who will stand with them, not above them. Father is right. You have an opportunity, Darcy. They are ready to hear you.”
Darcy did not respond, his eyes flicking to Georgiana, who sat stiffly beside him, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Richard followed his gaze, and his manner shifted from intense to genial. “Georgie, you have been quiet. Did you miss me at all?”
Georgiana’s eyes flicked to him, then away. “I suppose.”
Richard chuckled, undeterred. “Only ‘suppose?’ I am wounded.”
Lady Matlock smiled gently. “Richard, you must not tease her so.”
“Oh, she can handle it,” Richard said, leaning back in his chair. “She is a Darcy, after all.”
Georgiana’s teacup clattered slightly against its saucer as she set it down with more force than necessary. “Not by choice.”
Darcy felt the familiar tight coil of frustration wind through his chest. “Georgiana,” he hissed, “that is not how we speak in company.”
Her shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing. The defiance in her posture spoke louder than any retort she could have given.
Lady Matlock finally lowered the teapot with a soft clink, her expression carefully schooled into politeness, though the sharpness in her eyes betrayed her thoughts. “We must allow,” she said delicately, “that leaving school has left Georgiana somewhat… untethered.” She smiled thinly. “I am sure she will settle in time.”
The implication was clear. Darcy’s failure to manage his sister was becoming harder to overlook.
He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap. He knew the expectations that hung over him—the weight of his family’s reputation, the constant pressure to maintain control. Georgiana’s behavior was a crack in the façade he had worked so hardto maintain.
Richard’s eyes flicked between Darcy and Georgiana. Darcy knew his cousin too well—he was trying to decide whether to approach the matter with his usual levity or somewhat more gravitas.
To Darcy’s regret, Richard chose the former. “I say, cousin, I suppose the army has a few spare drills if you wish to toughen her up.”
Georgiana’s head snapped up, her eyes sharp and blazing with anger. “I would rather be in the army than here!” she shot back.
