Darcy gave a huff of agreement, half-laugh and half-defeat.
Elizabeth leaned forward. “She needs structure. Gentle consequences that reflect her choices without humiliating her. For instance—if she throws a tantrum and leaves her chamber in disarray, she cleans it herself. If she refuses breakfast, she prepares her own food—or goes hungry. She must be made to see how her behavior affects others.”
Darcy looked troubled. “And if someone sees? If word spreads? Miss Bingley and her sister would turn it into scandal. I fear it could be used to blackmail me—into marrying Miss Bingley. Or worse, to force Bingley to marry Georgiana.”
Elizabeth stiffened, horrified. “Surely not. Not when he is besotted with Jane, and she with him.”
“They would not need to succeed,” Darcy said grimly. “The threat alone would be ruinous.”
Mr. Bennet drummed his fingers against his armrest. “You cannot take her to Pemberley?”
Darcy shook his head. “It would be impossible. There, we are the center of attention. Everyone watches us, even the servants. If Georgiana were seen in such a state—or worse, if she ran away on the journey there… it is five days of carriage…”
He let out a long sigh. “I cannot take her back to London. I cannot return to Pemberley with her. But nor can I remain at Netherfield without exposing her character to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.”
There was a long silence.
Then Elizabeth spoke quietly but firmly. “Well then. There is only one option available to you.”
Darcy looked up. “Throttle her?”
A startled laugh burst out of Elizabeth. “No. Bring her to Longbourn.”
Both men stared at her. Darcy straightened slightly in his seat. “You cannot be serious.”
Elizabeth met his gaze directly. “I am. She would not be a guest in society, as she would have to be at Netherfield. For all intents and purposes, here at Longbourn she would simply be a child in a family home.”
Darcy stared at her, disbelief and gratitude warring in his expression. “That would be a tremendous imposition to your family. I do not exaggerate when I say that she is completely wild and ungovernable at the moment.”
“Then it is a good thing you are acquainted with experts in the field of raising young girls on the cusp of womanhood,” Elizabeth replied, gesturing towards her father.
“But the scandal—if word spread—”
“Here, it would not,” Elizabeth said gently. “Our staff is discreet, and our neighbors busy with their own concerns. Besides, what is the alternative? Miss Bingley whispering about her at every tea table in London? Pemberley’s name dragged through drawing rooms by people who do not even know her?”
Darcy dropped his gaze to the rug. “No… That would be worse.”
There was a pause.
Then he looked up, his voice rough. “You would truly be willing to endure this, for her? For me?”
Elizabeth’s answer was soft but certain. “Yes.”
He stared at her for a long moment—eyes searching, expression unreadable. Then he nodded once. “Very well.”
“Before you commit, Darcy,” Mr. Bennet interjected, his face suddenly very serious, “you need to know what exactly this willentail. I know this will take a good deal of trust on your part, Mr. Darcy, and I am not unaware of the magnitude of the decision.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“If your sister comes here, she will not enjoy the arrangement—that much is certain. She will push boundaries, test rules, cry injustice—especially when she does not get her way. And when you visit, Darcy, she will cry to you.”
Darcy winced. “Yes. She always has. And I—”
“You will want to fix it,” Mr. Bennet interrupted, not unkindly. “You will want to smooth things over, make her happy again. That is the nature of a man when someone he loves is unhappy. You will want to make it better.”
Darcy nodded slowly, his brows drawn. “Of course.”
“But you must not,” Mr. Bennet said firmly. “You must support us. Reassure her if you must—but do not contradict us. If she senses you are uncertain or sympathetic, she will exploit it. She is clever, yes?”
