Elizabeth folded her hands in front of her, watching Georgiana’s tightly drawn expression with calm sympathy. “You may find this a difficult adjustment,” she said gently. “But we are all on your side, Miss Darcy. If you will meet us halfway, I believe you will find far more comfort here than you expect.”
Georgiana glared at her. “I highly doubt that.”
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat and continued, folding his hands behind his back as he paced a step or two before Georgiana, who remained planted where she stood.
“Now then, a few more expectations, young lady. You are to manage your own belongings. If you leave your gown on the floor rather than placing it in the hamper or hanging it properly, the laundry maids will not touch it. You will be expected to wash and press it yourself.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened.
“If you ruin a meal through tantrums or neglect—for example, throwing your tray or refusing to eat what is served—you will cook or assemble the next one yourself under the supervision of the cook.”
Elizabeth noted that Georgiana’s lips had parted in silent disbelief.
“You will receive the same allowance—pin money—as the other girls in the house, and you may spend it as you see fit. However, once spent, it is gone. No advances. No special exceptions will be made for you, Georgiana.”
“Excuse me, but I didnotgive you leave to address me so informally.” The girl’s nose rose haughtily in the air.
The action caused the girl to look so much like her elder brother had at the Meryton Assembly, and Elizabeth was forced to stifle a giggle before saying, “As mentioned, you will be treated like one of the daughters of the house. My father certainly never refers to us as ‘Miss’. That title is reserved for strangers, which you no longer are.”
Georgiana’s opened her mouth to protest, but Elizabeth raised a hand to halt the diatribe that was sure to come. “If you throw a fit—screaming, stamping, or similar outbursts—you will be confined to your room. If it occurs during mealtimes, you will receive bread and water until your conduct improves.”
Georgiana gasped aloud. “You cannot mean it.”
“I assure you we do,” Elizabeth said simply.
Mr. Bennet gave her no reprieve. “If you physically harm anyone—servant or family—there will be a switching. Not in anger, not out of cruelty, but as a calm and fair consequence. The same rule applies to every child in this house.”
“My brother will never allow it!” Georgiana cried, tossing her hair with a snap. “I shall tell him at once!”
“Your brother approved every one of these terms before you arrived,” Mr. Bennet replied, unshaken. “He is very concernedfor your well-being, Georgiana. He has entrusted us with this responsibility—because he loves you.”
Georgiana stared, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
Elizabeth stepped forward. “Now, that said… good behavior earns privileges. For example, the girls will be walking into Meryton tomorrow afternoon. If your room is kept tidy and your morning lessons are completed with diligence, you may accompany them.”
There was silence.
“You will find, Georgiana,” Mr. Bennet said in a lighter tone, “that the rules of this house are not meant to punish, but to teach. We aim to build self-respect, not destroy pride.”
Georgiana did not reply. Her gaze drifted to the small window at the back of the nursery, her lips pressed in a tight line.
Elizabeth caught her father’s eye. They had sown the field. Time would tell if anything would grow.
∞∞∞
Darcy woke with a start.
He did not recall falling asleep, but the faint light of dawn coming through the curtains was evidence of the time that had passed. The late evening after retiring to bed had been agonizingly difficult. The candle had burned low on his desk, but he had not dared extinguish it.
Even once in bed, every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind at the shutters set his nerves alight. The letter lay locked in the drawer beside him—yet its words repeated over and over in his mind, louder in the dark than they had been on the page:
I am coming.
Unable to lay in bed any longer, he rose and began to pace the length of the room. He rose before dawn, half-dressed already, and paced the length of the room. He had tried to convince himself it was some elaborate prank, but no—it had the same meticulous, feminine script as the others.
He had read the note only once, but it had nearly sent him reeling. His chest had tightened; his throat had gone dry. If not for Fitzwilliam’s calming presence after the last incident, he might have suffered a full loss of composure. That night, he had barely touched his supper, doing all he could to ignore Miss Bingley’s cloying attentions and whispered barbs.
Still pacing, Darcy rang for his valet and instructed him to inquire of Fitzwilliam’s batman whether he might care to ride out with him that morning. Riding alone did not appeal. Although he logically knew that he was most likely safe from this unknown woman, the idea of being vulnerable on his own made his stomach twist in knots.
