She waved her hand at him. “Do not be silly, Charles. I am fully aware of what I am about. Unlike dear Georgiana.” She glared at Darcy. “I beg your pardon. UnlikeMrs. Wickham, I am no longer a silly child.”
Darcy’s arms dropped to his sides. “Tell me, Miss Bingley, who has more power and influence in society, my aunt, Lady Matlock, or George Wickham?”
She spluttered. “Lady Matlock is a paragon in London.”
“You may no longer care about my opinion or that of my sister, but I guarantee that if my aunt knew how you spoke about her favorite niece, you would instantly feel the cut.”
Her hand went to her throat. Her face paled. “Pardon me. I did not mean… You will not tell her, will you?”
Without replying, he spun on his heel and ascended the grand staircase to his chambers, leaving her flustered behind him.
Pacing his room,Darcy considered each word of the shrew’s taunts. Reading between the lines, along with the reports from the London housekeeper, Georgiana was miserable. The joy she felt at the beginning of hermarriage surely had disappeared by now. How could it not? She was never overly confident. Her natural reticence would not move her to toss witches like Bingley’s sisters out on their ears. Instead, she would silently tolerate insult after insult as Wickham flirted with one woman after another inherhouse.
For over a decade, Darcy knew of the cruel streak running through Wickham’s heart. Now that he had what he coveted, he would take pleasure in publicly humiliating anyone related to the Darcy family. His propensity to become increasingly reckless and openly malicious when he had a few coins in his possession while he was younger did not bode well for the future of his sister or Pemberley. At present, Wickham was drunk on power. What would happen when his pedestal crumbled?
Most obvious to Darcy was that Wickham believed his lies, that he deserved Pemberley.Bah!Forasmuch as Darcy’s father indulged George Wickham, he never spent one minute training him to manage an estate. Never had Gerald Darcy allowed the steward’s son access to his journals so Wickham could see the intricacies of properly caring for Pemberley.
Wickham’s inherent laziness would necessitate hiring others to do his work since Darcy could not picture George Wickham poring over accounting ledgers or seeking the counsel of others who manage extensive properties. His overconfidence would cause him to make mistakes. Never would Wickham accept the blame for failure. Instead, he would cruelly and unjustly point the finger at others, showing flashes of rage when challenged or questioned.
Rubbing his hand over his mouth, Darcy knew thathis priority, even more than legally trying to recover Pemberley or make Simon Cole pay for his greed, was to protect Georgiana. He failed her at Ramsgate. He would not fail her again.
But how?
11
The sound of Elizabeth snapping the cover of her book echoed in the small sitting room next to where Mary tormented the keys of the pianoforte. When her sister sang as loudly as she played, the noise was strikingly like what the cat made when its tail was caught in the door. There was no possibility that Elizabeth could enjoy the new book with Mary’s left hand pounding on the lower keys and her right hand mangling the melody.
Frustrated and knowing full well that Mary would practice for at least another two hours, Elizabeth set her book aside and entered the music room.
“Mary, please.” She covered her ears with her palms. “Must you play so…energetically?”
Mary pursed her lips, affronted that anyone dared to not find enjoyment in her music.
Stubborn. All Elizabeth’s sisters were headstrong, except for Jane of course. Mary would likely say the same about Elizabeth.
Elizabeth pleaded, “Is there not a lovely tune you could play softly instead of a dirge? Something less ponderous? Something delightful, perhaps?”
Mary folded her arms across her chest, her stalwart chin jutting forward. “Why? What do we have to be delighted about?”
Where had that come from? There were many reasons for joy. “We have many blessings. The autumn sunshine. Watching the leaves change to brilliant gold, orange, and red. Fields of yellow bursting from crops of healthy grains. Delicious food on our table. Friendly neighbors.” Elizabeth stopped once she noticed her sister shaking her head. “What, Mary?”
Mary sighed. “While you are correct that all of God’s creations are delightful, is it not obvious? We are five females with no prospects. Jane’s beauty has done nothing for her future, and neither has your wit. Kitty and Lydia do not have one intelligent thought between them. Therefore, it is up to me to help this family have anything other than a bleak future.”
Dazed, Elizabeth looked at her closer. “By pounding on the pianoforte?”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly think that sitting around reading or calling on Charlotte will increase your prospects? Has it made your future any more secure than mine? At least I try to become accomplished. You do nothing to improve your situation, Lizzy. Neither does Jane. You both are as indolent as Papa. How arrogant you are to think that you do not even have to try to improve. I…” She piously rested her hand on her chest. “I made it my goal a year ago when I took up playing this old instrument to do what I could to become good at something, to appeal to a gentleman with a thought for how he wanted his household to be. Where my skills may not be much, at least I am making an effort.”
Elizabeth was stunned. She had no clue how to react. For the first time in her memory, Mary took her to task instead of the other way around. Yet, everything Mary said was true.
Shocked into silence, Elizabeth’s inclination was to justify herself by accusing her middle sister of ignorance. But that would have been a lie. In some ways, this realization pained her far worse than Mr. Darcy’s slight.
“Elizabeth, you are intelligent. But what have you done to enhance your standing in the neighborhood? Other than being pleasant and welcoming, you have done the same as Jane, nothing.” Mary stepped away from the pianoforte. “You accused Mr. Darcy at the assembly of being arrogant and prideful. Well…”
“Sister.” Elizabeth had no clue how to respond to what felt like an attack.
Mary dipped her head. “Daily, we listen to Mama bemoan the entail and being thrown out into the hedgerows when Papa is no longer here. She is correct, you know. You often condemn Mama for her constant complaints and our father for not securing our future. How many times have I heard you say, ‘If only they woulddosomething.’ Yet, what doyoudo?”
One by one, Elizabeth’s pretensions fell from her like leaves from an old oak. She clasped her hands tightly as she considered everything her sister said. Frustration for not figuring this out on her own warred with shame for completely missing the issue. Finally, she looked at her next youngest sister, truly seeing her for the first time.
