Chapter Sixteen
Darcy had scarcely crossedthe threshold of his town house on South Audley Street when Georgiana appeared at the top of the stairs, a crumpled letter clenched in her fist, her eyes red and swollen above cheeks that were blotched from crying. She descended until she reached the bottom and stopped, as though she had lost the will to continue.
“Georgiana.” He caught her by the shoulders at the foot of the stairs, shooting an apologetic glance at the butler before steering her towards the closest parlour and closing the door behind them. He guided her to the small damask couch near the window and sat beside her.
“You might have told me.” She took a deep breath and continued, her voice breaking. “Yououghtto have told me!”
“Told you what?”
“That you had married Anne!”
He was on his feet at once. “Good God. How did you come by that?”
“Lady Catherine wrote to ask how you and Anne were getting on.” She thrust the letter at him and he barely gave it a passing glance. “Why would you keep such a thing from me? After Ramsgate, do you trust me so little? Have I sunk so far inyour esteem that my own brother would not see fit to tell me he had taken our own cousin to wife?”
She turned her face into the cushions, her whole frame shaking, and he sank to his knees, the accursed letter falling to the floor.
“Georgiana, I am not married.” Her sobs continued unabated. “I amnotmarried,” he repeated, more firmly, and at last she stilled and lifted her face, blotched and damp.
After several uneven breaths, she asked, “Then what possessed Lady Catherine to write such a falsehood?”
“Because it is precisely what Richard, Anne, and I intended her to believe.” He rose and offered his hand. “Come. I am half-starved, and there is a great deal of information I need to impart. Let us see what we can persuade Mrs. Pennyroyal to send up.”
After sending a footman off with their request for refreshments, they made their way to the family parlour. The air was warm from the glow of late afternoon sun filtering through tall mullioned windows, its rays dancing upon polished mahogany furniture and illuminating the bright tapestry their mother had picked for the opposite wall. A gentle hush reigned, broken only by the faint ticking of a mantel clock and the soft rustle of Georgiana’s gown as she sank into a cushioned fauteuil. Darcy settled opposite her in a matching chair. As they waited, Darcy, his voice low with reminiscence, recounted his conduct from the moment he first arrived in Meryton last autumn up to his walk that afternoon with Lady Elizabeth. As he finished his tale, a maid entered with their simple meal of sandwiches and a selection of fruit from their orangery.
“I have met Lady Elizabeth,” Georgiana remarked, pausing to sample a roasted beef sandwich. “She and her aunt were visiting Lady Matlock one day when I happened to be there.”
Darcy arched a dark brow. “Lady Matlock is acquainted with Lady Elizabeth?”
Georgiana smiled as she set the plate aside. “Indeed. They first met formally at Lady Meadowbrook’s ball, but Lady Matlock has long been acquainted with knowledge of the Bennet sisters. She and Mrs. Gardiner have been friends for many years.”
He fell silent until Georgiana looked up, expectant. “In truth, I only learned of her family connections this afternoon, though I never imagined she would count our aunt among her friends.”
“They, Lady Meadowbrook, Mrs. Gardiner, and our aunt have become inseparable companions. As close as sisters,” Georgiana replied, toying with the handle of her teacup. “I would love nothing better than to have someone with whom I could share quiet confidences.”
“If all proceeds as I hope,” Darcy said with a slight smile at his sister’s raised brow, “you shall gain not merely one new sister, but five.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “You intend to ask Lady Elizabeth to marry you?”
“I do,” Darcy confessed. “For now, we are merely in the season of courtship. My desire is marriage, but her affections are like the lilac planted by the garden wall, sufficiently swollen with promise, yet not quite in bloom to diffuse its fragrance.”
“I never knew you were so poetic,” Georgiana whispered, half in awe.
Darcy’s lips curved with unexpected warmth. “Lady Elizabeth inspires me beyond any expectation.”
With a fond smile, Georgiana reached across the small table to curl her fingers around his. “If she has any sense,” she declared softly, “she will fall irrevocably in love with you.”
Darcy lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. “Thank you, dearest Georgiana. That is my greatest hope.” He returned to his sandwich as Georgiana sat back, a dreamy smile lighting her face. After a thoughtful pause, Darcy inclined his head in invitation. “Would you like to accompany me the next time I visit Lady Elizabeth?”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. “I have met her just the one time, but she did not treat me as an empty-headed child, but asked my opinion, and we spoke at length on the genius of Mozart.”
Darcy smiled, his gaze distant with admiration. “She is remarkably discerning. Even before her father became an earl, she never fawned over anyone. She judges a person solely by their character and conduct.”
Georgiana giggled softly. “Then I suppose she gave no quarter to Miss Bingley in Hertfordshire.”
Darcy’s deep laughter echoed through the cosy room. “Not one bit.”
“Brother,” Georgiana began, “you realise Lady Catherine would not have written to only me.”
