“Do you want the interest released annually, quarterly, or monthly?” Mr. Adamson enquired of Miss Bingley.
Mr. Bingley eyed his sister, who continued to ignore the two men. “Quarterly,” he said, when it was apparent that she would not answer.
“Will you wish to be informed in the event that she accesses her principal?” Mr. Adamson asked.
“No.” The answer was firm.
“Very well.”
“Have you that list of properties for me, Mr. Adamson?”
“I do.”
The sound of crackling paper caught Miss Bingley’s attention. “Let me see that, Charles.”
He gave it to her.
She quickly perused the dozen addresses on the list and then shook her head. “No, none of them.”
“You are wrong; one of these will be your new home.” Mr. Bingley spoke calmly, but his breathing was rapid; he would need another of Dunstan’s tonics tonight. “We will want to see four of these a day, Mr. Adamson; can you arrange that?”
“Of course; I will speak with the estate agents and send you details in the morning.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Mr. Darcy breathed deeply through his nose. He was mortified that he had vomited into the shrubbery in front of Matlock House, and was certainly in no hurry to return to his aunt and uncle’s drawing room. What could he possibly say? Whatwasthere to say? Somehow, in all his imaginings of his reunion with his sister, it had never occurred to him that her young body would be swollen with his enemy’s child. He did not know how to move past this.
Richard soon joined him. Sitting on the top step of the entryway, he beckoned Mr. Darcy to join him. Mr. Darcy obliged and the two sat in silence for several minutes.
“I did not expect that,” Mr. Darcy sighed.
“Nor did I,” Richard confessed. “And that does make me feel like a right idiot.”
“I do not know what to do, Richard. I cannot live with her, not if she is having Wickham’s child.”
“Your love for your sister is mighty shallow, then,” his cousin observed, calmly.
“How dare you! How can you say that?”
“Easily enough. She was seduced by a villain, the inevitable occurred, and when she is finally reunited with her family, her brother takes one look at her and runs outside to throw up his breakfast. She is in there crying her heart out.”
“Oh, Lord,” Mr. Darcy sighed. “I know, Richard, I know I am not behaving well. I am angry, and sad, and miserable, and I know not what else! But there is one thing that will make me feel better immediately.”
“And what is that?”
“Dealing with Wickham,” Mr. Darcy growled.
“Ah. Yes. Quite right. Have you any thoughts on that?”
“I was rather hoping you would simply run him through.”
“If I thought I could get away with it, I would not hesitate.”
“Very well; I shall make my own plans.” And with that, Mr. Darcy rose and walked back into the house, with Richard behind him.
Mr. Darcy went straight to his sister. She was sitting on a sofa, face wet with tears. Mr. Darcy knelt before her and, taking her hands, said, “Georgiana, can you ever forgive me? I was just so – so surprised, and I reacted very poorly.”
She rose and he got up as well. This time he hugged her, taking care to avoid contact with her belly. He told himself it was to protect the baby.
