Her brows shot up. “Mr. Bingley, the tradesman?”
Mr. Darcy held onto his temper only with the greatest effort. “Mr. Bingley, the son of a tradesman, who has five thousand a year, is young and well-educated. He could do far, far better than a despoiled young woman carrying the child of a scoundrel. Yes,thatMr. Bingley.”
“No need to take that tone, Darcy,” his aunt said, frostily.
“No need to refer to my good friend as a tradesman,” he shot back.
“Very well,” she said. That was as close to an apology as he would get, he supposed.
“He insisted that she be given a choice in the matter.”
“That speaks well of him.”
“He is a very good man, Aunt. He is the complete opposite of Wickham in every regard. And he likes Georgiana, likes her good nature, her kindness.”
“And possibly he likes being related to myself and your uncle.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “He truly does not care about such things, Aunt, but I know I shall not convince you of that.”
“I shall need to meet him to see if he is suitable.”
Mr. Darcy scoffed. “Suitable? You wish to see if a young, wealthy, handsome, kind man is suitable to marry your ruined niece? We should be on our knees, thanking God for such a blessing, not fretting about his suitability!”
“Thank you for that, Brother.”
Mr. Darcy turned to see his sister staring at him, tears starting in her eyes. “I am sorry, Georgiana,” he said, gruffly.
“He is right, though, Aunt. Who is the young, wealthy, handsome, kind man, Brother?”
“Mr. Bingley.”
Georgiana started in surprise. “Mr. Bingley? Your Mr. Bingley?”
“Yes. And Miss Bingley has been relocated to her own establishment, if that helps you reach a decision.”
“But why would he want to marry me?”
Mr. Darcy refrained from saying that he had asked that exact same question. “He likes you, Georgiana.”
“He likes me!” She sounded pleased. “But does he know – well, yes, of course he must.”
“He does know and he is willing to accept the child as his own.”
“Do you like the man, child?” the Countess interjected.
“No one could help but like Mr. Bingley,” she replied. “He is so very kind.”
“I still wish to meet him,” the Countess insisted. “Bring him here tomorrow for tea.”
“Meet who?” The Colonel had entered the room in time to hear his mother’s words.
The whole story had to be told again. The Colonel nodded. “A good match, I think.”
Mr. Darcy eyed his cousin. “I did not think you liked Bingley.”
“I did not like him for Miss Bennet, that is true enough. But no one can help liking the man.”
“Exactly what I said,” Georgiana put in, sounding pleased.
