Mr. Bingley was presented to the Earl and the Countess. He bowed very correctly and somberly, but his face lit up as he greeted Georgiana.
“Miss Darcy, what a pleasure to see you again!”
Georgiana thought she could not get any redder as she whispered a greeting.
“Mr. Bingley.” The Earl commanded his attention in a stentorian voice.
“Yes, My Lord.”
“I truly must ask why it is you are willing to marry my niece, ruined and besmirched as she is.”
Mr. Bingley suddenly found himself a little angry. “And I truly must ask why it is that a young lady who was led astray by a veritable master of deception – for I have, to my own regret, met Mr. Wickham – is regarded as a social pariah and unworthy of any honourable man’s regard.”
There was a long silence, broken at last by the Countess’ chuckle. “I must say, Darcy, I like your friend quite a bit already. Please sit, Mr. Bingley, and I shall ring for tea.”
Twenty minutes later, the atmosphere in the room had thawed noticeably. Mr. Bingley had been questioned closely as to his antecedents, his ability to support Georgiana, and his willingness to claim the child as his own, but it was all done in a rather more friendly manner.
Finally, he said, “Darcy here brought his phaeton; I wondered if I might be permitted to take Miss Darcy on a short drive.”
The Countess looked shocked. “In public?”
“Well, that is rather the idea, is it not?” Mr. Darcy said. “That they be seen together, to lend credence to the idea that they are married? And I think it right that they have some time together not under the famed Matlock Eagle Eye.”
The Countess observed that this was the first time she had heard of the Matlock Eagle Eye, but she was not opposed to the sobriquet.
Mr. Bingley extended a hand to Georgiana to help her from the sofa. His eyes did not move to her abdomen – for which she was unspeakably grateful – and he held her hand for a moment. “It is quite chill outside, Miss Darcy, and will be colder yet when we are traveling. Perhaps a pelisse?”
She nodded, and whispered, “I will return in five minutes’ time.”
“You must take as much time as you need; I will wait for you,” was his reassuring reply.
When Georgiana returned, Mr. Bingley leapt from his chair and went to her, offering his arm. The two left the room. The Countess strolled to the front window of the parlour, trying to appear casual; she could see Mr. Bingley helping Georgiana up into the phaeton and carefully tucking a blanket around her knees. Yes, Mr. Bingley would do very well indeed.
***
Mr. Bingley, after getting Georgiana settled to his satisfaction, clicked his tongue to the horse and gave the reins a quick shake. The vehicle sprang into motion. “Are you comfortable, Miss Darcy?”
“I am, I thank you, Mr. Bingley. This is my brother’s phaeton, is it not?”
“It is, yes. I do have one myself here in Town, but Darcy brought me to visit you, so we took his.”
“Mr. Bingley, I know you told my brother you would marry me, but no one would blame you were you to withdraw the offer.”
Mr. Bingley pulled the vehicle to the side of the road and pulled on the reins; the horse stopped. “Miss Darcy, I hope I may speak plainly.”
“I think you must.”
“I have always admired you as my friend’s sister. You are beautiful – no, hear me out – but more importantly, you arekind. You are sweet-natured. You have always seemed to me to be some sort of lovely little bird, playing the piano and singing. You brought joy wherever you went. That is how I have always thought of you.”
She put her head in her hands.
“Miss Darcy, please, please do not cry. All will be well, I promise you.”
She looked up at him, her face wet. “Mr. Bingley, even my brother cannot bear to look at me.”
Mr. Bingley gave her his handkerchief. “Miss Darcy, you know how he is. You have injured his pride. He will come ‘round.”
“And if he does not?”
