CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Darcy would have been pleased to keep to his apartment and write his letters there, but he knew it would be rude to avoid the Bingleys. The uneasiness he felt was only because he would much rather be at Longbourn, despite the number of residents there making it a little too loud and busy for his comfort.
They sat in the drawing room. Bingley was on the sofa, a book in his hand, and Miss Bingley was at the pianoforte, playing a piece by Pleyel. At a table, Darcy wrote a quick note to Fitzwilliam then read Georgiana’s letter again in preparation for answering it.
I am doing well, Brother. I wish you would not worry about me, though after how I acted last summer, I understand why you do. My aunt is kind to me, and I like my new companion very well. Mrs Annesley is helping me with my studies, including music. She says my skill at the pianoforte is greater than hers, but I do not think so. Her drawings are wonderful, and I have already learnt a great deal from her to improve my own art.
Your description of Netherfield and its neighbourhood makes it sound like a charming place. I am pleased for Mr Bingley and pray he and Miss Bingley find happiness in their new home. Please do not depart early on my account. I am well situated, and it will be Christmas before we know it.
Our aunt has talked about what a good thing it would be if you were to marry. I would have a sister, which, as you know, I have long desired. Although she did not say it, I know Lady Romsley believes that I would not have acted so terribly in Ramsgate if you had a wife to guide me. I cannot know whether that is true or not. I was unconscionably foolish. I knew what I was doing, or allowing to happen about me, was improper, yet I did not stop it. I accepted Mrs Younge’s assertions that it was not wrong to allow Wickham to call or, once I thought myself in love with him, to grant him a few liberties. I hope I do not give you pain by recounting this, but I am afraid you take too much responsibility on yourself and will think that, if only you had done something differently, including marrying sooner, I would have been spared my recent misery. I do not believe that is so. Even with a less dishonest companion, I might have been convinced to keep a friendship with Wickham secret. For instance, if he and I were reacquainted, and he spun a pretty tale of you disliking him because of some misunderstanding while also flattering me as he did in Ramsgate, I might have believed his lies. He is skilled at deception and charming, and I was too naïve to see it. I know better now.
All this is to say, please do not rush into matrimony for my sake. My greatest wish is that you find a lady worthy of you, but I am afraid there are few who would qualify. Only when you find such a lady, one who loves you as you deserve and makes you laugh and with whom you can have a happy life, should you marry.
Your devoted sister,
Georgiana
Darcy had just taken up his pen when Miss Bingley spoke. She had abandoned the instrument and had gone to sit with her brother, who was rubbing his eyes as though he had been snoozing.
“Are you still hard at work on your letter to dear Miss Darcy? What a time you are taking with it!”
“I have not yet begun writing to my sister,” Darcy said.
“She must delight in receiving your letters. You write to her so often.”
“I would not call it often.” Darcy fidgeted with the paper. “I write perhaps twice a week. As to whether she finds my letters amusing, I could not say.”
Bingley glanced at his sister. “I understand your impulse to write to her two even three times a week. I do not like being separated from my sisters, as you know. Family is the bedrock on which a good life is formed, I always say. One benefit of Caroline entering society was that I could keep her with me more. You will see what I mean soon enough, Darcy, once your sister is out.”
“You forget she is only fifteen. I do not anticipate her being prepared for such an important step until she is eighteen, and even then, should she wish to delay a little longer, I would not object.”
“So long?” Miss Bingley interjected, her eyes wide with what seemed to be surprise mixed with a touch of disapproval.
She turned to her brother, her expression briefly changing to a questioning one Darcy did not understand. He chose to overlook it and her question.
“I would like to be with her more, but she is happy with Lady Romsley currently. Once I join my family in Worcestershire for Christmas, Georgiana and I shall be together for many months.”
They would remain at Romsley Hall for Christmas then go to Pemberley until the spring, when they would remove to town after first spending Easter with their aunt in Kent. He was not immediately sure how these plans might need to be altered, because when he had devised them, he had not yet met Miss Elizabeth. His mind momentarily wandered as he contemplated spending the winter months in her company. He could return to Hertfordshire after seeing his family; he might bring Georgiana with him, if the Bingleys would welcome her and her companion. He pictured Miss Elizabeth with her cheeks rosy from the cold, him insisting on warming her hands by clasping them between his own, perhaps even daring to embrace her, should they happen to find a moment alone during a walk. By the end of February or early March, he would propose. Her eyes would sparkle with love and joy, and he would—
His musings were interrupted by Bingley. “Let us not talk about next month and parting! We have weeks until we must think about such dreadful things, and when we do go our separate ways to celebrate Christmas, I hope it will not be for long.”
“No, indeed,” Miss Bingley added. “I mean to convince you to bring dear Miss Darcy to town as soon as possible. Would it not be lovely to celebrate Twelfth Night together? There is so much to do in London at that time of year, and after being in the country all autumn, I am sure your sister would like to be in London again. I would take her shopping and to all the best diversions.”
Darcy stared at her, not sure what to say. Miss Bingley was being presumptuous. Georgiana was five or six years her junior, which was a significant difference at his sister’s time of life. It sounded as though Miss Bingley wanted to act as thoughshewere related to Georgiana, when even their cousin Rebecca Reed would not be so forward. For the first time, he thought that, if it were not for his desire to be near Miss Elizabeth, he would make an excuse and leave Netherfield. More and more, it seemed that everything Darcy did, every plan or decision he made, had at its root something to do with her.
“Georgiana and I are both anticipating spending some weeks at home. If you will excuse me, I ought to finish my letter.”
The Bingleys agreed, and while Darcy wrote, they played cards. Darcy told Georgiana about his recent unexpected trip to town and seeing their uncle and cousins. His pen seemed to have a will of its own, and before he knew it, he was writing about the Bennets, Miss Elizabeth especially, relating an amusing story she had told him when they met at a recent dinner party.
Oddly, Darcy did not find the notion of Miss Elizabeth meeting Georgiana and spending as much time with her as she desired at all disagreeable, unlike the way he almost bit out an affronted retort when Miss Bingley mentioned it. For a short while, he sat with his pen poised above the inkwell, his eyes unseeing, and sought to understand why. Was it simply because he viewed Miss Elizabeth in such a different manner than he did Miss Bingley—the former a friend and possible lover, the latter the sister of a friend? Miss Bingley had always been kind to Georgiana, but that was the extent of their connexion, and Darcy did not anticipate it changing; the two ladies were simply too dissimilar. Deciding he had hit upon the correct reason for his feelings, he was able to complete his letter before the dinner hour.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Darcy called at Longbourn two days later, once the rain had finally stopped. Ostensibly, he went to return a book he had borrowed from Mr Bennet, but his chief motivation was to see Miss Elizabeth. He was told the master was out, as were most of the family, save for Miss Elizabeth, who was with Mr Gardiner, her uncle. Darcy debated with himself for a brief moment before requesting the housekeeper ask whether they would receive him. He knew Mr Gardiner’s situation—in trade and living within sight of his warehouses—and was both hesitant to meet him and curious. The reason was the same in both cases. Given his growing affection for Miss Elizabeth, if he found her uncle vulgar, Darcy would have to abandon any dream of establishing a closer connexion to the Bennets. His curiosity was greater, however, because she spoke highly of her uncle, as did Mr Bennet.
“Mr Darcy, welcome.” Miss Elizabeth greeted him with a wide smile and polite curtsey. She was evidently in a happy mood; it showed in the way she seemed to bounce on her toes.
“I hope I am not intruding. Your father lent me a book, and I wished to return it.”
