"Jane? No. Mrs Makepeace told me ten minutes ago, and I have been sitting here ever since attempting to decide whether I ought to find her, write to her, appeal to Mr Bennet, order my horse, or do all four at once. I have made no progress."
"You will make less if you attempt all four."
"I know it. That is why I am sitting down."
Darcy might have smiled on another morning. Before he could answer, Georgiana entered. She had plainly heard the news; her face was pale and her eyes went at once to him with an appeal she was too gentle to make aloud.
"It is true?" she asked.
"Yes."
"They are going home?"
"This morning."
Georgiana sat down slowly, her hands clasping in her lap. "Mrs Bennet did not say so last night."
"I believe it was decided late."
She looked towards the window, and Darcy saw at once where her thoughts had gone. Mrs Bennet had become, in the quietest and most improbable fashion, important to her. Elizabeth had begun to become a friend. Lyme had given Georgiana not merely sea air but female friendship, and now both were to be removed before she had really begun.
"I am sorry," he said.
Georgiana looked back at him. "Have you spoken to Miss Elizabeth?"
"No."
"Then you should."
There was a simplicity in her advice which made it almost unbearable. He had spent years protecting Georgiana from the world; now she sat before him and told him, with more courage than he had lately shown, to do the one thing he most wished and most feared to do.
"I intend to," he said.
The difficulty was not in the intention but in the accomplishment. The house seemed to have arranged itself for the sole purpose of preventing him. Miss Bennet was found first, but only because Bingley nearly collided with her in the passage. Darcy had meant to pass on, but the expression on Bingley’s faceheld him there for a moment. Miss Bennet was very composed, which made the emotion beneath more evident rather than less. She thanked Bingley for his kindness in Lyme, spoke warmly of Georgiana, hoped they would meet again, and looked down before the last word had quite escaped her. Bingley gazed at her with an expression which would have left nobody in doubt of his feelings except, perhaps, Jane Bennet herself.
Darcy left them to it. Their misery was too private to witness and too close to his own to bear.
He found Mr Bennet in the hall, examining the fastening upon a trunk. "Mr Bennet."
"Mr Darcy."
"I understand you are leaving us."
"So it seems."
"I hope nothing has occurred to hasten your departure."
Mr Bennet looked up. His expression was mild, but Darcy had begun to understand that Mr Bennet’s mildness was often less a mood than a weapon.
"We have been absent from home some time. Even the best sea air must eventually yield to the claims of ordinary life."
"Of course."
A silence followed. Darcy knew that Mr Bennet understood exactly what he wished to ask and was determined not to assist him.
"I had hoped to speak with Miss Elizabeth before she left."
"Had you?"
