Page 61 of A Question of Character

Georgiana regarded him for a brief instant before lowering her eyes to smooth an imaginary crease in her glove.

“I think she misses us too.”

Darcy nodded. “I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Before he could ask the grounds for such certainty, another servant appeared with the afternoon post.

Among the letters lay one addressed in Bingley’s familiar hand.

Darcy broke the seal.

The contents were precisely what one might expect from Charles Bingley: cheerful, enthusiastic, and moderately orderly.

Bingley had at last found an estate in Kent that appeared to answer nearly every wish he had expressed over the past several months. The house was of respectable size, the surrounding land in good condition, and the owner inclined to lease upon favorable terms. Darcy’s opinion was requested immediately, for Bingley confessed himself incapable of deciding whether he admired the place because it was excellent or because he had grown tired of searching.

Darcy read the letter twice.

Kent.

The journey from Ramsgate was neither difficult nor particularly long.

He folded the pages thoughtfully.

“I shall have to leave you for a few days,” he said.

Georgiana looked up.

“Must you?”

“Bingley has discovered an estate and wishes me to inspect it with him.”

She came nearer.

“Will you be gone very long?”

“No more than a week, I think.”

“I shall manage perfectly well.”

He searched her face, though he could not have said precisely what he sought. Georgiana’s color was good. Her spirits had improved steadily since arriving at Ramsgate. Mrs. Younge took her walking most every afternoon, and the sea air appeared to agree with her exactly as the physicians had predicted.

“You are certain?”

“I am nearly sixteen, William.”

The use of his shortened Christian name was calculated. His sister rarely called him thus anymore.

He surrendered. “Very well.”

“I promise not to perish of loneliness before your return.”

“I should hope not.”

Georgiana took one of the peaches from the basket and held it between both hands, turning it until the light from the window caught the bloom upon its skin.

“Where in Kent is the estate?”