Page 98 of A Question of Character

Darcy crossed back to his chair and sat. “If you must know, I have no wish to deny it. I should have gone to Hertfordshire in any case, once I knew she had arrived home.”

Bingley’s teasing softened into something far more companionable. “Then I am doubly glad to have found Netherfield.”

“As am I.”

“I think you mentioned the lady’s aunt and uncle in town.”

“I did.”

“The Gardiners or something of the sort?”

“Yes.”

Bingley nodded, fitting the recollections together. “Then I shall like her. Anyone connected to people you praise so warmly must be worth knowing.”

Darcy looked down at his hands, thinking of Elizabeth in Hyde Park, of her laugh in Gracechurch Street, of the way she had said she would be very happy to see him. “She is worth knowing.”

Bingley, mercifully, did not tease him then.

A knock sounded, and Barton opened the door. “Miss Darcy, sir.”

Georgiana entered before Darcy could rise fully. She wore a pale morning gown and carried a small book in both hands, her fingers pressed tightly along its spine. The color in her face had not returned to what it had been in London before Ramsgate; she seemed slighter somehow, as if grief had altered the space she occupied in a room. Still, she came in when called, and that was something.

“Mr. Bingley,” she said, curtseying.

Bingley stood at once, all warmth and civility without overwhelming her. “Miss Darcy. I am very happy to see you again.”

“And I you.” She looked toward her brother. “Barton said you wished to speak with me.”

“Yes.” Darcy indicated the chair near the fire. “Bingley has leased an estate in Hertfordshire. He has asked me to accompany him for a time.”

Georgiana sat, though she kept the book in her lap unopened. “Hertfordshire?”

“Near Meryton.”

Her eyes moved quickly to his face. “Miss Bennet’s home is near there.”

“Yes.”

That produced the first genuine interest Darcy had seen from her all morning. “Will you see her?”

“I hope so.”

Georgiana’s fingers loosened upon the book. “I am glad.”

Darcy had expected objection, perhaps anxiety at his departure. Her answer, simple as it was, struck him with gratitude and guilt together.

“I will not go if it distresses you,” he said.

“It does not.” She answered too quickly, then amended herself with an effort. “I mean, I shall miss you, but Mrs. Annesley is kind. And Richard is to call?”

“Every week. More often if needed. I will write to you, and you may write to me whenever you wish.”

She lowered her gaze to the book. “I have not been a very good correspondent.”

“You may begin again.”

The words were harmless. They did not feel so. Georgiana’s mouth trembled, and she nodded without speaking.