Page 21 of Near Pemberley

Elizabeth smiled, her embarrassment momentarily relieved by the simplicity of the request. “If Miss Darcy can forgive my interference, I shall be happy to assist.”

Georgiana’s pleasure at this ready acquiescence was evident.

“We are bound for the church,” said Mrs. Gardiner, glancing towards her husband, “but Lizzy has no particular engagement.”

“No, indeed,” replied Elizabeth.

Mr. Gardiner smiled. “Well, I promised your aunt a proper inspection of Lambton church, and I fear we must now fulfil it.”

Darcy bowed slightly. “Then, if you permit it, Miss Bennet may remain under our care until your return. We shall see her safely back to the inn.”

Elizabeth felt the colour rise faintly in her cheeks at the quiet readiness with which he included her among his own party.

Mrs. Gardiner, whose observation was seldom inactive where her niece was concerned, looked from Darcy to Elizabeth with an expression of gentle satisfaction. “I believe,” she said, “Lizzy could not be in safer hands.”

Darcy’s eyes met Elizabeth’s for the briefest instant. “No,” said he quietly, “I hope not.”

Elizabeth followed Georgiana back into the shop with a willingness which surprised even herself. The younger lady’s manner, though shy, possessed such unaffected sweetness that all embarrassment soon softened in her company. Hats were produced, ribbons unfolded, opinions timidly requested and gratefully received. Before long, Georgiana, encouraged by Elizabeth’s easy good humour, began to speak with greater confidence than she had yet displayed.

Darcy remained somewhat apart during the consultation, though not so far removed as to appear inattentive. To any casual observer, he might have seemed merely indulgent of his sister’s indecision; but his attention was far more fixed than that appearance suggested.

He watched Elizabeth.

Not openly, nor with the eager admiration which a younger or less disciplined man might have betrayed, but with a steadiness of feeling which, precisely because it was restrained, possessed greater force.

There was something almost unbearably hopeful in the scene before him.

To see Elizabeth beside Georgiana – speaking kindly to her, smiling at her hesitation, encouraging her with that lively ease which seemed capable of dispelling awkwardness wherever it appeared – awakened impressions he had long struggled to suppress. The image harmonised too readily with wishes he had once believed forever relinquished.

And yet the feeling now was altered from what it had been before Hunsford.

Formerly, his attachment had been governed too much by desire alone – by admiration, longing, wounded pride, and the selfish impatience of a man too accustomed to securing what he wished. Now, watching her thus, he felt something dangerously close to hope.

Not the confidence with which he had once approached her, but something far more uncertain and therefore far more precious: the hope that she might one day think better of him than she had done; that he might gradually prove himself deserving of her esteem; that the man she had condemned need not remain forever the man he was.

Not for her alone, though he could not separate her entirely from the wish.

For himself also.

For he had begun to understand that the faults she exposed were faults which ought never to have belonged to him at all.

Georgiana decided – after much hesitation and repeated alteration – in favour of the ivory hat, though not until Elizabeth had assured her twice that it suited her perfectly.

“You are certain?” Georgiana asked.

“Entirely certain,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “And if you choose otherwise tomorrow, you may blame me for your unhappiness.”

Georgiana laughed gently – a sound so rare and unaffected that Darcy felt unexpectedly grateful to Elizabeth for having drawn it from her.

Elizabeth, having helped Georgiana settle upon a bonnet, was persuaded to try several herself. The first was a simple straw trimmed with pale blue ribbon, which she declared too plain to be worth considering. The second, adorned with a more elaborate arrangement of flowers, drew a laugh from Georgiana, who insisted that it made Elizabeth look as though she wished to wear a garden rather than merely walk through one.

Elizabeth turned before the mirror, adjusting the ribbon with an expression of exaggerated seriousness. “Then perhaps this one is equally unsuitable.”

She tried another, softer in colour and more delicately trimmed. Georgiana smiled at once. “That one is lovely.”

Elizabeth glanced at her reflection and then at Georgiana. “You think so?”

“I do.”