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Chapter One
The coast of England was a hazy strip of dull gray on the horizon, barely a smudge. Despite its unprepossessing appearance, a shiver ran down Darcy’s back. Home again, after all this time! Georgiana must have experienced much the same sentiments. She clutched Darcy’s arm as they leaned against the ship’s rail. “There it is! Oh! I am so pleased to be home again.” She ducked her head. “Not that I am not grateful for the trip, William, but—”
Her brother smiled. “I understand, dearest. I took pleasure in our travels as well, but I am eager to return home.”
“Precisely!” Georgiana leaned closer to him, her eyes fixed on the land.
The visit to Darcy’s properties in Upper Canada had only been intended to last for a year, but complications from an inconvenient war with America had made it difficult to book safe passage, extending their visit another six months. The Canadian wilderness was beautiful and glimpses of a new world had been fascinating, but they were more than ready to return.
Bingley stepped up to the rail on Darcy’s other side. “Now, there is a sight to greet a weary traveler!” He inhaled deeply as if he could already smell the scents of home. “I pray you, tell me, what have you missed the most? What food will you seek first once we return to English soil?”
“Clotted cream!” Georgiana said instantly. The others laughed, having often heard this lament.
“Proper tea,” Bingley said.
“I will be ever so pleased to have kippers for breakfast,” Darcy declared.
Georgiana’s eyes sparkled as she addressed the others. “And what shall you do first when we arrive? I am eagerly anticipating several trips to the mantua maker. My wardrobe is sadly out of date!”
“My purse would have been better served if we had remained in Canada,” Darcy joked.
“Perhaps you would prefer to see your sister dressed in rags?” Georgiana asked archly.
Darcy was delighted by the teasing tone in her voice. The Georgiana who had boarded a ship for Canada eighteen months ago had been solemn and strained. He vividly remembered the day she had tiptoed into his study and tearfully confessed that she did not feel equal to preparing for a coming out. Eventually Darcy had realized that she was still recovering from Wickham’s ill treatment at Ramsgate. Her self-confidence had suffered, and she was very uncomfortable in society.
Their travels had done her a world of good. She had matured and blossomed into a poised young lady—one he could imagine launching into society. Their relationship had simultaneously deepened and become less formal as she came to view him more as a brother and less as a parent.
“I long to visit Pemberley,” Darcy said. “Unfortunately, I will have many weeks of business in London before we might leave for Derbyshire. What about you, Bingley? What do you most wish to do?”
When his friend did not answer immediately, Darcy gave him a sidelong glance.
Bingley stared at the distant shore with an abstracted expression. “I might visit Netherfield.”
Darcy started. As if by unspoken agreement, they had not discussed Hertfordshire at all during their trip. Bingley had seemed as eager to escape the society of London as Darcy himself, and so Darcy had invited his friend on the voyage.
Bingley had been endeavoring to forget Miss Jane Bennet, who did not return his regard for her. Darcy had experienced a silent kinship with his friend, as he himself attempted to forget Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Jane’s sister. Although he had never breathed a word of his infatuation with Elizabeth to Bingley.
Darcy had hoped that traveling together might encourage Bingley’s affections to transfer to Georgiana. He would make her an excellent husband, and such an engagement would spare her the necessity of a coming out. But within the first month of their travels, it had become clear that his friend’s sentiments toward Georgiana would never be anything more than brotherly affection.
“I believed you had given up Netherfield,” Darcy said lightly, as if the matter were of no concern to him. Darcy had taken great pains to ensure that Bingley would never suspect how Elizabeth Bennet had tempted him.
Bingley removed his hat, which threatened to blow off in the breeze, and ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. “Such was my intention, but no eligible offers were made, and now…I think perhaps I would like to make one more visit and see how…the neighbors fare.”
Bingley’s sudden concern for Hertfordshire’s inhabitants did not fool Darcy. “Perhaps you should wait.” Although Georgiana had moved toward the prow, Darcy kept his voice low. “You should at least discover if Miss Bennet is married before you hare off to Meryton.”
His friend sucked in a breath, his face paling. “Married! Yes, I suppose…I had not considered… Of course, it has been nearly two years since we last met; she might have married.” He directed a sharp look toward Darcy. “Do you know something?”
Darcy shook his head. “I have no news from that quarter.” To his infinite regret. He had opened every letter from England with dread that it would contain the news that Elizabeth had married. But nobody had written about their friends in Hertfordshire, which was not terribly surprising since their residency there had been brief and their acquaintance not very wide. “I hope your sister might know more.”
Bingley squinted into the sun. “If she possesses any such knowledge, she has not seen fit to share it with me in her letters.” He dropped his head to stare at the water. “I cannot go to Hertfordshire immediately in any event. Caroline and Louisa would chastise me, and my first travels must necessarily be to manage business in Scarborough.”
Darcy kept his face impassive as he directed his eyes back to the shores of England, growing larger and more distinct every minute.
