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His aunt’s expression suggested she was not interested in considering Georgiana’s fears. “If we begin preparations soon,” the countess observed, “we should be ready for the start of the Season.”
“Very well.” Darcy sighed. Georgiana would loathe the preparations, which would require much time in Aunt Rachel’s company. The woman was overbearing and unsympathetic to Georgiana’s shyness. His sister had difficulty asserting herself, so their aunt would discount Georgiana’s preferences, making his sister miserable. Although Darcy might occasionally accompany her, he could not be present for every visit to the modiste or decision about the invitation list.
However, an idea occurred to him. Perhaps there was someone who could help Georgiana …
“—important Season for you as well.” Darcy realized he had not been giving his aunt’s words the least attention.
A response seemed to be required from him. “Indeed?”
“You must find a wife.” She said it with an air of stating the obvious. “You are eight and twenty. I understand how young gallants wish to sow their wild oats.” Darcy rolled his eyes; his aunt knew him little if she thought this description applied to him. “But it is past time for you to seriously apply yourself to this task.” He had heard this speech before, but today, it provoked greater heat in him than previously. “With Georgiana making her debut, it will be an ideal time to meet the most eligible young ladies of the ton. I could write a list of those who would suit—”
“No!” Good Lord! He had practically shouted at his aunt, and she took a couple of steps away from him. Carefully modulating his tone, Darcy continued. “You will not seek a wife for me. I am capable of conducting my own domestic arrangements.”
Aunt Rachel seemed almost bewildered. “But you have had no success! Obviously, you need help!”
Darcy turned and strode toward the entrance; the sooner he departed, the less likely he was to say something he would regret. “Madam, my marital status is not your concern.”
His aunt followed him so closely Darcy almost stepped on her toes. “You cannot leave Pemberley without an heir!”
Darcy stopped, his hand on the door knob, breathing deeply and reminding himself that the countess could not understand how the subject of marriage and heirs haunted him day and night. “Pemberley is not entailed. If I never marry, Georgiana and her children will inherit it.”
“But you must wish to—”
Darcy regarded her over his shoulder. “At the present moment, I have no plans to marry. I think it highly likely I will never marry. And I will thank you to never mention the subject again.”
His aunt’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. Darcy turned the door knob with a shaking hand and escaped the house.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth pored over the housekeeper’s neat columns of numbers recording the expenditures for the month, a task she actually did not mind performing. The daily activity of running a household provided a focus for her energy and a welcome distraction. “Mr. Darcy is here, ma’am.”
Grayson’s voice startled her out of her reverie.
But he visited just yesterday! “Did Miss Darcy accompany him?” she asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“Very well. Show him to the blue drawing room.” Elizabeth glanced about the study; with its dark wood and leather chairs, it was a handsome room, which reminded her poignantly of Richard. Undoubtedly, he had often met Mr. Darcy in this room. But it was far too intimate a setting to receive an unmarried man, particularly one who unsettled her so.
Her entrance to the blue drawing room was followed by the usual inquiries about her health and her family’s wellbeing. After a long silence, Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, appearing decidedly uncomfortable. “I have spoken with my uncle, and he has agreed to cease any attempts to challenge Richard’s will.”
A great weight was lifted from Elizabeth’s body, and she immediately felt far lighter. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy. It was very good of you.” She tried to convey her gratitude with her eyes, wishing she understood why he had interceded. Elizabeth had asked him not to, but now she was too relieved to care that he had ignored her wishes. Had he intervened because Georgiana was so distressed? “I hope your uncle is not angry with you.”
“Not in the least.” Mr. Darcy shifted in his chair, looking away.
Elizabeth had the uneasy feeling he was concealing something. “I am happy to hear it,” she said nonetheless.
There was a long pause. Words eluded her. Elizabeth wished to express her appreciation, but Mr. Darcy seemed uncomfortable enough. Should she speak about the weather or inquire after Georgiana?
Mr. Darcy fiddled with the end of his walking stick, drawing Elizabeth’s eyes to his hands, which seemed to betray some kind of nervousness. “I had a favor to ask of you if you are willing to undertake it,” Mr. Darcy said finally. A favor? She was almost too shocked to speak. Instead, she nodded for him to continue.
Mr. Darcy took a deep breath and went on. “You know my sister will be making her debut at the start of this Season. She is quite nervous about the process—well, ‘terrified’ might be a more apt description. My aunt, while an excellent judge of fabrics and a wonderful hostess, does not always understand Georgiana’s reservations. I think Georgiana would benefit during this time from the assistance of a friend closer to her age. I was hoping you would be willing to be that friend.” His eyes rose from the walking stick to meet hers with an almost pleading look.
It was quite the longest speech Elizabeth had ever heard from Mr. Darcy; to say she was astonished would be an understatement. She believed he disapproved of her, if not actively disliked her. Now, in the space of five minutes, he had given her two incontrovertible indications that he did not disapprove of her. In fact, he appeared to hold her in some esteem.
Elizabeth felt a little dizzy as she struggled to reorient herself to this new understanding of the world. It was like suddenly discovering the sky was green.
Mr. Darcy was watching her intently, awaiting her response. The intensity of his gaze made her blush, and she needed to look at the wall to regain her composure. “I thank you. You honor me with your trust.” She took a deep breath and turned to face him again. “However, I did not have much thought of remaining in London very long.” Did his face seem to fall at her words?
