AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ched the bridge of his nose, aware he should say more to convince her of his favorable opinion, but he was weary. Weary of the event. Weary of the evening. Generally, he basked in Elizabeth’s presence, but this dinner was fraught with too many difficulties, too many reminders of what he had lost.
A headache was forming behind his eyes and he wondered how soon he could depart without being impolite. Drinking more of Richard’s fine Burgundy, he longed for the quiet of his study and its bottle of port.
When he and Elizabeth fell silent, Darcy heard Mrs. Bennet declaiming to Miss Bingley about the price of lace in London, while Mr. Gardiner droned on about tariffs and the quality of various textiles. Caroline Bingley stared at her dinner knife as if contemplating plunging it into her own chest simply to escape her dining partners. Darcy frowned. He had found Mr. Gardiner to be an engaging conversationalist, but then he noticed a smirk on Elizabeth’s lips. Was her uncle being tedious just to annoy Miss Bingley? Darcy suppressed a smile but winced when he was forcibly reminded of his headache.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth’s voice still sent a thrill of excitement down his spine. “Are you unwell?”
“Only a slight headache. Perhaps brought about by too little sleep.”
Elizabeth glanced over at his aunt pedantically lecturing Georgiana, while his uncle vociferously debated politics with Richard. “Or perhaps too many relatives?” she murmured in a low voice.
His chuckle sent pains shooting through his forehead. “Truthfully, I believe the pain originates in an inability to change the past.”
Good God! He silently upbraided himself. Am I already foxed? How could I reveal so much to Elizabeth? Perhaps he should depart immediately, claiming the headache as an excuse—cowardice be damned.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but she merely murmured, “I believe many of us suffer from that affliction.”
“I cannot imagine you experience many regrets.” Darcy wanted to clap his hand over his mouth. Damnation! What will I say next?
Some of this internal battle must have appeared on his face; Elizabeth tilted her head and regarded him with concern. “Are you quite all right? Your skin is very pale.”
No, I am quite ill. I am a lovesick fool. Darcy was struck with a most inappropriate impulse to laugh and hastily wiped his mouth with his napkin.
Elizabeth appeared most alarmed by the state of his health. Fortunately, before she could form another inquiry, their attention was drawn by the penetrating tones of his aunt addressing Georgiana. “You are a Darcy! You must relinquish these silly reservations and live up to your name!”
Darcy recognized belatedly that he should have been paying more heed to Georgiana’s conversation with their aunt so he might protect his sister from inappropriate badgering.
“I am sorry, Aunt.” Georgiana’s face was pale and strained, her eyes watery with the effort to hold back tears.
“Aunt Rachel?” Darcy infused his tone with enough authority to command her attention.
The countess leaned back in her chair and speared a small potato with her fork, feigning unconcern. “Your sister believes she does not wish to make her come out next year.”
Georgiana said nothing, but her eyes pleaded with Darcy for understanding. “We have discussed the possibility of delaying it until the following Season,” he said calmly.
“Ridiculous!” his aunt cried, the potato poised halfway to her mouth. “Why delay? Georgiana does not have older sisters yet to be married! The younger she enters the marriage market, the more eligible suitors she will attract!” The countess jabbed the potato in the air for emphasis. “Her beauty will only fade with time.” Her eyes slid sideways to glance at Elizabeth. Darcy bristled. At twenty, Elizabeth was hardly on the shelf.
The blood pulsed in his temples, compounding the pain in his head. His aunt and uncle had a remarkable ability to provoke his temper, particularly when questioning his decisions regarding Georgiana.
Darcy understood all too well her reservations about presenting herself to strangers. Georgiana’s coming out ball would necessarily be one of the high points of the Season, with hundreds in attendance. He himself would not relish being the center of such a maelstrom.
Coming out a year from now would be an exercise in torture for Georgiana. Darcy could only hope that someday when she was older, she could tolerate it—even if she would never enjoy it.
“There is no rush.” Darcy attempted to keep his voice level. “I have discussed this with Richard, since he is Georgiana’s other guardian.” He emphasized the last two words, reminding his aunt who held the authority in this situation. “If she is more comfortable waiting a year for her come out, then we will accommodate her wishes.” Georgiana bestowed on him a small, grateful smile.
“I am certain she will only grow in beauty,” Richard added. “And she will be much sought after, no matter when she comes out.”
Her dowry guarantees that, Darcy thought. Even if she had a face like a horse.
Opposed on all sides, the countess harrumphed and commenced to dictate to Georgiana on the subject of hats.
Satisfied with his victory, Darcy took another sip of wine, only then noticing Elizabeth’s wide, approving smile—directed at him. He was caught unprepared, unaccustomed to experiencing her approbation. For a moment, he indulged the fantasy that she smiled at him with love and returned the smile.
Abruptly, Elizabeth colored and dropped her eyes to her plate. Good God! I have been staring at her lips! Get a hold of yourself, man! At this juncture, the best he could hope was that she would attribute his behavior to excessive imbibing. Have I been brought so low?
Blast! How else would he betray himself after a few more minutes in her presence? Closing his eyes, he massaged his forehead again.
Only then did he realize his aunt was once more talking about Georgiana’s debut. “William, I declare, you do have some peculiar notions. And, Georgiana, every girl loves to make her bow. Just think of the beautiful gowns you will have and all the suitors who will send you flowers!”
