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Part Eight

Posted on Sunday, 25 June 2006

A young lady’s premier Season in London was an exciting and busy time. For Georgiana Darcy it was no different despite her unavailable status after becoming engaged to Charles Bingley. Happiness could only be expected to follow. Invitations continued to arrive; balls, dinner parties and excursions to the theatre filled more nights than were left free in a week. Georgiana had never imagined such pleasure and that it continued even after the public announcement of her betrothal was a surprise. The people to whom she had been introduced over the previous months were not deterred and to Georgiana’s astonishment the number of single gentlemen who sought her out did not diminish. At first she was hesitant, her earlier social exposure had been in the company of her brother and Sophia, who simply would not allow the open flirting of these young men. When Sophia was no longer available Lady Matlock offered to chaperone her niece, permitting a carefully supervised interaction when approached. Georgiana grew more comfortable, often enjoying the attentions of her admirers. Until her engagement was formal there seemed to be no conflict in accepting them but, following the ball which announced to the world that Miss Darcy was no longer free to be singled out by anyone except Mr. Bingley, there was an air of unacceptability in merely acknowledging a greeting. Georgiana simply did not know how much was permissible and was becoming concerned that her own behaviour might be at fault. Even more disturbing to her was the fact that she continued to enjoy being addressed by these young flatterers, something that conjured up distant memories of a man she’d prefer to forget. It also caused her to question how deserving she was of Mr. Bingley’s loyalty.

How can I laugh and encourage these gentlemen after accepting Charles’ proposal of marriage?

She hoped the morrow, with the guidance of her brother’s dear wife, would provide some much needed reassurance and help her to focus on the necessary wedding details instead of when her next social invitation would bring her into the company of her many admirers.

Elizabeth lay awake in her bed long after the house had grown silent. Memories of the day swirled in her head, scene after scene. Even after so many hours she found it difficult to believe that she had been offered marriage from Richard Fitzwilliam, Viscount and heir to the Earl of Matlock. Like she had done several weeks before, Elizabeth considered the proposals she had received and the various men who had delivered them. Richard’s was, by far, the most beautiful and flattering of all. There was no question of what her answer should be, and would be!

In spite of her determination to examine her feelings for the man, Elizabeth found herself worrying about how much of her decision was influenced by the need to leave the home of Mr. Darcy and his wife. That she desired to be gone was unquestionably a strong inducement yet it would be so unfair to accept Richard, who obviously cared a great deal for her, for such a reason. It must be remembered that in marrying Richard Fitzwilliam she would not be erasing Mr. Darcy from her life for, as her husband’s cousin, she would continue to be thrown into his company in the future. She and Lady Sophia would be nearly equal as far as their social status was concerned. Perhaps the ton would not welcome Elizabeth as warmly given her family’s history but the power of her husband’s name and his father’s title would deter the less favourable from making known their true opinions.

The real question, however, was whether or not she loved this man as she would like to love her husband; as he deserved to be loved.

Elizabeth frowned in the darkness, her eyes unable to see the ceiling above her but staring at it all the same. Richard is sweet and caring. He makes me feel special and I am comfortable in his presence. I look forward to seeing him. Is this love? She had no real answer for how could she identify what she felt for this man without any prior experience of attachment? Perhaps it was time to revisit the ideals she had harboured since a young girl, dreaming of marrying a man who could sweep her from her feet and steal her heart at the same time. That man may not exist, may have never existed for anyone!

Rolling onto her stomach, Elizabeth closed her eyes in an effort to lull her body to sleep. Her mind eventually stilled its restless meanderings and she rested well through the remainder of the night.

There was a clock in every room of the house. Some chimed, some were silent, while others played short musical selections in tiny bell-like notes when the hour struck. It was the job of one particular servant to ensure that every one of the clocks was in synchronicity. There was no reason to verify that it was done; most of the timepieces would not be seen or heard on a daily basis as only a few rooms were ever frequented by the Mistress or her husband. The servant never shirked his duty, however. All clocks were in perfect running order.

After he had heard the fourth clock signal yet another hour had passed Darcy knew he had best return to his own chambers. No peace could he find in any room he had visited. After he had said goodnight to his wife and saw her safely to her own chambers, he had stood for some time studying the bottom of an empty glass and wishing he could see clearly what was to come in the next few days. Moving from room to room, he could think only of Sophia’s suggestions for adapting to Miss Bennet’s imminent change in station; his wife had declared that once Fitzwilliam had proposed, and the lady accepted, that she should be moved to more respectable quarters in their home and away from the other servants. A new governess would be sought immediately and Miss Cahill could be assigned to oversee young Robert in the interim, but Darcy had little interest in these details.

Elizabeth Bennet would be sleeping in a bed on the same floor as his own quarters. The idea tormented him; tormented his desire to remain detached and reasonable.

Not a sound could be heard but the ticking of the clock, first in one room and then in the next. Each hour that passed brought him more unease until the gentle notes signalled four o’clock and Darcy knew he must tarry no longer. Sleep would still elude him; his head was full of images both visual and sensory. He was resolved, however, to make a greater effort to curb the directions temptation was leading his thoughts.

He would not succumb.

Lady Sophia rang for her maid. She had slept as well as could be expected, considering the dreadful information her husband had imparted the previous evening. She had offered to welcome their governess as a member of the family, even before marriage to his cousin, by providing a home for her until the wedding date if required. Miss Bennet would be a guest in their house if it suited her. Sophia was unsure of her own feelings when her husband appeared disturbed by the arrangement she had suggested. He didn’t like it, she was certain, but for what reason was another puzzle. Still, he had not struck down the idea. Perhaps the young woman had another place to go and there would be no need to put themselves in such a position.

Ruth arrived quickly with hot water and fresh towels, proceeding to assist her mistress with her toilette. She could not help noticing the tired look about Sophia’s eyes and the downturn of her mouth, indicating a great deal of thoughtful contemplation had occurred since they had parted last. In a large house there was little chance of gossip being quelled. There had been much of late, with the Master’s odd behaviour since his return from Pemberley and Lady Sophia’s preoccupation during the day when she would normally be cheerfully employed in social visits. The coming and going of Mr. Bingley had been observed, that man’s unusually solemn countenance providing another cause for discussion below stairs. Speculation upon the young Miss Darcy’s situation was eagerly pursued, the staff of this house not being as intimately connected with the Darcy family and therefore possessing less discretion where they were concerned. Having been exposed to the superior organisation at Pemberley, Sophia’s personal maid was mortified at the level of disrespect she now recognised existed in the Hudson home. She had, herself, always been discreet where her Ladyship was concerned and even since the mistress’s remarriage there was nothing that Ruth could be accused of repeating, whether it was overheard or seen.

Ruth had served her Ladyship from the time she had come of age, supporting her entry into Society, quietly listening to the worries of a young girl falling in love for the first time and witnessing her transformation into a wife and mother. Then came the sorrow of widowhood. That had been the most trying time of all and Ruth was proud of her mistress whose forbearance had withstood the most grievous period a wife could experience.

When Mr. Darcy had begun to pay his attentions there had been a marked change in Lady Sophia’s demeanour. The necessity of finding another husband was something she had not embraced but the persistent and always proper Fitzwilliam Darcy had finally won her over. He was young, handsome and brought a smile to her Ladyship’s face; a welcome sight after the long months of mourning.

Every marriage had its challenges; even Ruth was aware of this despite remaining single the entirety of her forty seven years. Through their courtship and first year of married life there had been very little in the way of disagreement. Surprising was what Ruth considered the recent developments. Her Ladyship had exhibited every sign of a woman attempting to cope with an imminent loss. She could not help but wonder what grief awaited the household and worried for the health of her mistress.

“Miss Georgiana is coming today,” Sophia quietly announced. “I think we’ll be looking forward to a wedding date now.”

“That is welcome news, my Lady.”

“Yes, isn’t it? Something pleasant to occupy our hours.”

Ruth finished styling her mistress’s hair and let her observe the result in the mirror. She was satisfied with the smile which showed the Lady’s approval. “Will you be breakfasting downstairs, my Lady?”

Sophia thought a moment. “Has Mr. Darcy gone down yet?”

“I believe not. Fitch had not been summoned before I came upstairs to you.”

“I see. In that case I shall take breakfast in my sitting room up here.” Sophia left her seat and slowly walked back into her bedchamber.

“Very well, my Lady.” Ruth quickly tidied up the dressing room then descended the stairs to the kitchen to order breakfast for her mistress.

Elizabeth greeted the day in better spirits than she had felt for many long months. The early morning demands of her job were completed with a light heart for she was reminded of Jane’s words that it would not be long before she was married and relieved of these obligations. She only wished that she had not to wait until Friday to inform Richard of her decision for Elizabeth was ill prepared to wait two more days now that she had finished her deliberations. She smiled, hoping that the impatience she had already seen in his character would lead him to visit his cousin’s home before the appointed hour.

To retain her attitude Elizabeth planned to take her young charge for an excursion to the park and, feeling disposed to share her good humour, invited Miss Cahill to bring the baby and join them on their outing, much to the other woman’s surprise. Fresh air and sunshine always invigorated Elizabeth and the novelty of her improved outlook following such a turbulent period of emotional upheaval compelled her to behave as the young girl she had long ago left behind in Hertfordshire. At the last moment she recalled her surroundings, her company and her situation, quelling the desire to laugh in delight and spin herself in a circle. The hour quickly passed in such pleasant activity that they returned to the house with Miss Cahill’s opinion of Miss Bennet remarkably amended.

Upon entering the house Elizabeth’s confidence lagged slightly when informed that the Mistress wished to speak with her immediately. Relinquishing Master Robert into the care of Miss Cahill, she made her way upstairs to Lady Sophia’s sitting room. She was surprised to find that Mr. Darcy also awaited her there and that he rose from his chair in her presence.

“Ah, Miss Bennet,” he said in a respectfully distant tone.

She curtsied. “Mr. Darcy. Lady Sophia.” Looking toward the latter, Elizabeth was again surprised as her attention was directed back to Mr. Darcy.

“Miss Bennet, I received a note from my cousin Fitzwilliam this morning. In light of its contents there need to be some alterations to this household’s arrangements.” He finally looked directly at her, his gaze as cool and unflinching as she recalled from years past. “Fitzwilliam informs us that he has made you a proposal of marriage and that you have requested time to consider it.”

Elizabeth did not answer, believing that no verification was required; the Viscount’s word was good enough.

Darcy nodded and continued. “We had not anticipated a delay in your reply to him but despite the uncertainty of the situation are prepared to make you an offer, regardless of your eventual decision with regard to Fitzwilliam.”

Growing uncomfortable, Elizabeth looked to Lady Sophia for some indication of what this offer would entail. She seemed to take pity on the young governess for she motioned Miss Bennet to a seat while a silent exchange took place between husband and wife. Darcy remained standing.

“Miss Bennet,” Sophia began, “now that Richard has proposed, regardless of your answer you must realise that your position in this house cannot continue as is. Mr. Darcy and I have agreed that you must be removed from the servant quarters at once and suggest that it would be more appropriate that you occupy one of the guest chambers on this floor. You would be welcome to remain in our home until your wedding or, should you decide against marrying Richard, until another position is found to your liking. We would do everything in our power to ensure that no ill effect follows should the latter situation be your choice.”

Elizabeth was astonished by the offer. “You are most generous, Lady Sophia. I cannot thank you enough for this kindness! I truly regret the inconvenience caused to your household by my... friendship with.. with...”

“You may call him Richard in our company,” smiled Sophia.

Blushing, Elizabeth lowered her head to gaze at the floor. “Yes, my Lady.”

Sophia’s laughter was delicate. “Consider your duties at an end. We shall invite Richard to dine with us tonight and your belongings will be moved to the Blue room this afternoon. You are now free to do as you like, Miss Bennet.”

There was nothing she desired more than to escape from the room. “If you will excuse me, Lady Sophia, I shall go upstairs to pack my things. I’m .... overwhelmed at the moment. I must write to my aunt and uncle and....” She felt a hand upon her own and looked up to see warmth in the other woman’s eyes.

“Why don’t you go to them instead of writing?” Sophia’s gaze shifted to her husband who had not moved during the entire discussion. “I’m sure we can spare a carriage for this errand, can we not?” Darcy nodded briefly. “What time shall you require it? In an hour?”

Elizabeth’s head was awhirl with all that had occurred. She heard her voice accept and knew that her life was quickly being taken under control. She excused herself to retreat to her room, pack her personal belongings and examine how best to assert herself, for it simply would not do to let Lady Sophia dictate how and when she should act. Elizabeth would not perform for anyone and trusted that Richard expected no different.

Alone once more with her husband, Sophia fussed with the sleeves on her gown. “That went exceedingly well, I think.”

“Do you?” Darcy was clearly sceptical. “The poor girl is confused. Everything is happening so quickly.”

His wife narrowed her gaze and studied him. “Better that she is confused now, while under our protection, than when their engagement is made public and she’s thrown into the real thing. Society is very unforgiving, you know.”

Darcy’s face was unreadable, like stone. “I shall go now to pay a call on Fitzwilliam and extend your invitation to dinner.”

Sophia noted his hurry to change the subject as well as escape the house. A note would have sufficed for the invitation and it was not her invitation alone, at least she did not think so. “Thank you,” she said in spite of her annoyance. “I must go over the menu with Mrs. McAuley, too, before Georgiana arrives.”

Darcy hesitated, saying with genuine regret, “I had forgotten she was coming. I’ll try not to be long, just in case you do require my input.”

They each went their separate ways. Sophia’s business with the cook was completed quickly and from there she chose to await her sister’s coming in the comfort of the front parlour. When Georgiana was announced the young woman’s entrance was remarkable. A radiant smile was spread across her face, eyes lit with excitement. She glanced quickly around the room and, seeing her brother’s wife, took her hands in greeting.

“Sophia,” she said breathlessly, “I’m sorry I’ve not visited in so long. Is Fitzwilliam not here?”

“He has gone to see Richard. I’m afraid it’s just the two of us today, although he did say he would try to return before you leave.” Sophia motioned to the nearby servant to pour the tea. “You seem all out of breath, my dear. What has you so flustered?”

Georgiana waited for the servant to finish his task and leave the room before she replied. “I’m glad that my brother is away, actually. There is something I must discuss with you but I’m not sure how to begin.”

Sophia smiled. “And here I thought you were prepared to begin the serious wedding planning.” When the young woman’s face reflected distress with these words, Sophia’s compassion was aroused. “Georgiana, what is the matter? You appeared so happy when you arrived and now I fear you will burst into tears.”

Shaking her head, Georgiana replied in a quiet voice, “Is it wrong of me to... I know it’s wrong, somehow, but I can’t help it.”

Sophia took her sister’s hand, looking into her face with deep concern. “I cannot believe you would knowingly do anything that is wrong, Georgiana. Tell me what is troubling you.”

“Oh, Sophia!” The words came tumbling out, so relieved was she to be able to confide in someone. “When I am at a ball or a dinner party there are so many young men who.. who flirt with me. I do not flirt with them, I think, but it is the same wherever I go. Oh, but Sophia, I like the attention! I feel so ashamed of myself. What must everyone think of me!”

“Georgiana, there is nothing wrong with enjoying the attentions of these young men. It is flattering and you should enjoy it while you can.”

“But I am engaged to Charles!” she protested. “I should not be feeling such things nor encouraging them to continue!”

Trying not to frown, Sophia sought the words that would grant some comfort. “Georgiana, it is a game played in our social sphere. These young men know your situation and it is for that precise reason that they find it safe to flirt with you. They would not dare try it with an unattached lady. I am concerned about the distress you are feeling, however. It simply will not do for you to think you’ve done anything wrong when the fault truly lies with the gentlemen playing at your expense. I’m sure if they were aware of the pain they are causing, their attentions would cease.”

At this Georgiana cried out, “But I do not want them to stop, Sophia. That is what grieves me! I feel as if I’m betraying Charles whenever I smile at one of their teasing remarks. How can I be so deceitful?”

Oh, my poor dear girl! Does your brother realise how sheltered he kept you? You are not ready for marriage, no matter how good or kind Charles Bingley may be. “Please, Georgiana. You must stop thinking you are doing wrong, and do not feel you are betraying Charles in any way. Even after you are married there will be men who will flirt with you. You are young and inexperienced. You need to learn how to accept their teasing without allowing it to unduly affect you. They mean no harm and one word from you will let them know if they have gone too far.” Sophia deliberately did not mention the few men, they could not be termed gentlemen, who had more serious intentions with their flirtations. Even Charles was aware of those individuals who presented a danger to a lady’s reputation and would ensure that his young bride was never left to be exposed to one without his protection.

“Truly?” Georgiana was wide-eyed with amazement. She could not imagine her imposing brother allowing any man to flirt with his wife.

“I think it’s time I resumed accompanying you to some of these functions. You need another woman’s example to fully appreciate the nuances.”

Georgiana was gratefully relieved, asking but one more thing of her sister. “Please do not tell Fitzwilliam any of this. I don’t want him worrying about me.”

“I can safely promise you that he will not hear a word from me on the subject, my dear.” Sophia would not entertain the notion of informing her husband about the matter just confided. Georgiana would soon be Mrs. Bingley and it would be her own husband’s responsibility to protect her. Darcy was having a difficult enough time letting her go. “Now, I believe we should discuss the wedding so that we have one or two decisions made by the time your brother comes home. Otherwise he may lose hope of us ever getting it organised and will take over the planning himself!”

Georgiana nodded eagerly.

What was intended to be a simple visit had turned into an impromptu dress fitting when Elizabeth related her news to her aunt and Jane. Mrs. Gardiner insisted on altering one of her more fashionable gowns for her niece to wear that evening at dinner. The three ladies worked feverishly through the afternoon and Elizabeth was grateful to have something to occupy her hands and her mind for it prevented her dwelling on thoughts of the coming evening. She was at the same time both excited and anxious. Eager to see Richard again, she was looking forward to delivering her answer to his proposal but the thought of sitting down to a proper dinner of several courses with Mr. Darcy and his wife brought on a wave of dizziness. Elizabeth was instantly reminded of her mother’s constant complaint and giggled aloud. When obliged to reveal the cause of her mirth her sister and aunt were equally amused.

Jane embraced Elizabeth warmly when it was time to part company, wishing her all the happiness she was sure was deserved. Mrs. Gardiner whispered encouraging words to her niece, knowing that the gentleman who would be receiving her hand that evening was a worthy one.

The ride back to the Darcy home was blessedly short in comparison to Elizabeth’s anticipation that it would seem like forever. She had time for a bath before her presence was required downstairs. To her surprise, one of the younger maids had been assigned to see to her personal needs. Lady Sophia had thought of everything, including fragrant soaps which Elizabeth had not been able to afford. An hour before the dinner hour she was dressed, coiffed and ready to face what may come.

Darcy was in the sitting room when Elizabeth entered. He looked up sharply, his eyes intent upon her. A glass half full of an amber liquid was in his hand. “Miss Bennet,” he said with a short bow before raising the glass to his mouth. She watched him empty the contents then walk to the decanters on the table to refill it. “May I pour you something?” he asked, tilting the crystal in her direction.

“No, thank you.” Elizabeth nervously walked about the room, keeping as much distance as possible between them. She was aware of Darcy still standing, eyeing her every move as he sipped his drink.

“Please sit down, then,” he finally said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Her preferred retort was unacceptable even given their past differences and so Elizabeth chose the chair nearest the window that she could see when Fitzwilliam’s carriage arrived. Darcy’s forced smile showed that he was aware of her reason. “He will not be much longer, I assure you.”

Her eyes rose to meet his, refusing to be intimidated by his horrible manners. She was not prepared for the genuine smile that suddenly appeared, however, and felt her heart leap when the door opened to admit Lady Sophia.

“I am sorry to be late. Oh, Miss Bennet, you look lovely!” she said, instantly reversing the atmosphere in the room. “Is she not delightful to behold, my dear?”

“It is what I was about to say when you came in, Sophia. Miss Bennet will surely take my cousin’s breath away with her appearance tonight.” Darcy’s expression never altered and, although it set Elizabeth’s teeth on edge, Lady Sophia seemed completely unaffected.

Sophia perched herself upon the edge of a cushion and thanked her husband when he delivered a glass of sherry into her hand. “Miss Bennet, you do not care for a drink before dinner?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “It was not the custom in my family, my Lady. I never acquired the taste for it.”

Sophia smiled as if she understood but the clatter of hooves on the cobbles outside drew the attention of all three of them to the window’s view. Fitzwilliam could be seen alighting from his carriage and bounding up the short flight of steps out of sight to the front door. It was a matter of seconds before he was announced, grinning and breathless.

“Good evening Darcy, Sophia!” he enthused, bowing low. When he straightened, his gaze was for none but Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet,” he reverently said, quickly taking up a seat near her. “I was astonished to find Darcy at my door this afternoon inviting me to dinner. Usually a note arrives and in the script of his lovely wife.” The Viscount smiled warmly in Sophia’s direction.

“Tonight’s dinner is a special occasion,” she replied.

Darcy remained steadfastly silent, his countenance unusually flushed. Elizabeth attributed it to the liquor he had consumed and was not bothered by his failure to contribute to the lively conversation that followed. In fact, so caught up was she in the delightful company of Richard Fitzwilliam that she did not even take offense when she did happen to see, once or twice, Darcy’s studious gaze upon her. In a burst of laughter came the announcement that dinner was served and they made their way into the dining room.

An intimate party of four might have required rearranging the normal seating pattern but Elizabeth was not surprised to find Mr. Darcy’s table was set in the traditional manner. The Master was at one end of the great surface, the Mistress at the other. Directly in the middle and opposite one another were her place and the Viscount’s. They, at least, could converse without shouting. The situation was awkward at first but soon Elizabeth relaxed as it became evident that Fitzwilliam had no intention of being subjected to examination and would not allow his lady to be, either. He was clearly enjoying her company, ignoring the sour mood of his cousin and wary of the sweet approach of Sophia. By the time dessert was cleared and Darcy had prompted his wife to leave the two men to their port Elizabeth was feeling uplifted enough to weather the worst.

Sophia directed the servant to pour tea, maintaining polite discussion until he had left the room, then addressing her companion. “I understand your uneasiness, Miss Bennet. You must feel it very awkward to be sitting with us socially now.”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. Had she felt any unease it would not have been due to her former position as governess. It was purely the history between herself and Mr. Darcy that made her uncomfortable and she was certain this knowledge, were it known to Lady Sophia, was not a welcome topic for discussion. “To own the truth, Lady Sophia, I find the socialising less difficult than my more recent acquisition of a servant’s lifestyle. I am not troubled to leave that behind although I will say that your son, Master Robert, is a delightful little boy.” The last comment, calculated as it was to draw on the Lady’s maternal pride and soften her reaction, was well timed.

“Thank you, Miss Bennet. My late husband would have been proud of him.” Sophia fell silent for a moment, lost in a disturbing realisation that she had not thought of her first husband as often in recent weeks.

“I am sorry to cause you inconvenience with my leaving,” continued Elizabeth, not wanting to dwell too long on the children, particularly if talk turned to the baby Edwin.

“Do not trouble yourself about it, Miss Bennet. Miss Cahill can look after both boys again until the new governess arrives. No,” she said, “as Richard’s intended it would not be fitting.” They lapsed into silence, Sophia sipping her tea, until she made an enquiry. “Could you tell me how you and Richard came to meet?”

This was something Elizabeth felt safer in relating. A brief mention of having made his acquaintance a few years earlier and then their chance meeting in town supplied enough detail for Lady Sophia to ask a few more questions and thus their time waiting for the gentlemen to join them was pleasantly spent. The topic was nearly exhausted when the door opened and Darcy followed his cousin through.

One look at the faces of both men was sufficient to confuse Elizabeth, yet Lady Sophia again seemed oblivious to any discrepancies in their spirits. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s smile was full and warm, lavished upon the one lady in the room whose attention he most craved, while Darcy was his customary grim self.

“I have contrived,” Fitzwilliam said in a low voice when he reached his lady’s side, “to arrange a few moments alone with you later. Darcy was most agreeable to the suggestion.”

An eyebrow rose disbelievingly on Elizabeth’s forehead. “Was he? How singularly improper of him in his own house.” A slight smile removed any hint of sarcasm from her tone.

“Yes,” he laughed gently. “I thought almost the same as you but my cousin can see how eager I am to know your mind and ... and he thought perhaps you were ready to tell me tonight rather than wait until Friday.”

Blushing a little, she could not help casting a quick glance toward the tall, dark man who frowned upon them from his corner of the room. Nothing would ever make her understand the workings of his mind. He continued to puzzle her with his every action. Seeming to disapprove of her forthcoming connection to his cousin, Darcy was able to determine her thoughts and feelings and encourage that cousin to seek them out. As she observed in that short moment, he spoke quietly to his wife and together they made to leave the room.

“Ah, I see he has been so kind as to shorten my wait by minutes, as well.” The Viscount paused until the door had closed and they were truly alone. “Miss Bennet, I hope Darcy was right but if you are not prepared to give me your answer now I am content to seek you out as was our earlier agreement.”

She turned a smile upon him; full, inviting and radiant. “I am honoured to accept your offer of marriage, Richard. Nothing would please me more than to become your wife.”

Lady Sophia was just as circumspect in expressing herself to her husband. “You have doubts about her sincerity, don’t you?” She was startled by the look he levelled at her, however quickly he turned away to pour a large amount of brandy into his glass. “Fitzwilliam, did you tell him your opinion when we left you after dinner?”

“I did.” Darcy retreated to a window, staring out at the deepening twilight. “I told him Miss Bennet is likely to say yes and that he need not wait another day or three to hear her say it. The answer will not change.”

Following him, Sophia placed a hand upon his arm, staying it just as he brought the glass to his lips. “What did you see to change your mind and believe she truly cares for Richard?”

“I observed them throughout dinner. Miss Bennet’s behaviour has convinced me that her heart belongs to my cousin. There is no mistaking it.” Despite his wife’s hand on his arm, Darcy completed the movement and drank down his brandy. Closing his eyes, he exhaled forcefully and then turned to face Sophia. “There is no danger in leaving them alone for a while. Fitzwilliam’s honour cannot be doubted.” He added after a pause, “Miss Bennet’s conduct is without question, as well.”

“As you say.” She walked away from him. “All the same, it is daring of you to allow such an impropriety.”

“It is the least I could do.” He finished the thought silently, for both of them. “I believe another fifteen minutes will be sufficient and still maintain the integrity of my name.” His smile was wry.

Sophia chose to change the topic. “You did not ask about Georgiana’s visit.”

Her comment seemed to startle him. Darcy came forward to take her hands. “I am sorry. It was terribly remiss of me. How did you get on?”

Smiling, she replied, “I think your sister is a little apprehensive of the magnitude of the whole idea. She could use a little reassurance from her brother.”

“Ah,” he said. It occurred to him that Bingley’s recent unpleasant discovery may have something to do with Georgiana’s unease. His friend did not disguise his own feelings very well and if unhappy, which he certainly was the last few days, it could have been noticed by her. “I will go see her tomorrow.”

“And Fitzwilliam,” added Sophia, “I have decided to accompany her to more of the dinner parties and balls. You need not come with us if you prefer.”

Lifting her hands, Darcy kissed the ends of her fingers. “I would not have you go without my escort, my dear.” An unsettling feeling suddenly troubled him. Attempting to shake it, he caressed her fingers again.

Sophia was more than happy to allow this distraction and furthered it by moving closer so that her face was nearly level with his. Quite naturally, his lips travelled from her hands to her mouth which was so conveniently situated for such a purpose. When they parted moments later she spoke in a husky voice. “I do believe Richard and Miss Bennet are not the ones in danger being left alone.” Darcy’s amused smile warmed her almost as much as his kiss.

“It is time to rejoin them,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers for a brief repetition. Sophia went before him, through the door and across the hall, Darcy trailing in her wake. There was a cloudiness in his mind, leaving him feeling the full effects of the brandy and only now beginning to fear that his life was no longer under control.

They had spent another half hour together in privacy before Fitzwilliam took his leave. The seclusion of the small garden behind the house had afforded them the benefit of fresh air as well as shelter from the view of the street. Elizabeth had found the atmosphere in the sitting room stifling shortly after Mr. Darcy and Lady Sophia had returned to them. Fitzwilliam had immediately announced their engagement was formal, congratulations had been offered and accepted, but there was a stiffness to the whole affair that, for some reason, the Viscount did not seem to notice. Perhaps it was his jubilant emotions which prevented him seeing the way his cousin periodically raised a hand to his head as if bored or tired. Not once did Darcy look her way, Elizabeth noted, but for his first wish of joy in her marriage. Lady Sophia appeared more animated than ever before, enthusiastically extending any assistance the bride might require in the wedding preparations, be it selecting a modiste or where to shop for her trousseau. At the end of an hour Elizabeth’s head was sore from trying to keep her replies polite. The last person she wished to help her was Mrs. Darcy! At last, unable to withstand any more, she asked if it might be possible to step out for some air and Richard happily agreed. Bidding his cousin and wife goodnight, for the hour was late and he decided to leave directly after seeing Elizabeth back inside the house, he took her arm and they escaped.

It was arranged that he would come first thing in the morning to collect her and from there they would go to the Gardiners’ to impart the happy news. Both knew it would come as no surprise to her aunt and uncle, nor to Jane, and the day was anticipated to be highly enjoyable. The Viscount would have to wait to inform his parents as the Earl and Lady Matlock would be in London before the end of the week. He preferred, in that case, to convey the news in person.

That left only Mrs. Bennet to be told and Elizabeth hoped a letter would suffice. She intended to consult with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner before acting upon the matter, however.

Having behaved as only a gentleman should during the whole of the visit, Fitzwilliam longed to avail himself of the privilege which was now his as an engaged man; a kiss from his lady. Not wanting to alarm her, however, for he knew not what Elizabeth might expect or feel upon his request, he broached the subject in a sensitive manner.

“Elizabeth,” he said, holding her hand to his heart. “There are no words to describe how happy you have made me this evening but I do not want to leave you without expressing the joy I feel and the assurance that you alone are responsible for it. If I may, if you would permit it.....” He said no more, making his intent known by slowly closing the distance between their faces. His elation was doubled when their lips met and Elizabeth welcomed the evidence of his love. Ending the kiss much sooner than he would have liked, but later than was prudent, Fitzwilliam led her back to the door to say goodnight. He dared to touch his fingers to her lips before she slipped inside and the door closed.

Elizabeth leaned her back against the cool oak of the door and sighed. Her contentment surprised even herself. She had just agreed to marry a man who demonstrated every example of gracious and gentlemanly behaviour she admired. She looked forward to receiving the excited wishes of her family on the morrow and to the great joy and relief that would be theirs knowing that they need not worry about one Bennet daughter, at least. Elizabeth allowed herself one tiny hope that Jane might find happiness once she could introduce her sister to a larger circle of worthy men.

With her heart bursting, Elizabeth knew she would not be able to fall asleep right away and so she went in search of a book in the library before heading upstairs. The fire there was no more than dying embers and she knew not where to find a candle in the room, therefore the only choice was to coax more light from the coals. Softly, she hummed to herself while stirring the glowing remnants into life.

“Miss Bennet.”

His voice startled her; she had not detected anyone sitting in the darkened room when she had entered, nor when the fire had begun to cast its light after being stoked. Elizabeth stepped back from the flames, peering into the corner where she knew he must be. “Mr. Darcy, I did not know you were here.”

“Naturally.”

The word was drawn out, perhaps edged with sarcasm or, Elizabeth suddenly thought, bitterness. She watched him rise from the chair with deliberation and slowly walk forward, stopping within inches of her. As if her feet were fastened to the floor, she could not move away and wasn’t sure she wished to. His hand lifted but did not touch her, tracing the shape of her face in the air. Disconcerted, Elizabeth’s breath came in short gasps.

“Be not alarmed, Madam,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I shall not touch you.”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath and indignation found a spark. “You, sir, are drunk.”

He shrugged. “Quite so.”

“I must leave at once.” Elizabeth slipped to one side and made for the door but Darcy was somehow in front of her, arms spread wide.

“I will not touch you, I said. I am a man of my word.” His gaze was on her face, staring into her eyes with an intensity she could not deflect. “Please stay.”

It was dangerous to stay but she could not say no. There was a subtle power in his presence, one that made her feel both safe and afraid. “I shouldn’t.”

A sudden smile brought a different light to his eyes. “Thank you.”

Cursing how she had fallen into the trap, Elizabeth now stepped away, trying to appear relaxed and cooperative. “I did not think there was anything left for us to say.”

Darcy was not so easily fooled even with the effect of the brandy he had consumed. Remaining by the door so that she would not find an easy escape, he never took his eyes from her figure. “There are many things I have longed to say and should have said. Once you marry my cousin I must remain silent forever. This is my only opportunity.”

“I am engaged to your cousin, sir,” she sharply reminded him. “That should be enough reason to keep silent. If you need more incentive just remember that you are married.” He flinched as if struck. “Lady Sophia does not deserve such betrayal.” An inward struggle was evident on his features but Elizabeth could not determine if it was anger or something else. She preferred not to consider the possibilities.

“I have not,” his voice rumbled across the distance separating them, “nor will I ever betray the vows I made. I have kept silent all these weeks despite the torture of seeing you every day, seeing you with Fitzwilliam, knowing what I could not have and never will. Yes, I curse my arrogance for not realising the spark in your eyes was hatred of me, not admiration; my foolishness for believing I could simply dismiss my feelings like you dismissed my proposal........ my weakness for not wanting to let you go even if all I could have was the pleasure of knowing I would see you each day as a servant in my house.” As he spoke the distance between them closed until once more he was standing close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. Yet, still he did not touch her. “It is all a selfish desire on my part. I am free to indulge my self-pity for I know your feelings quite well and am only surprised you have not long since struck me for my insolence.”

Elizabeth’s heart was pounding. She did not want to hear any more for his words hurt more than she could ever tell him. They’d had their one opportunity but now they were both promised to others. What possible good could it do to tell him that she realised her error in believing Wickham’s stories, that she knew he’d misled her from the very beginning and the worst of her opinions had changed? “I am sorry.”

Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Oh, my dear Elizabeth, that you should apologise for my mistakes. If I were a less scrupulous man and thought you willing I would have long ago set you up in a house on your own and satisfied my desires in that fashion.” He shook his head, then ran one hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “Even your betrothed knows that I would never act in such a manner no matter how sorely tempted.” Meeting her gaze, Darcy felt his control slipping further away. “No. No pity, Elizabeth. I can accept anything but pity from you.”

“I–.”

“Go.” He forced the word out. “Go before I forget the man that I am... and that everyone expects me to be.”

Swallowing her arguments, Elizabeth hurried to the door then paused to look back. Darcy remained as she had left him but as she watched he raised one hand, gently tracing the air where she had stood. Then he slowly sank to his knees and she fled the room.

Part Nine

Posted on Sunday, 2 July 2006

The light of morning brought with it a new resolution for Elizabeth. She could no longer stay in Mr. Darcy’s house, of that she was certain. The previous evening’s scene had made that abundantly clear. If Mr. Darcy could not regulate himself in her presence then she simply had to go. It was cruel to him, as well as dangerous for herself, to remain one minute longer under his roof. She intended to ask her aunt if she may stay there until some other suitable arrangement was available and send for her things later.

If Fitzwilliam was surprised by her decision he did not show it. His unwavering support when she told him she wished to intrude upon his cousin’s hospitality no longer only confirmed that she had made the right decision. All that remained was for Mrs. Gardiner to agree.

That same morning light brought nothing but pain to Fitzwilliam Darcy. His head ached intolerably and his temper was not helped by finding himself on the floor of the library when he awoke. Had he been in his own home, Pemberley or the Darcy townhouse, with his own servants he would never have been left to sleep in such a place. With a groan he knew that thought was unfair. Fitch was just as much at fault for not seeking out his Master when Darcy failed to come to his chambers before the valet retired to his own bed.

Groaning again, he rolled over onto his back and tried to focus his vision on something. The ceiling would not stay still and nausea threatened. Closing his eyes helped very little, eventually bringing a recollection of his altercation with Elizabeth in that very room. The entire memory was hazy but Darcy was clear on one point; he had behaved shamefully and no apology would be enough to erase his indiscretion. Dimly he was aware of soft footsteps on the carpet and then the voice of his lately criticized manservant resounded in his ears.

“Fitch,” mumbled Darcy, the word sounding more like an oath. “Take me upstairs.”

“Very good, sir.”

Strong arms lifted him and Darcy struggled to balance himself. His dignity refused to allow such a weakness to overpower him, yet he maintained the grip on Fitch’s arm until they reached the stairs where he glanced up the imposing incline and grasped the handrail. “Has my wife come down yet?”

“No, sir.”

A genuine oath burst forth at that unwelcome intelligence. Darcy had no desire to meet Sophia while en route to his room in his current state. There was nothing else to be done, however. Apart from the servants’ stairs there was but one route to his chambers and he hoped to get there before his stomach proclaimed judgement on his excess of the night before. “Let us hurry, then,” he sighed.

He was fortunate to reach the sanctuary of his dressing room without either mishap occurring. Fitch efficiently produced the necessary items to reduce his Master’s discomfort, removing his stained and rumpled attire while Darcy sat on the edge of a chair, his head hanging low over a basin. Cold water was gingerly applied over the back of his head until Darcy impatiently grabbed the ewer and dumped the entire contents in one go. The resulting splash ensured his face was properly doused as well as what clothing he still wore. It was invigorating enough to permit Darcy to stand and divest himself of the remainder of his clothes, tossing them haphazardly aside. His head pounded without mercy as did the litany of rebukes in his thoughts. If he muttered any of them aloud, Fitch remained silent.

He had one goal in mind; his bed. Sleep would be welcome, real sleep, but it proved to elude him, unsurprisingly. With his eyes closed there was still no escaping the incessant drumming behind the lids. Fitch brought a measure of brandy to alleviate the worst of it but Darcy had no taste for the substance; by his estimation, his suffering was well deserved and he merely prayed that the hours would pass more quickly than he feared.

When her husband did not come down for breakfast Sophia dismissed his tardiness as a much needed extra hour of sleep. When the clock surpassed noon with no sign of him appearing her indifference turned to concern. She rang for Fitch, the only person able to answer her questions.

“Is your Master unwell this morning?” she put to him barely after he had appeared.

“I have heard no complaint from him, my Lady,” the man replied in his habitually even tone.

“Is he still abed or did he rise and I am unaware of it?”

“He has not yet called for me, my Lady.”

“I suppose that to mean he is sleeping but – do you not find it odd that he would sleep this late?” She fingered the necklace she wore, a gift from her husband on the occasion of their first wedding anniversary.

“Unusual, my Lady, but not unheard of.”

Realising she would get nothing more from Darcy’s tightlipped manservant, Sophia dismissed him. It occurred to her that her husband had planned to visit his sister that morning and with that thought her concern increased. It was more than unusual for Darcy to miss an appointment, even an unscheduled one. If he said he was going to visit Georgiana then he had fully intended to do so. Sophia left her seat and began to pace the room.

Dinner with Richard and Miss Bennet had gone well, in her estimation. Even the retreat with Darcy, to leave the other couple in privacy for a short time, had filled her with hope and contentment that her own marriage was secure. Absently, Sophia touched her lips, reliving Darcy’s kiss and feeling her heart race with the memory.

A bitter thought intruded.

She shuddered, closing her eyes and willing the pain to recede. Struggling for composure, Sophia reached deep into her memory and drew on recollections of her first weeks of married life with Darcy, their shared enjoyment in travel and discovery of new places and each other. Eventually her apprehensions were stilled, replaced with the contented knowledge of the pleasures they’d experienced together.

“Sophia?” Georgiana Darcy hesitated in the doorway.

Sophia started at the voice. “Georgiana! I was not expecting you. Come in, my dear!” Sophia prayed that her countenance did not betray her recent distress but it was soon apparent that Miss Darcy would notice nothing as she was obviously ill at ease herself. “Georgiana, is something wrong? Tell me.”

“Oh, Sophia,” the anguished young woman replied. “I don’t know what to do!”

Lady Sophia, surprised by the display, quickly sought a means of soothing Georgiana’s agitated state. It was a welcome distraction from her own worries. Pouring a glass of wine, she made the younger woman drink some before continuing. “Now, what is it? Did you see Fitzwilliam when you arrived? I know he had planned to visit you today. Did your brother upset you?” She thought it unlikely but Darcy’s behaviour of late was highly suspect and while the possibility remained, the question must be asked.

“No,” sniffled Miss Darcy. “I haven’t spoken to him yet.”

Softly, Sophia asked, “Did you and Charles have an argument?” At the mention of his name Georgiana’s crying recommenced, leading Sophia to conclude that Bingley did have something to do with her distress. “Georgiana, first disagreements always seem worse than they really are. By tomorrow it will be mostly forgotten.”

“We did not argue. It is nothing like that.” She sipped at the wine again then looked at her companion plaintively. “I can’t marry him.”

Sophia blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t love him! I can’t marry him. It would be wrong!” She flew from the sofa to restlessly pace the room.

Sophia had seen Darcy do that too many times to dismiss the seriousness of the matter. “Is there someone else?”

Georgiana shook her head. “I’ve not fallen in love if that’s what you mean. I just realised that what I feel for Charles isn’t what I ought to feel, what a wife should feel.”

It was irrational, of course, but she could not let the girl cling to such simple notions.“And just what do you think a wife should feel? Consider carefully, Georgiana. I am not going to tell you what to do, that is your decision, but I urge you to consult Fitzwilliam before you speak to anyone else about it.” Sophia sighed. Her own marriage had begun with no love on either side, and her own happiness was currently in question, yet arranged unions were a common and satisfactory arrangement for many in the higher circles of society. Georgiana was young and of course she wished for the excitement of a romance but there were obligations that came with her position. Duty was the most important one and, frustratingly, Darcy would ensure his sister did not forget it. “Have you been thinking too much about our discussion the other day?”

Georgiana looked hopefully at her brother’s wife, the only woman in whom she could confide. “Charles is so sweet. I don’t want to hurt him but I shouldn’t marry him if I don’t really love him, should I? I just don’t know anymore if it is love I feel! I am too confused by the attentions of all those other young men!”

Oh, you poor dear! I know all too well the heartache of love unrequited. Bless you for wanting to spare Charles that pain. “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear but love is never that simple and there is more to marriage than just being in love.”

“What do you mean? I know of the social requirements of being a wife and of the... the... children, heirs.” Georgiana’s cheeks flushed. “You and my brother have been my example. I could not think of a better one. Your love for one another is apparent in everything you do.”

Sophia could not disguise her astonishment at the girl’s words yet she could hardly say she was mistaken. “I am flattered that you think so, Georgiana, but our marriage was one purely of convenience for both of us. True, we respect one another and that is very important, often more so than the unpredictable emotion we call love.”

Stunned by this confession, Miss Darcy could not speak for a moment. “I am sorry, Sophia. I thought... Am I not expected to love my husband, then?”

“Oh, my dear! Of course you should love him but that does not mean you need love him right away. There are many types of love, instantaneous and fleeting. Then there is the love you acquire over time, after you have been married a while.”

Georgiana smiled in understanding. “Like you and Fitzwilliam.”

Again Sophia had to choose her words carefully. “You obviously care a great deal for Charles or you would not be so upset now. No one can ever predict how happy they will be in their chosen match. It is why so many other factors are considered in our sphere. I implore you to speak with Fitzwilliam. You are dearer to him than anyone else. He will want only the best for you and will advise you accordingly.” I hope and pray that he will, at least.

Georgiana bit her bottom lip in consternation. “I’m afraid of what he’ll say,” she confessed in a small voice. “I don’t want to disappoint him or make him angry.”

“Your happiness takes precedence over his feelings,” Sophia retorted, then covered her mouth with her hand. “I shouldn’t have said that. It is not my place.” She sighed and placed her hands together in her lap. “Would you like me to broach the subject with him, to tell him what you have told me?”

“Oh, would you?” The prospect brought a great deal of relief to the young woman. “I will still speak with him myself but if you could explain to him what I’ve said, how I feel, I would be so grateful.”

“I shall do that, then. The sooner the better.” Sophia had already decided that she would speak with Darcy that very evening after dinner, no matter what his frame of mind might be.

Georgiana did not stay long after that, not wanting to see her brother for fear that she would feel compelled to confess everything at once. Sophia was restless when alone once more. There was still no word from upstairs and anger soon began to supplant her anxiety.

It was clear that Georgiana was too young, far too young to be thrust into marriage. Had Darcy married earlier in his life the girl would have had a woman to guide her through the most difficult years of adolescence and not been left to wonder about her developing feelings and romantic notions. Though Sophia had tried, soon enough she realised that the young Miss Darcy had been hurt already and that scar was not likely to heal over very quickly. Shortly afterward, she had been forced to relinquish her supervision of the young woman when the promise of an heir was accomplished. Everything had happened so quickly from then on. Bingley’s attentions had never wavered but neither were they too pronounced. It was as if Darcy was silently directing them both from the background. Georgiana would make a dutiful wife; she was a dutiful sister, following her brother’s directions to the letter. Was it fair to either, though?

Sophia felt a sudden flare of anger and wished to confront her husband immediately instead of waiting until the evening. She knew it would be a mistake, however. Time was required for her to compose her thoughts to more comprehensible expressions. Instead of following her impulse to seek out Darcy in his chamber, she chose to go to his study to immerse herself in the feel of his presence in that room.

The window was open, bringing in the scents and sounds from the street. Darcy hated them both, preferring the country air and gentle harmonies of nature at his own estate. The servants would have opened the window early in the morning to air the room and it was time to close it before the heat of the day intruded, bringing with it the less appealing odours of city life.

Sophia crossed to the window, pulling it shut, then picked up the lone piece of paper that had been blown to the floor. Ordinarily her husband’s correspondence was of no concern to her but her eye was arrested by the sight of a name which seemed to leap from the page to her attention; the one name that could compel her to read on.

The paper fell from her fingers, Sophia stepping away from it as if burned. One hand rose to her throat; she found it impossible to breathe.

“It cannot be true!” she gasped. Pain struck her and she clutched her abdomen, feeling as if she would be ill. Weeks of tension had drained her. Sophia sought reassurance, glancing around the room for something that would give her hope. Darcy’s study was darkly panelled in rich oak, heavy velvet draperies drawn aside from the windows. The desk was large, papers neatly sorted into trays. Only that one letter had gone astray. Sophia considered the evil chance which had sent her into the room to find it, exposing her husband’s duplicity in so cruel a fashion.

There were few reminders of the man, a stark contrast to her first husband who had surrounded himself with personal mementos of every kind. Darcy preferred an uncluttered and impersonal workspace. The room could have belonged to anyone... or no one.

In the midst of her despair Sophia scolded herself. It does not become you to react as a naive young bride. Countless men take mistresses. Why would Darcy be any different? This turn of thought would not do, however, for her husband had always prided himself on his deeply ingrained sense of honour and Miss Bennet was more than just a young woman by whom he was tempted; she was about to marry his own cousin.

That last thought caused Sophia to gag. She ran from the room but she could not leave behind the spectre of what she’d just learned.

It was late afternoon before Darcy saw fit to ring for Fitch. The servant arrived promptly as if he’d been outside the door the entire day, merely waiting for the signal to enter. Through eyes bleary from lack of sleep, dry from lack of moisture, he watched Fitch set out the soap and razor and fill the washbasin to shave him. Darcy shifted himself to the chair, resigned to letting his man make himself as presentable as possible under the circumstances.

“That would be put to better use on my throat,” he grumbled.

Fitch paused, the razor in the air inches from his Master’s chin. “Never, sir,” he calmly replied and continued in his task.

Darcy had to admit that once clean shaven and washed he did feel significantly better, at least physically. His thoughts were still troubled and would be for some time to come. He did not know how he could face his cousin even if Elizabeth remained mute about what had occurred. It was not right to expect her to do so and Darcy would not hide his shame in another’s silence. He would have to confess to Fitzwilliam and face the consequences. Should his cousin choose to call him out, as was his privilege, then Darcy would offer no resistance. He was wrong and well knew it.

A knock came on the door just as Fitch was handing the Master his shirt. The servant went to answer it, returning immediately with Sophia.

“Leave us,” she told him curtly. Fitch briefly glanced at Darcy for confirmation before bowing and removing himself from the chambers as requested.

Darcy watched his wife carefully, puzzled by the unusual tone in her voice. “What may I do for you, Sophia?”

She took in his half dressed state and reddened eyes and shook her head. “You don’t appear capable of doing much at the moment,” she snapped.

He abandoned the effort of pulling the shirt over his head, dropping back into the chair he had earlier vacated and rubbing his forehead with one hand. “Is this leading somewhere? I am in no mood to argue.”

“You were going to visit your sister this morning. It is now past four in the afternoon and you have just left your bed by all appearances.” Sophia bit back the rest of her comment. “As it happens, Georgiana came to see me today.”

He looked up at that. “She did? Has something happened?”

“Yes, but you are in no condition to discuss it at present. I trust that after you have had sufficient time to wake up and have put some food in your stomach your mind will be more receptive to being used.” Folding her arms, she stood defiantly, waiting for his response.

Darcy feared that the details of his encounter with Miss Bennet had somehow made their way to his wife’s ears. His own memory of the incident was muddled enough for him to be unsure if there were any witnesses. “You are undoubtedly right.” She seemed almost disappointed that he did not react to her provocation which only worried him more as this was quite out of character for her. “You would not delay it if the problem required immediate attention.”

Sophia softened slightly, Georgiana’s distress uppermost in her thoughts. “It is nothing that cannot wait for a clear head and you will need it.” She left him mulling over those words.

As much as it hurt to think, Darcy could not prevent himself from doing just that as he finished dressing. His first thoughts were that Bingley, despite his promise to the contrary, had sought out Jane Bennet and his sister was now suffering a broken heart. On top of everything else, this brought Darcy’s misery to its lowest point. He could blame no one but himself.

This course of self pity was interrupted by the return of Fitch. His Master immediately enquired who else had known of his spending the night in the library.

“Not a soul, sir,” assured Fitch. “The household staff are rather loose in their talk at times. If any had heard or seen anything it would not have escaped my ears, as well. They do not take care who is in the room when they gossip.”

This speech was the longest the servant had ever volunteered in his history with Darcy and he gazed at the man with new respect. “Have I mentioned lately how invaluable you are, Fitch?” he said, inspecting his final appearance in the mirror.

“That is my job, sir,” Fitch stated with aplomb.

“And you perform it more than adequately.” It was the type of compliment the man would appreciate as he placed no value on empty flattery, Darcy knew. Fitch had been too long in his service and had heard enough of that kind of talk from the people who had previously surrounded him while he was still an available commodity.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I suppose I had best go downstairs and face the enemy,” sighed Darcy. The other man was silent but Darcy saw the twitch of an eyebrow. “Not my wife, Fitch. I fear there is another matter that will test my resilience today.”

There was fresh coffee in the sitting room, much to his relief. In the silent presence of Sophia, Darcy poured himself a cup and then noticed the note addressed to himself which sat upon the table next to his customary seat. He picked it up, seeing the hand was Fitzwilliam’s.

“It arrived an hour ago,” Sophia informed him.

Tearing open the seal, Darcy scanned the contents quickly. “Miss Bennet has apparently decided to stay with her relations now that their engagement is formal. Her aunt is going to assist her with the necessary details.” He tried not to show the great relief he felt upon reading the news.

“Is she returning tonight or are her things to be sent there?”

“Fitzwilliam requested that her belongings be forwarded.” Darcy frowned. It appeared that he would get no opportunity to apologise to Elizabeth but neither did it seem that his cousin had any idea what had happened. At least the lady had enough sense and courage to remove herself from the house immediately, not that he ever doubted she possessed those qualities. The coffee was having an effect and he returned to the table to choose something from the plate of rolls and cakes. “My dear, did you suggest these be sent up?” he asked upon seeing the plain breads amongst the selection of sweets.

Sophia did not meet his eyes. “I presumed your stomach would not be desirous of such rich dainties at this time.”

“You presumed correctly and I thank you for it.” He bent down to kiss her cheek but at the last moment decided against it. He did not wish for her to think him condescending. Sophia looked up at him expectantly. “I’m sorry. I do not want to offend you.”

“Your kisses never offend me, Fitzwilliam,” she said, tilting her head that he might place one upon her cheek.

Darcy found that thought strangely comforting. “May we speak of Georgiana’s problem now?”

Sophia’s hesitation was slight. “Very well.” She waited until he had seated himself again before she began explaining the situation. “Georgiana was in tears this afternoon. She came to me in quite a state, hoping I would have an answer for her, some magical solution to make everything right.” Seeing her husband about to speak Sophia shook her head and quickly continued. “Now, don’t think it’s something Charles has said or done because it isn’t. This is about Georgiana and only Georgiana. I strongly suggested she speak with you and she will, but she asked me to prepare the way for her.”

“She is afraid of me?” Darcy asked, astounded.

“No, dear. She’s not afraid of you,” Sophia soothed. “She is afraid you will become angry, though, and you know how she hates to disappoint you.”

“I cannot see how anything she has to say will anger me.” Realising he was interrupting his wife’s attempt to answer his questions Darcy bade her continue.

“Georgiana is having second thoughts about marrying Charles. Fitzwilliam, no!” she cried as he left his chair and began to stalk around the furniture. “This is exactly what you should not do.”

Darcy rounded on her. “Who are you to tell me what I should not do where my sister is concerned? She is my responsibility, not yours.”

Sophia swallowed her own fear and said, “She came to me for advice.”

“And what advice did you give her, Sophia? Did you tell her that her reputation would be ruined forever if she breaks this engagement? Did you inform her of the consequences of not following through on her promise?” Stopping in the middle of the room Darcy leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, letting out a groan of frustration. “Why has she changed her mind? What possible reason could she have?”

Not knowing which question to answer first, his wife chose the last. “She’s not ready for marriage.”

Darcy’s head came up with a snap. “Is that her opinion or yours?”

She looked down at her hands. “Mine —.”

“Yours! And you have known Georgiana how long? Little more than a year!” He whirled around and began his pacing again.

“Fitzwilliam, I did not want to offer any opinion, neither to Georgiana nor to you, but since it is said I will say it all. She is not ready. She has been too sheltered, is too inexperienced and only now beginning to realise what it is to be a young woman in our society. It frightens her because she doesn’t understand her own reactions and to expect her to understand her heart is absurd.” Sophia left her own chair now to walk about the room, wringing her hands together anxiously. She was amazed that Darcy had listened in silence this long. “She came to me terrified that she didn’t love Charles as a wife should love her husband. Isn’t that strange?” Meeting Darcy’s gaze, she bravely spoke the next words. “I had to tell her that husbands and wives aren’t required to love one another. Do you know, she was surprised! All this time she believed us to be the model couple, happy and in love. Georgiana considered us perfect examples of domestic felicity.” Darcy looked away but it brought her no feeling of victory. “I did not suggest that she marry Charles. I did not suggest that she break the engagement. I urged her to seek your counsel and accept your advice, knowing... no, hoping that you would understand what was best for her, not what society thinks is best. I never had any intention of usurping your authority.” She finished with a defensive lowering of her head, eyes closed, waiting for the aftermath.

At last he spoke; quietly, heavily. “She will come and explain all this to me?”

“Yes,” she softly answered. “Fitzwilliam, do not be harsh with her –.”

“Thank you for your opinions, Sophia, but I will take care of it from here.” His tone brooked no argument.

She felt sympathy for Georgiana begin to build, fearing her husband would not see the girl’s vulnerability and insist on her marrying Charles regardless. “At least listen to what I have to say.”

“You have said quite enough, Madam!”

The intensity shocked them both into silence.

“Would you accept one suggestion from me?” Sophia finally said, tightlipped with suppressed emotion. “When you do speak with Georgiana, please show more consideration for her feelings than you have done for mine!” With that she turned on her heel and left the room.

“Sophia!” he called after her. Anger sent him into the hall only to see her disappear at the top of the stairs. “Sophia!” he called again, more commanding this time. When she did not return Darcy ran up the staircase to her chamber door just in time to have it slammed in his face. Grabbing the handle he flung open the door, entered the room and collected himself enough to close it more quietly. “What is the meaning of your outburst?” he demanded.

Sophia stood in the middle of the room, hands clenched together and head bowed. Her body was shaking with a mixture of anger and grief. “I’m sorry. I have tried but I cannot pretend to be unaffected any longer,” she said haltingly.

Darcy stared at her, mystified by her behaviour. “I don’t understand.”

“No, of course you don’t.” Her voice choked on a sob. “I sometimes wonder if you understand anything at all.”

“Sophia,” he quietly said, even more perplexed by her agitated state. “Please explain to me what you mean by all of this.”

“Do you think I haven’t noticed? Or did you think I don’t care?” Tears rolled freely down her cheeks but she would not look up at him. “You watch her. Every time she enters a room you are watching her. At first I ignored it; she’s a pretty thing, and young, but she has never done anything to encourage you. I watched her, too.”

Darcy’s anger dissipated. He thought he’d been discreet. How could he have been so careless?

“But I’m your wife. That fact should have comforted me yet I know it’s just a hollow term. It was no secret to anyone that our marriage, from the beginning, was one of convenience. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you; it wasn’t part of our arrangement, but it happened.” When Sophia finally raised her eyes they were filled with pain. “There has always been a part of you I could not reach. Your heart has been ever elusive. I loved you and could live with the fact that you would never love in return... until I came to understand that you can love and you do love but it is reserved for someone else. Not your wife. Not me. I could see it in your face whenever you looked at her. It was there.. the tender expressions I longed for but you gave to her! I wanted to hate her but I couldn’t. I want to hate you but I can’t! I lost Robert to Napoleon but I'll be damned if I lose you to a servant in my own home!” Sobs began to wrack her body and Darcy stepped forward, taking her into his arms. She clung to him, burying her face into his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his throat tight and the words fighting to emerge. He held her close, all the while cursing his own selfishness and his failure to protect her from being hurt. Every breath was an effort; Sophia’s suffering weighed heavily on his conscience.

When her crying did not appear to be lessening, Darcy gently led her over to the chaise where he sat down, drawing her to his side and offering what he felt was little comfort. She continued to lean into him, her hands clutched on his shirt which was heavily soaked with her tears. It was some time before she quieted enough to hear the murmured words which until that moment were only a soothing sensation in the ear she had placed against his chest. Fatigue settled down upon her; it was too much effort to move although she longed to see his face and know what he was feeling. His voice eventually lulled her to sleep.

For some time Darcy watched her sleeping, quiet at last. Occasionally a quavering breath would remind him of the pain she felt, her words echoing in his mind.

There has always been a part of you I could not reach. Your heart has been ever elusive.

Elusive. In truth, his heart had been locked away, hidden from anyone’s touch. The only people he had allowed himself to love were his sister and his son. Georgiana had always been there and when Edwin was born nothing could stop the powerful emotions that gripped him. Sophia, however, could not be permitted the same privilege. That was a dangerous mistake he had committed once before and had promised himself to never repeat. A marriage of convenience, he was assured, was the only guaranteed protection. Until.....

I didn’t expect to fall in love with you; it wasn’t part of our arrangement, but it happened.

“Oh, Sophia,” whispered Darcy, resting his cheek against her head. “How could I have been so blind?” He had never considered the possibility that his wife would love him! It made it all the easier to keep the distance between them when he believed her detached. “I have treated you abominably.” As he thought about his behaviour in the last weeks he had no illusions about the torment Sophia must have felt for he was well acquainted with it. A moan escaped him before he could stop it and he felt his wife move restlessly with the sound. His arms tightened around her body, comforting her, and her breathing settled into a relaxed, easy rhythm once more. Darcy caressed her cheek with one finger, marvelling at the strength which lay beneath her soft exterior. How she withstood the torment of her thoughts he could not imagine but his role in it brought him despair in its acutest form.

He still could not comprehend how he’d failed to see her feelings; that she loved him, truly loved him! It was what he had wanted all along, to be loved by the woman he loved.

Darcy’s hand ceased its movement and his eyes stared unfocussed across the room. He felt something emerge from the darkness of his thoughts, into the light where he examined it, curious yet afraid of what he might find.

Sophia.

Her name whispered in his mind. The feelings he had long hidden away, fearing to expose, had not lain dormant at all. It was just his mind refusing to see them, acknowledge them.

Darcy gazed upon his wife. In her sleep she was beautiful but awake she was more, much more. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her into the warmth of his embrace, holding her so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against him.

He pressed his face against her cheek, murmuring, “Dear Sophia, please forgive me... please.”

Part Ten

Posted on Sunday, 9 July 2006

Sophia stirred, disoriented until she recognised her own chambers. A soft knock sounded on the door; again, she realised. She was confused by Darcy’s appearance, asleep and soundly thus. Recollection of their argument returned, leaving her wondering how he had ended up in her bed. Both of them were still in their day clothes.

There was no more time for speculation as the knock sounded, more urgent than before. Sophia slipped out from between Darcy’s arms and moved to the door.

Her maid was on the other side. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but dinner has been held this past hour.” She cast a brief glance over Sophia’s shoulder to confirm the Master’s presence. “Will you both be coming down soon?”

Sophia considered the question. “No. Have something sent up for us in a half hour. I don’t care what it is, Ruth. Express my apologies to Mrs. McAuley for wasting her efforts tonight.” The door closed and she leaned her back against it, regarding her husband and undecided about her next course of action. She had said everything there was in her heart. What was left?

No, there is something more. She winced, remembering the letter.

“Sophia?” Darcy was watching her from the bed, his eyes troubled and concern in his voice. “Tell me, please. I want to know, I need to understand all the ways I’ve hurt you.”

She did not want to revisit that misery just yet. “What is to be done about Georgiana?” she asked him, trying to dull her own pain by concentrating on her sister-in-law’s. “I beg you to think of more than just her family duty.”

Darcy looked grieved. “Do you really believe I would force her into a marriage she doesn’t want?” He was even more disappointed that she avoided the most important matter.

Blinking back tears, Sophia could only shrug her shoulders. She no longer knew what to think other than wishing to spare everyone she loved the agony that she had endured over the last weeks. With a start she felt Darcy’s warmth surround her, offering reassurances next to her ear.

“I promise to listen to everything Georgiana has to say. She deserves to marry a man she loves, a man who loves her.” As do you, Sophia. No one deserves it more than you. He wanted to kiss her, to ease her sorrow and convince her that she was not unappreciated. She was not unloved. It was too soon for those expressions, however. There was too much left to address. “If her decision is to break the engagement then I will see to everything and spare her and Bingley as much as possible.”

“I... You surprise me,” his astonished wife declared. “I confess that I fully expected you to at least argue the point, certainly not concede without any attempt to change her mind.” She looked him over, studying his countenance in minute detail, but he did not appear altered in any way.

“Sophia,” he ventured after a pause. “There is much we need to discuss....”

She interrupted him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam. I should not have said what I did. It was a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

Darcy frowned at her. “Weakness? You are one of the strongest women I know!” His thoughts churned in several directions at once and to gain a few moments to collect them he suggested they sit down instead of standing in the doorway.

Sophia smiled weakly, choosing her favourite chair next to the window as it necessitated Darcy sitting opposite her. She felt much safer when he could not touch her for that brought more confusion and less clarity to her purpose.

Darcy remained standing. He was determined to face the issues and resolve them, immediately.

“I will not attempt to deny the validity in some of which you have accused me.” His heart twisted as Sophia’s eyes closed in dreadful anticipation. “Your observations with regard to Miss Bennet’s feelings are accurate. The lady does, and always has disliked me. We first met several years ago and soon afterward I found myself enamoured of her. I resisted the attraction, of course. Miss Bennet’s family connections and fortune were in no way suited to my own. Infatuation won out in the end, though, and to my utter shock and embarrassment I was promptly rejected.” Darcy was amazed to find he could recite these facts without any trace of the pain it normally induced. He felt detached, as if he were describing someone else’s life. Sophia listened in rapt silence, an agonised audience of one.

Shifting his feet, Darcy would not flee to the safety of the window. He stood his ground, resolutely facing the woman who ultimately held his future within her power. “I returned to town, quickly forgetting the woman but not what she had taught me about myself. Sophia, do not for one moment think that when I offered marriage to you that I did so unwillingly, artificially or wishing you were someone else,” he said, wanting more than anything else to take her hands and demonstrate his sincerity with tender kisses. “You are everything I had been taught to look for and appreciate; a lady of breeding, intelligence and poise. I did not propose because it was time for me to marry and you happened to meet the requirements. I would never have settled for any woman unless I could honestly respect her as Mrs. Darcy. You are more than a wife in name alone. You are my wife. You have gifted me with a son which only raises you in my esteem, for what greater reward can a man receive than a child of his own flesh?” At last he could bear her silence no longer. Darcy knelt by her feet, reaching for her hands and holding them to his lips. “I chose you, Sophia, of all the ladies available. I chose you because you were the only woman who showed an interest in life, not merely a desire to marry me. If I had it to do again I would choose you.” He kissed her fingers. “Only you.” His lips caressed her palms. “I do love you, Sophia,” he whispered as he lowered his head, her hands now pressed to his brow.

The hour had grown late without any sign of Elizabeth’s trunk appearing in Gracechurch Street. Fitzwilliam was becoming annoyed. His cousin had not even seen fit to reply to his note! He had decided to fetch the trunk himself and return with it before the hour became unreasonable. Elizabeth attempted to discourage him from the plan but Fitzwilliam would not hear of it. His carriage was ready and he was determined to confront Darcy about the matter. A quick goodbye, then he was off.

His arrival at Darcy’s home was unremarkable. Neither Darcy nor Sophia were available to receive him, which was strange in itself. It was a further fifteen minutes he was required to wait before his cousin appeared, looking tired and worn. In spite of his annoyance, Fitzwilliam felt a prickling of concern. “Darcy, are you unwell?”

“Not unwell, exactly,” he replied with a grim smile. “I was not expecting to see you, Fitzwilliam. Is there something I can do for you?”

“You didn’t receive my note, then?”

“Note?” Darcy’s brow furrowed, then he recalled the short missive he’d read earlier in the day. “Oh, I’m sorry. I did get it but an unexpected problem arose and it completely slipped my mind. Let me have the trunk brought down now. Are you intending to deliver it to Miss Bennet yourself?”

“Yes, I shall be returning tonight.” Fitzwilliam did not feel any less anxious about his cousin’s state of health or, more precisely, his state of mind. “Are you sure everything is alright, Darcy? You do not look very well.”

Gravely, he replied, “There is something I must tell you but first I’ll see to Miss Bennet’s things.” Darcy left Fitzwilliam alone for a few minutes. When he returned he conveyed the news that Elizabeth’s belongings and trunk would be packed and loaded onto his cousin’s carriage within thirty minutes. “I apologise again for not attending to it right away.”

“Well, never mind.” Fitzwilliam was more interested in what Darcy felt he needed to tell him. “What was it you wanted to say to me?”

Darcy took a deep breath and began carefully, at the beginning, much as he had related to his wife not long before. With Fitzwilliam, however, there was more to confess than the history of his failed proposal. “Last night tasted the most bitter, as you might imagine. I was jealous, of you and the happiness you would have. No, don’t tell me how irrational that is. The cold light of today and all that I have since discovered in myself make my actions even more reprehensible.”

“Good God, Darcy, what have you done?”

“I’m sure you noticed my mood last night. I allowed myself to slip lower and lower, consuming brandy as I’d never done. You and Miss Bennet had gone outside, Sophia to bed and I to the library to sample the brandy there. I was on the verge of unconsciousness when Miss Bennet came into the room. The fire was too low to be of any use but I could see her when she stood silhouetted in the light from the hall and then, when she brought the fire to life, I could remain hidden no longer.”

“What did you do?” Fitzwilliam asked again, dreading the answer.

“Fear not,” Darcy said, though his countenance inspired no confidence in his denial. “I did not harm her. I did not lay a hand on her. My offense was to insult her, declaring an attachment I thought long dead and buried. Fitzwilliam, I am truly sorry. I could barely stand, could hardly see, but there was a vision before me as sharp and clear as the day I stood in the Parsonage at Hunsford and offered her my hand. I felt all the desire for her as if no time had passed and nothing stood between us. I almost... almost begged her to become my mistress but thankfully some small measure of decency stayed my tongue before the words passed my lips.”

Fitzwilliam was out of his chair in an instant, grabbing his cousin by the throat and backing him up against the wall. “How could you?” he spat. How dare you! I should kill you for that!”

“I agree,” croaked Darcy, struggling for air.

Knuckles white with effort, Fitzwilliam released him and turned away while Darcy gingerly probed the damage.

“Elizabeth gave no hint of anything untoward occurring,” Fitzwilliam quietly stated. “I’d never have known if you had kept silent as well.”

“She has no guilt to bear for what happened.” Darcy’s voice was raspy. “I am solely to blame. She wisely chose to remove herself from this house.”

“What else happened?” his cousin demanded. “What else did you say to her?”

“Is that not enough? I could not hide my guilt and shame in her silence. As much as it costs me, I will face the consequences for my actions.”

Fitzwilliam eyed him angrily. “You will tell Sophia of your treachery?”

“She has already heard most of what I told you. I have yet to learn of her decision. Your arrival has provided her with an opportunity to consider all that I have said.” Darcy faced his cousin’s wrath squarely. “Do you think I derive enjoyment from admitting such dishonourable behaviour as my own? I am disgusted with myself, Fitzwilliam. Do what you must but please understand that I submit to your justice willingly, without reserve.”

Barely a moment of silence passed between them before Fitzwilliam threw down his gloves on the chair. “Lord knows I should kill you or at the very least thrash you senseless! I cannot stomach the thought of leaving Sophia a widow for the second time or Edwin growing up without his father.” Slamming his fist down on the closest flat surface, he said, “How can you be such an idiot, Darcy? You have a beautiful wife who adores you, a son in your image, and you practically throw it all away for what?” His cousin could only shake his head wordlessly. “I hope she makes you suffer.”

The glare he threw Darcy signalled an end to their conversation. Fitzwilliam snatched up his gloves and left.

Sophia felt she’d not cried so much in all of her years as she had that day. The man she loved had acknowledged the truth of her suspicions yet almost simultaneously confessed the one thing she’d never expected to hear from his lips; he loves me.

Dared she believe it? Was he lying, merely saying what he hoped would soothe her anger and bring peace to their marriage once again?

How she wanted to believe him! There was still the matter of that letter she had found in his study, however. It defied explanation other than the obvious and that contradicted everything her husband had said to her. Sophia’s emotions were in confusion, unable to think clearly and not wanting to think at all. She longed for the quiet and comfort of their former existence. Even without his love she could have borne it if only Miss Bennet had never appeared in their lives.

She wondered why Fitzwilliam had come. Did he have any idea of his cousin’s plans for Miss Bennet? Was it all an elaborate charade with Sophia as the only ignorant player?

No, she was not yet ready to forget everything. She was not ready to accept Darcy’s declaration of love nor to resume the role of dutiful wife.

The evening was not turning out very pleasant for another Darcy, either. Georgiana, dining at the Hursts’ home with Bingley, was feeling less comfortable in his presence. Her conscience continued to plague her despite the reassurances received from Sophia. Feeling very much as if she were harbouring secrets, Georgiana found it difficult to meet Bingley’s eyes whenever he spoke to her.

After dinner, alone with the ladies was not much better, for Louisa and Caroline could seem to find no other topic of conversation than their brother’s wedding, remarking on Miss Darcy’s reticence as that of a shy young bride-to-be. The other two ladies in the party, having long been familiar with the single mindedness of the sisters, dared not change the subject, braving the comparison of laces and silks, sleeve styles and bodice designs. By the time the gentlemen appeared Georgiana was desperate to go home.

She lasted another ten minutes before resorting to the complaint of a headache whereupon Bingley promptly offered to escort her. Louisa suggested that a brief rest might do just as well, disliking the prospect of her party breaking up early, but Georgiana was insistent. They made their goodbyes and once in the quiet of the carriage she sighed with relief.

After a moment, Georgiana opened her eyes to see Bingley watching her curiously. She blushed guiltily and was grateful for the lack of light so that he was unable to see it.

“Georgiana,” he finally spoke. “Is something troubling you?”

She looked at him apprehensively but found herself unable to answer the question.

Bingley waited but when she gave no reply he cast his gaze down and apologised. “Forgive me. It was presumptuous of me to ask.”

“No,” she said in her quiet voice. “It was not presumptuous. You are kind and considerate.” They were silent again but the distance to her home was not far and Georgiana suddenly felt she must say something before it was too late. “Charles, I am troubled.”

He looked up. “Do you wish to tell me about it?”

She began to fiddle with her hands. “I’m afraid it involves you.”

He could not hear and leaned forward, asking her to repeat what she’d said.

“I do not want to hurt you,” she said.

“Hurt me?” Bingley pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If your peace of mind cannot be gained without causing me pain then I beg you to not give me another thought. I can bear to be hurt. I cannot bear to see you so distressed.”

His words did not make her feel any better. There was no simple way to say what was on her mind. “I do not deserve such devotion,” she told him.

“Nonsense!” he cried before thinking. “Georgiana, you cannot believe that. You are sweet and generous and I am, without a doubt, the most fortunate man in all of England to have won your affection.”

Her gaze met his directly at that. “I do love you, Charles... but....”

His eyebrows rose and in a gentle voice he prompted, “But?”

Her next words were cautious. “I’m not sure it’s the right kind of love.”

Bingley stared at her. “Oh,” was all he could say at first. Then, seeing the quiet tears begin to slip down her cheeks, he gave her to understand that he was not angry, he did not blame her. Propriety be damned! he thought, taking her sorrowful figure and enfolding her in his strong embrace. “Dear, sweet Georgiana,” he whispered. “Do not cry. Please do not cry. If you do not wish to marry me I will release you from your promise. All you need do is tell me.”

“I’m sorry, Charles. I’m so very sorry.”

He begged her not to upset herself over his feelings. It was not important to learn how or why she had come to this decision. Neither of them would be happy if they continued on with the marriage plans.

“But my brother,” sniffled Georgiana.

“What about him?” Bingley tried to keep the scorn from his tone.

“He won’t agree, I’m sure. There is bound to be some reason or rule to prevent me from breaking the engagement.” Her tears threatened again and Bingley hastened to reassure her.

“Darcy will find a way. No, he will make a way for it to be dissolved without any ill effects if that is what you wish. I know he will.” As much as he disagreed with many of his friend’s views of late, Bingley highly approved of Darcy’s passion for protecting those he loved.

His confidence in her brother’s support had the right effect. Georgiana’s distress began to ease until it was only the occasional sniffle when the carriage stopped at the front door of her home.

“We shall speak more on this tomorrow,” Bingley said, handing her down to the sidewalk. “Tonight I want you to sleep well, without worry. Everything will be fine.”

Eyes round with gratitude but still wet with her recent tears gazed up at him. “Charles, I... thank you.” She could say no more and quickly disappeared into the house.

Bingley told his driver to take him home. Inside the carriage he thought of the unexpected turn of events the evening had presented. He felt empty, strangely devoid of emotion. The dissolution of their engagement would be painful but he had endured much worse. He thought of what Darcy’s reaction would be and decided that he must inform his friend alone. There would be some initial unpleasantness, some resistance, and Georgiana should not be witness to it. Her happiness was the most important issue and Bingley would make certain Darcy understood that.

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