Darcy sighed. Comparison was the thief of contentment. “Every morning. It is a nuisance. You are blessed to not have to shave so often.”
Unconvinced, Bingley turned to Richard. “And you?”
“And me… what?”
“How often do you have to shave?”
Richard groaned. “Twice every blasted day.”
“Twice a day! I can go a week without anyone noticing.”
Richard grumbled. “I envy you.”
“And I envy you! In a week, you would have a full mustache, something I apparently will never have.”
NowbothRichard and Bingley were discontented with their lot. Georgiana leaned closer to Darcy. “I thought only girls my age had conversations like this! Curly hair or straight, tall or short, plump or lithe… we are never content with what we have.”
He grinned at her, happy that she now felt comfortable enough to share the confidence with him. Every day, she surprised him with something new.
“Tell me the truth,” Bingley implored. “Does it make me look mature, or should I shave it off before the assembly?” He would not let the matter go until he had their opinions.
If they were to depart from Netherfield before the rest of the household awakened, they had best not waste time. “That is a question best directed to the only individual at this table qualified to give advice on fashion.” Darcy looked at his sister. “What is your opinion? Should Bingley keep or shave his mustache?”
Georgiana took a deep breath, visibly weighing her words. She would be kinder than anyone else, which is why Darcy had asked her. “It is a pity for any gentleman to hide his features behind whiskers. It makes it terribly difficult for a lady to see whether he is handsome, or purposely disguising a weak chin, or hiding that he has no lips.”
It was a point of view Darcy had never considered. Georgiana was not the only one whose education was expanding.
Richard rubbed his side whiskers. “Would you suggest that I trim these higher, to better feature my handsome mug?”
She smiled widely. “You will make the ladies’ hearts flutter.”
“Do most young ladies agree with you? I mean, did Miss Bennet, perhaps, happen to share her view on facial hair?” asked Bingley, more to the point.
Darcy did his friend a favor and removed his doubt. “Everyone will agree that you appear to greater advantage without the mustache.”
“Really? Because Caroline?—”
Richard interrupted him.“Thatis your problem, Bingley.”
Darcy had been meaning to bring this up with Bingley, and now was as good a time as ever. “She manipulates you to get what she wants. She would rather cast the blame on another instead of taking responsibility for her own mistakes.”
“Caro is not so bad. She means well,” Bingley defended weakly.
“If proof is what you require, I suggest you ask the maid your sister scolded harshly to cover over her own negligence.”
Bingley was not so ignorant of the goings on in his household to deny the proof presented to him.
Darcy leaned forward, making certain he had his friend’s full attention before he spoke. “If you do not correct her, she will find ways to make the lady you admire feel inferior, confident that you are too affable to suspect what she is doing until the damage has been done.”
Bingley’s first act of defiance toward his sister was to shave his mustache before they departed for the village on horseback, leaving the carriage for his sisters to make calls.
While Bingley saw to his business, Darcy and Richard took Georgiana to the haberdashers. Richard conversed at length with the shopkeeper while Darcy followed Georgiana as she perused the frills and trimmings with which the ladies would garnish themselves for the ball.
Lady Lucas was there and greeted them cordially, if not a touch apologetically. “I pray you will not judge all of Meryton society based on the few to whom you have been, most unfortunately, exposed.”
Her comment took Darcy aback. “There is no one here I consider myself unfortunate to have met.”
Georgiana, too, struggled to reply. “I, too, have enjoyed everyone I have met here.”
