His boot squished in a puddle, oozing up the side of his foot. What had Wickham told her about Georgie? Darcy would thrash him as he had wanted to do at Ramsgate!
Elizabeth added in a jovial tone, “I already have four sisters. If I am to have another one, I should like some reassurance that Miss Darcy is as serene and sweet as Jane. Truly, I cannot imagine her being any other way, but I shall attempt to be a good sister to Miss Darcy. It would help me a great deal if I knew something of her character.”
Darcy weighed his words carefully, unsure what Wickham might have told her about Georgiana. “My sister was loved dearly by our father, more so because she never knew our mother. She died of a fever only a year after Georgiana was born.”
Elizabeth clutched the collar of her coat closer. “Losing her must have been devastating for you and your father.”
It had been. Darcy’s anger waned at the memory of his mother, but not enough to take away the bitterness in his voice. “A young lady such as Georgiana is often sought out for the advantages she can grant those she favors. My sister has suffered more than her fair share of betrayal by false friends she thought she could trust.”
Elizabeth’s hand tensed around his arm; her lips pinched. “A pox on the selfish louts who disappoint an innocent orphaned girl!”
Her spirited invective calmed Darcy’s ire. If Wickhamhadspoken against Georgiana, Elizabeth chose not to believe him. “I shall not allow anyone or anything to hurt her again.”
Elizabeth caught his gaze, boldly meeting it with her own. “Neither shall I.”
She meant it, he could tell. She would protect a girl she had not yet met based solely on Darcy’s word.
Would she defend her so valiantly when she realized that Georgiana was a rival with Elizabeth’s own sister for Bingley’s love? That was a conversation foranotherday.
Darcy craved Elizabeth’s lightness and humor. Talking about himself had caused this solemn turn, so he must shift the conversation. “What of you? Were you given to mischief as a girl?”
“In a way.” Her smile returned. “I was permitted to play out of doors, climb trees, stomp through puddles, and swim in the streams.”
Darcy imagined her traipsing around with tangled hair, scraped elbows, and muddy hems.
“When it rained, my father allowed me to read anything I fancied in his book room. At first, I read for fun. By the time Lydia was born and it became apparent that no heir would appear, I turned to more practical subjects. I spent hours poring over his tomes, convinced that if I learned enough… oh, I don’t know what I thought. In the end, I was only a girl, not the boy he needed to break the entail on our property and keep our home.”
“But you did not stop reading?” He knew she had not; her intellect was proof of extensive study and enterprise.
“Like you, I needed solace before the needs of my family demanded my attention. Having five daughters with no prospects and an estate he would lose, my father changed. He could do anything he put his mind to, but he lost the will to try. My mother became more anxious than ever before.” She shook her head and smiled. “Reading became my escape, as did my early morning walks.”
No wonder Elizabeth prized her independence. It was all she had which was truly hers.
Darcy was not ready to arrive at Longbourn, but the house seemed to have dropped down from the sky right in front of them. His mud-caked boots were the perfect excuse to avoid entering lest he sully the carpets.
He was about to beg his leave when the door burst open to reveal Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy! How good of you to see Lizzy safely home, though I am not surprised. Young people in love always find a way to be in each other's company.” She waved them in enthusiastically. “You must come in! We have cake and punch.”
Darcy looked down at his Hessians. They were beyond the help of the boot scraper beside the door.
Miss Kitty emerged behind her mother. “Hill will see to your boots, Mr. Darcy. We have cake! Cake and punch!”
Miss Lydia pushed her sister out of the way with an unladylike snort. “Only take care Hill does not lose them. He lost Mr. Collins’ boots, as you remember.” As she moved back to the house, she added, “Now, that is a reason to celebrate! Mr. Collins is gone, and we shall not have to endure his boring readings from those dreadful sermons!” She wailed with laughter.
Miss Mary looked up from her book. “It is irreverent for you to celebrate a clergyman’s departure or malign Fordyce’s sermons. I find them both edifying and instructive.”
“You would,” Miss Lydia mumbled.
Mrs. Bennet evidently deigned Mr. Collins’ departure worthy of explanation. “He left before dawn saying his patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh required his assistance, but that is hardly an explanation, is it? He was going to propose to Li—oh, to no one in particular, but I had hoped he would propose to one of my daughters. Mary would suit a clergyman quite well, do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”
She did not pause long enough to hear Darcy’s opinion, which was for the best. Mrs. Bennet would not have been happy with his view of the matter. With a shrug, she continued without taking a breath, “Tis no matter. You are here, and Mr. Bingley dotes on my Jane. You will dine with us tomorrow evening, will you not? Mr. Bingley accepted my invitation last night, but I do not suppose he has had occasion to mention it to you, the hour being so early.”
Drat. While he had been busy writing letters, Mrs. Bennet had undermined Darcy’s purpose before he could even create an effective plan. The longer he had to wait, the more difficult it would be to separate Bingley from Miss Bennet.
CHAPTER18
“‘Tis a pity Hill did not misplace Mr. Darcy’s boots, or he would have stayed longer.” Mama sighed.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. How quickly an engagement altered her mother’s opinion of a gentleman she had once deemed disagreeable!
