Darcy wished he knew. But he was not desperate enough to enlist Miss Bingley’s assistance when he had already succeeded in convincing Bingley to accompany him to London. “You forget I am to marry the second Miss Bennet.”
She huffed. “But you can escape to Pemberley. You shall only have to endure one yearly visit from her dreadful relatives, and your property is large enough to avoid their company.”
He rose to leave the room, undesirous of occupying the same space as a bitter lady with disappointed ambitions disparaging the family into which he would marry.
She did not take his hint. “If Charles marries Miss Bennet, I shall have to endure daily visits from her horrible family. Oh, if only we could stay in London for longer than a day! I know Charles. He would forget Miss Bennet within a fortnight.”
A fortnight. The banns would be read on Sunday, and the countdown to his wedding day would officially begin. He had fifteen days. Fifteen days to separate Bingley from the source of his current infatuation. Fifteen days to secure Georgiana’s future without threatening the potential in Darcy’s. It was a monumental task to undertake. Should he enlist help?
Before Darcy could contemplate the advantages of including Miss Bingley in his plan—the disadvantages being immediate and obvious—there was a muffled tap at the door. Bingley's butler stood in the open doorway. "Guests have arrived, Miss Bingley."
She sighed, her cheeks puffing out in exasperation. "I suppose we cannot avoid the locals entirely. How tiresome." She made no attempt to rise but instead took another bolstering breath.
The butler added, "I took the liberty of showing Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy into the parlor for tea. Mr. Bingley and the Hursts are already with them."
Miss Bingley jumped to her feet with an unbecoming squeal. “Why did you not say so immediately?!"
While she chastised the butler, Darcy stood in stunned, frozen silence, his plans for London vanishing. Why were they here? Had some disaster befallen Georgiana?
Awakening from his momentary reverie, he brushed past Miss Bingley, who would rather criticize her butler than welcome her unexpected visitors, no matter how delighted she claimed to be to receive them. Darcy only just kept himself from breaking into the parlor at a run.
Remembering himself, he composed his face into one he hoped conveyed happy surprise rather than the panicked concern rushing his steps.
CHAPTER20
Georgiana cradled Serafina in her arms.
Bingley stood beside her, leaning as close as a friend ignorant of his effect on the young lady would, talking gibberish to the cat and stroking her fur. Georgiana looked up at him adoringly. Darcy’s panic turned to dread. Her infatuation had not weakened.
Richard stepped forward. His lips curved upward, but there was no smile in his eyes.
Darcy shot him a glare, which Richard acknowledged with a grave nod. He would explain later.
Satisfied on that point, Darcy opened his arms and called to his sister, who had yet to notice that he had entered the room, so fixed was she on Bingley. "Georgiana! You have taken us quite by surprise!"
She set Serafina down by a basket at her feet—a basket which rocked and squirmed like a living thing—and bounced into his arms. "You are not vexed, are you, William? Mr. Bingley assured us that we are most welcome."
Darcy refrained from objecting to her unfavorable comparison of himself to Bingley. If he understood why they were here instead of on their way to Pemberley, then he would know better how to proceed. Perhaps he could get some of the story now, enough to satisfy him until Richard explained further. "I am trying to puzzle how you escaped from Aunt Helen.”
"Oh, but she was the one who insisted that I accompany Richard!" Georgiana stepped away from Darcy—closer to Bingley—and smiled sweetly.
Darcy caught Richard's expression, the bunched mouth and furrowed brows. Had caring for a sixteen-year-old girl not yet out in society been too much for his aunt? Aunt Helen had been blessed with three boys, all now grown adults. Her only daughter was her eldest son’s wife.
“Too much youth in the house,” mumbled Richard, the corner of his lips flinching.
Darcy still did not understand. Aunt loved children. She had made it a point to impress upon her sons, and by extension Darcy, their obligation to produce offspring. She had a chest full of embroidered christening gowns waiting to be opened. Her oldest, Frederick, had only recently wed. The youngest, Edmond, had taken over the parish church at Kympton two years ago. It was Aunt Helen’s greatest grievance that despite her best efforts, both Edmond and Richard remained single.
Bingley bounced on his toes, his grin too wide by half. "I can think of no better way to improve the day than for my dearest friends to meet the new friends we have made in Hertfordshire."
Darcy could imagine nothing worse.
Even Mrs. Hurst looked dubiously at her brother. Miss Bingley’s sneer was marred by a violent sneeze. Serafina rubbed against her skirts, wrapping her tail around Miss Bingley's leg and purring up at her for attention.
Georgiana clasped her hands under her chin. "Serafina has singled you out as her special friend."
Miss Bingley sneezed again, her voice nasal when she spoke. "I am honored, to be sure."
"Then you will love her kittens. They are nearly six weeks old!" She bent down to the basket and tipped it over to reveal three balls of fur.
