A sickening thought sent a wave of nausea through him. Was this Georgiana’s way of trying to secure Bingley, by announcing to all and sundry that she was ready for marriage? Whatever the motive, this conversation did not sit well with Darcy.
“Miss Lydia is out already, and she is younger than me.”
“By three months!” Mentioning Lydia Bennet hardly improved Georgiana’s argument. “And I am sure her neighbors agree that she is not ready to be out.”
“Are not the invitations we receive proof enough that they do consider me mature enough to make my coming out?”
Darcy could not believe his ears. The invitations were meant to celebrate his and Elizabeth’s upcoming marriage, not for Georgiana. His disappointment that she would use such fickle arguments to prove her point rendered him speechless.
She added, “Miss Bingley agrees that I would do well to come out quietly in the country. When we return to London, I might receive callers and accompany both her and Aunt Helen on their calls.”
As if Aunt Helen would ever choose to exchange more than a polite greeting with Miss Bingley!
“You cannot imagine how mortifying it is to hear how Lydia and Kitty Bennet go everywhere with their sisters while I must stay in my rooms with Mrs. Annesley. Do you not see how much I have matured? I played the pianoforte before an audience, and I gave Wickham the cut direct.”
Darcy’s recollection of that rainy day was vastly different from his sister’s. Had it not been for Elizabeth, Georgiana would have cowered on the settee while Wickham sneered at them.
“Thanks to Miss Bingley’s direction, I have become more confident. If I were called upon to entertain an audience, I should gladly do so.”
Darcy could take no more of this nonsense. “You do realize that coming out implies more than playing an instrument when called upon. It signals that you are ready to marry—that you are prepared to run a household of your own and care for the needs of the children certain to come from that union. It means you are prepared to live no longer for yourself but for others. Why not enjoy the freedom you have now?”
Georgiana’s jaw set at an unbecoming angle. “I thought you wanted me to be happy.”
“I do! But if you cannot be happy in your own company, then I cannot fathom how you think you will be happy when others are allowed to impose on you.”
“Is that what I am to you? An imposition?” Her chin quivered, and a tear slid down her cheek.
How had the conversation had deteriorated so quickly? Baffled and clueless, Darcy did his best to console her. “I did not say that. I wouldnever, not even in my heart, consider you an imposition.”
“Then you will allow me to come out?”
“Of course not. You are too young.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Come now, Georgie, dry your tears. Let us race back to the stables.”
“I do not wish to race,” she sputtered between sobs.
She cried more, but Darcy would not budge. What she asked was unreasonable and went against the decision she had agreed upon months ago with him and Richard.
What was more, her arguments and mawkish behavior troubled him. Darcy had never understood how other men were so easily manipulated by tears. It pained him to see his own sister use that tactic against him. In his experience and observation, the use of such feminine arts rarely proceeded from an honest, unselfish motive.
He did his best to cheer her. The patch of azure sky promising a fine day, the flock of pheasants streaking the green and brown fields with their colorful plumage, the way the dew clung to the grass and sparkled in the morning sun—he pointed out all the things Elizabeth would have delighted to see.
Georgiana had composed herself before they reached the stables. By the time they entered the breakfast parlor, she was able to greet Bingley and the Hursts convincingly.
“Where is Miss Bingley?” she asked.
“Still keeping fashionable hours,” Richard replied, piling sausages onto his plate with one hand and patting the empty chair beside him for Georgiana.
Bingley shrugged. “I do not suppose I could convince you to accompany me to the lower field, Darcy? The bailiff says the lack of drainage will be a problem if left unattended before winter.”
They buttered toast and sipped coffee while they made plans for the day, their conversation dwindling as they ate.
An ear-splitting scream jolted them from their seats. Bingley, Richard, and Darcy ran upstairs, following the continuing sound. Once they reached the residence wing, it was apparent the screams came from Miss Bingley’s room. “Get it out! Get it away from me! Oh, the nasty, vile thing! Out! Out! Get it away!”
Darcy waited in the hall with Richard and Mr. Hurst, who still wore his dressing gown, while Bingley and Georgiana, charged inside the bedchamber followed by a panting Mrs. Hurst.
“Rudy!” they heard Bingley exclaim. He departed from the room, holding the kitten in the crook of his arm. “That was better than the time I put a frog in Louisa’s jewelry box!”
“What did he do?” Richard asked.
