He turned away from the portrait of his grandfather. What could be done? If he returned to Netherfield, he could not blame Bingley if he refused to receive him. And that would be more painful than not trying and never knowing. But he was driving himself to distraction in this big house, having much too much time on his hands for private reflection.
“You have not listened to the piece at all, have you?” Georgiana said from the pianoforte, drawing him suddenly from his reveries.
Darcy snapped his head up and gave her an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, Georgiana. Would you mind terribly playing it again?” he asked.
Georgiana got up from the piano stool and joined him in the sun-filled sitting area of the parlour. Darcy looked at her with approval: she was so elegant, particular for one so young. She sat down beside him in one of the chairs facing the garden and looked out over the greening landscape. They had had some unusually warm weather as of late, but it had done nothing to cure Darcy’s restlessness.
Georgiana sighed. “I will play it again, under one condition.”
“Anything,” Darcy vowed.
“Tell me what is troubling you, for it is obvious something is wrong.”
Darcy looked at her ruefully. “You have noticed, then.”
“It would have been difficult not to notice,” Georgiana replied. “Are you worried for Mr Bingley? There has not been a single letter from him since you returned. He is not a diligent correspondent, to be sure, but neither have you written to him. Did he anger you somehow? I am sure he did not mean it, for I know he respects you greatly.”
“No,” Darcy said painfully. “No, he did not anger me. Quite the reverse, I am afraid.”
“Then tell me what is wrong, brother! I wish to help, if I can,” Georgiana said. She lifted her chin, looking more grown-up than he cared to admit. “I am not a child anymore.”
“This, I know,” Darcy replied. He sighed, slouching in his chair as he would never do with anyone else, not even Bingley. “I am afraid I insulted Bingley. There is a young woman he had grown quite attached to — the daughter of a landed gentleman. I had no objections to the lady herself, but she has almost no dowry, and her family’s behaviour was sometimes less than genteel.” He drew a steadying breath before he plunged ahead and admitted his guilt. “I cautioned him about pursuing her, saying that it would hurt his social standing. It was never my intention —” he hurried on, but halted at the last second. “It does not matter now what my intentions were. I know I hurt him. Bingley took my words to imply judgement of himself, and contempt for his own background. The conversation grewheated, and we had a disagreement about the family in question, and how appropriate an association with them would be.”
“I have never known you to be prejudiced,” Georgiana said with a slight frown.
“I know. I think I was perhaps trying to talk myself out of an association with the family in question, out of loyalty to father. He would not have countenanced such a connection.”
“Ah,” Georgiana said, with a decisive nod. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy looked at her in astonishment. “How on earth did you know?”
Georgiana smiled at him. “Your letters were full of her. I have never known you to write so much of a lady, or to sound so enchanted.” Suddenly, her expression grew sombre. “But the connection must be a highly unsuitable one, if you would advise your friend against her sister.”
“Since that conversation, I have come to think rather differently. The family is lacking in connections, but that need not mean anything if Bingley does not wish it to. The more serious concern is that of her family’s want of propriety, but I am afraid I failed badly to convey my meaning. I am ashamed of myself, now, for what I said to Bingley. He asked if I looked at him with contempt, since he is only the son of a merchant. Of course, I did not mean it in such a light, but I can understand why he took it that way.” Darcy looked at his sister with a remorseful gaze. “I have made a blundering idiot of myself, and I am not sure how to make amends.”
Georgiana nodded. “Well, that certainly makes me feel better.”
Darcy raised a brow, straightening in his chair. “I beg your pardon?” The reaction was most unlike his gentle little sister. He had expected her to be astonished, had braced himself to bear her disappointment in learning that he had been guilty of such a misstep — but this? Why on earth would she find satisfaction in his misery?
Georgiana folded her hands and turned to him with a piercing gaze. “You know I have always looked up to you. And as I said before, you are always so controlled, so steady. You never seem to do anything wrong.” She hung her head. “It makes me think that if you can make a mistake, perhaps there is hope for me as well. My sins are so much worse than yours, and I am sure that Mr Bingley will forgive you. He is not one to hold a grudge.”
“Well, that certainly is not the persona I have been trying to portray. I am not perfect.” Darcy blinked. “Have you been thinking all this time that I was looking down on you for the mistake you made?” he asked. “Indeed, I attribute all blame to Wickham — not you.” Darcy shifted uneasily. He had never wanted Georgiana to believe that he held her responsible. But what if his superior air had made his sister’s road to recovery after the Wickham incident even more fraught with guilt and hardship?
She shook her head. “You never made me feel as if I was unworthy of forgiveness. I know you love me, but —” she stopped, the threat of tears choking her. “It is one thing for another to forgive one for their wrongdoings. It is completely another to forgive oneself.”
Georgiana did not give him a chance to answer, but quickly stood and went out into the garden. He followed her to the window, watching her walk along the paths, no doubt taking solace from the nearness of growing things. How could he have been so blind? Not only had his sister had to deal with therepercussions of what would have been a dreadful marriage, but he had not helped matters with his reticence. Perhaps it was his fault that she was so slow to heal.
He stood there, all but unmoving, until Georgiana returned to the house and entered the parlour with renewed fire in her eyes. Thankfully, tea had just been delivered. With luck, it would give them both the chance to talk. “Can I pour you some tea?” he asked.
“No, I will pour,” she said as she sat down. “Brother, I have had an idea. And I do hope you will think about it before you say no.”
He was surprised by her excitement. “You know I can deny you nothing, Georgiana.”
She smiled weakly at this. “Well, perhaps you would like to hear this request before you say so.” She took a steadying breath and plunged ahead. “I should like to go to London for the Season,” she said simply. Georgiana seemed to hold her breath as she waited for him to answer.
Her request was wholly unexpected, but not outlandish. Darcy sat back and considered. It showed considerable bravery to make such a request, especially after her experience with the perfidious Wickham. But he was greatly encouraged by the suggestion. “I did not know you were inclined to go to Town. Why have you never said anything before?” he asked, curious. “I am not opposed to the idea, mind you. I only wonder at your apparent change of heart.”
She looked down at her clasped hands. “I should like to experience Town, perhaps to make some new friends. And I would hope that you might see Mr Bingley there, and perhaps have a chance to apologise,” she added with a softness that alluded to her deep sense of compassion. “I would so hate to seethe two of you break from each other’s friendship forever, when a simple apology might bridge the gap.”
