Miss Bennet nodded. “I shall miss these meetings sorely. I suppose we should have known — of course you shall want to go to the countryside for the spring, for I am sure there is nothing more beautiful. And yet I confess I had not thought of it.” Measured as her words were, Miss Bennet’s eyes seemed to convey great regret at losing them. Or at least, of losing Georgiana. He could not be sure that she felt the same about losing his company. He could only flatter himself that she might also miss him.
With an internal start he hoped he could conceal, Darcy reminded himself that he should feel no such thing.
Georgiana was looking rather downcast. “I will be glad to return home, for you are quite right — there is nothing I like better than springtime at Pemberley. But I shall miss you terribly, Miss Bennet. I do hope you will write to me?” she asked.
Miss Bennet smiled at her. “I should like that very much. And I shall miss you as well. I think London will be all the more grey with you gone from it.” She raised her eyes to his, and he felt it all the way to his toes.
Darcy looked away. What was the matter with him? He was allowing his heart and emotions to run away with him. Perhaps it was for the best that they would soon leave London. He was sorry for Georgiana, of course, who would be reduced to relative boredom when they returned to Pemberley and became busy with the running of the estate. Yet the sacrifice might bean essential one, for he feared he was becoming dangerously infatuated with Elizabeth Bennet.
“Though we shall miss your company, I am delighted on your behalf,” Mrs Gardiner told them. “Surely there is nothing more lovely than late spring in Derbyshire! Will you stay long?”
“Yes, we have no plans to return to London at present. Perhaps late next autumn.” Though he had no thought of changing their plans, Darcy hated to see the disappointment in Georgiana’s eyes. It would invariably be a long spring and summer for her, without her new friend.
Perhaps seeing her disappointment, Miss Bennet asked Georgiana a question about her reading, and soon led her attention into happier channels. It was not long before they were discussing the importance of having a well-stocked library. After listening to them with pleasure for some moments, Darcy could no longer resist the urge to comment.
“I am glad to hear you so engaged in discussing literature. If you continue so in your interest, Georgiana, I think you must soon join me in selecting the books we wish to add to the family library.”
Georgiana gave a rather embarrassed smile. “I thank you, Brother, but I think I should be rather frightened to do it. I would not wish to choose foolishly and lessen the quality of the books you select, or waste your funds.”
“Funds spent on books surely would not be wasted,” Miss Bennet told her bracingly. “And I am sure the Pemberley library could only benefit from the addition of your taste, Miss Darcy.”
Darcy watched in satisfaction as Georgiana smiled at the compliment, growing in confidence almost before his eyes. How different Miss Bennet was from Miss Bingley! She had not giventhe compliment to recommend herself to him, and followed it up with a sidelong glance, as Caroline Bingley would have. Quite the contrary. She had not so much as glanced at him, but merely resumed talking with Georgiana. No, that friendship was not constructed for his benefit. From the beginning, it had been entirely real.
Even then, Georgiana was speaking eagerly to her friend. “I do hope you enjoyed yourself at the supper party? It was so nice to spend longer than the usual half-hour.”
Miss Bennet nodded. “I thoroughly enjoyed myself. And I think I can speak for my aunt and uncle, that the evening was so well planned and the conversation so pleasant, that the time seemed to fly by. It was a surprise that it was so late when we realised we should probably make our exit and leave you all to retire. The company was so delightful that we could have gladly stayed half the night.”
“I am glad to hear it. We felt the same, did we not, Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, indeed.” Privately, Darcy thought that the next time they had a supper party would be better scheduled when the Hursts and Miss Bingley were unavailable. How could he have ever thought them elegant and well-mannered? Their behaviour towards Miss Bennet and the Gardiners, people he had declared worthy of being his guests, was entirely rude. He hardly knew what was worse — Mrs Hurst’s disinterest, which seemed to border on contempt, or Miss Bingley’s jealous sniping.
On second thought, it was most certainly the sniping. It was a shame that it was all but impossible to exclude Miss Bingley from any party without excluding her brother as well.
“Speaking of the supper party, I wonder if you might play that song you performed on the pianoforte that evening, Miss Darcy? I have been in raptures since I heard it, and wishing I might hear it again.” Mrs Gardiner asked. “The melody has been playing in my mind ever since I first heard it that night.”
Georgiana seemed more than pleased — even flattered — that Mrs Gardiner would request a song. She went immediately to the pianoforte, hardly even pausing to express her willingness before beginning to play. Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Annesley joined Georgiana at the instrument and listened intently as her expert fingers danced over the black and white keys.
Miss Bennet turned to look over her shoulder at Georgiana. She seemed about to move to join the other ladies. Darcy quickly forestalled her. For a moment, while Georgiana’s playing held the attention of the room, they might speak in confidence. “I wanted to apologise for Miss Bingley’s remarks on the night of the supper party. It is a considerable act of impropriety to invite anyone, only to have them spoken to in such a way. I should not wish to think I condoned such discourtesy.”
Miss Bennet turned to him, looking rather surprised. “I thank you for your apology, Mr Darcy, though it is hardly necessary. Miss Bingley might, perhaps, but I do not see that you have anything for which you ought to apologise.” She smiled, a little ruefully. “Besides, I am not in the practice of holding grudges. At least, I have learned not to take everyone’s comments so personally.”
Darcy raised a brow at this. “Have there been others who have been unkind while you have been here in London?” He hated to think that she had been the target of unkind remarks or even jests. Some members of theton— like Miss Bingley and herpernicious sister — were of the mind that they had the right to look down on people they believed to be below them, and thus to criticise and make sport of them.
The thought gave him pause. Had he not been fighting his growing attraction towards Miss Bennet because of her lower social status? Darcy had to admit his own inconsistency. It was a lowering realisation, but he had little time to dwell on it as she spoke.
“I have endured a little backbiting, but none of any great significance. I try never to pay too much mind to such comments, especially when they come from people who do not even know me — who did not even try to get to know me before making up their minds about who they think I am.”
“You are wise,” he said.
She shook her head. “Hardly wise. It is only a matter of necessity. I suppose people think they know me and may pass judgement when they find out I am one of five daughters of a widow who has been reduced to living in a tumbledown cottage, who have had their home and their future ripped from under them.” She stopped, as if she realised that her words had come tumbling out unchecked, like a stream overflowing its bounds after a heavy rain.
Darcy’s heart went out to her. She had undoubtedly endured much over the last two years since her father’s passing. It made a strange, protective feeling rise in his breast.
But that would not do. He had no right to feel protective over her, and it could only confuse them both if he allowed himself the indulgence.
“Forgive me, I do not mean to complain, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bennet said steadily. “I have much to be thankful for.”
“Such as?” Darcy asked. The sentiment was admirable, and easy enough to understand, but he found he wanted to keep her talking, just so he could know what she might say next. And perhaps, in small part, he wished for her to go on so he could continue to watch the mesmerising way her lips moved when she spoke.
