He soon joined them and smiled at the sight of his sister coming toward him. She smiled. “I hope you do not mind, but I had Reynolds and the footmen set up tea outside today. It is such a glorious day, do not you agree? We could not stand to be corralled inside the drawing room another moment!” She linked her arm with his, and they joined the others at the round table.
His sister had outdone herself. The round table was covered with a white linen tablecloth, with bright pink and yellow roses in a crystal vase standing in the centre. Greenery was spread throughout the flower arrangements. Georgiana had brought out her favourite tea service, and there was a goodly portion of pastries, delicate sandwiches, and fruits. It was a veritable feast.
“My goodness, is it someone’s birthday? This is almost as lavish as our Christmas teas,” Darcy teased her, with a broad smile to ensure she would not doubt his approval. When she was seated, he took a chair beside Elizabeth. “Well done, sister.”
“Thank you. I am glad you approve. I am surprised at you, though,” Georgiana said with a mock pout crossing her lips.
“Oh? And why is that?” he asked.
“You usually join us much sooner than this. We have been out here enjoying the sunshine for quite some time. Did you have a great deal to do today?”
He sighed. “Yes, I did — and I am afraid I still do. There are still several letters left for me to answer. But I found I could not focus on them another moment. I was eager to be with you all.”
“You, unable to focus?” Georgiana teased. “I would accuse you of being an imposter if I did not know your eyes so well.” She gave a mischievous smile. “Perhaps there is another reason you are so distracted?” With highly suspect innocence, Georgiana took a delicate sip of her tea — and glanced meaningfully at Elizabeth.
Darcy cleared his throat and chose not to meet his sister’s eyes. “There was a reason, in fact. The birds were singing so loudly outside my study window, it made me wish to join them in enjoying this magnificent day. I believe there is a whole flock of them building their nests in the oak outside my window.”
Elizabeth sighed. “It is lovely, is it not? I think there is no better way to be woken up in the morning than with a warm ray of sunshine and the sounds of nature coming to life.”
Mrs Gardiner smiled. “How very poetic.”
“And romantic,” Georgiana sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward. “We were just discussing Mrs Laurence’s book and wondering when she might release her next novel. It is a pity it takes so long between them.”
“Writing is an art, my dear. You can hardly fault Mrs Laurence for only having twenty-four hours in a day,” Mrs Annesley said in her usual gentle way. “I wonder if she has a husband and family. That would certainly take the bulk of hertime. And if her children are young, like yours, Mrs Gardiner, I wonder she has any time at all to write.”
“Yes, I quite agree,” Mrs Gardiner said. Momentarily, her expression seemed rather odd. Darcy could not quite understand it. Perhaps he had only imagined it, for she soon turned to Georgiana with a bright smile. “I cannot get enough of these jelly tarts, Miss Darcy. They are simply divine!”
“Thank you. I shall tell Mrs Reynolds you said so. She will be sure to pass along your compliments to the cook,” Georgiana said. “It is a shame that you have been cooped up in your study all day, Fitzwilliam. I should think all that letter-writing would become very dull. Do you not have any time for reading anything else these days?”
“Of course,” he told her. “Presently, I am reading a collection of Milton’s essays. I thought I might select one to recommend to you.” While this was true, the book presently by Darcy’s bedside was a collection of Donne’s poetry. But it would not do to say so. Admirable as Donne’s work was, several poems were quite unsuitable to discuss with his young sister.
“If you think Milton’s essays would improve my mind, I shall do my best to appreciate them,” Georgiana said gamely, if with little enthusiasm.
“I hope you do not mind, Mr Darcy, but I have taken to exploring your library with great abandon. You have such a beautiful, extensive collection, I find I am quite jealous,” Elizabeth said. “I am afraid I cannot seem to restrain myself to one volume at a time. There are fully three on my nightstand as we speak.”
“You may avail yourself of the library as much as you choose, Miss Bennet,” Darcy told her. “Indeed, I consider it a great compliment.”
Elizabeth smiled, but before she could say anything, Georgiana returned to the subject of Gothic novels. “You should read Mrs Laurence’s books, Fitz,” she pressed. “I know you said you prefer philosophy and such, but if you would only give them a chance, I know you would like them.”
Darcy smiled tightly, suppressing a sigh. The new, more confident Georgiana did come with some disadvantages. In former days, when his sister feared to disagree with him about anything, she never would have tried to urge her own taste in books on him. “I prefer more serious reading, you know that, Georgiana. I am sure you would agree that I read a wide enough variety of things.”
“But you cannot bring yourself to read silly Gothic fiction?” Elizabeth said suddenly, softening the saucy remark with a charming smile. Turning serious, she shook her head. “I will not try to convince you otherwise, Mr Darcy.”
“How can you say that, Miss Bennet? You like Mrs Laurence’s novels just as much as I do. Perhaps more,” Georgiana pouted.
“I do,” she admitted. “But there is no use in forcing someone to try her writing when they have set their minds against it.” She gave him a challenging smile. Her eyes danced with mischief. In that moment, Darcy felt it was already a foregone conclusion; he could not escape falling in love with her.
“Come, Miss Bennet, you must tell my brother what he is missing,” Georgiana pleaded.
Darcy’s mouth went dry as Elizabeth focused her attention on him. She thought for a moment, taking a sip of tea while she formulated a response. “I would not describe Mrs Laurence’s work merely as Gothic thrills, Mr Darcy. I find her work to be very real and raw, but without being vulgar. She seems to be striving to understand the human heart, and the longings that come from the deepest part of a person — both men and women.”
“Which makes me think she must be married,” Mrs Annesley put in. “How can someone who has not been married have such insight into the male mind?”
Miss Bennet looked down at her hands. “No one can know for sure. What I do know is that I am thankful for Mrs Laurence’s novels. Perhaps she is a mother of ten, or a young woman like myself, or even a man. I will only say that her books have given me courage when I did not think I could go on. They have given me comfort when I thought the night would never end. And she has given me hope that, perhaps, tomorrow will be the day I find love.”
Their eyes caught and held. She had spoken so quietly that the words were almost inaudible. Darcy had the sense she had not meant them to be heard at all. They were only an expression of her secret heart, and too deeply felt to be repressed.
He could understand that well — the hope that the feelings welling up in him were real, and reciprocated. She made him hope as he had never hoped before…
