“I do not.”
She sighed and threw her hands up. “Why are men so dense when it comes to the heart?” She stood and paced in frontof the fire. “I thought it was no secret that Miss Bingley has designs on you. Indeed, she has for some time, but you are either oblivious, which I find very thin. Or you refuse to give in to her schemes.”
“I have not encouraged her,” Darcy said simply.
“Ah, so you have seen. But it is not enough to ignore her, Brother.” She waved him off. “A different woman would have taken the hint, but we already know that Miss Bingley will not. As long as you are friends with her brother and remain unmarried, she will think she has a chance.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow at his sister. “She maythinkshe has a chance, but I assure you she is mistaken. Surely Miss Bingley must know that she cannot bring about an understanding between us merely because she might wish it to be so.”
Still, Georgiana might have a point. Miss Bingley had acted strangely after Miss Bennet’s departure. And she had renewed her flirtation tenfold after Miss Bennet had gone, forcing Darcy to retreat to his study and the excuse of urgent business more than once. No matter how Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst worked together to showcase her face, her figure, and her accomplishments, Darcy could not find her otherwise than lacking.
Caroline Bingley was pretty, clever, and even well-educated. But she was not kind.
More to the point, she was not Elizabeth Bennet.
Even so, did it mean that Miss Bingley had forced Elizabeth out? It was probably just his sister’s wild imaginings. Surely.
Georgiana came and sat beside him this time. “And how do you feel about Miss Bennet?”
Darcy swallowed. “I am glad she has become such a worthy friend to you. And I enjoy her conversation.” He stalled when Georgiana pinned him with another knowing stare. She would not be satisfied with shallow answers. He let out a frustrated breath. “I admit I like her,” he said. “She is amiable, witty, and unassuming. She gives her opinions decidedly, but without inflicting harm with callous words. I like her very much indeed.”
She only looked at him, waiting. He sighed. “But do not worry. I will not lose my head over a pretty face.” Darcy smiled weakly.
Georgiana, however, did not look amused in the slightest. Instead, she frowned deeply. “What do you mean? If anything, you should lose your head over someone as wonderful as Miss Bennet.”
Darcy raised a hand to stop her, taken aback by her scolding. “I only meant —”
“I know precisely what you mean,” Georgiana interrupted him. She got up and paced yet again. “I know what Father used to say to you: about who you must marry, what kind of family they must come from, and how wealthy they must be. Do you really think fortune and connections matter more than a good heart and mind? I doubt Miss Bennet would be so shallow about the man she marries.”
Her comments stung. But she was right. How could he separate the years of advice his father had pounded into him from what his heart felt? His father’s words had been more than suggestions and advice. They had been demands andexpectations placed upon him, never to be ignored. His father wanted to see the Darcy family soar even higher into the social elites, and their fortune grow. If he married a woman like Elizabeth, there would be no chance of him securing anything advantageous, as his father would have put it, from their union.
“So now you think me shallow?” Darcy said. He had intended it as a bit of harmless teasing to lighten the mood, but the words came out sounding strangely tentative.
“I did not say that,” Georgiana said. She took his hand. “Does not your heart matter in all this? You could have all the money and position in the world, and still be poor in the things that really matter.”
Georgiana was right. The only thing Elizabeth could offer was a heart full of love. True, she was the daughter of a country gentleman. But with the entail, her family had been reduced to living in a cottage, a shadow of their former standing in society. He had much more to offer her in terms of fortune and standing.
But that would not sway her. Never mind Pemberley and his shares in the Exchange, Elizabeth would not take him if she did not love him as he did her. Darcy had rarely been so sure of anything — and, he thought with private amusement, he had never expected to be so glad not to know whether his proposal would be welcome.
He was too undone to speak about the matter further with his little sister. He cleared his throat. “Go back to your music, and stop meddling,” he said softly. He tweaked her nose as he had done when she was a little girl.
Georgiana raised her chin. “Very well. I will. But know this — I should like to see you happy. As your closest family, I should not be half so glad for you to marry into the nobility orgain a dowry of thirty thousand pounds as to see you in love with your wife.” She turned and went back to the pianoforte, sitting down to plunk out the notes of a new piece.
Darcy stood by the hearth as the rain pounded against the windowpanes. Georgiana’s melancholy playing did not help him forget his woes. He brooded as he looked into the dancing firelight. Elizabeth haunted his every thought, his every heartbeat, and he might never see her again.
When had his sister become so wise? Perhaps it was the troubles that she had experienced with Wickham that had made her see the world more clearly. Perhaps it was the guidance of Mrs Annesley, the experience of Mrs Gardiner, and the clear insight of Elizabeth. Whatever the case, Darcy was again plunged into a quandary. Elizabeth was gone, and there was no telling if she even wanted to see him again.
If he had tried to dissuade Elizabeth from leaving, would she have heeded him? If he had confessed his heart to her and asked for her hand in marriage, they might be engaged even now. She might never have left at all. What a fool he was!
After brooding for some time, Darcy excused himself after several minutes from the room. He walked down the darkened halls to the library, as if his subconscious led him there. He had often come upon Miss Bennet in the sprawling library, curled up in one of the plush chairs or the window seats, enjoying the sunshine as she lost herself within the pages of a book. As he entered, it was nothing but the same empty silence that now pervaded the rest of the house, broken only by the crackling of a small fire in the hearth. Sitting down next to it, Darcy looked over at the side table and saw that a book had been left there.
Upon reading the cover, he found it was Mrs Laurence’s first novel. Darcy sighed heavily. Was there nowhere he could go to escape memories of Miss Bennet? Perhaps she had been the one reading this novel and had left it there when she had left so suddenly, forgetting to put it back. He turned it over, and out fell a flower, pressed from several weeks spent between the pages. The book opened to the place where the flower had lain, and he read a few lines.
It was then she knew her heart had found its home. Not in wealth or in position, but in the love of a man who had seen past her masks and lies, and loved her all the same…
He closed the book with a loud thud and tossed it on the side table. He was not about to be taken in by a silly novel. And yet, he had to admit that Mrs Laurence had a way with words. There was something oddly familiar about them. Something he could not quite put his finger on…
After several moments, Darcy gave up the attempt to remember it. He bent and retrieved the flower that had fallen to the floor. He turned it over in his hands. It took some care to avoid breaking the petals, now paper-thin and almost translucent. Instead of replacing it between the pages, he slipped it into his jacket pocket. He stood and walked out of the library, trying to leave behind the weight that had burdened his heart since Elizabeth’s departure. But to no avail.
