“I am, thank you,” he said. He gave a tight-lipped smile and patted her hand. But he could tell she did not believe him.
“Darcy, how did you spend your day? I have not seen you since breakfast,” Bingley remarked after they had been seated at supper.
“Nor I,” Georgiana said in surprise. “Where have you been, Fitzwilliam? I hope you have not been cooped up writing letters for the estate all day.”
Darcy was fairly caught. “No,” he admitted. “I went to call on the Bennets.”
“You went to see Miss Elizabeth today?” Georgiana exclaimed. “Why did you not take me with you? I should have liked to visit her — ah.”
The moment at which Georgiana thought of a reason he might have wished to call on Elizabeth alone was only too obvious. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers, and her lips curved in a delighted smile. Of course, Georgiana would guess at the depth of his feelings for Elizabeth. He ought to have known as much.
But Georgiana did not know that it was all hopeless now. How could he marry a woman he felt he barely knew?
Showing that she deserved every penny of her salary, Mrs Annesley leapt in to cover the awkward moment. “I hope you had a pleasant visit calling on our neighbours, Mr Darcy,” she remarked. “How do they get on?”
“They are well,” Darcy said. “Miss Lydia informed me that Miss Mary has received a new piece of sheet music from one of the parishioners. She was delighted with the gift.”
Mrs Annesley nodded. “Indeed. Miss Mary would make a wonderful organist, do not you think?”
That did it — Mrs Annesley deserved a bonus. Darcy’s appreciation for the hired companion was only deepened when Georgiana jumped in to assist in turning the conversation. A year ago, his sister would never have had the judgement or the courage to help smooth an unsteady social situation. Thanks to their kindness and the always genial Bingley, he got through supper, though not without difficulty. Darcy was tempted to excuse himself right after supper was over, so he would not have to talk about what had happened that morning with Elizabeth. However, it was not to be. With a quick glance and a well-timedrequest that he listen to her play, Georgiana had lured him into the drawing room.
While Darcy had intended to listen to her with proper attention, his good intentions soon gave way. He stood at the hearth looking into the fire while Georgiana played the pianoforte. It was a pleasant enough occupation. If the flames gave him no insight, they at least allowed him the luxury of becoming lost in his thoughts.
After a time, Bingley came to lean on the mantelpiece next to him. “I have had a letter from Caroline,” his friend announced. “My sister sends her greetings.”
“Ah, does she?” Darcy said absently.
“She writes she will soon marry,” Bingley went on.
“Really? Please convey my congratulations,” Darcy said. Privately, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least if he returned to London, the woman would leave him alone, too busy with her new life to bother him. “I hope you approve of her husband-to-be?”
Bingley shrugged philosophically, but his expression revealed his doubts. “To be honest, Darcy, I assume she is marrying him for his money. The gentleman is one whom our sister Louisa introduced to her, a Mr Crawford. Apparently, he is about twenty years her senior and inherited his money from his father, who was a spice trader,” Bingley said. He rolled his eyes heavenward. “She appears to have decided that the only thing missing from Louisa’s marriage was a large enough fortune. I only hope the event proves her correct, or her marriage is likely to be as happy as theirs is.”
Darcy raised a brow and tried not to laugh. Mr and Mrs Hurst were about as happy as a commodore trapped on land.Caroline Bingley’s prospects for marital bliss, at least in any form he himself would have cared to enjoy, appeared poor. But if Miss Bingley could be made happy by such a match, he wished her all the best.
Bingley looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Darcy let it go on for a few minutes, then confronted his friend. “You will stare a hole through my best shirt, you know, looking at me like that.”
“You have plenty of shirts, my friend.”
“Yes, but wealth comes from spending wisely, you know,” Darcy said, quoting something his father had often said. His father had been a practical man, and one not given to heedless action. Once again, his thoughts wrapped back around to Elizabeth. She had not tried to make excuses or to make the truth out to be less than what it was. She had simply told him, consequences be damned.
“So it does,” Bingley said with a chuckle. “Very well then. I shall spare your shirt and save my curiosity.”
From the glance his friend gave him then, Darcy suspected Bingley knew too much, and guessed still more. But Bingley, always so careful with others’ feelings, did not press him.
Though Georgiana was often the first to retire of an evening, she was still playing when Mrs Annesley began to look tired. Upon being urged several times that she must go to bed if she wished, she at last accepted and made her farewells. Georgiana played on. She was still playing when Bingley finished a second glass of imported brandy and announced his own intention to retire.
No sooner had he gone than Georgiana lifted her hands from the keys. Darcy was at the point of suggesting that they ought to seek their beds as well when she forestalled him by crossing the room to sit next to him. She looked at him expectantly.
He cocked his head to the side. “Yes?”
“What is wrong, my dear brother? You have barely said more than two words the entire evening.” Georgiana pinned him with a knowing stare. “What happened at the Bennets’ cottage this morning?”
“Nothing,” Darcy said. How could he tell her that her friend had been lying to them since they had met?
“I know when you are lying, Fitz. What happened?”
Darcy hung his head and let out a breath. “Very well. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but Elizabeth Bennet is not who we thought she was. Today, she told me that she herself is the novelist, Mrs Laurence.”
