“Whatisthe problem?”
“A crack in the stonework.”
Bingley made a face that betrayed his ignorance as to the significance of such a defect even before he breezily remarked that he was certain it would all turn out for the best.
Not for the first time, Darcy considered how uncomplicated his friend’s existence must be with no greater accountability than to ensure his sisters did not outspend their inheritance before they married. “How far behind did you say you thought Georgiana might be?”
“Not more than half an hour, I should think.”
It was closer to three hours, by which point Darcy was seething with impatience. In that time, he welcomed Aldridge, the Hursts, and even the Coxes, despite Cox’s wife being a notoriously late riser. Templeton and his eldest sister arrived without either their younger sister, Miss Ada, or Georgiana in their carriage.
“Ada is travelling with Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley in your carriage,” Miss Templeton explained, with her brother adding, “They were fussing over clashing bonnets when we left.”
Garroway came next with his wife and sister, receiving the same information from Mrs Reynolds about bedrooms that Bingley had and requiring Darcy to repeat his disagreeable account of the damage to the east wall. Even Pettigrew and his brother, Sedrick, staggered biliously over the threshold before Georgiana made an appearance.
When, finally, one of the footmen informed him that his sister had arrived and gone directly to the breakfast room, his insides jumped with anticipation so great, it was an effort to maintain his composure. He left those of his guests who had gathered in the saloon and made his way to see her. She was dining with her travelling companions, both of whom he met with forced civility, making all the requisite enquiries as to their journey and good health as he waited for them to be done.
The looks passing around the table gave him cause to suspect he was not disguising his impatience well, but it could not be helped. No sooner had Georgiana laid down her knife and fork than he begged her companions to spare her and held out his hand to pull her to her feet.
“Come with me,” he whispered as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her away from the others to somewhere they might talk privately.
“Is something the matter?” she whispered.
“Yes, you are late.”
“Am I? Forgive me. Ada and I—”
Darcy waved away her apology and pulled her up the stairs, unable to keep from smiling.
“Is the problem Mr Ferguson wanted to talk to you about less serious than you thought, then?”
“It is too early to tell. What made you ask that?”
“You seem far less troubled today than when you left Derby yesterday.”
His smile broadened. They reached the top of the stairs, and he nudged her into the nearest room, pulling the door closed behind them. “I have something to tell—” It was his turn to be silenced.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam! It is beautiful!”
“What is?”
“This room! Did you do this for me?”
He became aware, belatedly, that he had brought her to the Chesterfield room, which he had, indeed, had fitted up for her pleasure. He wished he had taken her somewhere else, for the further delay was excruciating. “I did, and I am pleased you like it, but—”
“Oh, I do! This wallpaper is exquisite! And these sofas—they are not the same, are they? Or are they? They look so different now the room is lighter!”
“I had them reupholstered. Georgiana, please—”
“Is this mother’s writing desk?”
“Yes. Would you—”
“How well it looks in here! And this chair is the perfect match—Oh, Fitzwilliam, you do spoil me! I do not think I shall ever want to leave this room again.”
“I hope you will, for I should like you to come to Lambton with me.”
“Lambton? When?”
