Darcy wondered how his father would have reacted if he heard about Wickham’s plan to elope with Georgiana. Would he have turned a blind eye as Wickham destroyed his daughter’s life? Would he have looked away while Wickham destroyed her fortune? He felt a long-buried bitterness come to the surface, making him question his father’s judgment.
Today, Darcy had broken years of habit with his outburst against Lady Catherine. He did not regret it, but he did not feel comfortable in his own skin either. He just had to hope that his aunt did not take it out on Mr. Preston. In any case, there was nothing he could do about it now.
Perhaps it was time to visit Gentleman Jackson’s academy on Bond Street for a bout of boxing. The intense physical activity would help him.
As the familiar spires and chimneys rose up in the distance, his mood lightened. He was glad to be back. With a sense of anticipation, he decided he would stop in Cavendish Square before he went home. He was looking forward to seeing how his gentle sister had managed without him. He hoped she and Miss Bennet were still getting along well.
His sister’s sweet visage was quickly replaced by Miss Bennet’s, her fine dark eyes intruding on his thoughts. They were remarkable eyes, vibrant and sparkling with intelligence. In all the balls he had attended throughout the years, he had never met a young lady who challenged him like she did. MissBennet had clearly not been informed that young ladies of a marriageable age were not supposed to express their opinions, if they had them. Was it because she had not had a governess to teach her these so-called virtues as part of her education? Surprisingly, beyond the obvious, he knew very little about her. He was curious to find out more.
As the carriage drew up to Georgiana’s house, the door opened, and a footman appeared at once. It was a sign of a house that was well-run, since the service had not slackened while he was away. This time, he thought, he had chosen wisely. Georgiana was clearly in good hands.
When Darcy reached the open front door, the butler was there, as dignified as any of the butlers he knew.
“How are you doing, Thompson?”
“Very well, sir.”
“And Miss Darcy?” He carefully did not include Miss Bennet in his question, though he was thinking of her.
As if in response to his question, a blood-curdling scream reached his ears. It was his sister.
Darcy dashed up the stairs. Behind him, Thompson was saying something, but Darcy was too intent on saving his sister from harm to care. Without knocking, he threw the door open.
A shocking scene met his eyes. There were feathers everywhere. In the air, on the bed, on Georgiana’s morning dress, and tangled in Miss Bennet’s hair. The two of them were laughing loudly, with Georgiana standing on her bed and pummeling Miss Bennet with a pillow.
“What onearthare you doing?”
He could have kicked himself. The laughter stopped, and Georgiana’s face went white. She climbed down awkwardly from the bed and stood before him with her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes pinned to the floor.
“I am sorry for making such a mess, Brother,” she said, in a thin voice. “We were chasing each other, and one thing led to another. I started hitting Miss Bennet with the pillow, and she screeched. It is all my fault.”
Now that he had inadvertently taken on the role of taskmaster, Darcy looked towards Miss Bennet. “Is that so, Miss Bennet?”
As usual, Miss Bennet was unabashed. Her eyes were bright with mischief. She looked delectable. The goose down on her dark hair resembled snowflakes. She was like a creature from a fairy tale. It was hard to resist putting out his hand and plucking the soft fluff from her hair.
“I do not believe it is anyone’sfault, Mr. Darcy,” she replied blithely, “we were just being playful. My sisters and I often engage in such mischief. I know you are by far our elder, sir, but did you never engage in pillow fights when you were younger?”
Miss Bennet considered himelderly? He rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at the mirror, at his tall form and correct clothing. He had always thought himself a handsome figure of a man, but it had never occurred to him that he might no longer be consideredyoung. When had that happened?
It was true that it had been a long time since he had been playful – too long, perhaps. At the age of twenty-two, he had inherited a large estate, ending the phase of carefree youth forever. He tried to remember when he had last engaged in simple pursuits, but his memory failed him. He felt a surge of guilt. Had he considered it below his dignity to engage in any form of recreation with his sister? They played cards. They rode. But they never did anything juvenile together.
“As you say, I am older than either of you,” he replied, rather more stiffly than he had intended. There was a defensive note in there, too.
Not that much older. Miss Bennet must be around twenty. He was only twenty-seven.
“I gave up playful activities when I was placed in charge of Pemberley. I did not have any choice in the matter.”
“I suppose inheriting a grand estate inevitably makes a person stodgy,” replied Miss Bennet, her eyes dancing, “though it rather seems to defeat the purpose. It would certainly discourage me from inheriting one.”
It was so ridiculous, he had to laugh.
“I cannot imagineyoubecoming stodgy, if such an event were to occur.”
“Since it is very unlikely, I can confidently say that being the mistress of a large household would not make me straitlaced. I would like to think it would make me happy, because money would not be an object, and I could be useful to my tenants.”
When had he heard laughter in the halls of Pemberley? Had his parents ever been happy there? If it was the case, he could not remember it. The image of Miss Bennet as mistress of Pemberley sprang into his head. He imagined her sitting opposite him at the table, speaking with animation and looking amused as they went over their tasks for the day.
“You would not think it a huge responsibility?”
