In the few steps she took to meet them, she wondered, almost obsessively, what could have brought them there—and how she had not known. Then she perceived the list, forgotten upon the little table beside her chair, and felt a moment’s anger with herself for not having read it—then with him, for disturbing this day, which ought to have been perfect, the first day of a new life.
Her eyes first fell upon Miss Georgiana Darcy, and unwillingly the image of Wickham arose before her—hateful and odious—for before her stood a young girl who had scarcely passed the age of playthings.
She would have placed her hand upon her face to learn whether she had coloured, for all at once she felt nothing, as though emptied of every emotion; and only then did she meet his eyes. His countenance appeared as astonished as her own. Yet, beneath his composure, there was something else—an effort to master surprise, to speak without betraying it. Had Mr Clinton told him nothing? So it seemed. Nor had he told her; yet she instantly recollected the unread list.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr Darcy, and his voice, though steady, carried a strange constraint that startled his sister.
What folly to have neglected the list, thought Elizabeth in near agony. At least she would have been prepared—she might have formed a strategy—for she now stood almost paralysed after curtseying before them, and Miss Darcy introduced herself. She contrived to smile and to say, as decorum required, “Mr Darcy.”
He seemed equally astonished. The letter from Mr Clinton that had invited them to present themselves had probably stated only that a new administration had taken charge of the school. Elizabeth could not help wondering whether Mr Clinton had deliberately omitted to say who that new administration was. Was there some small masculine satisfaction in withholding it from a man much younger than himself? But why? No one knew, save those at the Parsonage, of his proposal of marriage.
“I am happy to make your acquaintance,” Elizabeth said at last to Miss Darcy, who smiled in visible confusion, glancing from one to the other, for it had been impossible not to perceive how strange this meeting was.
“You are acquainted?” asked Miss Darcy with the innocence of a child, and only after speaking did she realise her impropriety and blush deeply.
Elizabeth was silent, leaving him to decide the answer; but a man such as he could not lie, and something of her old resentment stole once more into her heart—not the vexation that he had spoiled her day, but the frustration of that scene at the Parsonage, which had so much to do with that honesty which, in his hands, had been an arm.
“Yes, we were acquainted,” replied Mr Darcy. The long pause before his answer rendered the atmosphere still more peculiar.
“Miss Bennet resides in Hertfordshire,” he added, his voice calm again.
And though Georgiana longed to learn more, Mrs Robertson entered at that moment to conduct Miss Darcy to her chambers, as she had done for all the other girls.
Thus, Elizabeth was left alone with Mr Darcy.
Chapter 15
Elizabeth looked almost in despair after Mrs Robertson as she closed the door, leaving her alone with him. She had never believed she should meet him again—or at least not so soon. Too soon, she felt inclined to say.
“Georgiana joined the Clinton Academy last autumn,” he began, as though wishing to ease her task, even if his tone retained its usual pride and reserve.
“I hope you will be satisfied with her progress.” She was grateful that they spoke of the Academy, yet aware that the gentleman before her would never have chosen any other subject. He was too accustomed to decorum, which clearly required that, in such circumstances, embarrassing recollections should be avoided. And that particular room in the Clinton Academy was, above all others, a place where rules must be respected.
“Georgiana is a very gentle and obedient young lady.” His composure gave no hint that he had once written that grievous letter containing so many distressing particulars concerning her.Yet, seeing the girl, Elizabeth perceived that Darcy had spoken truth, and that Miss Darcy, still as innocent as a child, could not be accused of any fault.
Nevertheless, something of the day’s brightness was lost. With Miss Darcy in one of the dormitories or classrooms, she would be perpetually reminded of that day at the Parsonage which she had striven so hard to forget.
“I have no doubt.”
And because she always spoke the truth, Darcy believed her and was content. Georgiana’s happiness was essential to him.
“I thank you. You will find that timidity is her greatest defect.” His voice had grown quiet, almost reflective. Undoubtedly, when he first saw Elizabeth standing in the parlour, it had occurred to him that the Academy might not be the most suitable place for Georgiana’s education. He wished his sister to feel at ease, untroubled by what had once existed between himself and Elizabeth; yet the last few minutes had revealed a tension so evident that even those unacquainted with their history might have perceived it. His thoughts seemed to pass through her mind, as though she could read them, and she remembered how often, in earlier days, they had laughed together, amused to find their thoughts the same.
She shook herself free of the recollection.
“You have my direction.” He gestured towards his visiting card lying among the others upon the table.
“Certainly. Yet I do not think there shall be any need to trouble you.”
“I am returning to Pemberley.”
She coloured slightly, feeling that he had, perhaps, infringed the formality which ought to govern their intercourse; for in that room nothing personal should have been spoken. But he inclined his head, as though wishing to dismiss such an idea.
“Whilst I am absent, Colonel Fitzwilliam is responsible for my sister. We are both her guardians. You will find his direction also on the reverse of my card.” His tone was deliberately cold, letting her comprehend that his mention of Pemberley was no personal confidence but a necessity arising from Georgiana’s particular situation.
“I comprehend. You may be certain that she is perfectly safe here.”
He rose to depart, though Mrs Robertson had not yet appeared—a sign that the allotted fifteen minutes were not yet expired. Almost involuntarily, she glanced at her watch; he noticed the movement and, understanding it without words, remarked quietly, “I believe we have said all that needs to be said.”
