CHAPTER FIVE
AN UNEXPECTED COMPANION
Darcy
Miss Bennet had scarcely crossedthe threshold of Netherfield when she scattered my orderly life like a fox ruffling feathers in a henhouse. She left Bingley amused, his sister in a sneezing fit, and Mrs. Hurst picking cat hair from the settee. But most notable of all, my sister had actually laughed. Not that I objected to Georgiana laughing—I had been trying to coax laughter from her since the disaster at Ramsgate, but that it had come from an orange cat brought by a woman I had insulted into becoming her unwanted companion was decidedly beneath me to notice.
I ought to be mortified by the glares from Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but I had long ago consigned Bingley’s sisters to the eighth circle of Dante’s inferno—thebolgiareserved for hypocrites and social climbers. There, I imagined, their gilded smiles might finally match the leaden weight of their souls.
Caroline had skillfully suggested to Elizabeth that we Darcys had a reason to seek the obscurity of Hertfordshire—that we had made a hasty retreat due to unsavory connections. How much did she knowof Georgiana’s compromising situation? I had not confided in Bingley… surely, she had no opportunity to listen behind doorways… but… somehow, she knew, and she had chosen this morning, of all mornings, to let me feel the blade.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I addressed neither Bingley nor his sisters, and certainly not the supine Mr. Hurst, snoring like a millstone near the fire. Leaving the stuffy drawing room, I followed my sister and Miss Elizabeth, who had executed a masterful retreat.
They strode down the corridor toward the library, walking side by side, and a tiny sprout of hope pushed through the frozen ground of my concerns. Perhaps I had done the right thing in bringing the lively, witty Miss Elizabeth into Georgiana’s orbit. She needed guidance, an example of a woman unafraid of her own shadow—one who could stand up to the type of men who would diminish her.
I quickened my steps but kept to the shadows near the staircase landing, watching for signs of thawing. Elizabeth carried her cat, who peeked at me over her shoulder, while Georgiana produced the key from her pocket and turned the lock with a click.
“The library,” she announced, opening the door without entering.
“Thank you, Miss Darcy.” Miss Elizabeth’s voice carried none of the sharp edges she had wielded so effectively in the drawing room. If anything, it was careful, almost gentle. “Will you join me? Your brother mentioned that the collection was?—”
“I have other things to attend to.” Georgiana dropped the key into Miss Elizabeth’s hand as one deposits coins into a collection plate—without looking at her, a clear dismissal. “The shelves are not well-organized. I expect you will manage.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked toward the staircase where I stood. Forced to step into the light or risk being caught eavesdropping, I emerged from my hiding place, uncomfortably aware that this was precisely what I had been doing.
“Georgiana.”
She stopped three stairs below me, and the anglemeant she had to look up, which I suspected she resented. My sister did not enjoy looking up at anyone, literally or otherwise.
“Brother.”
“That was unconscionably rude.”
“Was it?” She ascended two stairs, which corrected the angle between us to something closer to level. “I showed her the library. She has a key. What more is required?”
“Civility, for a start. She is our guest.”
“She is your employee.” The word arrived with Caroline’s inflection, complete with a slight curl at the corner of the lip. “You engaged her, Brother. You signed the contract. If you wished to have a companion who would be treated as a social equal, you might have chosen one whose family did not require a solicitor to negotiate her price.”
“She is a gentleman’s daughter and a guest in this house.”
Georgiana had reached my step now, and she turned her head with an expression that caught me off guard. So much like our mother’s—that cool, assessing gaze that took the measure of a man and found it instructive rather than impressive.
“A gentleman’s daughter,” she repeated. “Barely. Her mother is a baker’s granddaughter, and her family, Gardiner, I believe, are tradesmen from Cheapside, is it not?”
“I was unaware you had taken such an interest in Miss Bennet’s genealogy.”
“Miss Bingley was kind enough to provide the particulars.”
I would deal with Miss Bingley later, but I could not tolerate Georgiana’s haughtiness and her imitation of a cunning woman whose interest in my sister had little to do with sisterly affection and everything to do with strategic positioning.
“I expected better of you, Sister. Miss Bennet is here at my invitation, and she is to be treated with the courtesy due any guest of this household.”
“Your invitation.” Georgiana’s laugh was a far cry from the genuine mirth heard earlier in the drawing room. “Is that what weare calling it? From what I heard, the tradesman’s daughter arrived with a solicitor and cornered you in Bingley’s drawing room. Theclever Bennetsmay have maneuvered you into signing a contract, but that does not oblige me to pretend their daughter is fit company for the granddaughter of an earl.”
“You will address Miss Elizabeth with the respect she is entitled to.”
“Forsooth, Brother.” She mimicked a curtsy. “She has you well trapped with that cat of hers. Walking around Netherfield like she owns it. All because you, dear Brother, could not hold your tongue.”
