"I saw Miss Elizabeth today," Darcy said.
Georgiana's face brightened at once. "How is she?"
"Very well. She sends her regards."
"I am sorry I could not go. I should have liked to see her."
They turned onto the lower path. Darcy watched the ground for a moment, considering how best to proceed.
"There is something I wish to tell you," he said at last. "Something I would not ordinarily discuss."
Georgiana stopped and turned towards him. "What is it?"
Darcy hesitated.
For the better part of three days he had considered how best to broach the subject with Georgiana. Every approach he devised seemed either too direct or insufficiently honest. Until that afternoon, he had hoped some more suitable course might suggest itself.
None had.
At last he concluded that the truth, spoken with care, was the only path remaining to him.
"I have been uncertain whether the matter was mine to mention. Yet I did not encourage your acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth without reason, and I believe you have shown sufficient judgement to be entrusted with that reason."
Whatever curiosity she felt, it was tempered by trust.
"Whatever it is," she said quietly, "you would not tell me unless you believed it necessary. I know that."
Darcy looked at his sister standing in the pale afternoon light and thought of their mother. He thought of promises made beside a sickbed, of years spent attempting to fulfil them, and of how often he had felt unequal to the task.
"I believe Miss Elizabeth Bennet does not hear well." There was no other way to say it. Anything softer would only weaken the meaning he wished to convey.
Georgiana stared at him in evident disbelief. Then understanding began to dawn. Not merely of what he had said, but of why he had been so determined that she should know Miss Elizabeth. For several moments she remained silent.
"I cannot tell you the extent of it," he continued. "I do not know it myself. But I have observed her over the course of several weeks, and I am persuaded of it. She positions herself carefully in company. She reads lips. She adapts to every conversation with a skill that speaks of long practice."
He paused, as though giving her time to come to terms with the revelation. "And she does it so well that almost no one appears conscious of it." The next words seemed to require greater care. "She reminded me of Mama."
Georgiana looked up sharply.
"Not in appearance. In spirit." His voice remained steady. "Mama never permitted her hearing to alter the quality of her life. She adapted when she must and carried on without apology. You were too young to remember all of it, but I watched her for years. I watched the care with which she arranged herselfin company. I watched her observe before she spoke. I watched her continue to live exactly as she pleased despite what others believed she ought to be capable of."
He drew a slow breath. "Miss Elizabeth possesses something of that same quality."
Georgiana was silent.
"She enters a room entirely herself. She does not seek approval. She does not shape her opinions to suit those around her. She simply lives as she chooses and appears perfectly content in doing so."
A thoughtful look settled upon Georgiana's face.
"She does," she said softly.
"What Wickham told you was wrong," Darcy leaned closer. "I cannot promise what the future may hold. No one can. But I can tell you this. A person's happiness is not determined by a single trial, nor is their worth diminished by it."
He watched her closely, waiting until he saw that she truly understood. "Miss Elizabeth is proof enough of that."
Georgiana lowered her eyes. "Wickham made it sound inevitable."
"I know."
