Darcy looked at her.
Georgiana met his gaze with a directness that had become increasingly familiar over the past week. "Have you told her that you know? About her hearing?"
The humour vanished instantly from Darcy’s expression.
"Because if you have not," Georgiana continued carefully, "and you begin courting her in earnest without telling her, she will eventually discover it. When she does, she will wonder how long you have known and why you said nothing." She tilted her head slightly. "That is not a small thing, Fitzwilliam. To her, it may feel like deception."
Darcy said nothing. The difficulty in speech was that she was right.
She was entirely right, and he had known it long before she voiced it.
"You are wiser than I sometimes give you credit for," he said at last.
Georgiana laughed softly. "You give me a great deal of credit."
"And not always enough."
"Perhaps not." Her smile softened. "I learnt from the best brother."
Darcy's own smile returned despite himself.
"I intend to tell her," he said.
"Soon?"
"When the opportunity presents itself. When it can be done properly." He glanced towards the rain-streaked windows. "I wish to do it correctly."
Georgiana nodded.
She did not press him further. She understood, as she always had, when enough had been said.
They sat together quietly while the rain continued outside, and Darcy found his thoughts returning once more to Elizabeth Bennet, to what he needed to tell her, and to how he might do it.
He told himself the opportunity would present itself soon enough.
He did not yet know that something else would present itself first.
THIRTEEN
12thNovember 1811
Meryton
Elizabeth
It finally stopped raining on Monday, though the grounds remained too sodden to venture anywhere of consequence. By Tuesday the sun had done sufficient work to make the lanes passable, and Mr. Collins, who had spent the better part of four days indoors making his presence felt in every room of Longbourn, announced at breakfast that he considered it high time to see something of the village.
Mrs. Bennet, entirely committed to the project of satisfying the heir of Longbourn, encouraged her daughters to accompany him. Jane was indisposed and remained at home. Elizabeth would have stayed behind as well, she had endured three days of Mr. Collins's company and felt she had acquitted herself admirably, but the prospect of fresh air after so long indoors proved stronger than her reluctance. Mr. Collins had shown no particular inclination to seek her out since the second afternoon of his visit, and she reasoned he would spend the walk in Mary's company in any case, which left her free to enjoy the morning in relative peace.
She was not wrong. Kitty and Lydia had darted ahead before they reached the gate, while Mr. Collins had secured Mary's company and was already discoursing at length on theproper conduct of ladies during parish disputes. Mary listened with admirable seriousness, though whether from interest or perseverance was difficult to determine.
Elizabeth walked some yards behind them, enjoying the rare luxury of fresh air and freedom from conversation. After several days confined indoors with Mr. Collins, she found both equally restorative.
They were perhaps halfway to their Aunt Philips's house when Lydia's voice reached her from some distance ahead.
"Mr. Denny! Mr. Denny, here!"
Elizabeth looked in her direction. Lydia was calling at the top of her voice and waving with characteristic abandon at two officers crossing the street towards them. Kitty had already hurried forward to join her.
