“Please keep it as it is,” Georgiana insisted, and Elizabeth found no strength to argue further.
“Then do tell me, how can I thank you?” she asked, embracing Georgiana affectionately.
“I have never had a true friend before you, Elizabeth,” the girl whispered, holding her tightly.
Moments later, Sarah the maid called for Elizabeth and the heartbreaking moment was interrupted.
“Miss Elizabeth, we are ready. We are only waiting for you. We are all outside.”
“Thank you, Sarah, I shall come directly. I will only speak to Mr. Darcy briefly.”
She had already said her goodbyes to the entire staff early that morning and to Mrs. Reynolds several times. Only he was left. She knew he had made all the arrangements for her safe journey back to London, with the same coachmen and Sarah as her companion, and she wished to take one last opportunity to thank him.
Georgiana left her alone at the library door and Elizabeth stood still for a moment, recollecting the last time they had all been there two days prior.
***
It was late in the afternoon, after their pianoforte practice, when she and Georgiana entered the library, knowing that Darcy was visiting his tenants.
The girl has chosen the small sofa in her favourite corner, bought particularly for her by her brother five years ago. She was enjoying the gentle touch of the sunshine just before sunset, reading a book of poetry, while Elizabeth was simply looking at each bookcase, as though saying her goodbyes to that treasure she had benefited from the entire summer.
She heard Georgiana whispering and glanced at her, smiling as she noticed that her friend, with her head slightly tilted to the right and with her lips moving gently, was actually reading, captured by the beauty of the poem.
Careful not to disturb her, Elizabeth moved towards her and stopped a short distance away, listening to Georgiana’s whispers.
‘There’s indifference, alike when he fails and succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs,
Pride where there’s no envy, there’s so much of joy;
And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy…’
Elizabeth’s smile broadened as she recognised William Wordsworth’s ballad and she continued it,
‘There’s freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she’s there.
There’s virtue, the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.
What a picture! ‘tis drawn without nature or art,’
“Wordsworth is one of my favourite poets,” Elizabeth said.
“Mine too,” Georgiana admitted.
They looked at each other, sharing a smile and their delight in the beauty of the poem, when their attention was drawn to the door, which had opened without them even noticing.
There was Mr. Darcy, watching them intently and, before either of them had time to speak, he continued, stepping towards them with a warm expression rarely seen on his countenance, and saying in a low and deep voice, “Wordsworth is one of my favourites too and I really enjoy this poem.”
Under the ladies’ enchanted glances, he recited,
‘Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart,
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
