“My cousin Rebecca has done her best to befriend Georgiana in the past,” Darcy said. “It has been difficult, given Georgiana’s diffidence.”
“A closer connexion with Rebecca would be excellent for Georgiana. It would help if she—or whichever lady we suggest Georgiana befriend, such as Darcy’s eventual wife—is aware of her…special circumstances,” Bramwell said.
“You ought to call her Miss Reed. She is notyourrelation.” Darcy frowned at the viscount.
At the same time, Fitzwilliam said, “We are not going to share such personal information about Georgiana with anyone.”
Except Ididtell Elizabeth—part of it, at least. I would have disclosed the rest, once we were engaged.
In his musings, he evidently missed some of the conversation, because Fitzwilliam was facing his brother, the hardness of his features denoting a growing frustration.
“Then why doyounot marry a sympathetic lady who can be trusted with the truth, giving Georgiana a cousin whom she could safely befriend and saving her from Darcy and me and our vicious oversight?” Bramwell’s tone was biting.
Darcy did not involve himself in the brothers’ bickering; instead, he contemplated Bramwell, who had mentioned Rebecca’s name several times lately.Does he have intentions towards her?
“I still think Georgiana would have—on balance—benefited from Darcy marrying a lady even you admit was admirable,” said Bramwell.
Shaking his head, Fitzwilliam argued, “The risk was too great. You did not see Georgiana much immediately after Ramsgate. You do not understand how severe her disorder can be.” Bramwell had been in Scotland at the time, seeing to the management of one of Lord Romsley’s estates.
Bramwell’s countenance sobered. “Seeing her now, I can only imagine. But perhaps I can view the situation with more clarity than you two dopreciselybecause I was not there when it happened. I do not say we should overlook her distress or tell her we do not care that she is unhappy, but?—”
Abruptly, Darcy stood. He could not bear to continue the conversation, not at present. He had a sudden vision of Elizabeth, angry and hurt, when he explained that he could not propose to her because his family was against the match. The pain was too new, too raw to make the current discussion anything but agony.
“When I next see Rebecca, I shall suggest she calls on Georgiana. Until then, I hope the forthcoming Christmas festivities will be what my sister needs to cheer her. I really should…attend to some notes sent to me by my steward.”
Bramwell and Fitzwilliam took the hint and departed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The six weeks Jane and Mr Bingley were in Bath felt very long to Elizabeth. She remained content in her decision not to go with them, but she missed Jane terribly. Her sister was her dearest friend, and there was a great comfort in her steady, loving presence. Elizabeth even missed the busyness of planning for the wedding. The way it had occupied her time and thoughts would have been welcome during the endless days in December and early January. Instead, she found herself wallowing in pain and anger—towards Mr Darcy for giving in to his family’s arrogance and pride and towards herself for being so foolish as to open her heart to him.
Recovering from the loss was not easy, but she did what she could, taking long walks when the weather permitted, immersing herself in new books, assisting the vicar’s wife with several charitable endeavours, and the like. Mr Bennet accused her of being dispirited.
“I pray it is not because you are jealous of Jane or, heavenforbid, Lydia,” he had once said. “If I suspected as much, I would think less of you.”
Part of her had wanted to kick him, but instead, she had said, “It is simply the season, Papa, and how quiet we are. I want activity. Hate me for it if you like. I shall not attempt to stop you.”
Mrs Bennet’s behaviour was worse. She complained about Elizabeth still being at home, “…when your sister, who is five years younger, is already married. You ought to have married when you had the chance. I shall never understand why you refused Mr Collins. It would have beenyouabout to have a child instead of Charlotte, and Lady Lucas tells me the Collinses’ parsonage is very comfortable. I should have liked to visit you there, I am sure. Instead, look at you! You are growing thin, and you have lost your youth! No one will want you, and you will regret the choices you have made.”
Elizabeth imagined she would regain some of her vigour if she did not have to listen to such condemning speeches.
As the weeks passed, she convinced herself that shewasimproving. To be sure, thinking about Mr Darcy and what might have been still caused her to suffer a pang, but she was convinced she would soon entirely forget the romantic sentiments she harboured for him.
The Bingleys’ return to the neighbourhood was greeted with great fanfare. Mrs Bennet was especially vocal in her joy to see the couple again, but the pair were so well loved by everyone that there was a general increase in merriment and parties in the first weeks after they took up residence at Netherfield Park. It seemed that a fortnight passed before Elizabeth was able to have an uninterrupted conversation with her sister.
“I am so glad we can finally sit andtalk together!” Jane said. “I have told Bingley he is not to disturb us for anything less than the house falling down around us for at least an hour.”
The ladies were in Jane’s apartment, sharing a sofa covered in a floral-patterned silk.
“What a pretty room this is!” Elizabeth said. “You did very well with the changes you ordered. Dare I ask what my mother said when she first saw it?”
“Please do not!”
The sisters laughed together and, after Jane served them cups of tea, got down to the important business of sharing everything of importance that had happened since the wedding, even when it meant repeating what they had written to each other during Jane’s time in Bath. Elizabeth insisted on hearing about the wedding trip. Unlike her previous worries about being envious, there was not even a crumb of that ugly emotion. Next to being happy herself, she most wished to see Jane live a life full of contentment and love.
“Bath sounds delightful,” she said when Jane paused to drink her tea.
“Oh, it is. Caroline would say it is not as fashionable as Brighton, but I do not care for such things, as you know, and neither does Bingley. But enough about me. I want to hear aboutyou. I hesitate to mention his name, but I feel I must. In your letters, you said nothing about Mr Darcy. Did you and he not speak at all when he was here?”
