“And of character.”
Darcy did not dispute it.
Georgiana did not speak again at once, but the expression with which she regarded her brother had altered. There was less uncertainty in it now, and more of that quiet composure which had, of late, begun to replace her former hesitation. When she did speak, it was with greater steadiness than before.
“You said once that you would think her a suitable friend for me. I hope we may have the opportunity to meet one day.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly, watching her with a degree of attention that was less guarded now that the difficulty of the earlier part of their conversation had passed. “That would be most pleasant,” he said. “I believe you would like her.”
“She seems very different from most people we meet,” she said, turning the idea over as she spoke.
“She is.”
The simplicity of his answer might once have discouraged further inquiry, but Georgiana did not look away. She studied him for a moment, as though trying to reconcile what he had said with what he had not, before her thoughts moved on of their own accord.
“We are to go to Rosings soon.”
Darcy’s expression shifted, though only slightly. “Yes.”
Georgiana rested her hand lightly against the edge of the pianoforte, her fingers tracing its surface without purpose. “I do not know that I am equal to it,” she said, and though her tone was calm, there was no mistaking the seriousness beneath it.
“You do not wish to go,” Darcy said, not as a challenge, but as a clarification.
“I wish to,” she answered quickly, lifting her head at once, as though unwilling to have her meaning misunderstood. “At least, I think I ought to wish to. It is my duty to visit our aunt, and I know she expects it. But I cannot forget how she is. She does not like me to be silent, and I am often silent without intending to be so. I do not always know how toanswer her.”
Darcy watched her as she spoke, noting not only the words themselves, but the effort with which they were expressed. “You are not required to answer her in any particular way,” he said, careful lest the words should sound dismissive. Nothing could be further from his intention.
“She thinks I am,” Georgiana replied, her fingers stilling against the instrument as she looked back at him.
“That does not make it so,” Darcy said firmly. “I am your guardian, not Lady Catherine. Speak as you always strive to, with propriety and integrity, and I will be well satisfied, whatever our aunt thinks.”
She considered that, her expression thoughtful rather than convinced. “I do not wish to disappoint her,” she said after a moment. “But I do not wish to be afraid of her either.”
Darcy leaned back slightly in his chair, regarding her with a seriousness that matched her own. “You are neither obliged to fear her nor to satisfy her in everything,” he said. “She has expectations which she is accustomed to having met. That is not the same as having a right to them.”
Georgiana lowered her gaze briefly, as though measuring that distinction against her own experience. When she looked up again, there wassomething more resolved in her manner. “I think,” she said slowly, “that I should like to try.”
Darcy nodded. “You will go with me, then?”
“Yes.” She drew a breath, steadying herself, though her voice did not waver. “I have avoided such things before, when I might have done otherwise. I do not wish to do so again. If I am to improve, I must not remain always where I am most comfortable.”
He did not immediately answer, but the approval in his expression was clear. “That is very well considered,” he said at last.
“I may not succeed in being equal to it,” she added, with a faint smile that carried more honesty than apology. “But I should like to try.”
“You will not be alone,” Darcy replied, leaning forward slightly as he spoke, as though to make the assurance more tangible.
Georgiana met his eye, and this time there was no hesitation in her answer. “No. I shall not.”
The quiet confidence in her voice was new enough to be remarked on, though neither of them chose to do so. Darcy felt the change all the same. There had been a time when even such a declaration would have been beyond her. That she now made it willingly, and with an understanding of what it required, was a progress he valued more than any outward display of accomplishment.
“We shall go together,” he said. “And Fitzwilliam will be there.”
At this, Georgiana’s expression softened into something almost playful. “He will not allow me to be too solemn.”
“Our cousin will not allowanyoneto be too solemn,” Darcy returned with a chuckle.
“And you,” she added, watching him more closely than before, “will not allow me to be too frightened.”
