Lady Anne’s posture altered almost imperceptibly. “Georgiana,” she began, but her voice faltered, and she looked pleadingly at Darcy.
Darcy understood. There was no artifice in his sister’s concern. It was an honest apprehension, born of long habit. And Lady Anne—though composed—did not entirely escape the implication. She had lived much of her life in the shadow of stronger personalities, her sister among them. Vivacity had not always favored her.
“I do not think so,” he said slowly, organizing his thoughts. “She is fondest of her sister Jane, who is quiet and unassuming.”
Georgiana looked up at him with wide eyes.
“And she loves her dearly,” he continued. “When Jane fell ill some weeks past, she walked three miles through mud to attend her.”
“Three miles?” Georgiana breathed.
“In heavy mud. Miss Bingley nearly had a fit of the vapors upon seeing the state of Miss Elizabeth’s boots.”
Georgiana giggled, and Lady Anne arched an eyebrow. “I suppose the downside of this visit is having to make do with her fawning and flattering.”
Darcy laughed, then explained all that had occurred since Miss Bennet first fell ill at Netherfield. “It has been gratifying to see Bingley come into his own,” he concluded. “I think you will find the visit more restful than you would normally expect.”
Both ladies let out twin sighs of relief, causing all three occupants to smile.
“Trust me when I tell you that Elizabeth will see you both for who you are: kind, loving women,” Darcy assured them.”
Their journey continued in silence for a for several long minutes before Darcy realized he had not given them all of the news.
“You may also encounter an old acquaintance. George Wickham is presently in the area.”
Georgiana’s face lit at once. “George is there?”
“Yes.”
Lady Anne’s composure sharpened. “And in what capacity?”
“He holds a commission in the militia. He appears… settled.”
“Appears?” Lady Anne asked quietly.
Darcy met her gaze. “He is financially secure. He has not touched the principal my father left him. And he conducts himself with more steadiness than in former years.”
Lady Anne regarded him for a long moment, then inclined her head.
“That is something.”
Georgiana’s delight returned. “It will be pleasant to see him again.”
The carriage pressed onward, the hours passing pleasantly as the fields giving way gradually to the now-familiar lanes of Hertfordshire and Meryton.
Tomorrow, Elizabeth would meet the two women whose judgment he valued most, and Darcy knew—despite all his careful assurances—that the simplicity of the introduction belied its consequence.
He could only hope the meeting proved as easy in truth as he had made it sound.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth sat anxiously in the drawing room at Longbourn, attempting to focus on her embroidery in order to pass the time more quickly. Her efforts were in vain, however, and the design looked much more like the head of a dog than the bouquet of wildflowers it was supposed to be.
She set the hoop aside with restrained irritation.
The rest of her family had obligingly removed themselves for the morning. Mrs. Bennet was returning calls with Kitty and Lydia in eager attendance, and Mary had accompanied them, desirous, no doubt, of exhibiting her new dignity as an affianced lady. Jane had been asked to pay a call on a tenant family, leaving Elizabeth alone remained to receive the Darcys.
She had not objected to the arrangement; indeed, she had been grateful for it.
