Page 54 of Conundrums & Coincidences

Entwining her arm with her elder sister’s, Elizabeth said she, too, had heard of Mr Bingley’s plan. “I believe he will bring people with him again, Mr Darcy included. I am uncertain of Mr Bingley’s purpose for coming back”—she nudged Jane’s side as if to say otherwise—“but I am sure he will pay us a call as soon as may be.”

26

FLUMMERY

“Brother?” Georgiana stood in the doorway of his study in the Brook Street town house.

He shot to his feet. “How are you, m’ duck?” Darcy used the Midlands term of endearment only when the two of them were alone. The visit was unexpected, but he was always delighted to see her.

Georgiana resided with a companion, Mrs Annesley, who presided over the establishment Darcy had formed for his beloved sister on nearby North Audley Street. Music and dance masters went thither to further the young lady’s education and assist her along the path to becoming a truly accomplished woman.

Rounding his desk, Darcy pulled her in for a hug. “Are you well? Is Mrs Annesley with you? Have you come to rescue me from this pile of paper, lest it bury me alive?” Having just waded through correspondence accumulated over a se’nnight, he shook cramped fingers, then indicated his sister should sit upon the sofa adjacent to his desk.

A year past, she might have flung herself upon it, toed off dainty slippers, and tucked her feet up under her. Since the incident at Ramsgate, Georgiana sat demurely, shoulders back, hands folded upon her lap. “Yes, I am in perfect health, thank you. Yes, Mrs Annesley walked here with me, but she has gone to speak to Mrs Walker. No, I am sorry to say I had no intention of digging you out from beneath paper when I set out this morning.”

“What is it then, Poppet? You seem slightly perturbed.”

“Good heavens, Fitzwilliam. One minute I am a waterbird with a waddling gait, next I am a wee poppet again.”

Whenever she smiles so sweetly like that, she reminds me of our late mother. And I wish Georgiana still was a waddling tot. “Is there a problem, dearest? Does your doll need rescuing from atop your bed curtains yet again?”

“As you well know, I threw Mag atop my canopy only the once, the summer when I was but six years of age and you were home at Pemberley from Cambridge. No, the problem is that Miss Bingley sent round a note, filled with her typical style of flummery, informing me of their party’s arrival at Grosvenor Street. You and I have been invited to dine with them this evening at half past six.”

“Tonight? Terribly short notice. Did she mention when they returned to town?”

“Yes. A whole hour ago. I wonder what took her so long.”

That sounds like something Elizabeth might say. I wonder what she is doing at this moment. Does she miss me as much as I miss her? Has she been able to allay her father’s concerns? Is she⁠—

“Did you hear me, Brother?”

“Yes, of course.” What did I miss?

“Very well, then.” With the slightest hint of a grimace, Georgiana sighed. “I shall send round our acceptance at once.”

Blast!

Darcy glanced at the mantel clock. Its hands both pointed at eleven. Of course.

At precisely quarter past six that Monday evening, Darcy and his sister arrived at the Hursts’ modest town house. Although the sun would not set for at least another two hours, the place was aglow with sweet-scented beeswax candles. Such waste, simply to make a show of one’s wealth.

A footman had barely received their hats and such when Miss Bingley, elegant and smiling, swept from the drawing room into the vestibule, a large, green silk shawl billowing behind her.

“Mr Darcy! Georgiana! How punctual you are. And how happy I am to see you both. It is so very courteous of you to be the first to welcome us home.”

You invited us to do so, madam. And Georgiana is Miss Darcy to you. Darcy gave the woman a dignified bow, and the two ladies performed their curtseys with practised precision.

Linking arms with both Darcys, Miss Bingley said, “That lilac colour is nothing short of perfection on you, Georgiana. And Mr Darcy, Charles informed us that you recently attended a little house party in Buckinghamshire. You must tell us all about it. I insisted the smaller table be used so that your scintillating conversation may be heard by all.”

Scintillating?

“In the meantime, do come through, dear friends. We await a couple more guests. A cousin dropped in earlier, so I had no choice but to invite him to dine as well. Then, of course, the number was off with one too many men. So I asked Miss Grantley to come. Both of them should be here directly, but separately.”

Why does Mrs Hurst, who should be tonight’s hostess, allow herself to be overshadowed by a younger sister? The manner of interaction between the two women brought to Darcy’s mind Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia Bennet.

Upon entering the drawing room, as though her sister and brothers—the latter already on their feet—could not see well enough, Miss Bingley said, “Louisa, Hurst, Charles, our most important guests have arrived.”

Darcy bowed respectfully to Mrs Hurst, the de facto mistress of the house, and greeted the men. Having ensured his sister, after shyly extending her own courteous regards, was comfortably situated, he then stood beside Bingley and enquired after his Scarborough sojourn.