Page 117 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“Collect nothing from my room unless I allow it,” Georgiana said. Her voice shook once, then steadied. “If my aunt asks again, you may tell her I gave the order.”

Mrs. Wilcox curtsied. “Yes, miss.”

Georgiana returned to her room by the same stairs and sat at the writing table. The letters remained in the drawer, but their presence no longer reassured her. Lady Catherine had proved she did not need to take them to learn what they contained.

She untied the packet and separated the most recent letters from the rest. Darcy’s descriptions of Hertfordshire had seemed harmless when written to her, but now each mention of Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked exposed. Georgiana could hear her aunt fastening upon every phrase: woman of sense, spirit, and feeling; a working dog and a flock of sheep; fewer advantages than I am accustomed to receiving.

She could burn them, she thought, but rejected the idea. Darcy had written to her, not to Lady Catherine, and destroying his letters because another person might misuse them felt like surrendering her privacy.

Instead, she found a small silk workbag in the wardrobe and placed the letters inside. She tucked the bag beneath folded shawls in her trunk and slipped both keys into her pocket.

When she came down again, Lady Catherine was waiting.

“You were speaking to my servants,” Lady Catherine said.

“I spoke to Mrs. Wilcox.”

“You exceeded your place.”

“I protected my brother’s letters.”

“You protected your own childish secrecy. I have learned enough without your aid.”

Georgiana said nothing.

Lady Catherine rose and began to pace, which in her drawing room meant crossing six steps and returning because she arranged the furniture to prevent disorder in every form except herself.

“Darcy writes of this Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Do not deny it; he writes of her with attention. A young woman whose chief recommendations are impertinence and a dog that has captured his interest. Collins confirms everything I feared of the family. The estate is entailed, their mother is vulgar, and their younger daughters chase officers. Mr. Bennet does not govern them, yet Darcy remains in their company.”

Georgiana held the back of a chair. “Mr. Collins does not know Miss Elizabeth.”

“He knows the family.”

“From report.”

“Report is often sufficient when facts are indecorous.”

“That seems a dangerous rule.”

Lady Catherine stopped. “You have grown argumentative since your brother left you here.”

Georgiana wished Darcy were present, then resented herself for it. His absence left her to face Lady Catherine without him.

“I do not mean to argue,” she said. “I mean that you should judge my brother by what he does, not by what you fear he might do.”

“What he does is the concern. He writes of a girl beneath him and stays in a neighborhood where the girl is admired. He visits her family, then permits Bingley to attach himself to the eldest sister. A man may be lost by inches and by a single disgrace.”

Anne shifted in her chair. “Marriage to a gentlewoman is not a disgrace.”

Lady Catherine turned. “You will be silent.”

Anne’s mouth closed, but her eyes did not drop.

Lady Catherine took up her cane. “We are going to Hertfordshire.”

Georgiana’s fingers tightened on the chair.

“It is the proper course,” she continued. “If Darcy is sensible, he will see the impropriety of his conduct. If the girl is designing, I will make her understand the distance between encouragement and presumption. If Bingley has been foolish, his sisters will thank me. If there is nothing, then no harm is done.”