“I think in this case I should like to, provided you will be there.” As if fearing she had been too forward in addressing her comment to Mr Bingley, she turned to Elizabeth and clarified her words. “All of you, I mean. I will find the whole event rather enjoyable if I might attend it surrounded by friends and family.”

  “Well, then, of course, we shall all go!” Bingley said, gallantly laying down his fork. “If only to afford you the opportunity. I am quite sure you will be fighting off invitations to dance, and we shall all stand to the side, watching mournfully as you eclipse us in popularity and interest!”

  He laughed as he spoke, and the ladies joined him, but Darcy found his mouth dry. What Charles said was right, of course, and it was something he had never much thought about before. Georgiana was amiable and pretty, and her family connections would make her a promising target for many an eager suitor. He had been blindsided by the Wickham affair, but surely there would be more gentlemen in Georgiana’s future, and he could hardly keep her sealed at Pemberley to avoid it. The inclination was there, of course, to keep her squirrelled away and safe, but as he watched his sister brighten in conversation with those she considered friends, he realised his error. Georgiana was not him. Fitzwilliam Darcy might flourish in relative solitude, and attend social gatherings only on sufferance, but Georgiana was much more like his wife. She needed the energy of social interaction, and here, even with a paid companion by her side, she had wanted for friendship. She had been lonely. And she had been lonely for some time before. Was it any wonder she had proved easy prey for a scoundrel?

  Elizabeth tapped her foot against his, and he looked up on reflex to find his wife regarding him carefully. Is something the matter? her gaze asked. Do you not approve? She angled her head almost imperceptibly to where Charles and Georgiana were discussing the people likely to be in attendance at the assembly.

  “...you shall recognise Robert MacArthur straight away, for his hair is the colour of rust and you’ll not be able to understand above three words for every twelve he utters!”

  “He is a Scotsman?”

  “Yes, and a very proud one!” Charles roared with laughter. “I warn you not to engage him in conversation on our shared history, for he holds rather a different view than we do, and will not shy away from telling you so!”

  Suitably warned, Georgiana nodded.

  “I will do my best to avoid all but polite conversation with him.”

  “And I shall endeavour to rescue you if he does seek to corner you, Georgiana. No young lady should have to endure his stories alone!”

  The slightest smile played about Darcy’s lips as he watched this exchange, seeing for the first time what his wife had claimed to be self-evident. Georgiana sparkled, there was no other word for it. She was not anxious or withdrawn, the way she had had a tendency to be after knowing Wickham - indeed she had been entirely not herself even before that connection was discovered, which change Darcy placed firmly at Wickham’s feet. To see her now the Georgiana he remembered from years past was a relief. And yet she was not merely the Georgiana she had been, she was an entirely new version of herself. Braver, somehow, and happier. She laughed freely and often, a sound that he had almost forgotten hearing.

  He turned back towards Elizabeth, his own smile growing. Reaching his hand across the corner of the table, he took hers and squeezed once, gently.

  Nothing is the matter, dearest, the gesture said. Nothing is the matter at all.

  THE EVENING HAD BEEN a quiet one, not unlike those she had spent at Lattimer Place, but altogether more pleasant. Georgiana found she was enjoying spending time with her family and Mr Bingley without the addition of his sisters, although she felt guilty for acknowledging these feelings and repented of them immediately. Yet there was no denying it was pleasant to converse with her friends without the constant one-upmanship and back-biting that seemed to accompany Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. There was no Mr Hurst, either, to make her nervous with his abrupt parleys into the conversation, which always increased in fervour and volume as the evening wore on.

  Bid by her friends to play the piano for them, she happily did so, selecting pieces she knew to be favourites of Mr Bingley and was gratified to see him smile with recognition with each new piece that began. Fearing after a while that her favouritism had been too blatant, for she deduced an occasional glance shared between her brother and Elizabeth and felt an anxious dread that she understood their meaning, though they were careful to obscure it from their guest, she changed course, selecting next a piece that was her brother’s particular favourite. She was pleased to see the peace that settled over his face as the familiar melody began, and felt a flash of sympathy for her brother. Their relationship had been fractured but was gradually repairing itself. She had spent so long feeling somewhat angry at him, or blaming either him or herself for what had separated them, that now she wished very much to forget it had ever happened, and go on as they always had. Strangely, it seemed to her now that they might manage it, and she had Elizabeth Bennet to thank for it.

  Recalling her new sister, she ended the piece, and stood, blushing at the enthusiastic applause that greeted her from at least one gentleman, and turned shyly to Elizabeth.

  “I do not wish to monopolize the piano, Lizzy. Perhaps you will play for us?”

  This brought a muffled laugh from William, who earned a look from his wife and tried to appear chastened, failing miserably to disguise his laughter as a cough. Georgiana watched this little performance with surprise and amusement. She had not thought it possible to ever see her brother so at ease with another person as to indulge in such banter, and yet here he was quite content with his wife by his side and his friend close by. She felt a rush of warmth for her family and sent a silent prayer skywards for bringing Elizabeth Bennet into her brother’s life. How could she ever have suspected anything other than affection existing between the two people sitting before her? It was evident they valued each other greatly, seeing within one another the sort of kinship of opinion and feeling that occurs so rarely as to be almost unimaginable. Georgiana’s heart dipped. What she would not give for such a connection of her own. She had thought she had felt it, once, with George Wickham, but that entire affair had been a lie, built on Wickham’s own nefarious plans, or at least so her brother would have her believe. Georgiana had nursed a similar anger upon hearing of George’s marriage to Anne, but lately, she had felt her bitterness subside, overtaken by her growing affections for someone else.

  She glanced at Charles Bingley on reflex, meeting his eyes and looking away again almost immediately.

  “Well, anyway, I believe I have played enough for one evening,” she said, shyly crossing the room to join her friends by the fire.

  “I suppose I ought to make a move for home!” Charles said, stifling a yawn that made him seem younger than his years. “My sisters will miss me -” he chuckled. “Well, that is hardly true: I expect them still to be visiting their friends, for they are friends of Mr Hurst’s and never seek to end their evenings early. But nonetheless I do not wish to outstay my welcome, or Mrs Darcy will not permit me to return!”

  Elizabeth laughed at this bald comment.

  “Nonsense! How can I keep you away?” Her eyes flashed, and Georgiana felt a sense of foreboding that her new sister was about to speak of what she suspected. “You are my husband’s close friend and I owe you a debt of gratitude too, for your assistance most recently. I can hardly object to your coming and making a four on occasion.” She smiled, and Georgiana felt a wave of relief. There, that was a perfectly natural invitation and no mention of her whatsoever.

  “Well, I do not suppose I shall see you again until the assembly.” Charles stood, glancing at each of his friends in turn. “I do hope, all teasing aside, that you shall all attend?” His eyes rested on Georgiana’s and he grinned. “You must not leave me to face the hordes alone!”

  “As if we would dream of doing such a thing!” Elizabeth said. “Besides, both Georgiana and I would like to dance at least once with a gentleman who wishes to dance.” She shot an arch look at her husband, who bore the censure with grace.

  Their goodbyes said, Georgiana sat another quarter hour with her brother and sister-in-law, eager to enjoy their felicity and not quite willing to think a pleasant evening over quite yet.

  “You have made quite an impression on dear Mr Bingley, Georgiana!” Elizabeth remarked.

  Georgiana froze, wondering what lay behind such a comment, but when she looked at Lizzy, her friend’s face was warm with a smile and Georgiana was forced to acknowledge that she spoke genuinely, without the guile that might have accompanied such a statement from Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst.

  “We have known each other a long time,” Georgiana demurred.

  “I wager he appreciates you more now, as a young lady in your own right, rather than merely sister to his friend. What say you, dear?” Elizabeth asked, turning to inquire of her husband.

  Georgiana did not dare to look at her brother, sure he would read the truth of her own feelings in her features, and fearing what his reaction might be. He had been so opposed to her affection for George Wickham, she could not bear if he stood in opposition to Mr Bingley. Not that the circumstances compare! she thought. She dared not presume Mr Bingley to think of her as anything other than a friend, if that, even. Surely Lizzy was mistaken, and he was kind to her only on account of her relationship to William, and because of his genuine good nature.

  “Charles makes friends everywhere he goes,” William muttered, seeking to change the subject almost immediately.

  “Well, ladies, it draws late. I will not bid you stay up on my account. I think I will retire to my study if you will not be offended by my leaving.”

  “Not at all,” Georgiana said, at last daring to meet her brother’s gaze and smile. She was gratified to see him return it and felt, at last, that the past was behind them. They were reconciled, fully so, and nothing would seek to part them again.

  Chapter Eight

  Mary shifted her weight from one foot to another, before taking her courage in her hands and knocking firmly on the door to Jane’s room.

  “Come in!” Her sister’s voice sounded brightly from within, and Mary took that to be a good sign. She had feared, upon hearing Jane was confined to her room, that her sister was unwell, or unhappy, so she was relieved, upon entering, to see Jane sitting by the window, making the most of the pale winter light and attending to her sewing.

  “Mary!” Jane said happily, setting down her embroidery and beckoning her sister to join her. “How lovely! I was just thinking of you.”

  “I hope I am not disturbing you?” Mary thought, feeling for a moment the way she had in times past, a little in awe of her pretty elder sister and half-fearing to be sent away if she dared to bother her. Mary blinked. That had been true for her but a few months previously. How suddenly and how completely her circumstances had changed! Just this morning she had bid her husband farewell as he set forth to make final arrangements to secure their very own home, and she had realised that they would be leaving Longbourn in just a day or two more. If she wished to speak to her sister before they left, there was no time like the present.

  Jane shook her head, dismissing Mary’s concerns.

  “Of course you are not disturbing me! How could you?”

  Cheered by her sister’s words, Mary stepped forth confidently and seated herself on the edge of the bed, close to Jane. She peered over at her embroidery, smiling admiringly at her sister’s handiwork.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Handkerchiefs.” Jane swept the thin scrap of fabric aside, her cheeks reddening with her explanation. “It is a foolish trifle, I don’t doubt, but I wished to make something for Thomas - for Mr Heatherington. I decided upon embroidering him some handkerchiefs, although I dare say it is not the most masculine gift!”

  “I think it a charming idea,” Mary said, encouragingly. “I only wish I had your skill and I should think of doing the same.” She grimaced. “Although I do not doubt my husband should hardly manage to keep them more than a day. He can be careless about particulars of appearance.” Her grimace became a smile. “Frankly, I think he misses being in his uniform, without civilian modes of dress and fashion to worry about!”

  “Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam is no clothes-horse, is he?” Jane said, with a smile. “And we like him all the better for it. Is he not with you today?”

  Mary shook her head.

  “He has gone to make final arrangements regarding our house.” She could barely keep a smile from growing on her face. “We intend to move there soon, and so I seized my opportunity to speak to you now, as I do not know when next we will have a chance.”

  “Oh, but you are not moving so very far away!” Jane said, brightly. “And I shall be leaving Longbourn myself in but a week or two more.”

  Mary watched her carefully at this comment but could trace nothing but excitement in her sister’s features. Joy, even.

  “You are happy, then?” she ventured. “To be marrying Mr Heatherington?”

  “I should hope so!” Jane replied, looking askance. “Otherwise I shouldn’t marry him at all!”

  Mary frowned.

  “It just seems very sudden, and with Mr Bingley gone, and Elizabeth and I married, we worried...”

  “You”? Jane frowned. “You and Lizzy have been discussing me, I see. Tell me, have the letters flying up and down the country detailed your sympathy at my plight? Poor Jane, forgotten at home. Poor Jane, destined to be a spinster. Poor Jane, accepting a stranger because she must, not because she wishes to.”

  Her words rushed out so quickly that Mary was taken aback. Her usually sanguine sister rarely came across to irritable and Mary wondered what had come over her. She stood, fearing she had offended Jane and the two sisters would now be forced to part on less than good terms.

  “Oh, Mary, sit down, do!” Jane said, her voice tremulous but her own once more. “I ought not to have snapped at you, I am sorry!”

  Mary did as she was bid, but said nothing, sensing that silence would be more encouraging to Jane to continue than any words of her own. After a breath, Jane spoke again, proving Mary right.

  “I am sorry,” she repeated. “I know that is not true, really. It’s just that I am a little anxious about Lizzy’s opinion of my marrying Mr Heatherington when I rather think she was determined to reunite me with Mr Bingley. I did not wish to disappoint her, but...” She shook her head. “I think this choice much the better! Mr Heatherington prefers a quiet life, after all, he has experienced much and suffered greatly in the war. He does not like to often be amid society, and you know I have never much enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the ton. How long do you think so amiable a gentleman as Mr Bingley would be content in the countryside before feeling the pull back to London again?” Jane made a face. “How dull I should find the endless stream of parties.”

  “I did not think Mr Bingley so very opposed to life in Hertfordshire,” Mary began carefully.

  “And yet he fled almost as soon as he had arrived!” Jane shook her head. “And I know Lizzy was angry about his toying with me, but I think she placed rather too much importance on our connection.” Jane sighed. “In truth, nothing had been discussed, and although he was very friendly and quite charming, I rather think that he acts that way without meaning to. That is, he cannot help but be friendly and most young ladies would realise there was no intent behind it. It was my error, and not his, in assuming our friendship more than it was.”

  “But -” Mary opened her mouth to explain that it was Miss Bingley and not her brother whose intentions determined to separate the couple, but Jane shook her head, denying her the chance to speak.

  “You have met Mr Heatherington, Mary. I know he is a little older than Mr Bingley but in truth, I like that about him. He has a calm nature and is not so easily uprooted or excited. And his stories!” Her eyes shone. “Do you know, Mary, he has travelled ever such a lot, and in his war work had such incredible adventures. I love to hear him talk about the different countries he has been to, and the people he met. He speaks several languages, you know, and is teaching me Spanish, to accompany my French, which he laments over. For I read it well, you know, I always did, but my accent is poor. I hope to improve it when we are married, and he has promised that one day we might travel as far as Brittany. Can you imagine?”

  Mary’s eyes widened. She could not. Jane seemed perfectly at ease with the future her marriage promised her.

  “You are happy,” she said, surprised to acknowledge the fact.

  “I am very happy.” Jane beamed. “You need not worry, Mary. I am not making this decision with anybody else’s future in mind but my own. Your marriage and Lizzy’s did much to secure a future for Mama and the girls if it comes to it. And do you not see how Mama has ceased mentioning Longbourn’s passing out of our possession when Father dies? I know she entertained the idea of one of us girls marrying Mr Collins, but having met him I think she rather rejoices in the matches we have made of our own accord.”

  “And how is Mr Collins?” Mary asked, recalling their father’s cousin at length.

  “Still seeking a wife, by all accounts.” Jane’s eyes danced with humour. “Although he has not hurried to return to Longbourn. I think, in fact, he seeks to distance himself from us and play down the link between our families, for the name Bennet has not found favour with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and you recall how dearly he cherishes her opinion.” Jane’s head tilted. “She was fond of you though, was not she?”

  Mary nodded.

  “I think Richard intends on our visiting her, although he has not determined upon a date. She is very upset to hear of Anne’s marriage to Mr Wickham.”

  “Poor Lady Catherine,” Jane said, sympathy dimming her happiness but not her beauty. “It is so sad when families are rent asunder by circumstance.”

 

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