Thanks to everyone who interacted with the story this week! What a rollercoaster with the site issues, eh?
And thanks to my betas for their, as usual, amazing work :)
Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Frerichs
On the morrow, Elizabeth waited until Mary was at the pianoforte before going into the drawing-room to speak to her. Fortunately, as no one desired to sit and listen while Mary practiced, the room was empty. She stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to listen to what was there rather than just brushing off the entire piece as something Mary was currently murdering. Her sister was truly skilled at the technical aspects of pianoforte playing; if only she would stop plodding through the pieces, never varying the tempo or volume. They were so—soulless.
Reminding herself that she was not there to critique but rather to make herself available, she walked over to the pianoforte. "Mary—"
Her sister started, fingers crashing to a jangling halt. "Lizzy? Is something wrong?"
Elizabeth forced a smile. "Not at all." She gestured to the other side of the pianoforte bench. "May I?"
Mary nodded.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and sat. She had never realised how awkward things were between them—probably because she rarely spoke to her sister without the crutch of a purpose. "I was wondering if—" She gestured to the sheet music. "Your technical proficiency is quite advanced."
Mary blinked at her before a blush spread over her cheeks. Then she straightened her spine, pulling her shoulders back as though bracing for something unpleasant. "I believe that hard work will always be rewarded."
"Perhaps that is where I have gone wrong then," Elizabeth said with a smile.
"Gone wrong?"
"As you know, my playing is not as technically advanced as yours." She waved a hand towards the music. "I would not dare to play a piece like this. I already fudge my way through the difficult places in the pieces I do play."
"Your playing is more well-received," Mary muttered, her gaze fixed on the keys in front of her.
Elizabeth suppressed a wince. A week ago she would have brushed off the comment, but was that the right thing to do? Her aunt said that both honesty and allowing someone to be themselves was necessary.
What if Mary felt like Elizabeth was trying to steal her only means of attracting attention?
"Perhaps," she said lightly. "I believe that music can be a means of communicating from one soul to another, and it is that connection that people crave." She fingered a key. "When I play, I try to infuse the music with my self, to bridge the gap between my listeners and me."
Mary frowned. "Is not that indecent? Music is meant to be food for the soul, but it is the music itself that feeds the soul. Beethoven's work creates a different meal than Mozart's. To infuse the music with oneself would shift the focus off the music and onto self. Music is not meant to be a means of vanity but rather a way to serve others."
Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. This was why she did not seek Mary out. Her sister's ability to turn everything into a lesson on morality was astounding. She hesitated, trying to construct an adequate response. "I believe that unless one puts passion into their music . . . a lack of passion actually hinders a person's enjoyment in a piece and does not accurately represent the composer's intent." She brightened. "After all, is not all creation a reflection of God's work and is not love His primary trait?"
"Holiness is His primary trait," Mary said severely. "Does it not say—"
"Perhaps you are right," Elizabeth hurriedly put in. "However, the Bible also says that God is love, and love is a form of passion itself."
"Not unchecked, however. Not wanton. Giving oneself over to the music is both."
"Let us agree to disagree for now," Elizabeth said. Debating spiritual matters with Mary was the very last thing she ever wished to do.
Mary opened her mouth.
"I came to ask a favour," Elizabeth blurted.
"A favour?"
"Yes. I would like to become more technically proficient in my own playing, and I was wondering if you would help me."
Mary blinked at her. "Help you?"
"You are a more skilled player than I," Elizabeth said, her fingers restlessly tapping the pianoforte keys. "I thought you might have advice on how I might improve my playing."
Mary's demeanour instantly shifted; her shoulders relaxed, and the guarded expression in her eyes vanished. "Advice on how you might play better?" She tensed, and the suspicion returned. "Why do you wish to play better?"
"I enjoy playing, and it would be nice not to muddle my way through pieces."
Mary studied her, and Elizabeth wondered if she should add that she wanted to spend time with her sister. The thought of doing so left her uncomfortable, but if Mary was trying to get attention, would it not be better to show that Elizabeth was not merely trying to use her?
Elizabeth forced her fingers to still their restlessness in a semblance of composure. "I thought it would be a fun way for us to spend more time together. If you wish, we could speak more on the subject of emotion in playing. Or perhaps we could play some duets."
Mary's gaze only sharpened. Elizabeth held it, trying to convey sincerity.
"Very well," Mary said stiffly. "The first thing you need is to practise more often. You do not practice daily. Is that correct?"
Elizabeth nodded, already dreading the thought of curtailing her other activities in favour of practicing pianoforte.
"I believe that is the primary thing you lack. Daily practice will strengthen your skills. Perhaps we could begin your practice together several times a week and I could provide suggestions specific to the piece of music you are working on. Do you have a piece you desire to learn?"
Elizabeth gave a slight shrug. "Something that will challenge my current skills without being so difficult that I cannot succeed."
"I have just the thing," Mary said, determination flooding her face.
Darcy settled back at the breakfast table. Sitting here, he could almost pretend that he had not fled Hertfordshire a mere three days ago.
After his disastrous conversation with Miss Elizabeth, he had returned to Netherfield, determined to do whatever was necessary to escape Wickham's snare and the Bennets' perfidy. He found Bingley packing to return to London on business, and his friend had confided that he had some personal matters to attend to with his solicitor as well. Though Bingley had spoken of proposing to various young women before, he had never gone so far as to draw up the necessary documents.
Darcy had been alarmed in the extreme at this development. When Miss Bingley had soon after dragged Darcy out to the garden, demanding he do something to rescue her brother, he was more than willing to accede to her scheme. He had accompanied Bingley to London, professing an inclination to attend to some slight business and a desire to see Georgiana.
Miss Bingley and the Hursts had stayed behind, intending to close Netherfield and follow them to London. Miss Bingley had planned to wait until yesterday to inform Bingley so that he would have no chance to object. Darcy had not yet spoken to his friend to know whether the plan had worked.
Upon his arrival in London, Darcy opened Darcy House and visited his aunt and uncle, hoping that his presence would not set Georgiana back. She had written to him only three times while he was at Netherfield, and her letters contained naught but progress reports on her studies.
He had hoped his early return would perhaps allow his relationship with his sister to begin to heal in earnest. However, as Lady Matlock had monopolised the conversation whenever he was in her home, he had not yet ascertained whether Georgiana was even glad to see him. His aunt had definite ideas of what would be best for his sister; she had informed him that Georgiana needed him to take a wife and had spent much of the previous two days running down a list of eligible young women, providing her opinion on each.
Unfortunately, it only drew his thoughts to Miss Elizabeth, leaving him unable to listen to his aunt as he puzzled over Miss Elizabeth's association with Wickham. She seemed like the last person to entangle herself with such a cad. Her love for her sister, her compassion for her neighbours—had he misunderstood her entirely? If only she had not tried to blackmail him with that letter. Darcy had read it through several times, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realised how closely Wickham must have been involved—only Wickham had known the details of those circumstances and was familiar enough with Darcy's handwriting to forge it. Darcy should have known something was wrong the moment the man stepped foot into Meryton.
He had not yet had the heart or the courage to explain to Georgiana why he had returned so precipitously; even the slightest allusion to Wickham or to the circumstances of last summer, left her pale and distressed. To tell her that the man had once more attempted to harm their family . . . no, he could not do it.
Fortunately, a vague reference to Bingley's business had sufficed, at least on the part of their aunt. And, after two days of waiting to ensure the action did not look untoward, Darcy had yesterday declared an intention to remain in town, and Georgiana had accompanied him home. His aunt was not thrilled that he had taken his sister, but Darcy preferred to keep Georgiana close until he knew the full extent of Wickham's schemes.
Now that they were finally home together, he had promised her (and himself) that they would take coffee into the library and catch up after breakfast.
As though his thoughts had summoned her, a pale Georgiana appeared in the doorway. Darcy frowned, noticing that her dress seemed looser than when he had last seen her wear it. Her appetite had been scant before Darcy left for Hertfordshire, but he had assumed his aunt had addressed the matter.
"Good morning, Brother," she said in subdued tones, her gaze fixed on her hands.
"Good morning, Georgie. Did you sleep well?"
She nodded, but the dark circles under her eyes gave proof of the lie.
"Can I get you something?" he asked.
Georgiana shook her head and began fixing herself a plate. Darcy noted how small her portions were with some concern, but remained silent for the moment; he did not want to distress her further, preventing her from eating even the little she had taken.
"Aunt Margaret says you have been practicing a new piece. I was hoping I might hear it today—I do not believe I have anything on my schedule other than a meeting with my solicitor this afternoon."
"I can play it for you if you desire," Georgiana said quietly, her gaze now on the plate of food in front of her. She perked up slightly. "I could even play it after breakfast."
Darcy studied her. Was she trying to avoid the upcoming conversation, and, if so, why?
"Brother?"
"That would be lovely, Georgie." They could talk afterwards, and perhaps the music would set her at ease. Her shoulders relaxed slightly at his words.
After her meager breakfast, Georgiana allowed him to escort her to the music room. She still had not met his eyes, and Darcy was more worried than he could express. He had expected a marked improvement based on his aunt's report.
Darcy could not help but imagine what Miss Elizabeth would do were she here (and not a traitor). She had been so kind and skilled at helping other young women; she would likely have been able to assist him with Georgiana.
Once more the depth of her betrayal crashed over him.
How could she have cooperated with such a fiend? And why had she tried to blackmail him? She had seemed intelligent, but giving him that letter had been the act of a fool, particularly as it was not even properly dated and contained easily disproven falsehoods.
Darcy shook himself, dragging his thoughts back to Georgiana. "I am looking forward to hearing your piece," he began. "I very much missed your playing while in Hertfordshire."
"I thought you said you heard someone who played uncommonly well," Georgiana said meekly.
He tensed before forcing himself to relax. "I did, but, though I very much enjoyed her playing"—such pale words for the spell Miss Elizabeth had woven—"she is not nearly as skilled as you, and I am afraid that the rest of the performances were severely lacking. It has been some time since I have heard such wretched playing." He gave her a small smile. "You have spoiled me."
"You are too kind," Georgiana murmured.
"Not at all," Darcy replied lightly.
Georgiana nearly fled to the pianoforte the moment they reached the music room. Seating herself, she began to play. Darcy moved to the nearby settee, a smile hovering about his lips; not a minute passed before she had forgotten herself and was entirely immersed in the music.
As the music wound around him, he could not help compare Georgiana's earnest playing with Miss Elizabeth's. He had always believed a person could not help but be honest through music—not when they played with as much feeling as Miss Elizabeth had—but perhaps that too had been a lie? How had he so misjudged her character?
With a sigh, he added it to the column of puzzling occurrences about the situation and once more drove his thoughts back to the music and Georgiana. His sister looked, finally, at ease.
As the last note fell silent, Georgiana opened her eyes. Tension once more filled her. "Perhaps you would like to hear the other piece I have been practicing, Brother."
"I would rather hear how you have been doing," Darcy said, gesturing to the opposite end of the settee where he sat.
Georgiana slowly closed the lid of the instrument and, with dragging footsteps, made her way over.
"Aunt says that you learned much during your time with her," Darcy began.
Georgiana nodded.
"She and Mrs. Annesley have suggested you begin regular meetings with the housekeeper, so that you may get a feel for her duties and responsibilities. I believe—" He cleared his throat as sudden tears filled it. "I believe Mother's journals would also be a profitable avenue of study. She kept regular notes about the estate, and you will find much in there about the running of a household from a mistress's perspective." He only wished that their mother were alive to teach Georgina in person. She would certainly do a far better job of managing this mess with Wickham.
Georgiana cast startled eyes upon him. "Mother's journals? I may read them?"
"Of course. You are old enough now." His lips curved up as he recalled a five-year-old Georgiana declaring that, as she was old enough to read, she could read Mother's books. Terrified that she would destroy the irreplaceable works, he had forbidden her from touching them and had relocated them to a top shelf in his study until she was old enough.
"But I thought they were reserved for the mistress of Pemberley," she said, her gaze once more shifting to where her hands sat in her lap.
"And so you will be, eventually."
"I meant—Aunt Margaret said you would be taking a wife this year, and—I would still be permitted to study them?" she asked, her voice growing quieter and quieter.
Darcy kept his mouth closed, despite the urge to gape at his sister. "Of course you will be permitted to study them even after—if—I marry! They are a part of your heritage—I had always imagined that we would have a copy made for my future wife to have so that you may keep the originals. She was your mother, Georgie, and she loved you very much. I am certain she would wish you to have them."
"Thank you, Brother."
He hesitated, trying to decide how best to address the first part of her concerns. "Although Aunt is determined that I marry this year, I do not wish to marry unless I meet someone . . . someone of character."
"What sort of character?" Georgiana asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Darcy suppressed a sigh. He had not considered speaking of such things with his little sister—he hated the idea of disillusioning her with the reality of the ton—but perhaps that was why Wickham had so easily deceived her. "I—I know that we have not spoken much of the expectations that come with being a Darcy; I did not wish to burden you. As a Darcy, I am expected to marry someone with both pedigree and wealth who possesses excellent connections, and so are you."
Georgiana frowned. "I—my governesses and Aunt Margaret have instructed me in those requirements. But those things have nothing to do with character."
"You are right, sweetling, but they do have a great deal to do with the number of potential partners available. You are a wealthy young woman with excellent connections; many men will attempt to gain your favour for those reasons alone. But I would wish you to marry for more than just wealth and birth."
"You wish me to marry someone of—character?" she asked hesitantly.
Darcy thought of his own parents' marriage and how deeply in love they had been, of how their characters so well-complemented each other. His mother had brought laughter and a softer sort of kindness; his father had been focused, sometimes to a fault, and rarely smiled after her death. He had been determined to be an excellent landlord and had succeeded so well that Darcy feared he could never measure up. Without his father's determination, Pemberley would not have been nearly as successful, but without his mother, neither Pemberley's inhabitants nor the tenants were as happy as they had been before her death.
"I wish you to marry someone whose disposition will complement yours, someone who is kind, who truly cares about his tenants; someone who will love you for who you are—or, if you do not yet love each other when you wed, is capable of showing love to his family. In addition, I believe you would be unhappy were you to marry an inattentive man, or one who is lazy or unintelligent."
"But how shall I know the man's character?" Georgiana asked faintly.
"Such a person will seek the approval of your family. In addition, they will behave kindly to their inferiors. Father once told me that a man may be judged by how he treats his servants and those to whom his behaviour, whether ill or good, will not cause detriment or benefit."
Darcy's mind wandered back to Miss Elizabeth. She had been kind to her neighbours, and those few times he had seen her interact with the servants at Netherfield, she had seemed full of gratitude for their service—a stark contrast to Miss Bingley who took all service as her due and complained throughout that nothing was done to her satisfaction. At the time, he had attributed the difference to the fact that Miss Elizabeth was not in her own home; however, many of the ton spoke ill of servants or those in trade, "the common riff-raff," regardless of where they were. Even his Aunt and Uncle, Lord and Lady Matlock, occasionally took their servants for granted.
Georgiana frowned. "But if you have not witnessed any interactions with their inferiors, how will you know?"
"I believe it is worthwhile to wait until you can observe a man's behaviour with his inferiors before giving your heart away. In addition, a man's reputation may give further information on how he behaves. I do not believe a person's reputation is always accurate, but if you have heard of them from people of various social statuses, you may gain a clearer understanding." Had Miss Elizabeth fooled the entirety of Hertfordshire? According to his valet, even the servants spoke well of her.
"I—I understand. Thank you for your words of wisdom, Brother," Georgiana said.
Silence reigned for several moments, and Darcy let it. Hopefully, Georgiana was taking the time to consider how little Wickham met those qualifications. Although—had Georgiana ever seen Wickham with any but herself and Mrs. Younge? Perhaps that was why she had asked what to do if she had not seen the man with his inferiors. After Ramsgate, he had told her a little of Wickham's lies but had refrained from full disclosure, lest the knowledge distress her even further.
"And have you ever met such a woman, Brother?" Georgiana asked, staring now at the pianoforte.
"It is difficult to gain much understanding of a person's character in a ballroom. I must confess that I have yet to meet someone whose character seemed worth knowing deeply." Save for Miss Elizabeth as she had initially seemed. "So many women of the ton care little for anything but increasing their status."
"Will you marry one of them anyway?"
Darcy frowned. "I do not know. I have always believed it was only a matter of time before I find a worthy woman from among the ton. Mother was such a person, so I do not believe the task to be impossible."
"Aunt does not seem to care about character."
"I do not believe that she would wish me to marry someone with whom I am miserable—or who would make you miserable," Darcy began, thoughts of his aunt's litany of accomplishments, breeding, and dowry parading through his mind. "She is simply aware of the required qualifications to marry into the Darcy family and to become connected to the Fitzwilliams. She does not wish to become connected to someone unsuitable."
"She told me that George—that Mr. Wickham would have been unsuitable in the extreme due to his birth and circumstances."
Which was very true, and yet, it did not at all explain why Wickham was so unsuitable. "That—that is not the primary reason I objected to Mr. Wickham."
"So you would not object if I were to marry someone who does not have his own property?" Georgiana asked, confusion painting her features.
Darcy frantically rifled through the conversations they had had about Wickham. Had he given her that impression? "I would prefer you marry someone who owns property because it will ensure your financial security, but if you found someone like Richard who is a second son without property, they might be suitable." He sighed, deciding that regardless of the attendant discomfort, honesty would be preferable. "I do not know what our aunt told you of Mr. Wickham, but the primary reason I objected to him was that he is a cad of the worst sort. Throughout our time at school, I often witnessed his propensity towards lies, theft, and seduction. I very much doubt that he wished to marry you specifically, but rather that he wished to marry your dowry and to have his revenge upon me."
Georgiana's white expression grew paler, and her hands twisted in her lap.
"I am sorry, Georgie, I should not have been so blunt. You are a wonderful young woman, and I would wish you to marry someone who desires to marry you for who you are."
"How do you know that—Mr. Wickham did not?"
"Because a man who truly wished to marry you would brave the fiercest family to seek your hand. A man of character would do the right thing even when it is difficult or misunderstood." He hesitated. "If Mr. Wickham truly wished to marry you for yourself, he would not have tried to elope with you. And he would not have left Ramsgate upon receiving my letter. Would you like to know what I told him that made the difference?"
Georgiana nodded.
Darcy took a deep breath. "That father added a provision to his will that you would not receive your dowry if you marry without your guardians' approval."
Georgiana's shoulders slumped, and she shrank down into her seat as though scrunching herself into a ball.
"I did not wish to pain you with the truth, but perhaps I was wrong." He hesitated, mentally replaying their conversation. "Georgie, have you—have you been—were you expecting him?"
Georgiana choked on a sob. "He said that even if I were ripped away from him by Mrs. Younge, I would always remain in his heart and that he would chase me to the ends of the earth."
"Oh sweetling," Darcy said. He gathered her into his arms, pressing one hand to her back and stroking her hair with the other. No wonder Georgiana had not yet improved. She was sick with both guilt and disappointed hopes. As Georgiana sobbed into his neckcloth, Darcy wished there was more he could do, some way he could fix things. Rage towards Wickham rose up, choking his throat. If the man were in front of him now, he did not think he could restrain himself.
Georgiana did not deserve this.
Sometime later, when his sister had finally quieted, Darcy handed her a handkerchief. Georgiana would not meet his gaze.
"Aunt has been telling me what a fool I have been, but I did not—did not understand," she choked out.
"Mr. Wickham has a long history of beguiling even the smartest. I did not wish to spoil your recollections of him, but I ought to have told you the truth long ago or ensured that I was with you to protect you."
Georgiana shook her head. "It is not your fault, Brother."
"I did not even have a good reason not to accompany you to Ramsgate. I could have put off my business or delegated it to another." He sighed. "I am so grateful that I arrived in time."
"I should not have—" She took a shaky breath. "You should not have needed to rescue me. I knew that eloping was wrong, but I did not care. George seemed like a hero straight from a romance, but I was wrong."
"It is difficult to be so deceived," Darcy said, his throat tight as the pain from Miss Elizabeth's deception twisted within him.
"Have you—do you have experience with such realities?"
Darcy smiled bitterly. "I think anyone who received their inheritance at such a young age would have experience with such realities. Many young women wish to marry my wealth and position. Almost none like or dislike me for myself."
Miss Elizabeth had said she would never marry him because of his pride. At the time, he had seen it as an excuse—a frantic scrambling to claim innocence in trying to entrap him—yet, looking back on it, she had sounded fervent. Were it not for the letter and her connections with Wickham, he might have believed her. Such a rejection would have stung, but at least it would have been an honest rejection, one borne of his character rather than his wealth or connections.
"I am sorry, Brother. I would not wish this feeling on anyone."
Darcy drew her close once more, one arm across her shoulders. "Nor would I. I am sorry you are experiencing it."
She sniffled. "I only wish that I had not been so foolish or that—that Mr. Wickham would have wished to marry me for myself."
"Sweetling, even if he genuinely cared for you, he would not be a suitable partner. The man has proven incapable of putting anyone above himself and would squander your inheritance in a nonce. He managed to spend the entirety of £5000 in a mere five years."
"What?" Georgiana straightened, looking at him with wide eyes. "I thought you did not give him his inheritance."
Darcy grimaced. "I suppose I have been remiss in this too," he muttered.
Once more, he was struck by how much of a young lady Georgiana was becoming. He had viewed her as a child until her infatuation with Wickham had ripped the veil from his eyes. Before long, she would enter society, find a suitable young man, and marry. He had wished to keep her a child, but a child would not be prepared for the realities of the ton.
"When Father died, he left Mr. Wickham £1000 and requested he be given the living at Kympton when it became available. Mr. Wickham told me that he did not wish to take orders, but rather desired to study the law, and thus he desired the worth of the living at once instead. I knew from our experiences at school that he ought not to be responsible for anyone's spiritual well-being, so, after some discussion, we agreed that he would receive £4000, and, in exchange, he signed paperwork renouncing all claim to the living. Were we at Pemberley, I would show you the paperwork this very day, but I am afraid I did not bring it with me."
He sighed. "When Mr. Huggins died, Mr. Wickham arrived within a fortnight, claiming to have found the law an unprofitable study and announcing that he would graciously consent to take the living at Kympton. I refused, despite his assertion that he was now nearly without funds."
"Without funds? He had spent all that money?" Georgiana asked in dazed tones.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I know not. Mr. Wickham has long been able to present a veneer of gentlemanliness, but he cannot maintain it. I have no doubt that he lost or spent the funds in some form of vice."
Georgiana did not reply.
"Georgie, I do not wish to scare you, but you are a target due to your wealth and position. Many men will try to court you for those reasons alone."
Georgiana shrank into herself.
"Part of the reason Aunt Margaret prefers wealth and position in our future spouses is because such a person will have little reason to marry us for our wealth and position."
"But, Brother, are there not wealthy who desire more wealth or those who have connections who desire more connections?" she asked shakily.
"Yes. But there are fewer rich, well-connected people who are attempting to increase their wealth and position than those who are without both, who will do almost anything to attain it," he said, thinking of Miss Bingley and the Bennets. He had never seen someone as openly avaricious as Mrs. Bennet in his life.
Georgiana looked at him in confusion. "Did you not say that many in the ton desire only your wealth and position?"
"They do." Darcy sighed. "It is difficult to find anyone, regardless of their status, who does not toady to obtain the side benefits of a friendship with a Darcy." That was part of what he so enjoyed about his friendship with Bingley: the man never tried to take advantage of him. Yes, Bingley had asked for his assistance in evaluating Netherfield, but he had asked rather than manipulated, and he had genuinely wanted Darcy's opinion and company, rather than his funds or connections. Despite being from Trade, Bingley was one of the least social climbing people he had ever met. The man was content, whatever his surroundings.
"I am confused. Is it the person's character that is most important, or ought I to marry someone of wealth and position?" She tensed. "If you cannot find someone of character, will you—will you marry someone of wealth and position regardless?"
Darcy considered once more the stream of "suitable" young ladies his aunt had suggested, recalling endless rounds of social engagements he spent exceedingly bored. The thought of being so hunted and bored in his own house was distasteful in the extreme. Or—what if the young woman ignored him entirely once she had attained the title of Mrs. Darcy? It might be preferable, given the character and manners of some in the ton, however, he did not wish to be ignored in his own home either. He desired a marriage like his parents'.
His Aunt Catherine had long pushed for him to marry his Cousin Anne. Anne, however, was sickly and could not bear him heirs. Nor did he wish to have Aunt Catherine as a mother-in-law. She would insist upon holding the reins of Rosings and giving him constant "advice" about the Darcy holdings.
No, he would rather wait until he met someone who was intelligent, who presented their true self rather than changing opinions at the drop of a hat, who cared about others including tenants and servants, who would encourage his young sister, and who brought laughter into his life. Surely there was a woman like that in the ton.
But how long could he wait to find her? If he did not have an heir . . . .
He forced himself to smile at Georgiana. "I do not believe such a choice is necessary, my dear. Whatever Aunt says, I do not need to marry this year."
Georgiana relaxed. "I am glad. I would rather you marry someone without wealth and position than someone who merely desires to use us." A slight shudder shook her frame. "I do not wish to have such a sister-in-law."
"Nor do I desire such a wife," Darcy said dryly. "Now, tell me more about how you spent the past few weeks."
A/N: We started remodeling our house last week. I have the feeling it will be a mad dash until the end of the year. I don't think it will affect my posting day, but it may affect the time I post. I'll let you guys know ahead of time if I have to take a break. Also, I read you guys' reviews and very much appreciate them, but for now, I don't have time to reply. Send me a PM if you want to talk about the story :)