Although weary from the long, silent carriage ride from Ramsgate, Darcy knew he could not yet rest. He must look in on her once more, however foolish the impulse. He opened the door of her room slowly, anxious that she should not know of his watchfulness.
The room was achingly innocent, Darcy thought as he surveyed the pale pink paint and girlish sketches hung over the fireplace. A stack of papers on the hearth caught his eye, and he moved forward to inspect them: nearly forty sheets of paper with Georgiana Wickham signed on each in various styles and sizes.