Tuesday, 24th March
Dear Georgiana,
I am sorry this letter is late in coming. I have been so occupied these first days in Kent that I had not the opportunity to devote myself to my correspondence. It has been such a delight to see my dear Charlotte content in her new role as rector's wife (though it does come at the great expense of socialization with my pompous and obtuse cousin. You must praise me for my fortitude, for I have cheerfully borne this burden, however much I might prefer the company of a French battalion.
You shall be pleased to know your brother and cousin called on the parsonage this afternoon. I thought it likely I should see them during my stay, given what you have already mentioned, but I thought it would not be for some time and perhaps only at church.
The parsonage was in an uproar when they arrived this afternoon. They could not have been in Kent a day complete when Charlotte's sister Maria noticed a pair of gentlemen in the lane. I, of course, recognized Mr. Darcy at once and could correctly assume the identity of the other gentleman. I should have thought the distinction of such a visit would delight my cousin Collins, but the announcement of their arrival threw him into such discomposure that he nearly upended the table as he stood to ready himself to greet his guests.
Though I know it was only on your account that they should call so soon, the distraction of their arrival was nevertheless a welcome one for me. As much as I have enjoyed the time spent with Charlotte and the opportunity to explore the lovely countryside in Kent, the Collinses do not have a wide circle of acquaintances outside of Lady Catherine. There are some few near neighbors–but nearly all are far older than I and of a rather dull and tractable nature. I must own, I find little joy in their company. It is a wonder how anyone can speak of war or sermons on eternal damnation and make it all sound so frightfully tedious.
In your relations, I can at least be assured of a conversation topic of interest to me. If we exhaust the subject of your health and wellbeing, I can certainly depend upon Mr. Darcy to be provoked to argue with me as was so often our habit while I was a guest at Netherfield. I doubt he will appreciate my impertinence, yet I cannot find it in myself to pity him enough to desist, for I fear I shall grow as dull as my company if I am not challenged in some fashion.
I was quite delighted to find your cousin the Colonel so agreeable. He is truly an amiable man. I can readily imagine him to be a most agreeable dance partner for a young lady, and I regret that I must only have your word on the topic. The absence of dancing in Kent aside, he made me laugh more than was seemly during the brief visit. I hope I shall see him often.
He also informed me you would have him banished from Pemberley if he did not include some news of me in his next letter. You must take pity on him if he has little to say. The visit was short, and he could not reasonably tell you anything which this letter will not say more directly.
Your brother was very quiet on this occasion, and I must admit, I thought he looked quite cross. To be fair, he was forced to sit near my cousin for the entire visit, which is reason enough to be vexed. I shall try to sit by him sometime for your sake – I am sure you would not want him to be made entirely miserable by too much of my cousin's fawning attention.
I am surprised to find that I shall be introduced to your aunt's notice on the morrow. When we arrived, it was expected that we might not see her often, as she was to be occupied with her visitors. Yet it would seem I must thank your cousin for prevailing upon her for the invitation. He mentioned a desire to hear my dreadful performance on the pianoforte, otherwise I am sure she should not have deigned to ask. I am under no illusions about my own significance in the world. Yet, however reluctantly she gives the invitation, I am glad to be afforded an opportunity to meet a person of whom I have heard so much. Lest you be concerned for my delicate constitution, I can readily assure you I shall not let her greatness overwhelm me. My lower birth notwithstanding, I am afraid I cannot be taught such humility as to be cowed by a title alone.
Now, you asked for news of Jane. Sadly, there is little more to report on that front. Mr. Bingley has called nearly every day, and though I believe Jane seems disposed to overlook the past, she has not spoken of any understanding between them.
Yet, there was one event of interest – Caroline Bingley has called on her at our uncle's house.
The lady was announced not an hour after her brother had left, and Jane said she was quite speechless on the occasion. Caroline behaved quite as civilly towards her as she ever had in Hertfordshire, but knowing something of her duplicity, the visit distressed Jane. She left shortly after one of the Gardiner children mentioned how odd it was that they should see two Bingleys in one day.
I am certain she knew her brother had been to call, for Caroline is many things, but dense is not one of them. So astounded was my poor sister upon her visit that she found herself unable to confront Miss Bingley about having practically given her the cut direct early in Jane's London sojourn. I know not what Miss Bingley hoped to accomplish by calling as she did, but she can be in no doubt of her brother's continued attachment to Jane, despite her attempts to separate them
I hope for Jane's sake that the resolution to this entire affair comes quickly. My poor sister is not made for such a melodrama as this.
I must end now. Charlotte and I are to walk out again while the weather is fine.
I will write again on the morrow, and perhaps you too will be as astonished as I am at her Ladyship's great condescension. I am sure I am unworthy of it, yet I shall persist nonetheless. I hope I may entertain you with my report of a visit to Rosings.
I have no doubt it will be an interesting account, for I am confident that I will offend someone with my unruly tongue and lack of proper deference. The only real uncertainty is whether it is more likely to be Lady Catherine or Mr. Collins.
I must not think so meanly of my abilities. If I exert myself, perhaps I can manage to offend them all.
Ever your ungovernable friend,
Elizabeth
"Do not make yourself uneasy, dear cousin, about your apparel," said, with a condescending smirk. "Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress in us which becomes herself and her daughter. She will not think the worse of you for being simply dressed. Indeed, she prefers to have the distinction of rank preserved."
It took Elizabeth a moment to realize it was she he was addressing with this remark. Reflexively, she looked down at her gown as they walked. She wore a pale rose muslin and mossy green spencer with matching bonnet. It was one of her favorites, although now nearly two seasons old. She should not let his callous remarks impact her. He was, after all, a fool. Yet, with every step, she saw the tip of her worn leather walking boot emerging from under the folds of her petticoat. The wooden soles were thin, and the many scores and scuffs did little to elevate her appearance.
Her cousin's outward reassurance was, as always, laced through with his own particular variety of bitterness. She had once given him credit for an impenetrable sense of self worth, but since she had arrived in Kent, Elizabeth had begun to understand just how much her refusal had stung his pride. Only a few days in his presence had shown her that her cousin was a man of magnificent pettiness. Though he avoided disparaging her in Charlotte's hearing, he still managed to soothe his insecurities by insulting Elizabeth wherever he could do so discreetly.
She glanced over at Charlotte, who was murmuring words of reassurance to her sister, whose youth and naivety had led her to take to heart her new brother's opinions on Lady Catherine's exalted personage. Unlike Maria Lucas, however, Elizabeth's restless unease was not borne of fear of disappointing her Ladyship. Little though she wished to admit it, even to herself, it was the thought of seeing that lady's nephews that made her apprehensive. It was unusual for her to need to impress anyone, but a tiny part of her wished to affirm the trust Georgiana's guardians had placed in her. Her nerves could not be told that all she had done to earn such favor was to be herself. So it was that she remained in a heightened state as their little party trekked the half mile through the handsome park to the grand house at Rosings.
As the path narrowed and took them up a slight incline through close-growing trees, Elizabeth was recalled to the loathsome man walking beside her by the low whistle of his nasal breathing. The very uncharitable thought crossed her mind, as the path required him to be bodily closer to her, that his laborious respirations sounded exactly like a boar snuffling noisily through its trough.
She felt his small eyes on her, evidently still waiting for a response to his churlish comment about her apparel. Perhaps it was his unpleasant breath warming her shoulder that made her respond with, "You ought to have said something before I left Hertfordshire, Mr. Collins. I should have had something far plainer designed for the occasion."
For a moment, the idea of borrowing one of the dowdy dresses Hill wore when scouring the floor crossed her mind. She gratified herself by imagining Mr. Collins' discomfort at seeing her present herself dressed as a scullery maid.
"Well, I — " he began tersely but was quickly interrupted by his wife, who was indicating something on the path ahead.
"Look, just there! You can see the little stone wall that marks the entrance to her Ladyship's estate. It is not far now."
"Yes! Thank you for pointing that out! It is a fine example of masonry. I must remember to ask Lady Catherine about it; she has an impressive knowledge of such things," said Mr. Collins, excitedly. "How fortunate it is that we have walked! Otherwise, we would not be afforded the opportunity to appreciate such details."
"How divine. I do so enjoy masonry," Elizabeth murmured, low enough that only Charlotte could hear.
Charlotte gave her a quelling look, despite the ghost of a smile hovering on her lips. A short time later, after dutifully admiring the tidy but nondescript wall, Elizabeth was at last afforded a view of the house itself.
It was as grand a dwelling as Elizabeth had ever seen. A sprawling stone facade, supported by many columns on either side of a broad stone staircase which opened impressively to the gravel drive below. The ornamental garden surrounding the house spoke overtly of opulence. Neat and symmetrical plantings of white and yellow flowers were just beginning to bloom beneath the low hedges, which were clipped in an immaculately angular fashion.
As impressive as it was, it spoke of a taste far too serious to be entirely comfortable. Still, she longed to explore the gardens, which sprawled invitingly all around her. Far more than she wished to see the extravagance sure to be on display within the grand house, at any rate.
At her shoulder, Mr. Collins spoke in rapid, reverent tones as he pointed out the proofs of his patroness's great affluence. Elizabeth's eyes roamed over the many tall windows covering the frontage as she nodded politely, feigning interest in his monologue. The tall panes of glass afforded small glimpses into the many rooms that lay beyond, each one showing sections of a home with proportions far larger than she had ever seen before. As she continued to study the imposing structure, a slight movement caught her attention, and she noticed with interest the twitch of one of the heavy curtains.
As her eyes fixed on the motion that had caught her attention, she saw with a jolt Mr. Darcy gazing back at her. Tall and nobly erect, his figure was framed handsomely in the vertical casement. From her vantage below, he looked like a skillfully painted portrait hanging in the long gallery of windows.
Despite everything he had done, and despite the distant desire to berate him for his highhanded behavior towards her sister and his friend, she simply could not suppress the queer elation she felt at the sight of him – and it unsettled her. Before her mind could recollect herself to anger, her spirits soared. A little gleeful twitch somewhere behind her navel rendered her efforts at vexation limp and unimpressive.
An unintentional byproduct of her relationship with Georgiana was that some part of her must now always see him through her eyes. And though Elizabeth had attempted to spurn his earnestly expressed gratitude, she could not deny that it had affected her. She came now to recognize the subtle shift within her, which would no longer allow her to see him as she once had, however much she might wish for the firm footing of her ire.
When she saw him there in the window, Elizabeth was struck anew by how handsome Darcy was. He had always been so, she supposed, but she had not allowed herself to acknowledge it. Though his mien was, as usual, somber and aloof, in this moment she saw how well his serious expression suited his aura of stately dignity. She had often chafed at his excessive pride, but here, among the grandness of Rosings, such airs did not feel quite so misplaced.
As they reached the base of the staircase, she noted that Darcy's eyes still followed her. The intense gaze reminded her forcibly of the very particular way he had used to lift his eyes from his reading to find her when she spoke, his attention so intent that it seemed to force everything else from her notice. At Netherfield, his stare had often raised her to hostility, its singular intensity making her more conscious of her person and of her words – a fact that she disliked on principal.
Yet this time, Elizabeth felt a certain fondness at this most familiar circumstance. It put her in mind of how he had often stood just so, looking sternly out onto Bingley's grounds in his usual grave and brooding manner. Georgiana had told her once that when he stood in that attitude, he was likely imagining himself on the other side of the glass, riding away from the prattle of the parlor. It was a sentiment she understood and even shared, and the thought made her fight to suppress a small smile. How much would she give to forego this visit entirely in favor of an exploration of the gardens?
As she turned away to hide her diversion, she saw a fleeting half smile on Darcy's face, a single brow raised as if to ask what had amused her. Elizabeth's cheeks warmed as, in the space of the moment, she could sense a strand of something connecting them. A small, shared something elusive and undefined.
It was as shocking as it was fascinating.
An immaculately liveried servant guided the party through the grand arch of the vestibule into a sitting room of equally immense proportions. Mr. Darcy was still standing in quiet repose by the window. Offering up a silent prayer that she was not blushing, she gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. She allowed her attention to be drawn to the angular face of the large woman who occupied a chair positioned as a centerpiece in the room.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was tall, boney, and unsmiling. Her gown, a masterpiece of finery and craftsmanship, fit her ill, being too loose in the bodice. She sat in regal repose, her back as rigid as her gaze was upon Elizabeth, for it was she whom the lady chose to fix her powerful eyes upon.
"I presume that you are Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Lady Catherine, without preamble.
Elizabeth could not help but lift her chin under such scrutiny, even as she lowered herself into a curtsey.
"I am."
"You are not very tall," she observed, as she examined Elizabeth critically.
Elizabeth fought to keep her expression neutral as the room watched as Lady Catherine watched her.
"Pardon me," began Elizabeth, "but may I assume you are Lady Catherine de Bourgh?"
Lady Catherine's jaw tensed as a frown folded her face into a scowl of disdain. Evidently, Elizabeth was not to ask such an impertinent question as this.
It was Darcy who spoke from his place by the window. "Miss Bennet, might I introduce you to my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh? And beside her, my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh, her companion, Miss Jenkinson, and, of course, my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
Elizabeth's eyes twinkled as she inclined her head gratefully, offering another curtsey to the ladies. Darcy went on to introduce Miss Maria Lucas to the notice of the room. Maria, whose pallor was by this point resembled sour milk, was trying to escape undue notice by standing behind the shoulder of her sister. Lady Catherine barely spared her a glance before offering a small, ungracious nod to the newcomers, indicating with an expansive hand that they should be seated. Once they had done so, an expectant silence fell as the Lady of the house returned her eyes to Elizabeth.
"How long will you be staying in Kent, Miss Bennet?"
"I believe I shall stay some weeks more, your Ladyship. However, I am as much at the mercy of my friend and cousin as I am my father."
"It is good for young ladies to travel. Being away from one's home will lessen the shock when she marries and must necessarily remove to her husband's establishment," said Lady Catherine in an authoritative tone "If Anne's health would have allowed it, I should have insisted she be away from Rosings as often as not."
"Perhaps. Yet, might not a woman wish to treasure such time that remains with her family before entering the married state? I believe the preference of the individual must carry some weight in the matter."
Lady Catherine looked at her appraisingly. "A young lady may not know what is in her best interests and ought to leave such matters to those who have wisdom and experience. Surely, your mother must wish to give you every opportunity to introduce yourself to a wider society beyond your neighborhood."
"You are quite right, madam. My mother would wish it, but my father does not approve of my being away for very long."
Lady Catherine pursed her lips disapprovingly, but before she could open her mouth to disagree, Darcy surprised Elizabeth by speaking up.
"I quite agree with him. I would not wish Georgiana to be constantly away, especially if it is against her wishes."
"If this is your opinion, then it is clear you do not understand the rearing of young women, Nephew," scolded Lady Catherine. "It is as I have said before; you coddle your sister and she will not thank you for it. I say again, she must come to Rosings soon so that I may see to her personally."
Darcy's jaw tightened. "As I have already stated, this is not a topic I am willing to discuss, and certainly not in the company of strangers."
"Humph," said the older woman.
"You must speak with my mother, Lady Catherine," Richard interjected. "It seems there is now at least one topic upon which you may agree."
Lady Catherine made a noise of displeasure at her nephew's jest. "I have long been an authority on the social concerns of women, whereas, your mother wishes only for a daughter she might dress up as a child would a doll. I could make Georgiana a lady of great distinction," Lady Catherine said, glaring imperiously at her military nephew.
Col. Fitzwilliam inclined his head, but as he did so, Elizabeth caught an exasperated look exchanged between him and Darcy. Her attention was drawn back as the stately woman before her spoke once more. "My nephew Darcy tells me he met you in Hertfordshire."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And I understand from Mr. Collins that he is to inherit your father's estate, is this correct?"
"It is, your Ladyship."
"What an unfortunate thing it is that it should be so. The female line is certainly just as valuable," said Lady Catherine. "Yet, given the circumstance of an entail, I am surprised that your parents did not see fit to arrange a union between yourself and your cousin. It would certainly be the most prudent course of action in such a situation."
Mr. Collins suddenly began fidgeting, obviously caught between his desire to agree with his mistress and his desire to find Elizabeth wanting. In the end, he could say nothing at all. From his place by the window, Elizabeth noticed Mr. Darcy's mouth had hardened into a thin line, his icy stare firmly fixed on the toadying man.
"I believe my cousin's choice of wife was a very fortunate one. I am sure no woman could have more to offer the parish of Hunsford than she."
"Yes, yes," Lady Catherine said, waving her hand dismissively. "I am, of course, aware that it is now an inalterable circumstance. Yet, it should be the primary concern of any parent whose children are to be cast aside by an entail to ensure their security. You should have been married to your cousin as soon as you were introduced into society—you or one of your sisters."
Elizabeth said nothing in response, biting her cheek to stifle the injudicious retort that came so readily to her lips.
"Are any of your sisters engaged?"
"No, ma'am," she replied, her eyes flitting briefly to Darcy, who was not looking at her but out of the window.
"You ought to marry, in that case—and soon," she said decisively.
Elizabeth lifted her brow. "I see no reason to be hasty with such an important decision."
Lady Catherine's lips tightened with displeasure as she continued her evaluation. "Are you much out in society? Do you go to London for the season?"
"No, your Ladyship. My father dislikes Town," said Elizabeth, her eyes alight with quiet amusement.
Lady Catherine gave a tut and shook her head in displeasure.
"You ought to be put forth. If you have not found a husband after your first season in your home county, then you will have no better luck in any that follow there," Lady Catherine said forcefully. "You must tell your parents to send you to London for the season."
Following Colonel Fitzwilliam's example, Elizabeth inclined her head, and Lady Catherine's attention turned instead to Charlotte, of whom she began asking many detailed questions pertaining to the running of her home. Evidently uninterested in the paltry details of the pantry at Hunsford, Colonel Fitzwilliam started speaking with his cousin Anne, who had sat looking wan and saying nothing during her mother's soliloquy.
Elizabeth was quietly studying Miss de Bourgh's waxy features when a voice close beside her made her jump in surprise.
"How do you find Rosings park, Miss Bennet?"
The familiar low resonance of Mr. Darcy thrummed in her chest as she turned to find him now seated beside her.
"I like it very much," she said, recovering herself quickly. "The park is so large that even an accomplished walker would need many months to explore it all. I fear its complete exploration will require several visits—if I am so blessed."
"I have no doubt you shall come to Kent again. Perhaps in the meantime you ought to apply to someone familiar with the area to show you those spots which ought not to be missed," Darcy said quietly.
Elizabeth chuckled. "As I prefer to take my walks as soon as there is light, it would be unkind to importune my hosts to rise before they are ready simply to satisfy my curiosity about the place. I shall endeavor to do my best on my own. Though I am grateful to my cousin for his invitation, I must confess that I prefer the quiet to his company."
Elizabeth thought she saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he said, "I am far too sociable a creature to understand your meaning. I am certain to enjoy the company of everyone."
Elizabeth dipped her head to cover her smile, murmuring, "Then I must teach you the joys of a long, brooding silence. I am told I am quite the proficient."
In her periphery, she caught the slow smile that warmed his features. Her heart seemed to falter for a beat. She quickly reminded herself of Jane and Mr. Bingley in an effort to temper her gratification at this exchange. She thought briefly that she ought not to find him so amusing and decided it was best to change the topic.
"Kent is a beautiful place," she said hastily. "Though I am loath to say any place is more beautiful than Hertfordshire, I cannot deny its charm."
"Hertfordshire and Kent both possess their own merits; however, they are nothing compared to Derbyshire."
Elizabeth chuckled softly. "I begin to suspect that those born in Derbyshire are taught from the cradle to speak so. Indeed, I have yet to meet a person from that county who would not say as much."
"Perhaps it is simply the truth?" Darcy offered, his eyes trained on his aunt's conversation.
"You know well that I cannot agree merely to be civil," Elizabeth said impishly. "I should like to judge for myself before I credit these assertions. Though I must admit, despite the splendor of Derbyshire, you of all people should know that beauty is a subjective thing, Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth thought she noted a brief look of confusion on his face before he responded, "When you have seen it for yourself, you will understand its praise."
"I fear you may have to wait many years for that day," she said wryly. "As your aunt has discovered, I do not travel as much or as often as I might wish."
He cast her a peculiar look that made her stomach tighten. Was he about to say something? The silence stretched on for a long moment before Elizabeth could bear it no longer and began a new topic.
"Have you had any letters from London since your arrival?"
"Many, though I am sure only one of them is of interest to you. And on that subject, I must defer to your greater authority," Darcy answered, leaning in to add quietly, "How is my sister, Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth swallowed hard to prevent a smile from reaching her lips. Her mind raced as it dawned on her that Mr. Darcy appeared to be flirting with her. A moment of panic swept through her, sending her into a turmoil of thoughts and muddled emotions.
In need of reprieve from the dangerous pleasantness of the conversation, she blurted out, "I was speaking of Mr. Bingley."
Beside her, Darcy's back straightened as she felt him pull back. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his aunt.
"What are you saying to Miss Bennet, Nephew? I would like to know what is discussed in my own home."
Elizabeth shifted slightly to take in his expression, which had become suddenly stern.
"We were speaking of your grounds, Aunt," Darcy replied, his voice carrying a faint growl of irritation.
Once the topic of Rosings' grandeur was broached, her ladyship was only too delighted to inform the party minutely of every improvement she had made to the house, the park, and the gardens. At the mention of each of Lady Catherine's accomplishments, Mr. Collins eagerly added his own praise, and their effusions carried them effortlessly to the end of the visit, for which Elizabeth felt both supremely grateful and vastly disappointed.
"My dearest Georgiana," cried Caroline Bingley as soon as she entered the sunny sitting room at Darcy House. "Thank you for receiving me."
Miss Annesley was away for the morning, and Georgiana tried hard not to feel the vulnerability of hosting a call entirely on her own.
"I certainly could not refuse you," Georgiana said, thinking that if she were not so bound by propriety, she might have done just that.
Before Georgiana had even invited her to sit, Miss Bingley had already seated herself, leaving Georgiana to take the chair directly across from her. Far from irritated at the woman's lapse in propriety, she instead wondered what had thrown her into such a state of nervous tension.
"I have made the most upsetting discovery," Caroline said. "I do not wish to alarm you, but I must make you aware—"
Georgiana felt an anxious flutter in her chest. Her mind flew instantly to her brother, despite reason telling her that if anything distressing had happened, she would not hear of it from Caroline.
Caroline reached out to lay a hand on Georgiana's arm, looking her fervently in the eyes as she said, "My brother has been making regular calls on a woman."
Georgiana's relief was palpable as she made a great effort to school her countenance into one of neutrality.
"Oh," said Georgiana blandly.
During the ensuing pause, it became apparent that Caroline was trying to attach some secret significance to her words. Georgiana suspected she knew why, but was disinclined to discuss it openly. Finally, Georgiana asked, "May I inquire whom?"
"It is Miss Jane Bennet," Caroline said, with a look of abject disgust. "A country nobody from the wilds of Hertfordshire of all places!"
"Did he tell you as much?" Georgiana asked.
Caroline rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. I am certain he does not wish me to know."
"Then how did you...?" Georgiana began, trailing off as Caroline gave an impatient gesture.
"Oh, I simply knew something was amiss," she cried. "I first noticed it when he began leaving at calling hours every day. He would leave without disclosing where he was going or whom he was to see, despite my inquiries. I was, of course, relieved when he abruptly altered his plans for Hertfordshire a few weeks ago, but now I see I had misunderstood the situation entirely. He was not to go to Hertfordshire to view the estate, but to see Miss Bennet. It seems she has been in London for some weeks now and must have taken advantage of his good nature in some way.
"It was no secret that the Bennets had designs on my brother's fortune from the moment we arrived at that dreadful Netherfield Park. He allowed that woman's salacious flirting to make a spectacle of him then, and I fear she intends the same now.
"After the ball, I began to fear that Miss Bennet might attempt to force his hand by making claims against his honor. Your brother and I spoke with Charles to encourage him to leave before the situation became irreparable. To my great relief, he took our advice. I do not think it could have been done without Mr. Darcy's support. He is so good to Charles.
"Of course, when he was considering the sale of the estate, I did not think it advisable for him to return there. I could see no benefit in his encountering anyone from that place again. I petitioned your brother to lend his support once more, but he was reluctant to intervene a second time."
"Did he say why he would not help?" asked Georgiana, now genuinely curious.
Caroline let out a small tut of air, "He said he had heard that Miss Bennet was suffering from a broken heart." She let out a derisive snort, "Indeed, how could he know anything about the heart of Jane Bennet?"
How indeed?
Georgiana's mind swirled around this new information. As Caroline continued her lamentations, Georgiana tried to think of a plausible explanation for her brother to know something so delicate? Even as she considered how he might have felt remorse and spoken out of turn to stifle Caroline's plans, a pinprick of light illuminated a strange new idea to her.
Could he also be corresponding with someone in Hertfordshire?
If it were so, she could think of only a few who might be privy to such knowledge, and each person was less plausible than the last. It was a thought that opened up a broad vista of possibilities to her, too great to consider, yet too peculiar for her to ignore. Reluctantly, Georgiana set these thoughts aside and returned her focus to Caroline, who was continuing to bemoan the tragedy of her brother's chosen connections.
"...I had the idea of seeking her out. When I first received her letters, I found I could barely comprehend them, so incensed was I by her brazen behavior in Hertfordshire. When Charles altered his plans and began behaving so peculiarly, I feared Miss Bennet might be involved. So I did what I knew I must do. I visited her at her uncle's home…in Cheapside." She paused, waiting for the impact of this revelation. When no reaction was forthcoming, she added, "Oh, I am sure you have never heard of it. The Darcys would never recognize someone from such a place."
Caroline closed her eyes and shuddered, as if even mentioning the neighborhood was too much to bear.
"Oh! But I am so worried for my brother!" Caroline cried, shifting forward in her seat and taking Georgiana's hand. "—and for you, of course, my dear, dear friend."
"For me?" Georgiana asked, puzzled.
"Yes!" Caroline exclaimed with energy. "I know how you must suffer at this news."
Georgiana understood her implication immediately but could think of no reply. It was of little matter, as the lady seemed to need none. Caroline continued with an outraged diatribe, "You and I are to become sisters, and I shall not allow a woman like Miss Jane Bennet to interfere in such a shocking manner. She must have nothing to do with us, and I must help my brother to see this."
"Have you spoken with him?" Georgiana asked. "Does he claim any attachment to the lady?"
"I have not. I do not think he would hear me if I did. He was persuaded before only because of your brother's assistance in the matter."
"What do you intend to do?" Georgiana inquired.
Caroline gave her a long, meaningful look. "Well, I had rather hoped you might intervene."
Georgiana blinked, unable to form a coherent thought at these words.
"It affects you more than anyone," Caroline continued. "If you were to speak to him, to remind him that he has already pledged himself to you, I am sure he would do the right thing for all of us. I know he loves you. Whatever feelings he may have been convinced he has for Miss Bennet can be nothing compared to what I am certain he feels for you."
"Miss Bingley—" Georgiana began incredulously, but was promptly interrupted by the other woman's effusions.
"Just think how merry we shall be! United forever in sisterly love and affection!"
"Miss Bingley," Georgiana said stiffly, "I do not wish to marry your brother."
"Of course you do." Caroline let out a small, tittering laugh. "And he must marry you in any case. He really has no choice."
"Why do you say that?" Georgiana asked, suddenly alarmed.
"Do not be so coy with me. I am not angry, and I certainly will not reprimand you," Caroline said with a slow, cloying smile.
"I do not—" Georgiana began.
"You forget that I saw you in a private audience with my brother when you last visited us at Grosvenor Square."
Georgiana was shocked into silence, panic rising in her chest.
"I am glad," Caroline continued, "for now it will be very easy to arrange everything. You shall be wed just as soon as you wish. I have long known just how it would be. I admit it might have been a touch precipitous of you to seek such a clandestine meeting, but I can hardly blame you," she said with a sickeningly sweet smile that made Georgiana's stomach turn. "You have waited a long time to express your affections."
"Miss Bingley…please…" Georgiana whispered in quiet horror, "Please…do not speak of this. I need to speak to my brother."