Page 30 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 30

D arcy attempted to commit his hopes for Georgiana to paper without success. He imagined Elizabeth’s face as she read, heard the comments she would mutter under her breath, felt the paper crinkle under her tightening grip. Richard’s words echoed in his mind. Who are you to make these decisions for everyone?

Who was he? His plan had been made with the best intentions for his sister’s happiness and his friend’s advantage, but Elizabeth would see it as high-handed. Precisely as Richard had said.

While Darcy stood by his original reasoning, circumstances had changed. He now saw that to persist without alteration to his scheme would be unwise. However, he was responsible for Georgiana, and from the moment he had convinced Bingley to let Netherfield Park, Darcy had become responsible for him too.

Anticipating the clarity a good gallop over Netherfield Park would render, Darcy stopped two steps short of the landing when he saw his sister in her riding habit.

“Where shall we ride today?” she asked with a bright smile.

Vexation calmed to disappointment before guilt swallowed Darcy in its clutches. In a blink, he felt her tiny, infant fingers clasping his, saw her wide eyes look up adoringly at their father, heard her laughter as he twirled and danced with her. All the promises Darcy had made within himself to protect her flooded his mind. How could he be vexed at his own dear sister?

Holding out his arm, he smiled. “Where would you like to go?”

“We so often ride toward Oakham Mount, I would like to see the other side of the property for a change.”

Darcy suppressed his scowl. There would be no conversation with Elizabeth that morning.

They mounted their horses and set off in the opposite direction than the way they usually went. Darcy, intent on some exercise if he was to be deprived of Elizabeth, suggested a race.

“Actually,” Georgiana began, chewing on her lip. “There is an important matter I wish to discuss with you.” She sucked in a breath, her cheeks puffing as she exhaled.

Darcy walked his horse closer, worried that she might swoon. “What is it, Georgie? Are you ill?”

“No, only nervous.”

Panic and concern rose in Darcy’s chest. Did she still fear he blamed her over Wickham? He thought he had convinced Georgiana that he held Wickham accountable and that her innocence was no match for Wickham’s perfidy. “Nothing you can tell me will lessen your place in my regard. You are as dear to me now as you have ever been or will be.”

“I know that, William, I do. It is only that I know you will not be pleased with what I wish to request, and I cannot disappoint you.” She shook her head. “No, I cannot. Pray forget I said anything at all.”

Now Darcy had to know what she thought would displease him so much. “Georgie, speak. Please.”

She straightened her shoulders. “If you insist.”

He nodded, urging her on, his heart knocking against his ribs and his stomach tying in knots.

“You have been so considerate to include me in appropriate outings and gatherings while I am not yet out in society. It has come to my attention that you have refused more than one invitation because I could not attend.”

“Elizabeth agreed. Neither of us wish to exclude you.”

Her gaze shot up to his, and she looked away just as rapidly. “Oh. I… I suppose I must thank her.” Her reluctance confounded Darcy. Elizabeth had been everything kind and considerate to Georgiana. Instead of befriending her as Darcy had hoped, Georgiana had become closer to Miss Bingley recently.

Blinking repeatedly, Georgiana continued nervously, “Would it not be easier for everyone if I were allowed to come out in society?”

Darcy hardly knew what he had thought Georgiana would request, but that was not it. “Are you certain that is what you wish? I had assumed you wanted more time.” A minimum of two more years—that had been the time they had agreed on. No less than two years to mature into a confident young lady bold enough to repel unworthy suitors and, in time, attract a responsible gentleman who would treat her with devotion.

A sickening thought sent a wave of nausea through him. Was this Georgiana’s way of trying to secure Bingley, by announcing to all and sundry that she was ready for marriage? Whatever the motive, this conversation did not sit well with Darcy.

“Miss Lydia is out already, and she is younger than me.”

“By three months!” Mentioning Lydia Bennet hardly improved Georgiana’s argument. “And I am sure her neighbors agree that she is not ready to be out.”

“Are not the invitations we receive proof enough that they do consider me mature enough to make my coming out?”

Darcy could not believe his ears. The invitations were meant to celebrate his and Elizabeth’s upcoming marriage, not for Georgiana. His disappointment that she would use such fickle arguments to prove her point rendered him speechless.

She added, “Miss Bingley agrees that I would do well to come out quietly in the country. When we return to London, I might receive callers and accompany both her and Aunt Helen on their calls.”

As if Aunt Helen would ever choose to exchange more than a polite greeting with Miss Bingley!

“You cannot imagine how mortifying it is to hear how Lydia and Kitty Bennet go everywhere with their sisters while I must stay in my rooms with Mrs. Annesley. Do you not see how much I have matured? I played the pianoforte before an audience, and I gave Wickham the cut direct.”

Darcy’s recollection of that rainy day was vastly different from his sister’s. Had it not been for Elizabeth, Georgiana would have cowered on the settee while Wickham sneered at them.

“Thanks to Miss Bingley’s direction, I have become more confident. If I were called upon to entertain an audience, I should gladly do so.”

Darcy could take no more of this nonsense. “You do realize that coming out implies more than playing an instrument when called upon. It signals that you are ready to marry—that you are prepared to run a household of your own and care for the needs of the children certain to come from that union. It means you are prepared to live no longer for yourself but for others. Why not enjoy the freedom you have now?”

Georgiana’s jaw set at an unbecoming angle. “I thought you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do! But if you cannot be happy in your own company, then I cannot fathom how you think you will be happy when others are allowed to impose on you.”

“Is that what I am to you? An imposition?” Her chin quivered, and a tear slid down her cheek.

How had the conversation had deteriorated so quickly? Baffled and clueless, Darcy did his best to console her. “I did not say that. I would never , not even in my heart, consider you an imposition.”

“Then you will allow me to come out?”

“Of course not. You are too young.” He handed her his handkerchief. “Come now, Georgie, dry your tears. Let us race back to the stables.”

“I do not wish to race,” she sputtered between sobs.

She cried more, but Darcy would not budge. What she asked was unreasonable and went against the decision she had agreed upon months ago with him and Richard.

What was more, her arguments and mawkish behavior troubled him. Darcy had never understood how other men were so easily manipulated by tears. It pained him to see his own sister use that tactic against him. In his experience and observation, the use of such feminine arts rarely proceeded from an honest, unselfish motive.

He did his best to cheer her. The patch of azure sky promising a fine day, the flock of pheasants streaking the green and brown fields with their colorful plumage, the way the dew clung to the grass and sparkled in the morning sun—he pointed out all the things Elizabeth would have delighted to see.

Georgiana had composed herself before they reached the stables. By the time they entered the breakfast parlor, she was able to greet Bingley and the Hursts convincingly.

“Where is Miss Bingley?” she asked.

“Still keeping fashionable hours,” Richard replied, piling sausages onto his plate with one hand and patting the empty chair beside him for Georgiana.

Bingley shrugged. “I do not suppose I could convince you to accompany me to the lower field, Darcy? The bailiff says the lack of drainage will be a problem if left unattended before winter.”

They buttered toast and sipped coffee while they made plans for the day, their conversation dwindling as they ate.

An ear-splitting scream jolted them from their seats. Bingley, Richard, and Darcy ran upstairs, following the continuing sound. Once they reached the residence wing, it was apparent the screams came from Miss Bingley’s room. “Get it out! Get it away from me! Oh, the nasty, vile thing! Out! Out! Get it away!”

Darcy waited in the hall with Richard and Mr. Hurst, who still wore his dressing gown, while Bingley and Georgiana, charged inside the bedchamber followed by a panting Mrs. Hurst.

“Rudy!” they heard Bingley exclaim. He departed from the room, holding the kitten in the crook of his arm. “That was better than the time I put a frog in Louisa’s jewelry box!”

“What did he do?” Richard asked.

Bingley chuckled. “He left a dead mouse on Caroline’s silk pillow.”

Richard covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking with the effort to contain his mirth.

Of all the people the kitten could grace with the prize of his first kill, he had chosen Miss Bingley. Darcy looked anywhere but at his laughing companions lest he lose his composure.

Georgiana flitted out to the hall. “Mrs. Hurst will stay with Caroline until she is calm.” Looking more like the girl Darcy knew, she said excitedly, “I am sorry for the shock she has suffered. I tried to tell her what a compliment it is for a cat to leave his first hunt on her pillow. He must really like her to favor her with such a gift.”

Bingley’s grin returned as bright as before. “Say, I already named Rudy. Does that mean I get to keep him?”

“If you really want him,” Georgiana said.

“He and I get along famously. Far be it from me to separate Rudy from his particular friend,” he said with a wink at Miss Bingley’s doorway.

The next few minutes passed pleasantly as they returned downstairs and attended to their plates. Georgiana was her usual self, much to Darcy’s relief. It was as though their unpleasant conversation had never happened.

When Miss Bingley finally joined them, she ate only dry toast with weak tea, claiming she was still too agitated for anything more.

The butler brought in the post on a silver salver, which Bingley took enthusiastically. Opening the note on the top, he said, “Jolly fun! How does a picnic at Oakham Mount sound on this fine day?”

Georgiana clapped her hands. “It is a glorious day, much too fine to waste.”

“Indeed! It was good of the Bennets to suggest we join them.”

Georgiana’s face changed. Gone was the joyful girl, replaced a surly miss Darcy did not understand.

“Must we always be in their company?” protested Miss Bingley.

“I rather enjoy their company,” defended Bingley.

“I have a terrible headache and cannot go, but I shall not spoil your fun if you wish to leave me behind.” Miss Bingley pressed her fingers against her forehead and sighed too loudly for one truly suffering a headache.

Bingley, either ignorant to her hint or purposely ignoring it, dabbed his mouth with his napkin and pushed back from the table. “Then it is settled. We shall leave you here to rest while we enjoy a picnic out of doors.”

Miss Bingley scowled.

In the end, the Bennets would not dream of excluding Miss Bingley, and they suggested that a picnic at Longbourn in the garden by the pond would be just the thing to suit everyone. Mrs. Bennet offered several draughts from her collection for Miss Bingley’s comfort along with her favorite chair by the fire so that Miss Bingley might observe the picnic from the window without worsening her condition.

It was not the ideal place to converse with Elizabeth, surrounded by their friends and relatives, but Darcy was determined to find a way.