Page 53

On the day after the ball, the sun was past its apex by the time Miss Georgiana Darcy finally peeked beyond her bed curtains.

The previous evening might have been some sort of surreal dream but for her sore toes, courtesy of one of her less agile partners.

Choosing her most comfortable morning gown, Georgiana allowed her maid to dress her hair in a simple style and, after discovering that her brother and sister were in the family sitting room, set out to join them.

Georgie was met with a tableau so close to her childhood dreams of a happy, loving family that she stood motionless in the doorway for a moment and simply soaked it in.

Her brother had not yet donned a cravat or topcoat, but sat at one corner of the sofa in his shirt and waistcoat, slippered feet on a footstool and his wife reclining against his chest. Both were absorbed in the newspapers, occasionally reading snippets aloud, and the messy stack on the side table testified to their morning activities.

Elizabeth had just begun reading a section aloud and Georgiana could not help but smile at her sister’s attempt to mimic Darcy’s deep voice.

Elizabeth exclaimed, “For heaven’s sake, they list her breeding like a mare being auctioned off at Tattersalls! At least the Times had a nice bit describing her dress…”

Upon which Darcy was roused from the broadsheet he was reading long enough to mutter, “No more lace, madam, I beg of you…” although there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Thus, Elizabeth was giggling when she caught sight of her sister. “Ah, Georgiana! Excellent—please join us! Your brother flatly refuses to share my enjoyment in reading the society columns!”

Georgiana surprised herself by feeling more curiosity than trepidation over what had been written. “Oh… did they spell my name correctly, at least?” She moved to pour herself a cup of coffee and select a popover from the buffet and so missed the pleased look shared between her brother and sister.

“Hmmm… I believe that one of the reports may have bestowed an extra ‘n’ upon ‘ Georgiana’ , but they appear to have managed ‘Darcy’ without too many problems,” replied Lizzy. “Oh, this is quite nice,” she commented and began to read aloud again.

“Miss Darcy wore a lovely, cap-sleeved gown of cream silk with lace details and an apricot sash, both with delicate gold embroidery highlighted with seed pearls, that complimented her coloring perfectly. Her diamond and pearl choker with matching hair combs and bracelet were inherited from her mother, Lady Anne Darcy.”

Ignoring her husband’s exaggerated groan, Elizabeth continued in an innocent tone, “I suppose you would prefer this bit, my dear husband.”

“After opening the ball with her cousin, Sir Richard Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy danced every dance but did not appear to favour any one of the single gentlemen over the others. If she is anything like her brother, it will take far more than a glittering pedigree or overflowing coffers to win her hand. ”

Darcy groaned again, but this time there was more than a little amusement in his tone. “Well then, she has seen and been seen . May we leave for Pemberley now?”

Elizabeth only laughed at him and confided to her sister, “Don’t let his indifference fool you, Georgiana. When Holmes first brought up the newspapers, he could not search out your name quickly enough.”

Will rolled his eyes, although he did not dispute her assertion.

Meanwhile, Georgiana had settled into an armchair and chosen out one of the more respectable broadsheets for herself. “It’s all so odd, really… is there not something more important happening in the world than knowing what color sash I wore?”

“Indeed,” agreed her brother, shaking out his own paper. “For example, I would not be surprised to hear of a liberal revolt in Portugal any day now, what with King John spending so much time in Brazil. I wonder…”

Hearing his sister gasp aloud, Fitzwilliam stopped abruptly. “Georgiana? What is it?”

Miss Darcy covered her mouth but seemed incapable of turning her eyes away from the page she was reading. It was some moments before she finally looked up and then it was with an expression of such horror that her companions were truly concerned.

“Miss Bingley… I completely forgot about her! It says here… truly, Brother, I never meant to cut her! Oh, poor Mr. and Mrs. Bingley—they must be so upset…”

“Georgiana, my dear girl, you have nothing for which to be ashamed,” said Elizabeth. “Jane and Charles harbor no ill feelings towards you. Indeed, all of their unfavorable emotions are directed at Caroline, precisely where they belong.”

The younger lady continued to look uncertain until Darcy cleared his throat.

“Georgiana, you behaved correctly. Miss Bingley has treated our family poorly… infamously, some might even say. We have given her a number of second chances, but she has shown no remorse whatsoever. You were quite within your rights to cut her when she appeared, uninvited, at a private ball in your honor.”

Georgiana’s agitation receded slightly though she still appeared uneasy. “But I never meant to cut her—such a idea never even occurred to me! I was just so surprised to see her—I didn’t know what to say…”

Elizabeth smiled and commented archly, “Ah, a true Darcy, then. Your silence speaks far louder than words!”

Georgiana managed a crooked smile but could not quite relinquish the paper. “Did you read the rest? Miss Bingley shall be… well, quite upset by what was written about her.”

Even Darcy was forced to chuckle at such an understatement .

Across town, a similar array of newspapers had been assembled by Mrs. Bullock and delivered to Miss Bingley with her breakfast tray.

Lady Francesca Hewitt had not minced words in her account of the whole, sorry spectacle when she delivered her mortified guest home and the companion had been entirely without pity.

“Stupid girl! You appear to need a governess, not a lady’s companion! ”

Even knowing what they might contain, Caroline could not resist the society columns.

In a flash of morbid humor, she decided that the ball must have been very dull indeed, for aside from the nearly uniform praise of Miss Darcy’s performance, the happiness of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s marriage, and the magnificence of Derwent House, the most scintillating event of the evening appeared to have been her own appearance (and departure).

Unfortunately, Miss Bingley’s humor did not last through her morning’s reading.

Upon finishing, she sat motionless for some minutes before silently pulling the bed curtains closed around her and curling up under a pile of quilts.

It would be days before she emerged from her bedchamber and weeks before she left the apartment again.

When Caroline’s melancholy receded enough to consider her situation, she dressed in one of her more modest morning dresses, waited for Mrs. Bullock to leave on an errand, and forced herself to take a hackney to her brother’s house.

During her isolation, she had received no invitations and only two letters; one a monthly duty missive from her Aunt Bingley in Yorkshire that contained nothing of consequence, and the other an angry, scolding dispatch from her sister who made it absolutely clear that Caroline was not welcome at the Hursts’ estate in Somerset for the foreseeable future, if ever.

Miss Bingley recognized that her only remaining option was to go to her brother and grovel, although she was not yet so miserable that such a plan did not gall.

She was vaguely surprised that Charles and Jane had not yet come to visit her or even sent a note, but, knowing her brother’s horror of confrontation, she decided that he was waiting for her to come to him, like some penitent child.

Well, she would grit her teeth and do it.

It was not until Caroline stepped down from the hackney on Waverley Street and noticed that the knocker was off that it occurred to her that the Bingleys might not be home.

Still, she climbed the steps with her head held high but a growing sense of foreboding.

When she discovered the door to be locked and repeated knocking failed to elicit any response, she swallowed a bit more of her pride and went around to the servants’ entrance.

“Why, Miss Caroline! Whatever are you doing here?!?” exclaimed the housekeeper upon discovering her former mistress on the stoop.

Unwittingly, she inflicted yet another blow to the young lady with her very next words.

“The master and Mrs. Bingley left for the country a week ago—I didn’t expect to see any of the family until autumn! ”

Caroline did her best to hide her shock that Charles and Jane had departed without bothering to inform her of their plans. Shivering a little, she suddenly felt very alone in the world.

Doing her best to show no emotion, Miss Bingley made some excuse about having left something behind in her former bedchamber.

It was almost worse when Mrs. Barton showed Caroline into her old rooms, only for her to discover that they looked nothing like she recalled.

Apparently her brother’s new wife had wasted no time in redecorating, she thought sourly.

To Jane’s credit, she had merely shared with her husband the happy news that he might expect an addition to their family in September.

Charles’ enthusiasm had been boundless and his delight in converting Caroline’s former rooms into a nursery had left little time for guilt over his wayward sister.

Jane’s capacity for discord was quite overwhelmed by her own mother, for Mrs. Bennet had lately learnt that the Bingleys were giving up Netherfield’s lease.

Although a son-in-law who owned an estate was certainly superior to one who merely rented, Jane’s mother had come to consider Netherfield as quite her own and was very displeased to find her domain reduced to Longbourn once again.