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“That is premature, Georgiana,” said Darcy. “I esteem Miss Elizabeth, but there is nothing between us.”

“Yet,” said Bingley. “There, I finished the sentence for you, old man.”

Georgiana could not stifle the giggle, and Bingley joined her in mirth.

There was nothing Darcy could do but confess their jests had merit, for he was impatient to reach a state of understanding with her.

It was yet early—this he knew—but that did not stop him from considering what it might be like to enter a courtship with her, or even an engagement.

“If you ask me,” said Bingley, “I think your brother’s thoughts are very pleasant.”

“That he is,” agreed Georgiana. “If I was already acquainted with her, I might join him. As it is, I shall not yield to the hope for a sister until I meet her, for she may not be an agreeable woman.”

“Not at all, Georgiana,” replied Bingley. “Miss Elizabeth is an excellent young woman whom I believe you will esteem without reservation.”

“I second Bingley’s opinion,” said Darcy. “You will like Miss Elizabeth because it is impossible not to like her.”

Georgiana nodded, but she did not speak, as the carriage had entered the town and soon stopped before the inn. Darcy stepped from the coach and helped his sister down, and soon they entered the inn. As the moment drew near, Darcy felt anticipation rising in his breast.

AT THE INN, ELIZABETH was feeling a hint of nervousness for the Darcys’ coming.

As her relations had teased ad nauseam since their arrival, this prompt civility in introducing his younger sister spoke of favor beyond the common way, and Elizabeth could not help but wonder what it portended. What sort of girl was Georgiana Darcy?

The previous autumn, Elizabeth had received two accounts of Miss Darcy, which, though brief, had contrasted in extremes.

Miss Bingley was the first, whose excessive praise must have been exaggerated due to her interest in Mr. Darcy.

The other, of course, Mr. Wickham had offered when Elizabeth asked about the girl, and made more sense given what Elizabeth knew of Mr. Darcy.

Then again, as the gentleman’s behavior had overthrown all Elizabeth’s expectations of him, she was not certain what to expect from the man’s sister.

It was best, she suspected, to reserve judgment and meet Miss Darcy with an open mind.

When the Darcy party entered the room, it surprised Elizabeth to see Mr. Bingley enter with the Darcys, though she supposed it should be no shock.

Once the gentleman learned of her presence, he would insist on being one of the company.

Showing his good manners, Mr. Bingley allowed Mr. Darcy to introduce his sister to Elizabeth’s acquaintance, but she could not but suppose he would accost her at the first opportunity.

The specter of Jane’s marriage and how it would affect him rose in Elizabeth’s mind, but she pushed it aside, knowing there was nothing she could do.

If what she saw before her was any sign, Elizabeth’s suspicions about the man’s failure to return were correct—the news she must give him would devastate his good humor.

“Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, curtseying to the girl when Mr. Darcy completed the introductions. “How pleased I am to make your acquaintance, for I have heard so much about you.”

The girl’s cheeks bloomed in embarrassment, her accompanying look at her brother revealed the truth of her character to Elizabeth’s interest. She took heart in her brother’s returning smile and replied, though her voice was soft.

“And I have heard much of you, Miss Elizabeth.”

“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, showing Mr. Darcy an arched eyebrow. “I hope your sources were as kind to me as mine were to you.”

Miss Darcy appeared unable to understand how to respond, though she attempted it. “William mentioned you in his letters last year.”

While the information surprised her, Elizabeth endeavored to restrain her reaction. “Then I cannot imagine you anticipated this introduction at all, for as I recall, your brother and I engaged in some rather infamous disagreements then.”

“Do not forget my sister’s contributions,” said a laughing Mr. Bingley. “Something about accomplishments, as I recall.”

“Among other things,” said Elizabeth, turning back to Miss Darcy, who regarded her through widened eyes.

“I hope you do not suppose that my brother was severe, for nothing could be further from the truth!”

“Then he must be dissembling, Miss Darcy, for I am convinced that he found me medieval.”

“Oh no!” exclaimed Georgiana, while Mr. Darcy said: “Not at all, Miss Bennet. To own the truth, I found your arguments interesting and well considered.”

Then the gentleman turned to his sister. “Do not concern yourself, Georgiana. The longer you are acquainted with Miss Elizabeth, the more accustomed you will become to her sportive way of speaking.”

“Your brother is correct, Miss Darcy. I hope you will forgive me, for I dearly love to make acquaintances, and I find that laughter is the best way to become more comfortable in new company.”

The girl offered a tentative smile. “That is a skill I have never learned.”

“Then I shall take the burden on myself. If I say anything you find shocking, do not hesitate to call me out on it, for my father says that I sometimes do not know when to stop!”

Those first few tentative steps completed, Elizabeth turned her attention more fully to Miss Darcy, and they conversed together with more ease, though Elizabeth still found it difficult to break through the girl’s reticence.

While she fancied that some might be blind enough to take her shyness for pride, anyone with any discernment at all must understand the truth about Miss Darcy within moments of making her acquaintance.

If that was so, Elizabeth wondered how anyone boasting an intimate acquaintance with her could misconstrue her character.

Yet it appeared that was what had happened, for Elizabeth remembered Mr. Wickham’s words verbatim, as if he were in front of her, repeating what he said.

“I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy; but she is too much like her brother—very, very proud.”

That was what Mr. Wickham had said. Miss Darcy, however, was nothing like her brother, for not only was she shy, but Elizabeth suspected she had not the self-assurance that bled from her brother’s very being.

Maturity would resolve that as would genuine friendships, but to suggest she was an arrogant creature was to misrepresent her beyond Elizabeth’s ability to fathom.

Aside from her initial good impression of Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth knew no good of the man, for she had spoken with him but little after he turned his attention on Mary King.

She knew no harm of him either, for while the ladies of the neighborhood had nigh swooned at the mere mention of him, there were no rumors of which she was aware, other than the suggestion that Miss King’s uncles had discovered something about him they did not like.

Elizabeth recalled Mrs. Reynolds’s comments about Mr. Wickham and wondered about them.

Mr. Darcy’s antipathy for Mr. Wickham might have resulted in his staff not liking the man either, but Mrs. Reynolds had not appeared the sort of woman to blindly follow her master’s lead.

As an intelligent servant, one who had been at the estate for many years, was her account not trustworthy?

It was a strange business to be certain, and one Elizabeth felt she could not unravel without further information.

While Elizabeth was speaking to Miss Darcy, learning more of her and coming to esteem her more with every word they exchanged, Elizabeth could not help but notice that Mr. Bingley stood with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Gardiner, but was not attending their conversation.

The memory of the previous day and Elizabeth’s decision to avoid speaking of Jane and her new situation returned.

Mr. Bingley, it seemed, was on edge, wishing to speak to her and learn of Jane, yet not wanting to intrude upon her fledgling friendship with Georgiana.

For a moment, Elizabeth wished she had told Mr. Darcy, if only so that Mr. Bingley would not wait in suspense.

Then she realized that was an unfair burden to lay on the gentleman’s shoulders—it should not be his duty to inform his friend of the death of his dreams, if he still possessed them.

It crossed Elizabeth’s mind that Mr. Darcy perhaps deserved some measure of discomfort, as she was still certain that he had played a part in Mr. Bingley’s failure to return.

Even so, she could not wish it on him. Elizabeth was not looking forward to it, for Mr. Bingley’s behavior proclaimed his hope, destined to disappointment though it was.

At length, Mrs. Gardiner gained Georgiana’s attention with some comments about her childhood in Lambton and a few occasions when she had encountered her mother, and while Elizabeth sat nearby listening, she was on the periphery of the conversation.

That proved all the invitation Mr. Bingley needed, for he excused himself from the other gentlemen and approached Elizabeth, radiating his typical good humor.

Elizabeth wished she did not need to be the means of destroying his ebullience.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bingley, “I was highly gratified to hear from Darcy that you were staying only five miles from Pemberley.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bingley,” said she, not quite sure how best to respond. “It was a surprise to come to Mr. Darcy’s attention, for we were informed he was away from home.”

Mr. Bingley regarded her with interest. “If you knew Darcy was to be there, would you have eschewed the tour?”

“Perhaps,” replied Elizabeth, “for one does not visit an estate when the family is in residence.”

“The grounds are often open in the summer, from what Darcy has told me.”