Page 11 of More Than You Know (The Love Conquers Pride #3)

Chapter Ten

Mid-December 1811, Derbyshire

D arcy stood before the tall windows of Pemberley’s front parlour, his sharp gaze fixed on the carriage making its slow approach along the tree-lined avenue. As it rolled to a stop in the circular drive, he turned from the glass, moving through the grand entry hall and out of the front doors with determined strides.

The coach and four halted just as he reached the bottom of the steps. A liveried footman moved to open the door, but Darcy motioned him aside, stepping forwards to assist the occupants himself.

A gloved hand emerged, and he grasped it with a tenderness that belied his usual reserve. The young lady smiled up at him, and Darcy’s heart swelled with a rare warmth.

“Georgiana,” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his sister’s cheek. “It is so good to see you again, my dearest. I trust the journey was not too taxing?”

“No, not at all,” Georgiana replied softly. “The distance from Matlock is not great, and Cousin Richard ensured that I was well looked after.”

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Colonel Fitzwilliam poked his head out of the open door, his broad grin a stark contrast to Georgiana’s restrained demeanour.

“Darcy!” he called cheerfully before jumping down. The two men exchanged a firm handshake, Darcy expressing his gratitude for his sister’s escort.

After offering his arm to Georgiana, Darcy led the way into the house, where the servants hurried to relieve them of their coats. Once inside, his sister professed fatigue and asked to be excused, and while Darcy promptly acquiesced, he could not help feeling a pang of disappointment. Apparently, her time at Matlock had done little to lift her spirits; if anything, she seemed more withdrawn than ever.

“You will find your rooms ready,” he told her gently. “Dinner will be at the usual time, and there is no need to dress formally. It will only be the three of us.”

Georgiana nodded before ascending the staircase, and Darcy’s frown deepened as he watched her go.

“She will regain her spirits in time,” Richard remarked as if reading his thoughts. “Now, let us retire to the library. I, for one, could use a drink.”

Darcy swiftly agreed, following his cousin to the familiar sanctuary, where a low fire crackled in the hearth. Sinking into a leather chair, Darcy watched as Richard made his way to the sideboard.

“So,” his cousin began, lifting one of the crystal decanters and pouring himself a generous portion of brandy, “only the three of us for dinner? Where, pray tell, is Walsh?”

“Bedford,” Darcy replied with a faint sigh. “Or somewhere thereabouts. He left the day before yesterday.”

Richard regarded him sceptically as he settled into the chair opposite. “Again? And with guests expected at Pemberley? I thought he was to remain here for Christmas.”

“As did I,” Darcy answered. “He announced his intention to travel a fortnight ago.”

Richard studied his cousin’s expression before saying slowly, “And you did not try to stop him? Surely you could have persuaded him to stay.”

“What would you have me do?” Darcy remarked irritably. “He is not one of my servants. If he wishes to go, that is always his prerogative.”

“True,” Richard acknowledged, swirling his glass thoughtfully. “I just find it somewhat surprising, given the circumstances.” After a slight hesitation, he continued, “Have you thought about how you will manage? Shall I write to Father and tell him I intend to stay?”

Darcy immediately shook his head. “You have already done me a great service in bringing Georgiana here. I cannot ask you to miss Christmas with your family.”

Richard opened his mouth, clearly prepared to argue, but then seemed to change tack. “There is another solution, you know. If you were to take Georgiana into your confidence?—”

“No,” Darcy interrupted sharply. “And I am not having this discussion. I have already told you—it is out of the question. I will not have her worrying over me, or worse yet witnessing—” He broke off, unable to finish the thought. The very idea twisted his stomach. Shaking his head to dispel the unwelcome image, he forced himself to smooth his tone. “In any case, I would prefer to speak of Georgiana’s state of mind. How is she, really? I have not been able to glean much from her letters.” Darcy exhaled heavily, raking a hand through his hair. “I suppose I had hoped she would have put this business behind her by now.”

Richard shrugged, taking a measured sip of his brandy. “She seems well enough to me. Mama said she has been a bit dispirited, but I suppose that is to be expected after…everything. In any case, she was perfectly convivial on the journey here.”

“Was she?” Darcy asked, surprise evident in his tone. “Did she speak at all about… Ramsgate?”

“A bit,” Richard admitted. “In a roundabout sort of way. But if you must know, we spoke mainly of you.”

“Me?” Darcy replied, taken aback.

“Yes, you, Cousin,” Richard said, his exasperation plain. “You and your scheme to marry her off at the earliest opportunity.”

“ My scheme?” Darcy repeated, his voice rising. “You were in agreement when last I took note!”

“Yes, well, I am no longer convinced it is a good idea,” Richard shot back. “Can you not see that this whole affair with Wickham would not have happened if you had been more forthcoming? She never expected that you would be angry with her. She believed herself to be doing as you would wish—securing a husband.”

Darcy huffed, his temper flaring. “As if I would ever condone acquiring a husband in such a way! And Wickham, of all people! No one in the entire country would be a less suitable match.”

“And how was Georgiana to know that? Since you have never thought it prudent to confide in her about anything , all she knows is that George Wickham was a favourite of her father’s and a friend to you. Can you blame her for thinking that you would be pleased with the arrangement?”

Darcy’s jaw tightened as he turned away, pacing to the hearth. “This entire misadventure is your fault,” he muttered darkly. “You were the one who convinced me to remove her from school.”

“Now hold on a moment! I suggested you take her from school so the two of you could spend more time together. I did not tell you to bundle her off to Ramsgate with only a companion of dubious repute for company!”

“Mrs Younge came with an impeccable character!” Darcy sputtered, his face heating. “How was I to know she was a reprobate—and in George Wickham’s pocket to boot?”

Richard set down his glass with a weary sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “Well, there is no sense arguing about it now. What’s done is done. I just wish you would reconsider bringing Georgiana out next spring. It is too soon. What happened in Ramsgate should have convinced you of that.”

A muscle ticked in Darcy’s neck, tension simmering just below the surface, but when he replied, it was in measured tones. “We have been through this a hundred times already, and you know my reasoning. The sooner she is settled, the better.” After a pause, he added with a note of defiance, “Besides, Georgiana is sixteen now. Plenty of girls marry at such an age.”

“Yes, girls whose circumstances force it upon them, or empty-headed romantics like the youngest Miss Bennets,” Richard bit back. “I am telling you, Darcy, Georgiana is in no way ready to be a wife. You have kept her cloistered all these years—first in the care of nursemaids and governesses, then at school. She knows nothing of her own family, let alone the rest of the world! Marrying her off now, simply to suit your own interests, would be like sending a lamb to the slaughter.”

Darcy stiffened. “You exaggerate. All Georgiana needs is an opportunity to gain a bit more confidence. I have already taken steps to engage another companion. There is a respectable lady—the widow of a clergyman—who has recently come to my attention. Someone like that could provide just the sort of steadying presence she requires.”

Richard huffed out a sigh of frustration. “That is all well and good, but she needs more than a companion—she needs a brother! A brother who is open and honest with her. One who confides in her and shows her some affection!”

“Enough,” Darcy snapped, his voice sharp. He felt perilously close to the end of his patience.

Across from him, Richard exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Very well,” he said, his tone resigned. “I did not come here to argue. Since we clearly cannot agree, let us set the topic aside and speak of pleasanter things—like the impending arrival of your guests. Georgiana was positively agog at the prospect of visitors at Pemberley. When she was not filling my ears with talk of you, she was pestering me with all manner of questions about the eldest Miss Bennets.”

Darcy frowned. “I hope it will not be too much for her. When I extended the invitation, I had not considered the fact that she would be required to act as hostess…” He hesitated before continuing thoughtfully, “Although, perhaps it will prove educational. I think she will enjoy the company of the Miss Bennets, and Bingley is already known to her. At least she will be spared Miss Bingley’s effusions.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked back at him. “I must confess, I am rather shocked that Miss Bingley will not be of the party. I cannot imagine what would possess the lady to forgo an invitation to Pemberley.”

Darcy shrugged, though he had to admit he had been equally perplexed.

“According to Bingley, she chose to travel to Scarborough with the Hursts for Christmas. They left town a fortnight ago.”

Richard quirked a brow. “Travelling to Scarborough in the dead of winter? I hope you saw fit to pen a strongly worded letter of protest.”

Darcy shot his cousin a withering glance, but Richard merely took a generous swallow of his brandy, the twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. “And what of your own guests?” he remarked casually, reclining further into his chair. “I do hope they arrive before I am forced to return to Briarwood. I am especially looking forward to seeing Miss Elizabeth Bennet here at Pemberley,” he added, casting a sidelong look in Darcy’s direction.

“I am certain you are, considering you were the one who invited her.”

“True,” Richard replied, “but as I recall, you did not waste any time in echoing the suggestion.”

Darcy turned away, unable to meet his cousin’s teasing gaze. Of course, Richard was correct. When faced with the prospect of having Elizabeth at Pemberley, he had indeed leapt at the opportunity. And in the weeks since his return to Derbyshire, he had imagined her here—her laughter filling the halls, her keen eyes observing every detail of the estate—more times than he could count. If he were honest with himself, it was the only thing that had brought him any joy in longer than he cared to admit. But it was all an illusion; Elizabeth’s place would never be by his side. There was no future for them at Pemberley or anywhere else. And he would do well to remember that.

Shifting his attention back to his cousin, Darcy began slowly, “Richard, I know you have the best of intentions, and I appreciate your concern for my welfare—truly, I do. But I must ask you to cease playing Cupid. It serves no purpose. You well know my plans, and I have already spoken to Miss Elizabeth. She is aware that I cannot marry.”

“ Will not marry,” Richard corrected, leaning forwards in his chair. “And does she know why?”

“Certainly not! Nor will she, if I have anything to say about it. And if I find that you have breathed one word to her?—”

Richard held up his hands in mock surrender, his expression one of feigned innocence. “She will hear nothing of that from me. While I do not agree with your…choice, I have long accepted that it is yours to make. Still, I could not see the harm in inviting her to Pemberley, not when she was to be in Lambton already. Surely, you would not wish to deprive yourself of her company when she is but five miles down the road.”

Darcy groaned, running a hand over his face in frustration. “But can you not see? The longer we are in company, the more difficult this becomes! Now, not only am I to play host to Miss Elizabeth, her sister, and her aunt and uncle but to Bingley as well. So I shall have the dubious honour of watching their courtship play out before my very eyes.” He turned away, his voice lowering to a mutter. “I would not be surprised to learn that he and Elizabeth are already betrothed.”

“Doubtful,” Richard said easily, setting his glass aside. “Would Bingley not have written of such a momentous development? Besides,” he added more gently, “that was what you wanted, was it not?”

Darcy looked away, a surge of emotion tightening his throat and making it momentarily difficult to speak. No, it was most certainly not what he wanted—not by a long shot. But it was the wisest course, for everyone involved.

Straightening his shoulders, he met Richard’s gaze with feigned composure. “Of course. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall see whether Georgiana is settled.”

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. During dinner, Georgiana scarcely spoke, though Colonel Fitzwilliam carried the conversation with his usual charm, regaling his cousins with lively tales from his latest posting in Northampton. When the meal concluded, their small party retired to the saloon, where Georgiana played the pianoforte for nearly an hour. Her music filled the room with a gentle warmth, but even as she performed, her quiet demeanour remained unchanged. At last, she pleaded exhaustion and excused herself. Darcy and Fitzwilliam likewise retired early, though Darcy spent a restless night, his dreams troubled.

The following morning, Darcy entered the breakfast parlour to find his cousin already seated, a newspaper spread before him and a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He looked up at Darcy’s approach, rising briefly to extend the usual courtesies.

They had just settled when Georgiana entered, her movements subdued. Darcy turned to her with eager anticipation, determined to lift her spirits.

“Ah, Georgiana. Good morning. I trust you slept well?” he began with forced cheer, while Fitzwilliam rose to assist her into her seat.

“Yes. Thank you, Brother,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the table before her. The two gentlemen exchanged worried glances behind her back.

Determined not to let the mood dampen further, Darcy moved to the sideboard, filling a plate with the simple fare he knew she preferred, as well as a second one for himself. He returned to his seat across from her, searching his mind for a way to engage her.

Drawing a steadying breath, he began tentatively, “I enjoyed your playing last evening. It is such a balm to have music filling Pemberley again. I have missed that—and you—more than I can say these last few months.”

Georgiana lifted her eyes briefly, nodding shyly. “It is good to be here,” she replied. Then, after a slight hesitation, she added, “Thank you for having me.”

Darcy exchanged another glance with Fitzwilliam, who gave a barely perceptible shrug. Turning back to his sister, he said gently, “You need not thank me, Georgiana. Pemberley is your home, and it always will be. I would welcome you here at any time.”

She nodded again, her focus returning to her plate.

Darcy shifted uneasily in his chair, his hand tugging at the inside of his collar, which seemed to have grown suddenly tight. He tried again, his voice low but steady. “It is only that, as you are preparing to come out, it seemed sensible for you to remain with your aunt and your female cousins for the time being. Your aunt, especially, has written of her eagerness to have you in town with them this spring, and I have secured several masters to attend you in the new year. You will enjoy that, I hope?”

“Yes, Brother,” she murmured, though her response was faint and unconvincing.

Darcy sighed, his gaze searching hers for any sign of the vivacity she had once possessed. Leaning forwards slightly, he gentled his tone even further. “Georgiana, I know I have written this before, but now that you are here, I must say it again. I bear you no ill will for what happened in Ramsgate. You must believe that none of it was your fault. If I had only been more direct about my feelings for Mr Wickham, or if I had not been so utterly deceived by Mrs Younge’s character?—”

“Yes, Brother,” Georgiana interrupted, her voice a whisper.

A muted noise from Fitzwilliam drew Darcy’s notice. His cousin gave a slight shake of his head, his expression cautionary. Darcy nodded in acknowledgement, swallowing back the words he had been so desperate to express. Instead, he reached for his coffee, taking a large swallow—only to grimace at the realization that it had long since gone cold.

“Well, in any case,” he continued, setting his cup down with forced cheer, “let us speak of other things. What should you like to do today? The weather is temperate. Perhaps a ride, if you are not still fatigued from your journey?”

At this, Georgiana’s countenance brightened, and Darcy was rewarded with the first genuine smile he had seen from her since her return.

“Oh, yes! I would like that very much,” she replied.

Exhaling in relief, Darcy grinned at her. “Splendid! I shall send a note to the stablemaster. I am certain he will be happy to escort you.”

Across from him, Georgiana’s expression faltered. Her gaze dropped to the edge of her teacup as she traced its rim with a finger. “Oh, I see. I suppose I hoped…that is, I thought perhaps you might accompany me?”

Darcy instantly stiffened. “No. I cannot,” he said, wincing at the gruffness in his voice. He turned away, masking his discomfort as his mind raced for a plausible explanation. But it was Richard who stepped in smoothly.

“What your brother means is that he will be busy preparing for your guests, who, as I understand it, are expected any day. However,” he added with a pointed glance at Darcy, “I would be only too happy to ride out with you, if you will allow it. I can think of nothing I should like better.”

Georgiana offered her cousin a weak smile, her voice timid yet earnest. “Thank you. I would enjoy that.”

“Good! Then it is settled,” Fitzwilliam declared with enthusiasm. “And we may go as early as you like, ensuring that we return in time to rescue your poor brother from the dreaded task of performing for strangers.”

This last remark was accompanied by an exaggerated waggling of his brows, which elicited a small giggle from Georgiana.

“But they are not strangers at all, are they?” she asked, turning her gaze on her brother. “You are acquainted with them, are you not?”

Pleased to see the topic of their guests had sparked some interest in his sister, Darcy relaxed in his seat.

“Most of them, to some degree,” he began thoughtfully. “You have, of course, met Bingley, though this time he will be without his sisters, thank providence.” Georgiana smiled at this, and Darcy continued readily, “The Miss Bennets, I have had the pleasure of meeting previously, and I believe you will enjoy their company. Miss Elizabeth is spirited yet amiable and warm. Her kindness is unaffected—a natural inclination rather than a performance for society’s benefit. Miss Jane Bennet reminds me of you in some ways. She is gentle and sweet tempered, though somewhat quieter and more reserved than her younger sister.”

Darcy paused briefly, considering his words before speaking further. “As for their aunt and uncle Mr and Mrs Gardiner, they live in London. I have encountered them once, at a ball, and Mr Gardiner and I have exchanged letters, but they are otherwise not known to me. Lastly, there is a gentleman called Harper—Mrs Gardiner’s brother. He is a physician in the North, though he will not be arriving until a later date.”

As Darcy spoke, he noted a light flush spreading across Georgiana’s cheeks, her eyes shining with a liveliness he had not seen in far too long. He allowed himself a small smile at the sight. Glancing briefly at his cousin, Darcy observed that Fitzwilliam, too, appeared pleased, reclining comfortably in his chair with an expression of quiet satisfaction.

Despite his usual wariness of his cousin’s meddling, Darcy found that, in this instance, he could not bring himself to object. If the prospect of their guests’ arrival could inspire such a response in his otherwise reticent sister, he would certainly not repine.