Page 21 of The Power of Refusal

W ith his well-honed self-discipline, Darcy made it through the ceremony and the breakfast without running from the room to weep in his study. He did not worry Georgiana would be unhappy. Everything about the Halliday family was kind and warm and welcoming. The viscount occupied a smaller house near the estate, and the family group gathered frequently for meals and to enjoy one another’s company. No, Georgiana would be well cared for. He, on the other hand, would be lonely.

When Georgiana went up to her childhood room to change from her wedding attire to a travelling costume, he waited at the stairs. This was the moment he dreaded. Georgiana had been his reason for persevering these last years. Ensuring she was well and happy was his purpose.

Now, she would no longer be his responsibility. Would it be enough to manage Pemberley? He put the thought from his mind as his sister emerged from her room, looking the elegant Viscountess she now was.

Darcy offered Georgiana his arm at the foot of the stairs. With great reluctance, but wearing a proud smile, he walked her to Hal’s side. They had made their farewells the evening before, but today he would not let her go without one final embrace.

“Be happy, Georgie,” he said.

“I shall. You must as well, Fitzwilliam. It is what our mother and father would want. Everyone who cares for you wishes you happiness,” Georgiana replied. “You promised me you would make your life less lonely. I know you would not wish for me to worry about you as I start my new life.”

Darcy kissed her cheek and nodded. He was not equal to speech. Hal assisted Georgiana with her pelisse, and she placed her bonnet on her head. Her eyes were tear filled as she tied the ribbons.

Darcy stood on the pavement in front of the house until the carriage containing his beloved sister and her new husband disappeared into the afternoon sun.

The wedding breakfast was breaking up when Darcy walked past the blue sitting room.The door was ajar, and he caught a glimpse of a sprigged muslin gown on the settee. Entering the room, he saw Lady Harriet reclining there, a handkerchief to her mouth. He considered leaving silently, but Lady Harriet’s eyes flew open.

“Are you well, Hattie?” he asked. Her face was translucently pale, her eyes red. Spots of colour on her cheek contrasted with her pallor.

“Hello, Darcy. Yes, I am tolerably well. The excitement caught up with me, and I am resting,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“What might I do for you? Shall I have tea sent in? Would you prefer to retire to a guest room?” he asked.

“Thank you, but I do not wish to move at all. Perhaps tea? To be perfectly honest, I think what I require is company. I am feeling sorry for myself, and that will never do on such a happy day.” Lady Harriet made a face, as if to mock her own words.

Lady Harriet’s candour did not surprise Darcy as much as her admission of self-pity. He rang for tea and drew a chair up to Lady Harriet’s side.

“You have likely overtaxed yourself, Hattie. You need not do another thing. Rest here, and if need be, we can have a maid bring you a dressing gown to change into. I am sure Georgiana left something behind,” he said.

“Perhaps later. For now, might you tell me what I missed? I heard Hal and Georgie leaving. How did her travelling gown look?”

Darcy attempted to describe the cerulean-blue gown and pelisse and the bonnet with silk flowers that Georgiana wore. Lady Harriet listened attentively, albeit with her eyes closed.

“How lovely. Georgiana is such a beauty—she always looks like an angel. I could never wear that. I would disappear into all those pleats.”

Darcy tried to envision such a gown on Lady Harriet, and silently agreed. She had dwindled even further over the last weeks.

“It is only a few weeks until Julia weds. That will be another very demanding event,” he observed.

Lady Harriet opened her eyes. “I am dreading it. I must stand up with her, and I know not if I have the strength. Georgiana will return for the wedding, and I am thinking of asking her to take my place.”

“If you feel unequal to the role, it would be best. You must conserve your strength,” Darcy said.

Lady Harriet sighed. “But for what? There is no more momentous time than my sister’s wedding. It is not as though I need my strength for a wedding of my own, or even a betrothal. I shall always be the bride’s maid, never the bride.” Lady Harriet’s tone was not bitter but resigned.

Tea arrived. The maid set it out on a small table drawn up to the settee. Lady Harriet smiled brightly and thanked the maid, but then leant back, unable to muster the strength to pour.

Darcy prepared a cup of tea for her, and Lady Harriet thanked him profusely. He sat quietly, thinking about the predicament of her weakness.

“You do better in the countryside, do you not? Will you leave London after Julia’s wedding?” he asked.

“I do indeed. The travel is daunting, but the air suits me far better. I would dearly love to retire to Briarwood. I cannot travel alone—I cannot be alone. My parents intend to remain in London for the nonce, so I cannot leave.”

Darcy winced. Being born a lady, Lady Harriet did not have the freedom he had. He could hie off to Pemberley in the morning, if he chose to. He did not require chaperons, companions or the like, and if he lived alone, it was of no consequence. Being born a gentleman was advantageous in every particular. Being born a healthy gentleman of means was a staggering privilege. He ought to appreciate it more than he did.