Darcy stared.
Elizabeth smiled. "She needs that too."
"Lydia?"
"Noise. Georgiana needs ordinary noise. Not everyone walking around her grief."
Darcy looked at his sister.
Lydia was showing Georgiana a ridiculous blue ribbon and arguing that it would improve any gown in England. Georgiana, who had spent months surrounded by people speaking softly around her, was smiling.
Darcy nodded.
He understood.
This was how healing happened.
Not by erasing Ramsgate.
By building life around it until the wound stopped being the largest thing in the room.
Before Georgiana left, Mary offered to lend her a collection of Italian songs. Georgiana accepted. Lydia demanded that Georgiana return soon because she had not yet shown her the fastest route to Meryton. Kitty quietly brought out a sketch of Longbourn's east garden.
Georgiana looked at it for several minutes. "You did this?"
Kitty blushed. "It isn't very good."
"I think it is lovely."
Kitty looked as though she had been given a medal.
Elizabeth saw that too.
So did Darcy.
Another small thing.
Another life nudged sideways.
Chapter Eighteen
Wickham Pushes Back
Wickham did not enjoy losing control of the story.
He had expected Meryton to love him.
Meryton did, at first. Mrs. Phillips called him the handsomest officer she had ever seen. Lydia discussed him at breakfast for three consecutive mornings. Several young men admired his easy manners, and even Mr. Bennet admitted that Wickham possessed the useful talent of being entertaining without requiring others to work for it.
But Darcy had been there first.
A Darcy who danced. Called upon neighbors. Spoke civilly to tradesmen. Supported a local tenant's widow after a barn fire. Did not sneer at the militia. Did not act as though every person outside Derbyshire had been invented to inconvenience him.
So when Wickham hinted at mistreatment, people listened politely rather than hungrily.
Sir William said, "Strange. Darcy has always spoken correctly to me."
Mr. Goulding said he had heard something about debts in Derbyshire.