Page 56 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

Anne stared. No one had ever offered to teach her anything. “You shall?”

“Most happily.” Mr Bingley turned beet red and coughed. “If that would please you, Miss de Bourgh.”

And thus the matter was decided. The rest of the evening found them seated companionably near the wall, entirely absorbed in one another. Bingley fetched her lemonade...then her shawl…then a cushion… then he reconsidered the cushion and brought a superior one.

Anne accepted all of this attention in wonder. She thought that men would only be interested in her fortune, her estate. But Mr Bingley seemed interested in everything about her. While he wished to aid her in every endeavour she wished to embark upon, he was also considerate enough to be worried for her health and to think of everything that might make her become profoundly ill from her own efforts. She knew that she was unworldly. She knew that she was too sheltered to recognise a dangerous man if she met one. But there was something in Mr Bingley’s sincerity that whispered to her that he was safe. That he was entirely unfeigned, authentic, and kind.

Across the room, Jane watched all this with a mixture of amusement and relief. Elizabeth joined her.

“Who would have believed it?” Elizabeth said.

At that moment, Bingley was offering Anne a second biscuit from the refreshment table, which she accepted with calm gratitude.

“He has found someone who enjoys being cared for.” Jane smiled. “I hope it makes both of them very happy.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Georgiana Darcy had a secret. There was a reason that she became outraged when George Wickham flirted with Kitty and Lydia Bennet. It was the same reason that she had been relieved when her father invited him less frequently when they would be seeing the Bennet family. It was also the reason that she did not mind being left behind with Mrs Younge when her father and Priscilla accompanied her brother to balls and assemblies.

Priscilla loathed Mrs Younge, but she did not know that the lady had quite a romantic, sympathetic nature. She might not be fond of society, but then, nor was Fitz when Elizabeth was not there. Spending time with the Bennets made poor Mrs Younge recall the noise and unkindness of the girls at school.

“Of course, I do not dislike them, dear, I only worry for your feelings if they hurt you. And your gentle, peaceful nature is so restful after the chaos of school. I enjoy it very much when it is just the two of us,” Mrs Younge insisted.

Priscilla did not like leaving Georgiana alone in the company of the companion when they went out at night, but Darcy Senior remained obstinate, for she was not properly out. Sometimes, her father stayed home and sent Mrs Younge out with Fitz and Priscilla, then father and daughter would dine with George Wickham. Other times…her father attended events with the others and George, aided by Mrs Younge, visited her anyway.

It was not easy. The housekeeper was vigilant around George. Her father believed it was because the maids at Pemberley had always seen him as a target just as much as ladies in London did with Will. As the son of the late steward and the godson of the master, Darcy Senior believed that any maid would be happy to point his godson out as the author of her misfortune in order to force a marriage.

On a few occasions, Mrs Younge announced that the summer was warm enough that they desired no supper besides a cold collation, laid out on the terrace where they might sit quietly by torchlight and serve themselves. George would come from the gardens when the footmen left them and join them there. Sometimes he would even share her plate with her. Other times, Mrs Younge and Georgiana would announce a desire to take the night air, dismiss the footmen who waited upon Georgiana, and meet George out in the gardens, away from the house. George would ask her questions about her friends and activities, tell her all about his military manoeuvres, then tease her as he always did. It felt wonderful to have the attention and care of such a gentleman, even if he did have to hide from her brother.

Tonight, Georgiana was playing hide and seek in the garden with George and Mrs Younge, though Mrs Younge usually ended up finding some quiet bench to sit upon.

“It is true that your brother would be angry if he knew he was here, Miss Darcy, but as your father says, that is just jealousy speaking, and likely fear that your father will favour him far too much in his will.” Mrs Younge refused to accept that there was anything wrong with George. “Your father loves the boy like a son, do you think he is so without guile that he would not see if he was a scoundrel? Your brother is a silly young man to think he knows anything your father does not. That is why Mr Darcy refuses to humour him. Your father knows better.”

She hid behind a statue, her heart pounding in her ears. Suddenly, she was seized from behind, then spun about to face the one who caught her.

Georgiana was breathless as she gazed up at George’s handsome profile in the moonlight. Finally, just as she hoped he would do, he bent down to kiss her. It was light and sweet at first, then turned deeper and rather more shocking.

Does everyone do that with their tongues? She wondered as he nuzzled her ear and sighed into her hair. Good heavens.

“Georgie,” he whispered low. “Do you love me?”

“More than anything, George,” she promised.

“Then you’ll marry me?” he asked, raising his head so that she could see his face properly.

“We couldn’t!” She was shocked. “Father still will not let me go to an assembly, let alone be married. He will make me bow before the queen first, and parade me about London, and still, I must wait two years even for that, though I am to be allowed out in Derbyshire when I turn seventeen.”

“We could!” he insisted. “If you love me enough, if you are brave enough, we could.”

“George, my brother would be furious!” she objected. “He would cause so much trouble, Papa could never bear it.”

“That is exactly why we must elope, my love.”

“Oh, George, we could never–”

“We could!” he exclaimed under his breath. “Darling, you cannot believe that your father wishes for you to go through all that nonsense about a debut. It is all pressure from Lord and Lady Matlock and Lord Matlock’s arrogance about what should be expected of Lady Anne’s daughter. Your father is not even well enough to accompany you in London. The strain of it will kill him. You know I have his confidence. He would never tell you, but he does not believe he will survive it.”

“Oh! Poor Father!” she worried. “But Will’s rage would be terrible indeed, George.”