Page 204 of What Change Entails

From the drawing room, Georgiana’s voice carried faintly.

Then Mrs. Annesley’s, lower and strangely subdued. She must have returned while he was away.

Darcy turned toward the sound.

He reached the drawing room before anyone within it had arranged themselves into the appearance of ordinary comfort.

Georgiana stood near the pianoforte with one hand gripping its edge. Her companion occupied the chair nearby. Bingley was there, and the Hursts, but Miss Bingley was noticeably absent.

Darcy’s attention focused on Georgiana. “What happened?”

Mrs. Annesley spoke before his sister could. “Your sister’s guests are gone.”

“Yes,” Darcy said. The word came out too sharp. “I have been told.” The footman had so informed him moments ago.

Georgiana crossed to him, then stopped just short of taking his arm, perhaps because of his wet coat. “Fitzwilliam, Mr. Gardiner received an express from London. There was an accident involving one of his clerks, and some business matter that could not be delayed. They waited as long as they dared.”

He absorbed the explanation with no sense of improvement. An accident. A clerk. Business. London. All reasonable. All beyond anyone’s control. None of it sufficient.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he began.

Georgiana’s chin began to tremble. “She did not want to go,” she said quickly, as if she could not bear him thinking otherwise for even a moment. “Do not think she did. She wrote to you.”

Darcy curled his fingers around his gloves.

Georgiana slipped her fingers into the pocket of her gown and withdrew a folded letter.

The sight of Elizabeth’s hand upon the direction struck harder than the news of her departure. He took the letter, but for several seconds did not break the seal. The paper held faint warmth from Georgiana’s keeping. His name stood across the front, restrained and elegant, with one small blur near the final letter.

“Mr. Gardiner also left a note,” Bingley said, moving toward the table beside him. “He asked that I give it you if Georgiana did not intercept you first.”

Darcy accepted the second folded paper because it was easier to open Mr. Gardiner’s letter than Elizabeth’s.

The note was brief and written with the hurried clarity of a practical man forced into inconvenience.

My dear Mr. Darcy,

I regret more than I can express that we must quit Pemberley before your return. An express from London has made my presence necessary, and though I would gladly have delayed even a few hours, the matter will not permit it.

You and I appear to have been granted disasters in equal measure: you with boundaries and tenants, I with ledgers, clerks, and whatever fresh ruin awaits me in Gracechurch Street. I hope mine proves no more lasting than yours, though I confess I would rather face ten disputed hedgerows than one injured clerk and a warehouse account in confusion.

My wife joins me in gratitude for your hospitality. I need not tell you that my nieces leave Pemberley with reluctance. I suspect you know that better than I could write it.

Yours sincerely,

Edward Gardiner

Darcy read the note twice. It contained nothing that needed reading twice. He did so because opening Elizabeth’s letter before so many witnesses required more courage than he cared to display.

Bingley, to his credit, went toward the fire.

Georgiana touched his sleeve. “You should read hers.”

“Yes.”

The seal broke beneath his thumb.

The room fell away while he unfolded the pages.