Page 33 of Her Brother's Keeper
She opened her arms and he went to her; she lifted him easily enough, although he was such a sturdy lad.
“Thank you, Mr Darcy,” she said quietly, formally. “If Neddy could thank you too, he would.”
He nodded. “No thanks are necessary. My sister will return; she would like to paint and draw with Edward.”
Elizabeth nodded. “We shall look forward to her visits, Mr Darcy.”
She knew what he meant, he saw. Only Georgiana would return.This is the last time.A feeling of loss cascaded through him.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, so he thought she would not. But after a slight hesitation, she asked him a surprising question. “My sister visited yesterday, and I learnt she is…over-sensitive about our brother. She worries that her new friends at Netherfield might assume Neddy’s difficulty in speech as a flaw affecting our entire family. My mother had six children, and only Neddy has any…complications. His was a difficult birth. Our blood isnottainted.”
He raised one brow; such a thought had never even occurred to him. “It never crossed my mind that it might be.”
She blushed, biting her lip. “Would…others think it? Would Mr Bingley think it?”
Suddenly, he realised the meaning behind what she asked; her sister had obviously confessed an affection for Bingley. Unknowingly, she had handed him a weapon.
It would never occur to Bingley to think that one child out of six Bennets meant the family blood was somehow polluted. Such things happened—a difficult birthing, as she had mentioned, an accident, fevers, or simple nervous weakness. It was not, particularly, uncommon. However, if he were to mention it to his friend in such a way as to cast doubt upon the family, he could bemadeto think it. Bingley had a tremendous confidence in Darcy’s opinions.
In any case, Georgiana needs all the help she could get.
The very notion sickened him.
“I cannot imagine anyone drawing that conclusion of you or any of your sisters.”
The smile she turned upon him at this answer was worth whatever it cost him. Neddy pulled off her ugly cap, playing with its ribbons, and as her curls tumbled past her shoulders, he caught his breath.
I will never see her hair, those thick and lavish locks, ever again.
He searched for any other words he might say, final words for this final conversation. “I had a talk with Colonel Forster,and Mr Wickham is no longer in the area. You need not fear him disturbing you.”
She frowned. “He never did disturb me. We had the one dance, that is all.”
“I suppose all the fears were my own, then.” He hesitated, but found himself saying more. “He once…he disturbed Georgiana.”
Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ of surprise. “Georgiana? But she is so…” She did not complete her sentence. She already understood, he realised, that Georgiana was very young for her age. But who knew what poison Wickham had spewed regarding the Darcys? Could he let her think less of him on that viper’s account?
I will never speak with her again.
“It was an attempt at revenge upon me, and a means of gaining access to her settlement. He is not…not a good man. I do not know what he told you, but I can assure you that he was given every opportunity and advantage of my father’s friendship. He was paid thousands, wasted it all, and wanted more. When I would no longer give it, he struck at her.”
Elizabeth’s expression reflected her horror. “What an awful person he must be. Thank you for ridding the neighbourhood of him. I am sorry, very sorry, for what you have endured.”
The sun, which had been mostly hidden by clouds, chose that moment to stream in upon them. Her eyes were wide and dark and full of compassion; her skin was extraordinary, so soft and perfect. As he watched, she pressed a kiss upon Edward’s golden curls and adjusted her hold; the little boy wrapped his little arms around her neck more tightly. For several seconds, Darcy could not move, much less speak—she was so lovely, a Madonna with the beautiful child, a picture sopure it was nearly divine. Suddenly, Wickham was the very last thing on his mind.
“I am sorry too,” he managed, in a low near-whisper, feeling something more than grief.
A shadow crossed her expression, as if she felt it too. Nodding, she shut the door in his face.
Twenty-Seven
A CHANGE OF PACE
Georgiana came daily, and Elizabeth was so, so grateful. It was a new experience, coming to know this girl who lived a life of wealth and ease that Elizabeth could scarcely imagine. Yet her new friend was unconscious of this and their differences; she never seemed to notice the relative crudeness of Elizabeth’s home and furnishings. The meals sent over from Longbourn were necessarily more simple than the lavish table set there, as everything had to travel a mile from its kitchens to reach her. Nothing was ever hot and often not as fresh as one might wish, considering the sporadic nature of the help that the Hills were able to send. Elizabeth sometimes felt embarrassed at her simple offerings, but Georgiana never seemed to notice.
The young lady liked to talk, and yet her speech was, at times, convoluted. Her self-assurance was meagre, to say the least. “Lady is the best of good horses, but I brought Mabel today,” she said, on her third morning of visiting Fox Hollow. “She is less fidgety, probably because she is older. Frost ishaving Netherfield’s stablemaster change her diet, which can be understandably difficult on them. Calf’s head with brain sauce is notmyfavourite.”
“Mr Frost is feeding your horses calf’s heads?”
