Page 31 of What Change Entails

Georgiana ground her boot on the gravel path. “I do not wish to be troublesome.”

“That was not my question.”

She gathered the fringe of her shawl between her fingers and twisted it once before releasing it. “I know.”

Darcy waited.

A sparrow hopped along the wall and disappeared into the hedge.

Georgiana spoke at last, so low he had to lean nearer to catch the words. “I do not dislike Miss Bingley.”

“No one has asked you to dislike her.”

“She is kind in many ways.”

Darcy almost answered but stopped himself. Georgiana was arranging her words as carefully as she arranged music before playing for strangers. If he interrupted, she might retreat.

“She wishes to be kind,” Georgiana continued. “At least, I think she does. But she is always… certain.”

The word emerged with difficulty.

Darcy studied her profile. “Certain?”

“She is certain of what I ought to prefer. Where I should sit. Whom I should know. Whether I am tired. Whether I ought to play. Whether I ought not to play.” Georgiana’s fingers resumed stroking the shawl fringe. “If I am silent, she answers for me. If I answer, she improves it.”

Darcy’s jaw stiffened. From the sitting room, such things had appeared trivial. Female management. Conversation. The ordinary frictions of social life. Spoken in Georgiana’s voice, they became something else altogether.

“Why did you not tell me?” he asked.

Her shoulders drew inward. Too sharp. The question had struck poorly.

Darcy exhaled and forced his tone lower. “Forgive me. That was badly said.”

Georgiana lifted her head then, startled.

He rarely said such things so plainly. Perhaps he ought to have done so more often. “I should have seen it,” he added.

She shook her head quickly. “No. I ought to be more grateful for her attention. She has known me for years, and I know I am awkward. I never know what to say. It is easier when someone else speaks.”

“Easier for whom?”

Georgiana stared at the rosebush. One faded petal clung to a thorn, trembling in the breeze. “For everyone at first,” she said. “Then, afterward, I feel smaller.”

Darcy closed his eyes for a brief moment. Smaller. The word was simple enough. It exposed more than accusation would have done.

He had allowed this. Not out of malice. That was insufficient comfort. Carelessness in a brother could injure as surely as cruelty in a stranger if repeated often enough.

“I thought you liked Miss Bingley’s company,” he said.

“I tried to like it.”

“And when you were silent, I mistook it for contentment.”

Georgiana’s eyes filled, though she averted her face before the tears could fall. “I did not want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?”

“You admire Mr. Bingley. His sisters are always with us. Miss Bingley speaks in such a way…” She faltered, then swallowed. “She behaves like she belongs where we are.”