Page 32 of What Change Entails

He fixed his attention on the path, his hands clasped behind his back, because if he continued looking at Georgiana’s pale face he might return to the inn and say far more than civility permitted.

Miss Bingley had cultivated assumptions. He had dismissed them because he did not share them.

Another failure of perception.

Elizabeth Bennet would have called it exactly what it was. She would have named it plainly.

Elizabeth.

He had spent months trying not to think of her and failing with humiliating regularity. At first, his thoughts lingered upon Hunsford with anger. Then shame. Then something more difficult: memory freed from self-defense.

Her face when he had spoken of inferiority. The disbelief in her eyes. The way she had stood, trembling with indignation, and still addressed him with more honesty than anyone outside his family had dared offer in years.

Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.

He had recoiled from the words at the time. Now they followed him. He had mistaken many things for good conduct: reserve for dignity and discomfort for superiority. Control replaced virtue. Lack of protest was mistaken for consent and agreement. He had called his interference in Bingley’s affairs prudence. He had called his manner toward Elizabeth honesty because the emotion beneath it had been sincere.

Sincerity had not made him kind.

Georgiana shifted beside him, drawing him back.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

Darcy protested. “No. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I have made everything inconvenient.”

“You have made nothing inconvenient.” He corrected himself before the answer could sound like dismissal. “Or rather, even if inconvenience follows, it is mine to bear. Not yours.”

She gave a shaky little laugh. “That sounds very severe.”

“I am severe.”

“Not always.”

He glanced at her, and this time she gave him a small, uncertain smile. It pierced him more than tears might have done.

Darcy drew a breath and made the decision before he could dress it in excuses. “You will not travel with Miss Bingley tomorrow.”

Georgiana’s eyes widened. “But your steward—”

“I must go ahead. You will come with me.”

“With you?” She sounded unsure.

“Yes. We will ride.”

Her face changed so swiftly he almost smiled. “Ride to Pemberley?”

“If the weather holds.”

“What of the carriage?” Her eagerness was palpable.

“The Hursts and Bingleys may follow as arranged,” Darcy reasoned.

“And Miss Bingley?”

He shrugged indifferently. “She may answer for herself.”