Page 78 of Companions of Their Youth
“I will not go in,” Georgiana declared flatly. “I hate it here already.”
Darcy opened his mouth to protest, but at that very moment, a familiar voice rang out behind him.
“Darcy! I had no idea you invited your sister and cousin!” Bingley called cheerfully as he bounded across the gravel, cravat slightly askew.
Darcy turned, his mouth tight. “I… did not.”
Before he could say another word, Georgiana’s head whipped around, her expression transforming as if a mask had dropped. A sugary smile curved her lips, her eyes sparkling with sudden animation.
“Oh! Mr. Bingley,” she cooed, leaning forward with theatrical delight. “How lovely it is to see you again. You simplymustshow me this charming house of yours. I have missed youdearly.”
She stepped down from the carriage with unnatural grace, ignoring Darcy’s offered hand in favor of taking Bingley’s arm and pressing herself against it ever so slightly.
Bingley froze, visibly unsure what to do.
Darcy stared in mute horror.
Georgiana giggled, twirling her bonnet ribbon between her fingers. “It is such a pretty place,” she said breathlessly, batting her lashes. “Will you give me a tour?”
Darcy’s voice was cool, controlled. “I believe, Sister, that Mr. Bingley has many arrangements to oversee—particularly now that you have arrived without warning.”
Bingley looked to him, eyes wide with gratitude, and nodded quickly. “Of course, yes, yes, quite right.”
“Besides, I wish to speak to you… alone.” Darcy’s voice was low, threatening.
But Georgiana clung a little tighter to his arm.
“There is no need for privacy,” she said with practiced sweetness. “After all, Mr. Bingley is practicallyfamily.” Her voice dipped slightly on the word.
Bingley turned scarlet and looked to Darcy again, silently pleading for rescue.
Darcy gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of the head. “No,” he said firmly. “He really must go, and youwillattend me. Bingley, which room might we use until some can be prepared for these two?”
Bingley did not wait to be told twice. “Quite right, quite right—I shall… tell my sister… about the rooms,” he called over his shoulder as he almost tripped up the front steps. “The small yellow parlor near the library will do nicely, yes?”
Darcy did not respond, because Georgiana was now openlypouting.
“You are no fun,” she muttered under her breath.
As soon as Bingley was safely out of earshot, her entire demeanor changed. The smile vanished, and her eyes darkened with fury.
“You ruined everything,” she snapped, voice low and venomous. “You always do.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched. He stepped forward, took hold of her arm—not harshly, but firmly—and said nothing as he all but marched her through the front door, Colonel Fitzwilliam trailing wearily behind.
Georgiana did not fight him. In fact, she smiled again—at the footman they passed in the hall, with a coy tilt of her head that made Darcy’s stomach churn.
Once in the yellow parlor, he shut the door behind them with a finality that made even Georgiana blink.
“Sit,” he said, voice low.
She flounced onto the settee.
He crossed his arms. “Now. Explain. Everything.”
Georgiana opened her mouth to speak, but Darcy held up a hand to silence her. She glared at him and slouched back into the sofa, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Richard?”
