Page 84 of Companions of Their Youth
A pause. “Too clever.”
“Then she will know where to drive the wedge,” Mr. Bennet said. “And it will not merely undo our efforts—it will make the situation worse. We would be building walls only for you to walk behind us and knock them all down.”
Darcy was silent, staring at the hearth as if the right answer might flicker out from the dying coals. At last, he said, “I do not know if I can bear to have her hate me any more than she already does.”
“I understand,” Mr. Bennet said gently, “but your task as her guardian is not to remove every tear. It is to help her become a woman who can face life without crumbling. Right now, she is building her future on a crumbling foundation. That must be torn down first.”
A long silence stretched between them. Elizabeth held her breath, watching Darcy’s face—tense, thoughtful, uncertain.
Then Mr. Bennet spoke again, more softly. “Son… I know this is a tremendous decision. I, for one, will not be offended if you decide to say no.”
Darcy blinked and looked up. There was something raw in his expression—a mix of fear and hope, pride and humility. He turned toward Elizabeth, their eyes meeting. She gave the smallest nod.
Darcy exhaled. “Very well. I shall speak with Richard—that is, my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is her guardian too. If he agrees—then we shall do it.”
Mr. Bennet gave a small, satisfied nod. “Excellent. If he has any questions or concerns, we shall be at home tomorrow. I daresay you and Mr. Bingley will be calling, anyway.”
A ghost of a smile touched Darcy’s lips. He stood, bowing to them both. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Truly.”
“God help Longbourn,” said Mr. Bennet, reaching for the brandy. “We are about to receive a storm in muslin.”
His jest dispelled the heavy weight of the room, and the quiet chuckles from all three made them feel light.
Elizabeth walked with him to the door of the study. He paused there, turning as if to say something more, then seemedto think better of it and gave her a slight, reverent bow before taking his leave.
As the door closed behind him, Elizabeth leaned her back against it and drew a slow breath.
Please let this work, Lord, she thought, closing her eyes. He already carries more burdens than any young man ought to bear.
Chapter 18
Darcy stepped down from his horse with no small reluctance, his eyes fixed on the grand, yet now stiflingly familiar façade of Netherfield Park. The soft glow of lamps inside promised warmth, but not peace. He handed his reins to the waiting groom and paused a moment longer than necessary before mounting the steps. As the butler opened the door, the scent of roast meat and dried lavender wafted into the cool air—comforting in theory, but to Darcy, it only sharpened his dread.
He had scarcely stepped into the marble-floored foyer when Miss Bingley descended upon him with a rustle of silk and a simpering smile. Her hand slipped through the crook of his arm as though she belonged there.
“Mr. Darcy,” she cooed, “what a delight to see you returned. And how fortunate that dear Miss Darcy is at last with us! I shall consider it my sacred duty to take her under my wing. She mustlearn how to conduct herself as mistress of a great house—how to pay calls, preside over the tea table, manage staff—”
Darcy drew back slightly, just enough to extricate his arm without causing a scene. “You are kind,” he said evenly, “but such guidance would be more properly given by my aunt, Lady Matlock. She is better acquainted with the expectations Georgiana will encounter inourlevel of society.”
The effect was instantaneous. Miss Bingley’s lips thinned, and a flush rose in her cheeks. “Forgive my interference,” she said coldly. “It was kindly meant.” With an aggrieved sniff, she turned on her heel and swept from the hall, her skirts hissing like offended serpents.
Darcy exhaled slowly.That could have been handled better, old chap, he chastised himself as he climbed the stairs.
At the far end of the guest wing, he found Colonel Fitzwilliam seated on the floor, his back resting against the wall outside Georgiana’s room. His legs were stretched out before him, his cravat loosened, and his expression was one of exhausted vigilance.
“She is quiet now,” the colonel muttered. “Hoarse from all the screaming. It began again just after you left. I am grateful Bingley had the good sense to place her in the most remote room—no one else can hear her. It shows a bit of forethought that I had not thought him capable of.” This last bit was said with a smirk.
Darcy nodded and sat down beside his cousin. “I spoke with Mr. Bennet.”
Fitzwilliam turned his head sharply. “And?”
Darcy explained everything—Elizabeth’s insight, Mr. Bennet’s warnings, and the offer they had extended. As he recounted the details, Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows rose more than once, but he said nothing until the tale was complete.
At last, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It is generous of them. Surprising.”
“It is,” Darcy admitted. “But Mr. Bennet was clear: if we agree, we must relinquish control. No undermining, no interference. She must be treated like a child in a household, not a guest.”
“She is not going to like that.”
