Free Into Kent by Stanley Michael Hurd Page B

quickly rousing himself, he changed the topic determinedly: “May I say, Miss Darcy is a delightfully accomplished young lady, Darcy: I congratulate you.”
    “Yes, she surprises even me; my aunt has done very well by her education.”
    “But I think I remember you saying that you had had her taught at Pemberley?” Bingley said.
    “I did; we had the masters for her from the time she was seven—after my mother’s death, that is—and of course, she has always had the Pemberley library at her disposal; indeed, while my father lived she was very fond of lingering there, while he worked. But when my father died as well, Aunt Eleanor decided she ought to be enrolled in one of the seminaries here in Town; I was against it at first: Georgiana did not wish to leave the estate, and my experience with ladies who have gone to these places leads me to conclude that they are an utter waste of time.”
    “What? My sisters both attended seminaries in Town,” said Bingley with a sardonic air, “and who could possibly object to how they were turned out?”
    Darcy laughed. “To speak the truth, your sisters are not as bad as many to whom I have been introduced. But my aunt took pains to inform me that for most young ladies, rather like Eton and Oxford for most men, seminaries are less about the education, than about forming the appropriate acquaintance. And I believe she did form some acquaintance there; she still corresponds with some of them, at least.”
    “Well, your sister has done marvellously well, regardless of who, where, or why. There is only one question in my mind, however: has she attained that one true measure of the accomplished woman?”
    “Yes?” Darcy enquired.
    “Can she net a decent purse?” Bingley joked, at last showing Darcy the grin he had hoped for.

 
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    The next day in the mid-morning, Georgiana came again to find her brother in his library.
    “Am I disturbing your work, Fitzwilliam?”
    “Not at all. There is a notable dearth of work to be done, just at present; most every one is putting aside their affairs now, until after Christmas”
    Georgiana wandered over to the large globe in the corner. Turning it slowly, she said, “Father liked this globe.”
    “Did he?” Darcy replied.
    Georgiana nodded, “When he took time from his work or his reading, he would show me places on it, and tell me their stories.” Darcy smiled, but had no such memories to share; his own time with his father in the libraries of Grosvenor Square and Pemberley were less personal, but no less important, as it was largely in them that he had learned to be Darcy of Pemberley.
    Georgiana asked, “Might I ask a question?”
    “Of course,” answered Darcy with a smile. “Something to do with your dinner?”
    “ Please do not call it that! It is not my dinner; say rather it is Aunt Eleanor’s dinner.” She sat down in a deep chair and curled her feet in under her; leaning back against the cushions, her face was sad: “No Fitzwilliam, it is…something else. I was listening just now, as Aunt Eleanor and Mrs. Annesley were talking about the entertainments they had gone to as girls: they went with their sisters. And afterward, they told each other about the men they had talked to, and whispered and giggled together the whole night long.” She laid her head down on her arms. “Will I ever have a true sister, Fitzwilliam? I had so hoped that Miss Elizabeth Bennet…” her voice trailed off without finishing.
    Darcy had never before been aware that his sister was in any way affected by his parting with Elizabeth, other than how she might regret the loss for his sake. The sadness in her voice was almost more than he could bear; realising she was in pain on this point released his own in some way, as though the injury he saw reflected in her eyes were more real, more tangible, than his own.
    He rose from his desk and came to stand by her chair. In softest tones of compassion and remorse he told her, “I