Free The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy by Mary Lydon Simonsen

sent her to her room and ordered the servants to pack up everything as they would be returning to London immediately. On several occasions, she had tried to tell him the truth of what had happened, but he could not bear to hear Wickham’s name.
    “I know what I did was wrong, and now that you know the whole of it, you will understand that I would never, ever marry without your consent. What I did was foolish and immature, but I love you, and I would not hurt you for all the world. I was never at risk of becoming Wickham’s wife.”
    Darcy opened his arms to his sister, and she came running to him. He kissed her on the top of her head and told her, “I was not angry with you, but with myself. It was I who had personally interviewed Mrs. Younge and had decided she was an appropriate companion for you. But that is in the past.”
    Gesturing for his sister to sit down, he said, “Your future is quickly upon us. In the spring, you will come out into society. It is well known that you are to inherit a great deal of money. There are men who will say anything if they think it will give them access to your fortune. Allow me to give you an example. You are acquainted with Abigail Curzon,” and Georgiana nodded. “Would you describe her as a ‘jewel plucked out of the night sky’?” Georgiana tried not to laugh because poor Abigail was one of those unfortunate people who had inherited the very worst traits from both of her parents, and Georgiana shook her head “no.”
    “Exactly. She is an intelligent and thoughtful young lady, but she is not handsome, except to Lord Corman’s spendthrift son, who paid her that compliment within my hearing.”
    “Will, did Mr. Corman actually say ‘plucked’?” Miss Curzon was often described as having a “swan neck,” and in her case, it was true. She had the longest neck of anyone Georgiana had ever seen.
    “Yes, he said ‘plucked.’ And I understand why that word came to mind.” And both of them started to laugh.
    “Oh Will, I can see your spirits have lifted. I am truly sorry for the hurt I caused you, but I am much wiser now. I understand that there are people who will lie and deceive for their own gain. I shall be on my guard against such ruses.”
    “Georgiana, you know you are the dearest part of my life. You and I, we are a pair. Anything that injures you hurts me. So come and give me a kiss, and we shall say good night.”
    Later that evening, while in his study drinking his nightly glass of brandy, Darcy wondered at his inability to take the true measure of a woman. He did not have this problem with men. He knew Wickham to be a liar, and possibly a thief, from when they were mere boys. And then there was Charles Bingley, an awkward young man, who had very few social graces but who was a stellar fellow. He had recognized his attributes from the very beginning of their acquaintance.
    But women? They were something else entirely. He had seriously misjudged Mrs. Younge. His housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, had cautioned him that she might be too young, but then he thought of Mrs. Jenkinson. As devoted as she was to Anne, she was old enough to be her mother. Darcy believed the ten-year age difference between Georgiana and Mrs. Younge would make her presence not only tolerable but enjoyable. But it had all gone so badly.
    And Jane Bennet. There was another one. He had truly believed she liked Bingley very much, but he did not see any depth of regard in her looks. But Elizabeth insisted she was very much in love with him, and it was only her modesty that prevented an open display of affection.
    And had he fallen any shorter of the mark than when judging Miss Elizabeth Bennet? He knew her to be a fighter from their time together at Netherfield Park. She challenged almost everything he said with a biting wit and sometimes just biting. How could he have believed that the same woman who had made such sharp remarks while dancing with him at the Netherfield ball would put aside all