A Continued Affection

Part 31

Darcy was well-practised in standing still whilst other people danced. He was no great proponent of dancing, although proficient he did not enjoy the tribulation of inviting young ladies to dance, then enduring whatever simpering commentary passed for conversation. Still, he endured the trial on occasion, for it was an act of chivalry to dance with young ladies at assemblies. He supposed he would not escape this evening unscathed, and rather wished he had asked Caroline Bingley if only to get one of this standard three dances done with early.

The thought was but a fleeting one. He could not honestly own that he enjoyed the notion of dancing with Caroline Bingley either now or later, and as he could not at present keep his gaze from straying to a certain other couple, he thought it perhaps all the best that he was not forced to at least feign attendance upon a partner.

That Georgiana chose to watch rather than dance surprised him and he turned to her, surprised to see her gaze fixed on the ground, not watching the dancers at all.

"Are you quite well, Georgiana?" he asked, casting around for a chair he might procure for his sister, fearing some sudden attack of ill-health.

"Yes." Georgiana lifted her gaze to his and the pallor of her complexion belied her answer.

"Nonsense. Come, you must sit down -"

"I am well, William," she said, drawing in a breath and smiling in an almost believable manner. "Only, I have a confession to make."

"Oh?" Somehow, he managed to wrangle his features. Inside, his mind was racing. A confession? He was not sure he could handle any more surprises that evening. Spying Wickham lurking in the doorway was one he had not countenanced, despite Richard's warning that Wickham was in London. He had not thought the man would dare show his face at an assembly, much less that they should have the misfortune of crossing paths here. That he should see Wickham at all was bad enough, but then to discover him bent close to Elizabeth, whispering sweet nothings in her ear had turned Darcy's heart to stone. He recalled, with disgust, the affectionate words he had shared with Elizabeth when she and her family dined at his house and his stomach turned. He had thought, this evening, that he might finally be allowed to set things straight again - to begin again. Now that hope, too, was dashed. Wickham had ruined that, as he ruined everything else he seemed to come into contact with.

So much for his proclaimed penitence, Darcy thought, swallowing his agitation so that he might adhere to his sister's words. It was all a lie, as I suspected it to be.

"I spoke to Elizabeth," Georgiana said, in a low voice.

"Yes? Just now, you mean?" Darcy was pleased with his ability to remain stoic at the mention of Elizabeth's name. He drew a breath, turning the word over in his mind again and again until it lost all meaning. Yes, he could hear her discussed without betraying himself. "I saw you standing together." A thought struck him, then, and his expression fell. "I trust her meeting with Wickham was -"

"Not what you think," Georgiana said, quickly. She darted a glance towards the dancers and steered Darcy away, only a step or two, but enough that he would have to strain to see Elizabeth and Richard, should he care to. He tried to resist the urge to look, and Georgiana, mistaking his grimace for frustration directed at her, told him her tale as quickly and simply as he could.

"Wickham confided in her that he had acted in the past to hurt us - to hurt you." She swallowed. "I merely confirmed that he had. Oh, do not fret!" Darcy's eyes had widened, betraying his concern. "I hardly think Lizzy likely to gossip. I like her and I trust her. I told her nothing but what she needed to know."

A low growl of frustration thundered in Darcy's throat, and Georgiana frowned at him.

"And I know you care for her too, William, so do not try to conceal that now, not with me."

This was a surprise, and Darcy blanched. It was not that his sister had not a habit of speaking plainly to him when she wished to. Indeed, she was the only lady in his life he ceded the right to boss him, but she spoke so matter-of-factly about feelings he had prided himself on keeping so expertly hidden that he was not at first sure how to respond.

"You should tell her," Georgiana said, plainly. "Apologise for whatever you need to apologise for and ask her to begin again." Her eyes sparkled. "I assure you she would be only too happy for the chance."

"She would?" Darcy had voiced the question almost the instant he thought it, and he clamped his mouth shut, wishing he could take back the words. "And what do you mean apologise? I have done nothing deserving an apology."

"Oh, indeed!" Georgiana fixed him with an unflinching stare and Darcy was forced to recall, to his shame, the prickly manner he had exhibited towards Elizabeth Bennet since their unhappy reunion. "We are civil. No, we are friends. Perhaps that is all we shall ever be." He paused, not quite willing or able to let go of the thought that she had had her chance to accept him years earlier and had given no word, no acknowledgement, no nothing. She did not want me then...

"You knew her before Hertfordshire, didn't you?"

Something about the matter-of-fact tone of Georgiana's voice suggested she knew his answer even before he gave it, nodding shortly but offering no further detail.

"In London?" Georgiana asked, seeming somehow to know the whole when he had prided himself on guarding his secret so well and so long. Smiling up at him, her eyes wide and sad, she offered him one last detail to consider. "And which friend was your confidant there? If it was George Wickham, I might advise you to consider whether he has always been known to act in your interest - in anybody's interest, save for his own."

Darcy stiffened. This was true. Wickham had never once acted for anybody but himself, and he had entrusted him with the letter - the very letter Elizabeth claimed never to have seen. The colour drained from Darcy's face.

"I have been foolish!" he murmured, playing over every interaction he had shared with Elizabeth Bennet in the last few months, contrasting them with those few halcyon days of four years ago. She couldn't have changed so much - and it was not true, as he had thought, that she had simply deceived him into thinking better of her than she deserved. "Then, she did not abandon me?"

"I think she might remember things the other way around." Georgiana clutched his hand, gently, and they both looked towards the crowd of merry dancers. There was Elizabeth. His eyes found her in a moment, and there she was smiling, laughing, even, with Richard by her side.

Is it too late?

The thought stole over him almost unbidden, and before he realised it the hopeful smile that had flitted briefly across his features vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. How well his cousin and Elizabeth looked together, and how much he hated them for it.

It ought to be me who dances with her, me who receives her smiles and laughter and conversation. For one fleeting moment, he felt as if he should like to lash out at his cousin, before reminding himself that he had been allowed to invite Elizabeth to dance, just as Richard had. If I hadn't been nursing a grudge on account of George Wickham, I might have taken it, just as I had planned to.

"The night is barely begun, brother," Georgiana whispered, standing on tiptoes to whisper directly into his ear. "There are many more dances still to come..."