Page 51 of Colour My World
Georgiana turned. “Mrs Annesley, allow me to introduce my brother, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Brother, this is my companion, Mrs Grace Annesley of Kympton.”
Darcy was pleased. A known name. “Your relation is Reverend Annesley?”
The lady curtsied. She was a woman of middling years, composed and plainly dressed, with grey streaks in her darkhair. “He is my cousin.”
“How fortunate for us. Welcome to Pemberley.”
Mrs Annesley stepped back, and Georgiana said, “I received your letters.”
“I trust they assured you I had business of importance.”
“They assured me you had found something more important than me.”
The words struck like a blow.
“Miss Darcy!” exclaimed Mrs Annesley.
Georgiana turned to the lady. “This is a family matter. Please wait for me in the music room.”
“Yes, miss.” A moment later, she was gone.
“I—” He exhaled. “Georgiana, that—” He swallowed. “I did not expect this.”
“You are not the only one who makes decisions, Brother.”
“Georgiana.” His voice was low. “That is not fair.”
“Is it not?” She lifted her chin. “Richard was here. He did not stay, but he came—”
“Fitzwilliam had duties of his own. I did not have the luxury of indulgence—”
“Ah.” Her eyes darkened. “I am an indulgence?”
He hesitated. He had not meant it so. But his work in London—maintaining their accounts abroad, settling property disputes, quieting creditors, managing trusts—had become a weight he could not set down. Georgiana had always been his purpose. But duty... duty had a voice louder than hers.
She stepped forward. “You have been away more than you’ve been home. Two years in Town. Before that, the Continent. I have seen you twice since Father died.”
Her voice remained level, but her hands trembled at her sides.
“Yes, you wrote. Letters full of care. Instructions. Money. Praise.”
She drew a breath. “I am your sister—not some doll left upona shelf, forgotten until leisure strikes you to admire me once more.”
“Georgiana.” He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“You need not stay,” she said quietly. “I have learned to manage on my own.”
Darcy swallowed hard. Five months had changed her. The child he had left behind was no more.
“I am here now,” he said carefully.
“You were always going to be late.” She turned away and walked up the stairs. Her words carried over her shoulder. “I ought never to have waited.”
PART FOUR
The Past
Elizabeth
