Page 88 of Companions of Their Youth
Georgiana stood beside the window, her arms crossed smugly. “You took your time,” she said sweetly.
Richard muttered an oath under his breath. Darcy cleared his throat.
“You have one hour to pack. Anything not placed in your trunk will be left behind.”
Her eyes widened. “Finally! Are we going to Town or to Pemberley?”
“We are not discussing that now. You have one hour.”
She tossed her hair, unimpressed. “You will replace anything I leave behind.”
“No,” Darcy said sharply. “I will not.”
True to his word, he returned an hour later, only to find the room in much the same state as before. Clearly Georgiana did not think him serious in his threat. He signaled to the footmen. They entered grimly, lifted the half-filled trunk, and carried it out.
Georgiana giggled and followed. “Such strong arms,” she simpered at one of the servants, trailing a finger along his shoulder. Darcy grabbed her arm—not hard, but firm enough—and pulled her to his side.
She pouted. “Jealous, Brother?”
He did not answer.
As they descended the staircase, Miss Bingley appeared from the drawing room. Her face lit up. “Mr. Darcy! Miss Darcy! Are you departing already?”
Georgiana lifted her chin. “Yes, we are returning to London. It is far too provincial here.”
Miss Bingley paled. “But you have only just arrived! Surely you will not abandon us—”
Darcy interrupted her. “Miss Darcy is going to stay with a trusted family for a time. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I will return later this evening.”
“But—who—?” Miss Bingley began, but the door was already closing behind him.
The ride was quiet at first, until Georgiana finally burst out, “I suppose I must return to that dreadful school. If you are sending me there, I shall run away again, you know I will.”
“You are not returning to school,” Darcy said evenly. “You are not returning to Town, nor to Pemberley.”
“Then where?”
“To the home of a family near here. There are daughters about your age. You are going because of your conduct.”
She blinked. Then her face contorted. “You are sending me to peasants? Commoners? Do they even have titles?”
“They are respectable,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, biting off the word.
“This is a joke. This must be a joke.” She looked wildly from one man to the other.
No one replied.
“Who are these people?” she demanded at last. “Are they titled? Are they tenants of ours?”
Darcy exhaled. “They are the Bennet family of Longbourn.”
Her shriek of laughter rang through the carriage. “You must be joking—Caroline wrote to me of them and their atrocious behaviors.”
Darcy remained silent.
Fitzwilliam added, “This is no jest, Georgie. You are to remain with them until your behavior improves.”
Georgiana crossed her arms. “You cannot be serious.”
