Page 5 of The Difference of a Darcy
Darcy
He kept the letter vague, just in case it fell into the wrong hands, but he knew Richard would understand its meaning. He wrote the address and summoned a footman to have it delivered immediately. His job complete, his mind returned once more to his sister.
He climbed the staircase to the family rooms with long, clipped strides, his anger only barely kept in check by years of practiced self-control. He stopped before Georgiana’s door, knocked once firmly, and called her name.
“Georgiana? May I come in?”
“No!” came the immediate reply, high and sharp through the wood. “You have broken my heart. I will never speak to you again.”
Darcy drew a slow breath and let it out through his nose. “I understand that you are upset—”
“You understand nothing!” she cried. “He loves me. And I love him. Why would you be so cruel? Why would you take him from me?”
His jaw tensed. “Because he is a terrible man, Georgiana. He sought to take advantage of you—”
“You always hated him,” she interrupted, her voice trembling with fury. “You never gave him a chance. Why do you despise him so much? What has he ever done to you?”
Darcy closed his eyes. “That is not a fit subject for discussion with a young lady, especially one who is not yet out.”
“Do not speak to me like I am a child!” she shouted.
“I speak to you as your guardian.”
“I wish you were not my guardian!” she shrieked. “I wish you were not even my brother! Then I could do as I pleased!”
Darcy’s heart twisted. The words struck deeper than he could admit. For a moment, he said nothing.
When he spoke again, his voice was colder. “We shall not continue this discussion. I expect you to be packed and ready by eight o’clock. We depart for London at first light.”
“I will be glad to go,” she snapped. “At least then I may return tomyestablishment and be free of your tyranny.”
Darcy’s voice turned iron. “You shall do no such thing. Mrs. Younge has been dismissed—permanently—and you will not be living alone again.”
“I will not live withyou!” she cried. “You are horrid!”
“I am not offering that option,” he said, tight-lipped. “I am a bachelor. You will reside with the Matlocks until a more suitable arrangement can be made.”
“I refuse.”
“Then you may prefer Rosings. I am certain Lady Catherine would have a strict regimen ready for you within the hour.”
There was a strangled gasp—then the thump of something soft being thrown across the room.
“I will never speak to you again!” she wailed.
Darcy’s temper snapped.
“Well, then I shall be grateful for your silence,” he said, voice clipped. “I would not care to hear such childish nonsense from a girl who bears the Darcy name and is the granddaughter of an earl. You do not know how fortunate you are.”
“Ihateyou!”
He stepped back from the door, shoulders stiff. “So be it. I expect you dressed and downstairs at the appointed time. We will leave without delay.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away, his boots heavy on the stairs. His hands shook slightly as he reached the bottom landing.
Righteous indignation burned through him—justified, he told himself. He had arrived just in time to rescue her. To protect her. To shield the Darcy name from shame.
But behind the anger, beneath the pride, something deeper throbbed.
