“Good day, Mr. Darcy,” she said with more equanimity than she felt.

“Good day, Miss Bennet,” he replied. He watched her until she went in the door, then drove off, full of elation.

*   *   *

That night, as Elizabeth sat at her vanity brushing her hair, she thought back on the events of the day with some agitation. She could no longer say with any honesty that she had no feelings for Darcy. If nothing else, he affected her powerfully on the physical level, more, in fact, than she had thought possible. That it troubled her when he was in distress, and that she wished to protect him, was indubitable; she felt a real interest in his welfare, but still doubted the wisdom of allowing that welfare to depend on herself.

Her chief disturbance lay in the cause, or lack thereof, for her change in sentiments toward him. She enjoyed his company more than she had in the past, and his caring behavior towards his sister was a testimonial in his favor, but the fact remained that he was a man accustomed to being in control of all around him. He was accustomed to making arrangements as he pleased, including making decisions on the behalf of others, and he was managing to do the same with her to a disturbing extent. He did not hesitate to let her know what he wanted, or that he intended to persist until he got it. Try as she might, she was unable to recall any instance in the whole of their acquaintance when he had submitted to another’s will. Nor, apart from his obvious concern for his sister, could she recollect any clear instance of goodness or benevolence to further establish his character.

Some of the appeal of his company at the moment lay in her own vanity and desire for companionship. Since Jane’s engagement, she had but little time to bestow on her sister, for while Bingley was present, she had no attention for anyone else, and in his absence she talked of nothing but him. Thus was Elizabeth deprived of her closest confidante and friend, and, with Charlotte long gone, little other source of congenial company. How could she but be pleased to have a man of Darcy’s sensibilities at her disposal with no goals but to please her and to attend to her whenever she wished? A romance based on her loneliness and his availability would hardly seemed destined for success, and suggested the disturbing idea that Elizabeth was taking advantage of Darcy’s feelings for her own purposes.

Why could she not have fallen in love with someone like his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was amiable, interesting, and calm, someone without the tendency to withdraw and the capacity to brood, who was not always such a mystery? She had watched each step of the way as Bingley fell in love with Jane, and she had seen admiration, affection, thoughtfulness, and delight in her company, but never the frightening intensity that Darcy often displayed towards her. And there really was no question, she finally admitted to her reflection in the mirror, that she was falling in love with him. The idea terrified her.

She had always scoffed at the heroines of the romantic novels who fell in love with the wrong man, yet how else could she characterize this? What sort of basis for a marriage was physical attraction and fondness for a lover’s attention? Courtship was brief and marriage long, and while he was most attentive now, what might happen when the wooing was over and she was won. Would there be a return to days of his silent observation of her?

This is unbearable, she thought. She wanted to be with him, to feel the pleasure that only his touch could bring her, and at the same time, she feared the outcome. She would never tolerate being controlled, and he already seemed to have far too much power over her feelings. She knew what she ought to do—to follow the advice she would herself give to those romantic heroines, which was to put a stop to it now, before it went any farther, by telling him his hopes were in vain; to try to recover herself while she still had the power, so that someday in the future she might have the opportunity to love a man more suited to her. But it had already gone too far for her to give him up. She could try to slow the pace of their romance, though she would have no cooperation whatsoever from Darcy in that regard, and she could try to contain the intensity; she could see him less often, avoid spending time with him alone, limit the liberties she allowed him, as she certainly should in any case. And she should stay away from Pemberley and any suggestion of a future for her in his home, on his terms.

*   *   *

Georgiana was not looking forward to the day for more reasons than one. She had come to enjoy Elizabeth’s lively company, but she had not been able to see her for several days owing to a succession of rain. It did not help that William had been pacing the halls of Netherfield like a caged lion for the same period of time, and had hardly been pleasant company. It was starting to annoy Georgiana that he insisted nothing unusual was happening and Elizabeth was no more than an acquaintance. Did he think her so blind? She smiled as she thought of how her brother looked whenever he saw Elizabeth. If only he would work up the courage to propose to her! When she sent them off together to Gadebridge Hill, she hoped the walk would give him his chance, but that had proved to be a disappointment.

But William’s irritability and the lack of Elizabeth’s company did not trouble her as much as the prospect of spending the day with Miss Bingley, who had arrived, along with the Hursts, the previous day. Miss Bingley would, as always, be most attentive to her, and she would have to tolerate her insincere compliments, which were as troublesome to her as Miss Bingley’s demeaning remarks about everyone who was neither a Bingley nor a Darcy. She was not blind as to the true intention of Miss Bingley’s civility to her; she had lived in fear for some time that William would fall into her snares, and had been much relieved when one day he had made his opinion of his friend’s sister clear in a conversation with her. Now she had no worries whatsoever on that regard, apart from how Miss Bingley would react to William’s attentions to Elizabeth.

She gathered herself together to go downstairs. She had delayed as long as she could by having breakfast brought to her room, but William would think something was wrong if she did not appear soon. Perhaps she could escape quickly to practice her music, preferably for a long time.

“My dear Georgiana!” came Miss Bingley’s honeyed tones as soon as she entered the room. “I am so pleased to see you. I was beginning to fear that you might be unwell. How charming you look this morning!”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I am well.” Her eyes darted around the room, but she did not find William. Had he already made an escape? “Is my brother here? There was something I wished to tell him.”

“He and Charles have deserted us, I fear. They have gone to Longbourn with the intent of inviting dear Jane to dine with us today.”

Georgiana did not miss the mild venom in Miss Bingley’s voice when she spoke the name of her future sister, nor the scorn when she mentioned Longbourn. She opened her eyes wide, and said, “Oh, I am so sorry to have missed them! I love calling at Longbourn. Everyone there is so lively and pleasant.” She hoped neither William nor Bingley would see fit to mention that on the one occasion she had visited Longbourn, she had been too nervous to say more than five words to anyone but Elizabeth.

Miss Bingley looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. “I am so glad to hear that you have found friends here. I have worried that you might be lonely, given how limited the country society is.”

“Oh, I have not found it limited at all! It reminds me of Pemberley. But if Miss Bennet is coming to dinner, I had best go practice now. I promised William I would work faithfully every day on my Mozart.” Georgiana hastened to depart, but was forced by politeness to listen to several rounds of compliments on her musical abilities and dedication to practice before she could retire to the peace of the music room.

*   *   *

Dinner was made more agreeable for Georgiana by the addition of Elizabeth to the party, a change that clearly had not been communicated earlier to Miss Bingley, to judge by the look on her face when the guests arrived. Georgiana stayed close by Elizabeth’s side as much as she could, despite frequent efforts by Miss Bingley to draw her off into conversation. Elizabeth appeared not the least intimidated by either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, but instead met their sneering civilities with pleasant discourse, showing her more truly well-bred than the others.

Darcy was less satisfied with the progress of the evening. He had grown accustomed to spending time with Elizabeth either alone or with only Georgiana present, a situation in which her wit and teasing were allowed full rein, to his delight. She was more subdued in this company, no doubt due to the need to fend off the comments of Bingley’s sisters. It was clear he would not have her to himself for so much as a minute, a situation that was not to his liking, especially after their last meeting.

His frame of mind would have been improved had he known that Elizabeth shared some of those sentiments. Overall, she told herself firmly, Miss Bingley’s presence would be helpful, since she would do everything within her power to prevent Darcy from being alone with Elizabeth. But she could not help missing his warm, intent look and his touch. The only moment of relief came when Darcy and Bingley attended them to their carriage, and, while Jane and Bingley bid one another a prolonged adieu, Darcy took the opportunity to hold her hand longer than necessary when handing her into the carriage.