coming out in a few months. Richard was right; there were few gentlemen of his acquaintance who would make her anything but miserable.
But he was expected to find a man of good fortune for Georgiana, regardless of such a man's temperament. Elizabeth, too, would likely have to wed whatever man her uncle chose, in order to have a home. And the poor girl in his dressing room, sold by her family as well. All for what? He longed for Elizabeth's presence beside him, her fine eyes embracing him and offering comfort. What would she think of him, had she seen this scene?
In truth, Elizabeth probably would have barely spared him a thought, and instead worried about the girl, whose lot was far worse than his and who must have been terrified. He would have to make certain she was returned to her family safely the next day. Elizabeth would have liked that. Elizabeth, who was out of his reach forever, because she was beneath him. "Damn it all to hell!" he ground out, punching his hand into the pillow hard enough to send a few downy feathers floating off. He wished it had been his uncle's face instead.
He needed sleep, but instead his veins were running with anger, and there was a frightened child on the other side of the door, not to mention his uncle to deal with in the morning. What was he to say to him? Or was it Henry who had arranged this surprise?
Better to know the truth of it before dealing with them. He knocked peremptorily at the dressing room door before opening it. The girl looked frankly terrified to see him. Her eyes were red rimmed. Did she think he had changed his mind?
"I wish only to ask you a question," Darcy said hurriedly.
"Yes, sir?"
"Who arranged for you to come here?"
She seemed pleased it was so simple a question. "My lord Matlock, sir."
"How did he find you?"
She bit her lip, just as Elizabeth did so often. "I don't know, sir. One of his men came to our cottage and talked to my father, then he told me to go with the man and do what he said."
"Does your family lack for money?"
She glanced from side to side, as if in doubt as to what answer he wished for. "No more than most, but our cow died."
Was a daughter worth the price of a cow, or not even that much? "How old are you?"
"Fifteen next month, sir."
"What will happen to you when you go home?"
This time she did look away, and he could see her fight for composure. "I can't go home, sir. I'm to go with my lord."
"God in heaven!" He had saved the poor girl for only one night. "What if I take you back to your home?"
"I cannot go back. I cannot show my face there again, not after tonight."
So much for his great charitable impulse. It was already too late for her. Tomorrow night she would no doubt be in his uncle's bed and subject to rougher usage than she would have found with Darcy himself. He might have even done her an ill service by refusing her. He could at least have given her a gentle introduction to womanhood and prepared her for what was to come. But the thought of her with his uncle sickened him rather than tempted him. He turned on his heel and returned to bed, but sleep was a long time in coming.
***
Henry smirked when Darcy entered the breakfast room. "Good morning, cousin. Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, indeed," Darcy said. He would give them no reason to blame to girl.
His uncle waved a pastry in the air. "See, Darcy, I told you. I knew it would do you a world of good."
"It has certainly changed my outlook."
"So she was good company, then?"
"She was quite satisfactory," Darcy said coolly. To his own surprise, he added, "So satisfactory I think I shall take her with me when I leave." It was better than abandoning the poor girl to their mercies.
Lord Matlock barked a laugh. "There you go, boy! Just what you need. She will clean up nicely, I think."
Darcy was saved from the danger of making an intemperate response by the entrance of Lady Catherine.
She surveyed the room regally. "Who will clean up nicely?" she asked
But he was expected to find a man of good fortune for Georgiana, regardless of such a man's temperament. Elizabeth, too, would likely have to wed whatever man her uncle chose, in order to have a home. And the poor girl in his dressing room, sold by her family as well. All for what? He longed for Elizabeth's presence beside him, her fine eyes embracing him and offering comfort. What would she think of him, had she seen this scene?
In truth, Elizabeth probably would have barely spared him a thought, and instead worried about the girl, whose lot was far worse than his and who must have been terrified. He would have to make certain she was returned to her family safely the next day. Elizabeth would have liked that. Elizabeth, who was out of his reach forever, because she was beneath him. "Damn it all to hell!" he ground out, punching his hand into the pillow hard enough to send a few downy feathers floating off. He wished it had been his uncle's face instead.
He needed sleep, but instead his veins were running with anger, and there was a frightened child on the other side of the door, not to mention his uncle to deal with in the morning. What was he to say to him? Or was it Henry who had arranged this surprise?
Better to know the truth of it before dealing with them. He knocked peremptorily at the dressing room door before opening it. The girl looked frankly terrified to see him. Her eyes were red rimmed. Did she think he had changed his mind?
"I wish only to ask you a question," Darcy said hurriedly.
"Yes, sir?"
"Who arranged for you to come here?"
She seemed pleased it was so simple a question. "My lord Matlock, sir."
"How did he find you?"
She bit her lip, just as Elizabeth did so often. "I don't know, sir. One of his men came to our cottage and talked to my father, then he told me to go with the man and do what he said."
"Does your family lack for money?"
She glanced from side to side, as if in doubt as to what answer he wished for. "No more than most, but our cow died."
Was a daughter worth the price of a cow, or not even that much? "How old are you?"
"Fifteen next month, sir."
"What will happen to you when you go home?"
This time she did look away, and he could see her fight for composure. "I can't go home, sir. I'm to go with my lord."
"God in heaven!" He had saved the poor girl for only one night. "What if I take you back to your home?"
"I cannot go back. I cannot show my face there again, not after tonight."
So much for his great charitable impulse. It was already too late for her. Tomorrow night she would no doubt be in his uncle's bed and subject to rougher usage than she would have found with Darcy himself. He might have even done her an ill service by refusing her. He could at least have given her a gentle introduction to womanhood and prepared her for what was to come. But the thought of her with his uncle sickened him rather than tempted him. He turned on his heel and returned to bed, but sleep was a long time in coming.
***
Henry smirked when Darcy entered the breakfast room. "Good morning, cousin. Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, indeed," Darcy said. He would give them no reason to blame to girl.
His uncle waved a pastry in the air. "See, Darcy, I told you. I knew it would do you a world of good."
"It has certainly changed my outlook."
"So she was good company, then?"
"She was quite satisfactory," Darcy said coolly. To his own surprise, he added, "So satisfactory I think I shall take her with me when I leave." It was better than abandoning the poor girl to their mercies.
Lord Matlock barked a laugh. "There you go, boy! Just what you need. She will clean up nicely, I think."
Darcy was saved from the danger of making an intemperate response by the entrance of Lady Catherine.
She surveyed the room regally. "Who will clean up nicely?" she asked
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