It may be reasonably wondered why Miss Georgiana Darcy, handsome, accomplished, and the mistress of thirty thousand pounds, might be an object of compassion. It is true that she had grown to womanhood surrounded by everything that money and the kindest of brothers could give; she was provided with superior masters and sent to the best establishments to be found in the Kingdom; and there, she had attained not only accomplishment, but true proficiency in those arts which become a woman of breeding and refinement—music, drawing, dancing, modern languages, as well as an uncommon inclination for such pursuits such as natural philosophy and mathematicks—thus securing her usefulness at Pemberley. Lest it be concluded in horror that Miss Georgiana Darcy was returned a blue-stocking or a prodigy, she was neither. Rather, she had the gift of a fine natural understanding, a preference for quiet pursuits and study, and a prodigious amount of time spent without the company of a parent, other children, or anyone else with the exception of kindly servants to look in on her from time to time. It should, then, be regarded as not very wonderful that Georgiana would find the demands of a noisy and capricious society at-large an uncomfortable milieu.

Her nature was a quiet one; she was very modest and shy, with an uncommon sweetness of temper. She had a timid, blushing smile that encouraged its pursuit, and clear, soft eyes, which revealed a mind of intelligence and probity, unclouded by art or affectation. Her brother spoke little to others outside his small circle of friends and family, for the simple reason of disliking the trouble. Georgiana’s diffidence arose out of a settled disinclination to have attention drawn toward herself. She felt uneasy in company and unequal to those easy and graceful arts as would otherwise render the activity of common intercourse pleasant. This might well suffice for a description of Georgiana’s persistent shyness, but it will hardly do for an explanation of its cause.