Elizabeth thought for some little time before replying, feeling like King Solomon in trying to please the two people she loved most. “I think that it would be considered somewhat uncivil to decline the invitation, when we could never declare our reason for doing so, after having positively made the engagement. I would propose that we do go to-morrow, but that perhaps Mr. Darcy, when out of doors, could give the Comte such hints as to the nature of Georgiana’s feelings as would put an end to any expectations. As you both well know, I always look at my proposals in the positive light of my own preferences. However, it does satisfy Georgiana’s delicacy with respect to the feelings of the Comte, and we will remain the very picture of English civility as we attend his undoubtedly charming sister and the dowager at their beautiful estate. And, my dearest husband, you get to go fishing. As the one who is obliged to perform the disagreeable task of speaking with the Comte, does that seem an acceptable plan to you, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy smiled and turned to Georgiana to ask if Elizabeth’s proposal requited her uneasiness, and upon her quiet assent, took his leave to organise the carriages for the morrow.

As she slowly walked to her rooms in order to ask her maid to pack their things for the morrow’s excursion to the Comte’s estate, Georgiana reflected long upon the circumstance of the visit, for—even to this most diffident of ladies—there could be no mistake of the Comte’s regard. Georgiana esteemed him greatly, and this evening she had observed her brother conversing with him so naturally and happily, that she was left in no doubt that her acceptance of an offer would bring much joy to her family. The Comte, with all of the virtues of an handsome and agreeable person—kindness, delicacy, birth, and fortune—had, she knew, all the requisites of the perfect husband. As she considered his character and amiable temperament, she recognised that, had her own heart been disengaged, her refusal might have spared her a few of many sleepless nights. Any such comparison was pointless, however, as her heart was engaged, and no army of such paragons, or even the loss of Colonel Fitzwilliam by his marriage to Mary Crawford, was ever going to make that heart available to another.

CHAP. 5.