When Georgiana walked into the dining room, slightly later than the rest of the party, the Comte perceived none of the dread that filled her heart; he noticed only her quiet grace and unaffected sweetness of manner. Amélie could not fail to notice the attention her brother paid to their guest, and the looks he sent in Georgiana’s direction were so pronounced, that the rest of the party were forced to speak twice as much, and sound twice as lively to surmount the awkwardness of the evening. Georgiana herself said little, and concentrated on avoiding the Comte’s gaze, an almost impossible task considering the frequency with which his eyes were upon her. After dinner, as Mr. Darcy made ready to withdraw from the table with the Comte, Georgiana saw her brother take the Comte’s arm as they walked to the Comte’s library. He turned, almost imperceptibly and gave her one last questioning look. Georgiana just sadly shook her head, and the gentlemen were gone.

The following morning brought no misgivings. Georgiana awoke with a strong sense of having acted rightly; her reconsideration of the events of the previous night left her in no doubt that she had acted in a manner that was both kind and just. She could never accept the offer of a man whom she did not love. Moreover—she had convinced herself—he could not truly love her; the period of time in which they were become acquainted amounted to little more than a fortnight. Infatuated he might be, but, indeed, he could know little of her character. He had been too precipitate—Georgiana’s heart was not one to form an intimacy quickly, nor was it any more likely to soon release a strong attachment. The Comte d’Estrouville, who last night had been so sure of his esteem and love for a woman whom he hardly knew, was surely acting on impulse. He had been swept away himself by feeling it to be love, and his certainty that she would be similarly impetuous could not, in all likelihood, be avoided. Above all else, the well-worn comfort of loving Colonel Fitzwilliam and imagining the happiness of their life together was derived from the certainty that he knew her: over many years, he had watched her grow and knew her—nay, more: he had to a large measure, formed the woman from the girl. More even than her brother, he had guided her principles, praised her understanding, directed her reading, and applauded her singing and playing when there was no-one else to hear. He knew of her mistakes and triumphs, understood, and was the approver of her quiet habits; he had been the friend who had supported her spirits against loss and loneliness, giving her encouragement, sympathy, and purpose. In the light of day, Georgiana felt the singular peacefulness of mind that accompanies the consciousness of acting honourably, with a resolution as compassionate as it was firm.