“Thank you, Mother, it is always a pleasure to listen to you read. I shall endeavor to live up to those expectations,” said his younger self.
“‘Vileness he shunned, rudeness he never said/In all his life, treating all persons right,’” quoted the Spirit. “You have not always lived up to those expectations.”
“No, I have not, I have come to regret it, ma’am.” Darcy frowned. He had not treated Elizabeth right, nor her sister Jane, nor his own friend Bingley. It had led to much misery for all parties.
He was walking up and down despairingly. Darcy looked at the Ghost, and with a mournful shaking of her head, the room changed to the one he had during his last year at Eton. He was pacing up and down the room in anticipation.
The door opened; the master said in a somewhat chilly voice, “Mr. Darcy, you have a caller, a female caller. As you know this is frowned upon, Mr. Darcy. However, in this case, I am prepared to make an exception for an exceptional young lady.”
A little girl, much younger than Darcy, came darting in, and putting her arms about his neck and often kissing him, addressed him as her “Dear, dear brother.”
“I have come to bring you home, dear brother!” said the child, clapping her tiny hands and bending down to laugh. “To bring you home, home, home!”
“Home, little Georgie?” returned the boy.
“Yes!” said the child, brimful of glee. “Father is awaiting you in the coach. I asked him if we might come and fetch you home, for the holiday will be much longer if we do not have to wait days and days for you to arrive. Papa said ‘Yes, we should,’ and sent me in here to bring you. And you’re to go Cambridge,” said the child, opening her eyes. “And are never to come back here; but first, we’re to be together all the Christmas long and have the merriest time in all the world.”