Georgiana had retreated once more to her hollow of safety, the black crepe of her new gown scratching unpleasantly against her cheeks, when the only welcome voice in the house sounded in her defence.
“Mother,” Richard Fitzwilliam entered the room, his features haggard and his uniform limp, “may I speak with Georgiana?”
Lady Matlock sighed and waved a hand in surrender. “See that she retires to her room, Richard! I’ll not have her exhausting herself and falling ill.”
“Of course, Mother.” He waited until the door fell softly closed, then gently called his cousin’s name. “Georgie?”
Georgiana’s jaw and neck tightened, but she relented from her self-imposed silence. She lifted her head and blinked swollen eyes.
“Oh, dear one!” he murmured in sympathy. He searched his breast pocket and withdrew a handkerchief to offer her, but paused after looking at it. “Oh… forgive me, this one is spoilt.”
Georgiana followed his gaze. “It is bloody! Richard, were you hurt?”
“No, my dear. It is nothing with which to trouble yourself. Are you feeling a little better tonight?”
She shook her head, still gazing at the handkerchief. “I shall never feel better,” she declared resolutely.
“I know, Georgie. Have you thought more about what I said yesterday?”
“I have done nothing but think. Richard, you and my aunt and uncle are kind, but I cannot be happy here. I wish to go home!”
“You could return to your own townhouse. I would prefer to see you stay here, but Darcy House is as much your home as Pemberley and is far nearer to family.”
She shook her head. “I cannot even remain in London. I need the peace of the country.”
“I would advise you against it,” he cautioned. “Pemberley will seem… it will not be the same. You should not return so soon. You must allow yourself a chance to recover before going back to-”
“To my brother’s home?” she finished. “Richard, that is precisely what I wish! Pemberley is all I truly have left of Fitzwilliam. He loved it so, and there, I shall feel as if he is still close. I may spend hours playing the pianoforte he gave me or walking the gardens he loved. I will ride that great stallion of his through the fields, and—”
“And if you should fall? Is that part of your design as well, Georgiana?” he asked softly.
She stopped breathing for a moment, blushed, and glanced down at her hands. “I….”
“There is no painless escape from your grief, Georgie. You cannot run.” He smiled brokenly, then shifted his seat a little closer to her. “Retreat is impossible, and I know this because I have tried it. There are only two choices; surrender or conquer.”
She stared, her porcelain brow wrinkling in confusion. “I am afraid I do not understand military terms. I must escape from all of the expectations upon me for a time, Richard, and I cannot do it here!”
“Ah,” he attempted a weak grin, “so you suggest a strategic withdrawal to rally the troops. Now you are beginning to speak sensibly.”
“What else am I to do? I cannot bear to face the townhouse and the steady stream of callers, and I shall certainly never go to Rosings!”
“For that, I cannot blame you. However, returning to Pemberley now will remove you from those who would support you when you need it the most. Here, you are among family. I shall speak to my mother about limiting her expectations of you.”
“It is only your company that has been a comfort,” she sniffed. “No one else… no one loved him quite like I did, Richard! How can they possibly understand?”
He squeezed her shoulder kindly, then dabbed her cheek with his fingers. “We have all lost someone who is irreplaceable, Georgie. I suspect it pains them more than you know.”
“Not to hear Uncle talk. He is all for making plans about what is to be done with me. Fitzwilliam has scarcely been gone a fortnight!”
“He only wishes to see you well cared for. It is his place, both as your uncle and as the head of the family. He is seeking to protect your interests.”
“He is not my guardian!” she lashed out with sudden heat. “And I am glad of it! At least you have the decency to sincerely mourn my brother!”
“Georgiana, that is enough such talk,” he commanded. “Father bears more than you can know. Wisdom and responsibility will alter a man’s experience of grief—you will learn this for yourself one day. I expect you know as much already and are speaking more out of exhaustion than reason. Mother is right. You must retire for the evening.”
She cast her eyes sullenly to the floor. “If you insist.”
He rose, helping her to her feet. “I do. Perhaps tomorrow we will speak more of your intentions and make some arrangements. I have requested an extended leave of absence, and if it is granted, I may accompany you to Pemberley. I will not permit you to return there alone.”
“Mrs Annesley is there,” she reminded him obstinately.
“I hardly consider her to be adequate company at such a time. If you return to the estate, even in mourning, you return as the mistress. It must be done with both delicacy and authority, and advising you is not a task for your companion.”
Georgiana paled, and her rigid stance faltered. “Oh, Richard!” she breathed. “I cannot—no, it is more than I can possibly do!”
“You can, and you will, when you are ready. Dear one, do go up to your room now. You are nearly falling down where you stand. We will speak of this again when you have rested.”
Richard led her to the outer door of the sitting room, then supported her on the stair until he could consign her into the care of her lady’s maid. That task completed, he self-consciously brushed down the nap of his coat. He looked somewhat rumpled—certainly he would not have been fit to present himself at dinner, but he had missed that nightly event. His father and brother were likely gossiping through fat cigars and around glasses of scotch in the study, and to that room, he repaired.
“Richard! There you are, my boy.” The earl, indeed, brandished a long brown cigar, and he flicked it expressively as his younger son entered.
“Father, Reginald,” he greeted them wearily. He accepted a glass from his elder brother and tossed it back, savouring the fire in his throat as the large swallow of scotch burned its way to his stomach. This sort of pain was a relief, after the horrors of the last two weeks.
“Well, I see how your day went. Another?” Reginald lifted the bottle, and Richard nodded agreeably.
“Richard, you look a fright,” the earl rumbled in his deep, gravelly voice. “Tell me you were not back at Brook Street. You are wasting your time, my boy.”
“I learned more today, Father.”
“Oh? What is that? Did Darcy drop a button between the paving stones?”
Richard swirled his glass, grimacing. “I followed that prostitute the investigators dug up. Somewhere or another, she has obtained for herself a rather tidy stake. What they said of her last week was that her dress was perfectly scandalous, so threadbare was it. Today, she was dressed respectably, as a housemaid might have done. What is more, she is employed now at a boarding house nearby.”
“Boarding house!” guffawed Reginald. “Is that what they call those places now?”
“I use the term loosely. The interesting bit was that her employer is none other than Mrs Younge. You remember, Father, she was Georgiana’s companion last year.”
“Younge? No, I don’t remember.” The earl rolled his cigar between stubby fingers, blew a puff, then frowned at it in disgust. “Richard, on your next tour of duty, you must request a post in South America. These Brazilian cigars you had sent back from Portugal are loathsome.”
“You still have those? They must be three or four years old by now.”
“I never smoke them, but they are so impressively long that they make a handsome prop for conversation.”
“They are likely stale. I shall inform my general that only duty stations with excellent native c
igars will do, so that I might send you a fresh lot.”
“Well and good,” gestured Reginald impatiently, “but what was this about a Mrs Younge? You did not say she used to be Georgiana’s companion!”
Richard shifted uncomfortably, realising now that in his distress and haste to gather information, he had nearly let slip a dangerous detail about Georgiana. “Mrs Younge was not the gentlewoman we took her for, and Darcy dismissed her,” he explained simply. “I suppose she found employment where she could, and I believe she had a generous severance with which to establish herself. I spoke with her, and she revealed that Darcy had been to her house on four occasions that week.”
“Four!” coughed the earl. “The boy should have married years ago. At least he could have gone to the Garden—”
“Father, I do not think his motive was what you assume. She told me that he had… personal business with one of her guests—a gentleman, Father, though I cannot quite think the man deserves that appellation.”
“You think this fellow had Darcy attacked?”
Richard’s brow puckered as he downed a third glass of whiskey. “No… that is the part that puzzles me. The man of whom I speak is well known to me. He is a seducer, a cad, a liar, a gambler, and a cheat, but he is not a murderer. What is more, he stood to gain far more with Darcy alive.”
“So, he is not your man. What, then, have you gained? You wear yourself out hunting down information day by day, but it will not bring back Darcy.”
Richard stared hard at his father. “I know why Darcy was there, and I know that he had paid more than one visit. Anyone already planning to attack him would have learnt quickly where he was to be found vulnerable. I mean to find them out and bring them to justice!”
“Richard, listen to yourself! ‘Planning to attack him’? It was the work of an opportunist who saw a wealthy man to knock over! Darcy was simply in the wrong place, acting the fool without his carriage and a footman!”
Richard glanced at his brother, then back down to his empty glass. “Opportunists do not take the time to beat their victims. A quick throat slash, a knife in the ribs, and they escape quickly with their prize.”
“Rats travel in packs. There were likely several of them,” the earl grunted. “Darcy was a skilled fencer and boxer—he would have struggled, and they overpowered him.”
“Come, Richard,” his brother added, “you remember how we used to brawl as boys! When he reached his full height, I never could best him, and you only could after joining the army and learning to fight dirty.”
“There is more. I found a chap who seemed to frequent that boarding house—a smallish fellow he was, could never have taken Darcy alone, but I overheard him make some comment to that same wench about a wealthy man. I tried to get more information from him, but he was… unwilling to divulge. There was little more I could do there today. I was in uniform, and feared creating a scene, so—”
“Richard!” laughed Reginald. “You do not mean that you accosted some random chap in the street and beat him for information!”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Reginald shared a significant look with their father. “Brother, I am as concerned as you, but I fear you may be exhibiting signs of obsessive madness. Let the inspectors handle this! It is not the work of a decorated war hero to scavenge the back alleys for thugs.”
Richard tightened his grip on his glass, but then decided against sharing more of his misgivings. “Oh, what is the use?” He lifted his glass again for his brother’s ministrations.
The earl raised his bushy brows. “Careful, my boy, or we will have to call Giles and Harris to carry you up the stairs.”
“Passing out would be a mercy,” he retorted, and sloshed the meagre serving Reginald had poured.
“Well, before you do, let us settle the matter of Georgiana.”
“Must we speak of it now? The poor girl has just lost her only brother! She was already an orphan, and now she is completely alone. Let her have some time before we map out her life for her.”
“She is an heiress, with a fortune the like of which will have men murdering one another at Almack’s next season. George Darcy was a fool not to have imposed an entail on Pemberley, but there it is, and this is our problem. We currently have the wealthiest young lady in the ton, next to the widowed Lady Blackthorne and Lord Ashby’s daughter—”
“Lord Ashby is having to sell off his smaller properties to cover his son’s gambling debts,” Reginald interrupted.
“There you have it! We must begin now to chart her course, for if we do not, Lady Catherine will.”
Richard shuddered. “I am sure it is necessary; I only request that we wait a few months. She will be in mourning for a year, and Darcy did not wish for her to come out until she was eighteen anyway.”
“What I propose, Richard, is that we do not wait that long. Too much can happen, and she is a vulnerable, naïve, and bashful young lady. Would you see her swarmed by fifty men, all of whom want nothing more than Darcy’s wealth and estate? Would it not be far better for Georgiana to quietly settle the matter for her?”
“I suppose you already have someone in mind? I do hope, Father, you at least have thought of someone she likes.”
“You, my boy.”
Richard’s glass crashed to the floor. “Me? It is out of the question! I am fourteen years her senior, and her guardian! Not only is it a violation of all that is right and natural, it is an abuse of Darcy’s confidence in me!”
“Darcy—both father and son—wished you to assist in looking out for her! What better way to do that than to marry her? You would be protecting her, not taking advantage of her fortune! She knows and trusts you, and you, more than anyone else, would be able to step into Pemberley with nary a hitch. The estate needs a steady hand, as well as an heir. The Darcy line may be ended, but there have been so many intermarriages over the last generations that you are practically half Darcy.”
“No! Why, I could never possibly… Georgiana is like a sister to me!”
“She has matured, Richard. Surely you have noticed.”
“That does not matter! Have you considered that it may not even be legal for a guardian to marry his ward?”
“Naturally. You would have to assign that to me until your marriage, if that is possible. I already have my solicitor looking over Darcy’s will. Even if legalities are not an issue, it would look more proper.”
“Nothing about this could ever look proper.”
“Nonsense! You speak from sensibility, but I see things more practically. You are the perfect match, Richard.”
“Cheer up, Richard,” Reginald grinned. “Father has found you a charming and wealthy bride. You may sell your commission and retire from fighting, and unlike myself, you will not have to battle your wife when you are at home.”
“It is not fair to Georgiana!” Richard insisted. “Would you not even give her a chance to object?”
“Certainly, but she will not. She is an obedient girl, after all. Darcy did well, even raising her by himself.”
Richard clenched his fist, scowling and muttering under his breath, “She would surprise you, if you knew her better.”
“Eh?”
He cleared his throat. “Nothing, Father. If you will forgive me, I am quite exhausted and not presentable to go in to the ladies in the drawing room.”
“Oh, yes, very well. We will speak more once I have heard from my solicitor.” The earl waved his cigar, then snuffed it.
“You leave me to face Aunt Catherine alone?” Reginald’s eyes rounded in genuine fear, but his mouth curved slyly. He leaned close and whispered loudly, “If you wish to avoid marrying Georgiana, I have it on good authority that Aunt Catherine is searching for a husband for Anne.”
Richard shook his fist in mock temper, then firmly took the bottle that Reginald still held. “Good night, Brother.”
4
21 September, 1813
Derb
yshire
It had been a quiet journey, these four days in a carriage from London. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was no longer accustomed to such a mode of travel, as long days on horseback had been his lot since his first tour on the Peninsula with General Craufurd’s Light Brigade. Now even at home, he tended to prefer riding his horse alongside a carriage rather than sitting backward inside one.
Such had not been an option on this journey. Georgiana could not be left so long without companionship, and less so now when they had at last crossed the boundaries of the estate. The mansion would soon be within sight, but no thrill of anticipation lit her eyes. He cast a hesitant glance to his young cousin and the elderly maid who had traveled with them from Matlock House. The woman was sour, dull, and nearly bent double by the cares of a life in service, but even she was livelier than the girl in her charge. Georgiana gazed constantly out of a window with listless devotion, and Richard gazed constantly at her.
It had been her habit as a girl to look fondly upon the flora and landscape of her native Derbyshire, and always on such journeys, her countenance would take on a sort of radiance as she neared her home. It was as though Pemberley contained her life blood, pulsing ever more vibrantly as she drew closer to restoring communion with that dear place. On this day, however, each jingle of harness and every grinding beat of hoof on frosted gravel seemed to bring a darkness over her. She quietly absorbed all that passed by, her soft looks nearly apologetic to the dying fields and autumn flocks of geese within her view. To look on her face was to know the emptiness and weight of duty, and like himself, she clearly felt inadequate.
“Georgie?” he ventured.
She turned, her mouth quivering.
“Georgie, are you certain this is what you wish? It is not too late to turn back.”
She drew in a trembling breath. “I want to go home—but oh, Richard, I am not equal to this! Surely, I needn’t do all you say just for now. Pemberley has been my home since I was born; may I not recover in peace for some months before—”
These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 5