by Sue Barr
“I’m afraid I was so happy to see my brother I became like a horse with blinders on. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course, although there is nothing to forgive.” Richard came forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I’m a terrible hostess.” She turned and spotted Chapman, standing a few feet away. “Have Mrs. Howell prepare a few rooms for my brother and−”
“We will not need any rooms, Georgiana.” Darcy cut her off, his face darkening with anger. “We have no intention of spending the night in this house.”
“But you’ve only just arrived.”
“We’ve come to take you home, Georgie.” Richard said. “Have your maid pack a trunk.”
“Home? What do you mean, take me home?” Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around what her cousin was saying. “I’m a married woman. Max has not given me permission to leave.”
Fitz quit his angry pacing and gave her a hard look.
“Permission?” he queried. “What do you mean by permission?”
“He… I was told…” she fumbled for words, shame coursing through her body. “Before his Grace left for London, he put down precise instructions in a letter.”
A dark silence stretched between brother and sister, broken by a quiet request.
“May I see the letter, Georgiana?”
Her shame knowing no boundaries, she nodded and hurried to her room, returning with the letter in hand. Fitz thanked her and removed himself to the window to read the hated missive. Slowly, his hand crumpled the sheet of paper. Ironically, she almost cried out to stop. It was the only letter Max had ever written her and for some unknown reason she wished to keep it.
Fitz finally faced her and, with a muscle twitching in his cheek, gave Richard a telling look. His gaze cut to Chapman, who remained nearby in stoic silence.
“While my sister packs her trunk, I will have a word with you and – he glanced at the crumpled letter – Mrs. Howell. Have a man prepare a carriage for my sister and her maid.”
Chapman gave him a polite half bow and disappeared through one of the servant’s doors.
“Run along now, Georgie and gather a few things. We’ll have someone send the rest of your belongings after you are at Pemberley.”
Fitz turned to Richard and began to talk quietly.
“No.”
Both men looked at her in surprise.
“Pardon?” Fitz asked.
“You expect me to meekly scurry off to my room and pack my bags without one word of explanation?”
“Georgie… it’s complicated and now is not the time to discuss things. I’d like to reach the posting inn before it’s too dark to ride safely.”
“No.” Tired of being told one way or another what she could or could not do, she finally held her ground.
“No?” Both Fitz and Richard spoke the word.
“I am not moving from this spot until someone tells me what has been going on.”
Darcy threw a helpless look at Richard who only shrugged his shoulders. Silent communication travelled between the two cousins and Georgiana envied their long friendship. Would that she had anyone who knew her so intimately.
“You’ve got to tell her, Darce.” Richard finally said.
“This conversation should be away from listening ears.” Fitz waved an arm toward one of the front parlors. “Before we have this conversation, please have your maid begin packing your trunk.”
“No, Fitzwilliam. I will hear what you have to say and then I’ll make the decision as to whether I stay or go.”
Her brother assessed her quietly. “You look and sound so much like Mother it’s quite frightening.”
“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.” Her throat tightened with emotion.
“It’s true, Georgie. Your mother was a fearsome woman to behold when she fought for what she thought was right. The battles she had with Aunt Catherine were epic.” Richard reminisced with a smile.
“If that is the case, gird your loins because I am demanding to be treated as a woman, not a child.”
With that, she gathered her skirts and sailed into the parlor, her brother and cousin falling in behind. For the first time in months she felt a surge of confidence. Once she knew why Maxwell had abandoned her so soon after their wedding, she could set about to repair the damage and they could begin again. Surely it was only a misunderstanding. She settled herself in an elegant brocade chair and waited for Fitz and Richard to stop prowling around the room like two caged tigers. Finally, her brother stopped pacing and faced her.
“I hate to ask such personal questions but there are some things I must know in order to proceed.”
“Ask me anything, brother. I have nothing to hide.”
“Have you lain with Adborough?”
“Lain with him?” she repeated back, wondering why her brother would ask such a question. “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”
“We need to know if you and Adborough have been intimate, Georgie,” Richard offered by way of explanation. “If he’s shown you any increased affection.”
“He has kissed me.” She twisted her fingers together in agitation and knew her cheeks were pinkened by embarrassment. “I’ll ask you again. What does this have to do with anything?”
Fitz sat in the chair next to her, leaned over and took her hand in his.
“Adborough believes Slade may have fully compromised you and at this time you may be carrying his child. If you were, he’d proceed to have the child taken care of and only then would he consummate the marriage with you in order to ensure any progeny was his, and his alone.”
“He believes I may be with child?”
Dumbfounded, Georgiana stared, open-mouthed at her brother and cousin. How could Max believe she’d been intimate with Sir Reginald. He himself had seen she was still in her nightgown. Something else must have happened.
“There’s more to this, Georgiana,” Fitz said, his voice sounding almost weary. He stood and paced from the window to the fireplace and back to the window, twisting his pinky ring. Something he did when extremely nervous, which was not very often. He turned to speak and stopped, giving a helpless look toward Richard. That was when she knew what he wanted to say was not good. In fact, it could be very bad, indeed.
Richard took over. “Adborough knows about Ramsgate.”
She gasped.
“We don’t know how he knows, and he does not have all the facts, but he put two and two together and came up with six. That’s the reasoning behind his decision to leave you here until he knew, without a shadow of doubt, you are not with child.”
Georgiana let the words sink in. Instead of having a conversation with the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with, he’d chosen to believe the worst. She lifted her chin with determination. He’d chosen wrong. No longer would she allow others to dictate her actions and pass judgement when she made errors. Today she took back her own life. Today she became her own woman. She rose to her feet. Fitz stopped pacing and Richard remained very still.
“Please give Anna and me an hour to pack. I will meet you in the front foyer.”
~~~~~
Georgiana hurried down to the music room to retrieve her sheets of music. She passed her maid in the hall, her arms full of linens.
“Is that the last of my belongings?”
“Yes, my Lady. I’ll be done shortly and have a footman bring down the trunk right away.
“Thank you, Anna. I’ll be waiting in the front foyer when you are ready.”
Anna hurried down to Lady Georgiana’s room and quickly placed the last bits of clothing in the waiting trunk. About to exit the now empty bedchamber, she spied a package of letters on her ladyship’s desk. She picked them up and saw they were addressed to His Grace, The Duke of Adborough. Before she retrieved her cloak, she bundled them up with a pale pink ribbon and placed them in the box for outgoing mail near the butler’s office. Mr. Chapman would see that they were forw
arded to the Duke tomorrow morning.
Georgiana slid the sheets into a leather folder made especially for her music and hurried into the front foyer. Chapman waited by the door; her cloak folded over his arm. Anna slipped into the room through a servant’s door.
“Anna, I think I left some letters on my desk. Did you take care of them?”
She’d written a final letter before leaving. It somehow seemed fitting, but couldn’t recall if she’d placed them with her new journal for packing.
“Yes, m’Lady.” Anna said. “I made sure they were all tied together so they wouldn’t become separated and lost.”
“Good.” Her shoulders slumped in relief. She did not want Mrs. Howell or one of the other maids to inadvertently come across them. They might take it upon themselves to read them and have a good laugh over what a foolish girl she’d been. In fact, she should burn them, but there wasn’t time. Fitz was pacing the entrance way as it was and Richard had assumed a silent vigil near the front door.
Georgiana shrugged the cloak over her shoulders and with a quick glance toward Chapman, she whispered a thank you. He acknowledged her with a slight, yet gracious nod. The carriage trundled up the drive from the stables. She and Anna would ride together, while Fitz and Richard rode alongside with the armed outriders. She hurried down the front steps of Adborough Hall and was helped into the carriage by a young footman. Although his face remained stoic, Georgiana could see that his eyes were full of curiosity.
Her escape had all the elements of a Gothic novel. Courageous heroine stealing away with her maid before the evil master returned. At least the sun shone bright and she wasn’t in her nightgown, trussed up in a smelly woolen blanket. A small part of her acknowledged this time Maxwell would not be her knight in shining armor. After three long months with no word from him and learning what he believed of her, she held no hope of his return.
Two days later…London
“These arrived by post this morning, your Grace.” Benson carefully placed the mail on the corner of his desk.
Max looked up from his desk where he’d been unsuccessfully trying to balance the household accounts from Adborough Hall. This was madness, attempting to run his estate from London. What would take only an hour or two with his steward now took weeks. On top of that he couldn’t stop thinking of the visit Nathan paid him over a week ago, levelling all sorts of accusations.
Since then he’d spent many restless nights vacillating between anger and heartache. Angered by how deceived he’d been and heartache over the lost dream of a girl he’d love for so long. Even if he returned to Adborough Hall after the self-imposed exile, he didn’t know if he could bear becoming intimate with a woman who had known other men.
He eyed the usual pile of envelopes and stopped breathing at the sight of a stack of ivory cream ones emblazoned with his ducal crest, bound by a soft pink ribbon.
With a mixture of anger and trepidation Max stared at them for over ten minutes. Convinced they would be endless pleas for forgiveness coupled with Georgiana begging to be allowed to attend London so she could snare another unsuspecting dupe into fawning over her, he tossed them into a drawer.
Two weeks later, searching for a ledger, Max stopped cold as his hand pushed against the bundle of letters. Anticipating a return of his anger, yet knowing he should read the blasted things, he slid the ribbon off and opened the first letter.
September 16, 1814
My darling Maxwell,
May I call you Maxwell, for that is how I think of you? Forgive me for being so forward, but Mrs. Annesley long ago advised me to write down what is close to my heart when I cannot speak them with my mouth – and you are my heart.
I have loved you for as long as I can remember and the thought of you being in London, angry with me, breaks me in two. I fear the unknown and the reason for your cold, cold wrath.
How I wish you would return to Adborough Hall. I miss your voice, your laughter, sure to erupt when Sir Waddlesworth skids on Mrs. Howell’s polished marble floors. He is a fluffy white cat I have befriended. I miss the very presence of you in each room. However, if wishes were horses, you’d have a stable full of thoroughbreds and I can’t make you come home.
Instead, I will tell you what has been happening since you’ve gone.
Mrs. Dawson has chased poor Sir Waddlesworth out from the kitchen three times this week. He has such a weakness for kippers and who can blame him, for he is a cat. Mr. Powell continues to prune the shrubs and trees, and the trees are a glorious riot of color. I have pressed a few leaves into my memory book. This will be my first fall as the Duchess of Adborough and I wish to create something for our children to remember.
I cannot write anymore. The page will be soaked through if I continue to write while I cry like a child. Forgive me.
I love you. I miss you. I ask your forgiveness for whatever I’ve done.
Georgiana Kerr
Max laid the letter down on his desk and deep-seated anger bubbled up from his core. How could she write such loving words? Did she think he’d come galloping back like a lovesick fool to Adborough Hall, all because she wrote a few pretty sentences?
He slammed his hand over the letter on the desk and stood. How could he forgive her, when the lies she and her brother withheld had broken his trust? He slid the letters into the top drawer of his desk, locked it and left the room. A brisk ride through Hyde Park would clear his head.
It was two long days before he returned to her letters.
September 18, 1814
My darling Max,
Yesterday I was filled with reservation that writing down my feelings would make me feel better, but today I awakened with renewed hope. Why did I ever doubt Mrs. Annesley? She has been such a good mentor and I would dearly love to see her again, if only to ask for some much-needed guidance.
Putting my thoughts down on paper has given me more clarity with regard to this estrangement. It’s almost as if my cloudy reasoning has been swept away like pesky cobwebs in the attic. I recall Mrs. Reynolds saying that my mother kept a journal and I now see the benefits. I believe on my next journey to the village I will order one from London. Pray, don’t worry of the expense. I have plenty of pin money as I do not go anywhere or see anybody – other than Sir Waddlesworth. He has become my faithful, if somewhat silent, companion.
Your head steward, Mr. Mason, brought to my attention the Bothwell family. They’ve had a touch of influenza in their household. Mrs. Dawson prepared a nice broth with some fresh bread and I visited them this morning. Mrs. Bothwell was so receptive. I didn’t feel too nervous, but then I’m used to visiting tenants at Pemberley. Mrs. Bothwell mentioned a few other tenants are having some difficulty with their roofs as well minor sickness so I hope you don’t mind, but I spoke with Mr. Mason and he rode out immediately to ascertain what they required.
Thankfully, only two families had the same influenza symptoms and Mr. Mason is taking a few men with him to patch up the roofs which sustained water damage. I shall visit the other families on the morrow.
I love you and I miss you.
Georgiana Kerr
Max read through the letter again. The first time she’d written that she loved him had pierced his heart. Did she even know what love was? Everything in him screamed she was being manipulative even though his bruised heart wanted to believe every last word. Why else would she write so openly about love? Not once, during their whirlwind courtship, had she ever given voice to how she felt, although he’d believed it implied by her actions. This was so completely out of character. Something didn’t ring true.
A quick glance at the date showed she’d written this letter in September, almost two months after he’d returned to London and a month before Nathan confronted him. Why were her letters so out-dated?
Chapter Thirteen
“Georgiana, do you wish to join me? Bennet and I are going for a short ramble through the woods,” Elizabeth Darcy called through the door. Georgiana didn’t even bother to lift her hea
d from the pillow upon which she lay before answering in the negative.
“Very well, but please join us for dinner tonight. We want you to live your life again, dearest.”
Live her life again. For what purpose?
Georgiana turned on to her side and burrowed her face into the pillow. She’d been at Pemberley for almost a month and still no correspondence or sign of Maxwell. Not even a letter from his solicitor telling her that he was extremely sorry but he didn’t want to be married to her anymore. And it had been four months since she’d watched him ride away from Adborough Hall. She flipped onto her back and stared at the filmy lace bordering the canopy of her bed.
Such frippery, chosen when she was but a child, all fluffy and lacy, and pink, and stupid— She jumped off the bed and began ripping at the lace. Anna entered the room and stopped cold.
“Your Grace—” she began.
“I am not your Grace!” Georgiana whirled around and faced her maid, tattered lace clenched in her fists. “I am nothing. I am nobody. I am unloved and unwanted.” She fell to the floor, choking sobs pummeling her frail body.
“I’ll get Mrs. Darcy.” Anna spun around and dashed down the hall, calling out, “Mrs. Darcy. Mrs. Darcy, come quick. It’s Miss Darcy, I mean it’s her Ladyship.”
Through her retching sobs, Georgiana dimly heard Elizabeth rush into the room and soon her soothing voice cut through all the agonized clutter that filled her mind and dreams.
“Shh…. Georgie. Shh…. Come here, dearest.”
Elizabeth gathered Georgiana in her arms and rocking her gently, stayed seated on the floor with her until the sobbing finally subsided. With a shuddering breath, Georgiana hugged Elizabeth around her ever thickening waist.
“I am so sorry, Lizzy. I am so sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” Elizabeth caressed her back with long comforting strokes. Georgiana recognized this as the same method in which Lizzy settled young Bennet when he had a crying fit, and though she was a married woman, she didn’t mind the cossetting. When she’d settled, Elizabeth moved away slightly and with one finger beneath her chin, raised her tear stained face to hers.