GEORGIANA (Pride & Prejudice continued... Book 3)

by Sue Barr

  Bingley fidgeted and Ashton gave his brother a warning glance, but the Colonel was in high dudgeon and he’d obviously been chomping at the bit to have a piece of his hide. Max considered his words carefully before answering.

  “I overheard a conversation between you and Darcy after the wedding breakfast.” He watched the Colonel’s face to see if he remembered what their conversation had entailed. The Colonel’s expression remained void of any emotion. “Darcy said he could not make this one go away.”

  Understanding flashed across Richard’s face and he abruptly sat back in his chair.

  “Are you speaking about Miss Darcy’s… I mean, her Grace’s previous experience at Ramsgate?” Bingley said and everyone gaped at him. He offered them an awkward smile. “There are no secrets between my wife and her sister either, although this has not gone beyond Jane and I.”

  “He may not have knowledge, you dolt!” Richard hissed at Bingley, tilting his head toward Max.

  “I do know of Wickham,” Max replied with a calmness he clearly did not feel.

  “What? How?”

  “Georgiana told me herself, well not tell me exactly. It was in a letter she’d written.”

  “To you. A letter written to you.” Richard’s tone indicated he did not believe his cousin would have written him about anything.

  “At the time I believed they were written to me as they were posted to my house in London and had my name on them. Every letter was addressed to me.”

  Richard opened and closed his mouth several times before sending his brother a quick glance.

  “You said, ‘at the time’. What exactly did you mean by that?” Ash took the reins of the conversation from his brother.

  “I have since found out these letters were for her own specific use and that she’d had no intention of me ever receiving, let alone reading them.”

  “Did you return them?”

  “I have not.” Before anyone could speak another word, he added, “And I will not.”

  “But, you must! How else do you expect to earn her trust again?” Ash exclaimed and threw his napkin onto his plate.

  “She doesn’t want his trust,” Richard also threw his napkin down and stood. “I demand you give me those letters and I shall return them personally to my cousin.”

  “They are the only words I have of her telling me she loves me and I will not give them up.”

  Max rose to his feet, his appetite completely gone. With a perfunctory half bow, he pivoted from the table and exited the room, a swish of silk his only warning that Georgiana had been in the hall and heard everything he’d said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “They are the only words I have of her telling me she loves me, and I will not give them up.”

  With her heart beating a frantic tattoo and Max’s heated words ringing in her ears, Georgiana backed away from the door and hastened down the hall. Did he truly love her? If yes, then his declarations of felicity and admiration had a ring of truth and she could no longer believe he was only trying to trick her into returning to Adborough Hall so his sterling reputation would remain intact before society.

  How could she trust him? For years he’d been so conciliatory and kind and then over night believed the very worst of her. What if she displeased him again? Steady footsteps sounded behind her and she desperately wished she could break into a run. She wouldn’t be in this predicament if she’d not forgotten her fan in her haste to leave with Fitz and avoid sitting at the table with her husband.

  “Georgiana,” Max called quietly.

  That he didn’t wish to call attention to the fact she’d eavesdropped on their conversation, unwillingly, lessened her anxiety somewhat. She halted her steps and waited for him to come alongside.

  “May I walk with you?” he asked.

  She nodded and they walked toward the music room at a more sedate pace. Not a word passed either of their lips, yet the silence did not become oppressive. He waited for her to enter the room, then followed. After a brief hesitation he turned back and shut the doors.

  “Fear not,” he said with a rueful smile. “I only wish for a modicum of privacy before your cousins begin to seek us out and save you.”

  Against her will, her mouth tilted into a small smile.

  “They have become my champions.”

  “And rightly so.”

  He moved toward a couple of elegant chairs near the pianoforte and, with a small flourish of his hand, invited her to sit down. He took the chair opposite and turned his attention to window, watching snow fall gently to the ground. Unwilling to break the amiable silence, she gazed intently at his profile.

  She took note how his jacket seemed looser about his shoulders and chest. He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him. She was no better. Her maid lamented daily how she no longer fit her dresses and had been taking them in for months. If they kept this up, they’d become known as the skeletal Duke and Duchess of Adborough. She gave an inelegant huff at the thought. He turned at the sound and caught her looking at him. Blushing furiously, she dropped her gaze.

  “Something amuses you, Georgiana?”

  “It is nothing,” she started to say, then changed her mind. “A passing thought caught my fancy.”

  “Would you care to share this passing fancy?”

  She assessed him, not sure how to take this light form of conversation after so many heated words between them. A wave of longing washed over her. This was how their marriage should have been right from the start. Throwing caution to the wind, she replied, “You and I have not fared well in this whole escapade.”

  “How so?” His expression became one of wary surprise.

  “Am I right in thinking you have not been sleeping well?” He nodded slowly. “Food has no taste or texture and you eat to maintain your health and nothing else?” Again, he nodded in response. “And you wonder how people find any joy in their life?”

  “Yes. Has it been the same with you?”

  “Yes, your Grace.”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “Saying what?”

  “Your Grace. How I hate the sound of those two words from your lips.” He rose and moved to the fireplace, staring into the flames. “I regret, wholeheartedly ever ordering you to address me as such.”

  “Maxwell…” He turned to face her; eager hope etched on his features at her calling him by name. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’d like to start again. Wipe our slates clean, as it were.” He returned to his chair and leaned forward until his forearms rested on his thighs, his whole demeanor entreating her to consider his idea. “I’d like to court you, Miss Darcy.”

  Her eyes widened in response to him calling her by her former name.

  “You’d like to court me?”

  “Yes, and the first thing you need is a chaperone.”

  He stood and moved to the bell pull and summoned a servant. In less than a minute, Carson opened the door and bowed slightly.

  “Could you please summon Miss Darcy’s maid to attend us please.”

  The usually unflappable butler reacted with a raised eyebrow at his mistress being addressed as Miss Darcy but he rallied quickly and said, with a polite half bow. “Right away, your Grace.”

  “Maxwell, this is ridiculous.” She rose to her feet and began to pace. “You cannot court your wife. It’s unheard of.”

  “This makes perfect sense. Of course, I shall have to improvise, being that we are not in London, but I shall court you, Miss Darcy and hopefully win your heart and hand.”

  A dread thought chilled her to the bone.

  “If you are not successful in this endeavor?”

  “Then, I will grant you an annulment,” he said in a quiet voice and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.

  It was then she knew. She wanted him to succeed. No, she needed him to succeed. She desperately wanted to love him again, without regret and without boundaries. He could not fail or her heart would splinter into a million pieces.<
br />
  Pemberley

  March 1815

  Georgiana raised her face to the sun, its weak rays piercing through the clouds and glass enclosure of the orangery after a cold winter. Ever since her brother had seen the Prince Regent’s orangery at Carlton House in 1811, he’d worked hard to create a luxurious place to grow their own exotic fruits and vegetables all year round. She’d retreated there for some privacy in order to re-read Max’s latest letter, however, excited giggles reminded her the glass enclosed structure was also a favorite haunt of her nephews.

  She rose and folded the missive, hiding it in one of the pockets sewn into her dress. She didn’t have to wait long before two nannies, pushing Fitz and Lizzy’s first-born Bennet and his cousin, Henry Bingley turned the corner.

  “Down!” Bennet cried out upon seeing her. “I want Auntie G.”

  Nanny lifted Bennet out of the pram and set him on the pebbled walkway. Georgiana crouched down and allowed the stout toddler to run into her open arms. Henry wasted no time in joining his cousin in a warm hug.

  “Well, you have found me. Now I’m curious as to why when you know I shall see you later when we have nuncheon.”

  “No nunchin,” Bennet pouted. “Want that.”

  He pointed his chubby finger toward the bare apple tree beside them. She lifted her nephew and brought him closer to the tree.

  “Do you see any apples, Bennet?” She wondered if he even knew what an apple looked like given that he was only five months past his first year and smiled when he reluctantly shook his head. “That is why you will want a snack later on. Eating a tree will not fill this belly.”

  At the word belly, she tickled his tummy. He giggled and wriggled in delight until Henry tugged at her skirt.

  “Me too,” he cried out.

  Georgiana set down Bennet and quickly tickled Henry and for a few minutes enjoyed the innocent wonder of her two nephews. If she hadn’t had such a disastrous start to her marriage, she might have been awaiting a child at this very moment. What she wouldn’t give to hold her own son or daughter in her arms, but was that longing enough of a reason to forgive Maxwell.

  “Who’s ready for a glass of milk and some biscuits?” she asked when they’d settled down.

  “I am,” both boys said in unison.

  “Then, go with Nanny and wash your hands. I shall join you shortly.” She signaled the nannies to take charge of the boys and once they’d exited the orangery, sat on a nearby bench and retrieved her letter. A soft, furry body joined her and she lovingly scratched him between the ears.

  Adborough Hall

  February 26, 1815

  My darling Georgiana

  I sit and look out the window watching what is hopefully the last winter storm of the season. With the advent of spring my soul is hopeful of new beginnings. Not only with the season and Parliament, but with our relationship. I received your letter and devoured it within minutes of Chapman placing it upon my desk. I am pleased your new ‘guest’ arrived safely. It took much coaxing for Mr. Mason and I to bring Sir Waddlesworth out of his hiding place and into a comfortable box for transport. The scratches received will be heralded as badges of honor if he brings you joy.

  As before, I will share what I love about you. We’ve covered the first seven letters of the alphabet, bringing us to the letter ‘H’ and for me, that means your heart.

  I love your heart.

  You fascinate and inspire me and because of you, I strive to do better. My heart is full of you. There are no others in my thoughts, which consume me day and night. Every night, before I go to bed, I gaze at the stars, comforted by the thought that you could be looking up at those same celestial orbs with me. A tenuous bond, at best, but one to which I will cling because it brings me closer to you.

  I love you, my darling Georgiana.

  Yours, etc.,

  Max

  P.S.

  I leave for London for the start of Parliament next week. My dearest hope is that you, and your family come down for part of the Social Season. I desire to escort you to the theater and, if I may be so bold as to ask now, may I have the first set of any ball of your choice.

  ~~~~~

  “What am I to do? He loves me.”

  Georgiana had joined Lizzy after she’d settled Andrew for his nap.

  “Are you sure his love is constant and not a desire to present a united front to the world.” Lizzy poured a cup a tea and handed it to her. “He is an important man and must produce an heir. You are his only option. I know not how to counsel you in this matter, Georgiana.”

  “His letters have not wavered in his declarations of devotion. He…” she hesitated in sharing what Max had written but her sister-by-love never quibbled with giving her opinion and she needed somewhat of an outside voice to see reason. “He has begun, alphabetically, cataloguing all the ways he loves me.”

  “He has?”

  “Yes. First there was alluring, followed by beauty, compassion, devotion, ethereal, felicity, my own name and finally, my heart.”

  There was a brief moment of silence until Lizzy broke it by saying, “Oh dear, what will he do for ‘x’?”

  They both began to laugh and Georgiana felt some of her trepidation depart.

  “You and Fitzwilliam both had strong prejudices against one another when you first met. How did you overcome those obstacles?”

  “As you well know, when your brother sets his course, he rarely deviates from it. He had determined to become a better man, or to be more precise, a man whom I could respect without reservation. And so, he persevered while I remained unaware of his steadfast love until Lydia’s folly with Wickham. If she hadn’t blurted out how he had discovered them, I may have never known of his deep regard for my well being.” Lizzy set down her tea cup. “If you truly love him, Georgiana and wish to have, at the very least a comfortable life with him, then I believe you need to take the first step. He said he will not impose without your permission. It is now up to you.”

  ~~~~~

  Kerr House, London

  It had been two weeks since he’d sent the letter to Georgiana, with no reply. Had he lost her for good? Could he keep his promise to grant her an annulment if unsuccessful in reclaiming her love? All he wanted was for her to be happy, and if that meant he had no place in her life, then he would have to accept her decision.

  Tears pooled in his eyes and his heart clenched. The pain was physical and he dreaded facing every moment she was no longer his. Despondent, knowing he only had himself to blame, Max returned home after a long day in the House of Lords.

  The butler met him at the door and divested him of his hat and gloves.

  “The mail has arrived, your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Benson. Advise cook that I’m ready for my dinner.”

  He’d started toward the family dining room when Benson spoke again.

  “It is incumbent upon me to advise that a particular letter awaits you, sir.”

  “A particular letter?”

  “Yes, sir. In a pale cream envelope tied with a pink ribbon.”

  “Thank you.” He couldn’t help the flutter of hope burgeoning in his chest. “Please tell cook to hold supper for a few more minutes.”

  “As you wish, sir.”

  He gave no thought to the enigmatic smile his faithful butler bestowed upon him as he quickly strode toward his study and his desk where the letter awaited. His hands trembled as he slit the envelope open and began to read.

  Kerr House

  April 1815

  My Indelible Maxwell,

  The next letter of love is ‘I’ and as an equal partner in this relationship, I claim the right to share my point of view. First, I find you Intriguing and Impassioned in your quest to restore our relationship and, for me, you are Incomparable to any other man I know. Second, I am Impatient to begin a proper courtship and await you in the music room.

  Yours, etc.,

  Georgiana ‘Darcy’

  She was here! The letter and ribbon f
luttered to the floor, forgotten in his haste to barrel out of the study toward the music room. Sounds of Mozart danced upon the air and when he opened the door all of his attention was riveted on the one he loved more than life itself, seated at the pianoforte. Silent, not wanting to break the spell of her artistry, he drank in her beauty.

  She glanced up, and not missing a beat, smiled. When the piece was complete, she stood and moved away from the instrument and began to walk toward him. Without thought, he met her halfway until they stood but a few feet apart.

  “You have come.”

  “Yes, it is time for us to begin again.”

  Uncertain of how exactly to do that, he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked a bit on his heels. He suddenly felt like a young swain standing in front of an irate father, wishing to ask if he could dance with his daughter. Of the two of them, Georgiana seemed the most composed, but then she’d been planning this visit and he was still galloping madly along, trying to catch up. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana’s companion from before her marriage. He turned and gave her a slight nod.

  “Mrs. Annesley. How very good to see you.”

  He almost flushed at the slight lie. He was glad, yet not glad she was there. He wanted none other than Georgiana, yet these were the very parameters he’d set in place before he left Pemberley in December.

  Be careful what you wish for, for that is what you will receive.

  “You as well, your Grace,” she replied with a deep curtsy.

  “Mrs. Annesley has agreed to come on as my companion during our courtship. I hope you do not mind?”

  “Not at all, I think it is a brilliant idea. Would you like some tea?” he asked, finally remembering his manners.

  “We must decline as Aunt Matlock is desirous to meet Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth’s newest addition to the family regardless of the hour. I promised to return and spend time with my family.”

  He wanted to shout, ‘I am also your family’, but wisely kept his counsel. Mrs. Annesley gave him a small nod of approval, as though she’d read his thoughts. He turned and escorted them to the front door where Benson awaited.