by Leenie Brown
“You have a caller, sir,” his butler stood at the door to the sitting room. “Are you home?”
A caller at this hour? Jack had no desire to see anyone, but he could not just send whomever it was away. It could be important. “Who is it?” He moved only his head to look in his servant’s direction.
“Mr. Darcy, sir.”
Jack scrubbed his face and blew out a breath. He most certainly did not wish to see the brother of the lady who had just rejected him. “I am not fit for company.”
“Yes, sir,” his butler replied. “That is what Mr. Darcy said. He is most apologetic about calling at this hour but said it was necessary.”
Jack could not imagine what would be so necessary to require a call now rather than waiting until a proper time tomorrow, but he did not wish to offend the gentleman, and he was curious.
“Very well. Show him in.” As his butler left the room, Jack considered tossing off his blanket and attempting to make himself presentable, but he could not bother himself to do it. What did it matter what the man thought of him now anyway? It was not as if he needed to win Darcy’s opinion to be allowed to marry Georgiana since she did not seem desirous of considering Jack as a suitor.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Darcy said as he entered. A small smile tipped his lips as he sat down across from Jack. “You look no worse than I imagined you would.”
Jack inclined his head in acceptance of the strange compliment.
“My sister,” Darcy began uneasily, “explained to me what happened tonight, or at least, what she thinks happened.”
“I was tired of dancing and left,” Jack lied.
Darcy’s left eyebrow rose, and he wore a look of disbelief. “I have no doubt you were fatigued, but I highly doubt it was from dancing. You see, I have worn the same expression you did when you parted ways with Georgiana, and, had Elizabeth not stopped me from leaving the parsonage at Hunsford, I would have likely found myself wallowing in grief, just as you are now. However,” he glanced around, “I am certain, I would have been keeping company with a bottle of port or some such thing, but I see you are alone.”
Jack shifted to sit up a bit straighter. So, Darcy did know that he cared for Georgiana as more than a friend — a great deal more.
“I prefer to experience the agony unaided.” He shrugged. “I hope in doing so, it will run its course more quickly.”
Darcy chuckled and shook his head. “I very much doubt the misery will leave you any faster if you are sober rather than properly foxed. However, I’m not here to talk you into dousing your feelings with alcohol or any such thing. I have just left my distressed sister in the care of my wife and have come to share a tale with you.”
Jack was sitting full upright and on the edge of his chair now. “Distressed? Did something happen to Miss Darcy?”
“You left.”
Jack blinked and shook his head. “I beg your pardon. I do not see how my leaving could be the cause of her distress.”
Darcy sighed. “Neither did she, although I do believe she is coming to realize its cause.” Darcy shifted in his seat but did not bother to explain himself further. Instead, he launched into his tale. “Two years ago, my sister imagined herself in love…”
Jack listened most intently to Darcy’s story about how Georgiana had narrowly escaped a life of misery at the hand of a practiced liar and former family friend. His breathing became laboured as he imagined her pain at finding out the scoundrel had only wished for her money and had no care for her at all. “And this Wickham still lives?” the question was nearly a growl.
Darcy nodded. “He does.”
“How?” Jack was utterly lost for comprehension of how a brother could allow a man such as Wickham to retain his life after having dealt so cruelly with the heart of an innocent young lady, especially one as precious as Georgiana’s.
“There are laws,” Darcy began, “and had he been lucky enough to fire the first shot, I could not and would not leave my sister alone in this world. Trust me, when I say I wanted nothing more than to run him through. But I could not.”
Jack’s head bobbed up and down slowly. He understood that. There were times when honor was not found in defending it, but rather in seeing to the care of those whom one’s heart loved far more than it desired vengeance.
“Georgiana has recovered well from her ordeal, but it has not left her heart without a scar.” Darcy leaned forward. “Do not leave town.”
“It is what I would do,” he explained in response to Jack’s look of surprise.
He rose to leave. “Go to bed. Get some sleep, and when you see my sister tomorrow, so that she might explain to you about the scar Wickham left, be gentle. Her intent was not to reject you, but I will allow her to explain that.” He placed the hat he held on his head. “There is just one more thing you should know before tomorrow.”
“What might that be?” Jack had risen to see his guest to the door.
“I would not be opposed to calling you brother.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Sleep well, and remember that there are no laws against my humiliating you at Angelo’s.”
Jack bid him goodnight before returning to the sitting room to gather his blanket. Sleep well? Jack shook his head. He was certain he would sleep less now than he would have half an hour ago, but at least, now, he would not be spending a sleepless night in agony but instead in hopeful anticipation. He blew out a great breath and, with a spring in his step, took himself off to bed.
~*~*~
Georgiana had tossed and turned all night. Try as she might, she could not find a position that was comfortable enough for her mind to stop its incessant consideration of Jack Ralston. She had risen twice, lit a candle, and attempted to commit her admission of guilt to paper just to have it out of her mind. Each attempt was now ashes.
Therefore, when the first pale light of dawn began to lift the blackness of the night to usher in the day, she greeted it with happy relief. Piling her pillows behind her back, she sat up, and, pulling her blankets up, tucked them under her arms. The fire had died to embers, and the morning air was cool. She would call for her maid and get dressed, but she did not wish to wake Alice any earlier than necessary. Even if she were dressed, it was not as if there was anything she could do to hurry the day ahead to the time when she could call on Mr. Ralston and make her apology.
She tapped her fingers on the blankets. Waiting, whether done while staring up into the dark all night or sitting watching the shadows flee the light of the sun, was difficult. She let out a sigh and scooted over to the edge of her bed. She had left her small writing case on the bedside table after her last attempt to write to Jack. Perhaps she could try once again. She arranged herself so that she could write without damaging the coverlet, and, just to be certain she would not leave a horrid and permanent stain on the sprigged material of her quilt, she chose a pencil from the case’s contents rather than a pen. Surely, Jack would not be offended if she did not use ink.
Dearest Jack,
She paused and smiled at the words. He was a dear man.
I have spent a good portion of the night attempting to commit to paper my failing, and as the morning dawns, I find I am still at a loss for how to tell you all that is in my heart. Perhaps such things should not be consigned to paper. They are, perchance, better spoken face to face.
Yes, she nodded in agreement with herself, it would be so much better to speak to him than to write. She was about to crumple her paper when a thought of a different nature struck her. Seeing one’s failings recorded on a page might be disturbing; however, seeing one’s praises was something entirely different. She smoothed the paper on the top of her case and picked up her pencil once again.
Since I am at a loss as to how to adequately describe my sorrow in causing you pain, I will turn my pencil and my mind to more pleasant contemplations.
There are few to whom I would write and address them as informally as I have you. All of those whom I do not address as Miss or Mr. are far too
dear to me to be held at such a distance as such titles give, for they are all, every one of them, people whom I love.
Georgiana bit her lip and reread the words. Then, with a shake of her head, she crumpled the paper and put it aside. Just like admitting one’s faults, declaring one’s love for a gentleman should be done in person, not in a letter. She put her writing case away. Then, she rose, crossed the room to toss this final attempt at a letter into what remained of her fire, and rang for Alice before returning to the comfort of her bed to wait and once again contemplate Jack.
“Good morning, miss,” Alice greeted as she slipped into the room.
“I am sorry to call you so early,” Georgiana apologized, “but I cannot stay in this room any longer.”
Alice tipped her head and looked at her mistress. “You do not look rested.”
“I am as rested as is possible.”
“A difficult night?”
“Yes,” she replied from inside her nightgown as she pulled it over her head and prepared to make use of the warm water Alice had added to the wash basin before scurrying off to pull a dress from the wardrobe. There was no need to tell Alice what had kept her awake, for Georgiana, as she had prepared for bed, had shared with her maid all about what had happened with Jack at the ball.
“Yellow or pink?” Alice called.
Yellow was cheerful, but pink was better for hiding the effects of a poor night’s sleep since it complimented her complexion better than yellow. “Pink.”
The requested dress was draped over the screen behind which Georgiana stood, and she could hear Alice gathering all the other pieces of clothing that would be needed. She finished her ablutions and slipped into the fresh chemise which Alice had left hanging on the hook on the right side of the mirror above the washstand.
“He’s a fine young man.” Alice tied Georgiana’s stays. “He’ll not disappoint you.” She picked up their conversation from last night as if only a few moments and not a full night had passed.
How Georgiana hoped what Alice said was true! “But I did not trust him. That is not an easy thing to overcome.”
Alice clucked and shook her head as she shook out her mistress’s petticoat while Georgiana put on her stockings. “You did not trust you. There is a difference.” Once again, she clucked and shook her head at Georgiana’s look of partial belief. “Mr. Ralston is no fool. He will understand.” Alice gave a displeased huff. “What that scoundrel did to you at Ramsgate was unthinkable! Damaging a tender heart such as yours! You have done well to recover as you have. There are far weaker ladies who would take to their beds and nearly die from neglecting their health. But not my Miss Darcy.” She winked as she prepared to help Georgiana into her petticoat. “My Miss Darcy is made of sterner stuff. She’s brave; she is. And she can, and will, make a wonderful Mrs. Ralston. Mark my words, miss. He’ll offer for you.”
Georgiana’s heart skittered at the thought. Was she ready to become a Mrs. Anybody? She had only just made her debut. She held her dress in place while Alice made quick work of the fastenings. Then, she took her place at her dressing table.
Alice reached over Georgiana’s shoulder to get some pins and the brush before she began her work. “Trust your heart,” she whispered near her mistress’s ear. “It will not steer you into a gale this time. No,” she continued with a shake of her head while she began pulling the brush through Georgiana’s hair, “it has learned how to bring you into a safe harbour.” She paused and looked at Georgiana in the mirror. “And you know your brother approves of Mr. Ralston as does Lady Margaret. He’s high quality; he is.” She returned to her work and, much to Georgiana’s amusement, continued to mutter her approbations as she worked.
By the time, Georgiana was ready to go downstairs, she was as confident as she had ever been that her heart was indeed guiding her in the correct direction, which, she suspected from the pleased smile on her maid’s face, was precisely Alice’s intent.
Chapter 10
Jack stretched and squinted at the sun that shone through the window as the drapes were drawn open.
“There is a letter for you,” his man said with a nod toward the bedside table.
Jack rubbed his eyes, pushed himself up to a sitting position, and took up the missive. Breaking the seal, he read:
Jack
I expect you to call – early. Proper hours are for acquaintances, not for future cousins. I shall send Alistair in search of you should you not arrive before eleven only because he will not let me leave the house today. In fact, I shall do well to be allowed to move from my chair. He is a dear though, is he not?
Anne
Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head as he chuckled at Anne’s message, then he read what his friend had added at the bottom.
She’s had very little sleep because she was worried about you, and I refused to rouse you in the middle of the night. Do come soon.
A-
The words brought a smile to Jack’s lips. His friend was such a doting husband! That the staid and steady, practical Alistair Pratt had become such a gentleman was no surprise. The man had a heart capable of profound and enduring compassion. Jack knew that to find a place within the confines of close friendship with Alistair Pratt was to find a welcome of the most lasting kind – even if a person were to be a bit of a trial to the man’s patience, as Jack had been more than once over the years of their acquaintance. Alistair’s wife seemed to be cut from the same cloth, for Anne had accepted Jack as if he were a brother from the moment they had met.
Jack looked at the clock. Nine! Already? He would have to hurry. He had no desire to have Alistair sent out looking for him simply because he had not fallen asleep until the sun was rising and had, therefore, slept later than was his regular wont. Thankfully, he was not unaccustomed to preparing for his day with a bit of haste. He was not the sort of chap to linger at his toilette or retie his cravat multiple times. He liked to be quick about his business.
However, there was one thing for which he always paused not matter how quick he might need to be in the morning. He would not, even for Alistair’s wife, leave his house without a proper cup of tea and several morsels of food. He knew that tea would most certainly be served by Anne, but, considering how loudly his stomach rumbled from the moment his eyes opened until he had taken his first bite of food, tea and a few sweets or sandwiches would not be enough to ward off his hunger. It was better for him to spend the time necessary to break his fast at home and arrive for his call with a full stomach and a pleasant countenance even if it did delay him a few minutes longer than he would wish. For, he thought to himself, a hungry Jack was never as pleasant a Jack as a sated Jack.
He popped the last of his breakfast into his mouth, chased it down with what remained of his tea, and taking up his hat, bid a cheery farewell to his butler.
It was a glorious day, and Jack drank in every bit of its delights as he rode the few blocks from his apartment to the Pratt’s townhouse.
True it was not the pleasantest of days. The wind today was a bit brisker than normal, and people scurried before it with collars pulled up and hats secured tightly by ribbons or hands, but, the sun was shining, no rain was falling, and Georgiana Darcy had not rejected Jack. That last fact could have turned even the darkest, most bitter, sleet and ice-filled day of winter into a glorious day for Jack, for that is what hope could do when allowed to fester all night in the mind of a besotted gent.
He swung down from his mount and tossed the reins to a groom before bounding up the steps and tapping a short pattern on the door with the knocker.
“Good morning,” he said as he placed his hat on the long narrow table that stood next to and to the right of the door in the Pratt’s sitting room.
Alistair rose from his seat and tossed his own hat and coat, which he had draped across his lap, to the side. Evidently, he had been just waiting for his wife to give him his orders to go fetch Jack.
Jack followed Alistair’s pointed look at the clock. It was not yet elev
en, but it was closing in on the hour. “I had to eat before I came,” Jack explained, “and, I had to stop for these.” He handed a bouquet of spring flowers to Anne.
“Oh, they are lovely.” Anne promptly brought them to her nose to breathe in their sweet fragrance. Then, as Jack took a seat, she placed the flowers on the table next to her. “You do not look at all distraught.” Her tone was slightly accusatory and disappointed.
“I am not,” he replied with a grin and then said no more. It was fun to watch her brows furrow and her lips purse with displeasure when he did not immediately impart all the information she wished to hear.
“Why?” Anne demanded. “You looked distraught when you left the ball last night, and then Georgiana had to be taken home because she was unwell, and Mr. Tibbett was forced to dance with Miss Parkes. It was quite a to-do, I assure you. And I wish to know the particulars.” She folded her arms across the top of her belly which, to Jack, seemed to grow rounder and rounder each day.
“There is not much for me to tell.” Jack rested his left arm on the arm of the settee, extended his right one along the back of the piece of furniture, and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “I presented myself to Miss Darcy as a possible suitor, and she did not readily accept,” he summarized.
Anne’s eyes narrowed. “You are not telling me all.”
“I swear that is what happened,” he protested and then elaborated on his summary. “I presented myself as a possible suitor. Miss Darcy asked about Miss Parkes. I told her we were nothing more than friends. She did not seem to believe me. I asked her if she thought me a cad, and she hesitated before assuring me that she did not consider me as such. Then, I bid her farewell and went home to wallow in my misery before fleeing town today.”
Anne’s brows furrowed. “I do not understand. Were you hoping Georgiana thought you a cad?”
Alistair chuckled. “No, my dear, I believe it was the fact that Georgiana had to consider whether he was or was not a cad before replying which caused the distress.”