by Beth Poppet
Mr Polbright’s laugh was pleasant and appreciative. “Oh, Miss Darcy,” he uttered, head tilted back in merriment, “I was not speaking of seeking a profession. I can say with all honesty that I could never be so dissatisfied as to seek employment, even in such noble service as—no,” he continued to laugh, “I was speaking of far more domestic pursuits, but your misinterpretation is absolutely charming.”
Now thoroughly perplexed and more than a little embarrassed, Georgiana had nothing more to contribute, and so she walked on with him, nervously sliding a gloved finger against the sides of one of the rose’s thorns. Her thoughts wandered back to the sitting room and she remembered what Colonel Fitzwilliam had said about leaving him alone to the mercies of Lady Catherine.
“Might we return to the house?” she petitioned. “I don’t want Anne to catch a chill.”
He was surprisingly agreeable to her request, and they relieved Mrs Jenkins and her charge before the four of them re-entered Rosings together. Georgiana excused herself in order to take her rose up to her room straight away. She was anxious that the colonel would not see her gift from Mr Polbright and was even more anxious over the possibility that her acceptance of it was a dreadful mistake that could not be undone.
Chapter Eight
Elizabeth set her letter down for the fourth time and lifted the corner of the lace curtain to survey the drive below once again. There was still no sign of the carriage, and she was unable to suppress a sigh.
“They are not due to arrive for at least another hour,” her husband reminded her from across the room. “Obsessively watching the drive will not make them materialise any faster.”
His reward for such an observation was a pair of narrowed eyes and tightly drawn lips from his wife.
“You are surprisingly eager for their return,” he said, wisely chusing not to comment on her glower. “Were you not just revelling in the freedom of having the house to ourselves?”
“That,” she emphasised, “was in relation to Mrs Wickham leaving us at last. Your sister and the colonel are a delight rather than an imposition, and it should be no surprise to you that I look forward to their return.”
He crossed the room to stoop over her chaise longue and plant a kiss on her forehead. “It pleases me that you are so fond of Georgiana. She has suffered for real female companionship since our mother passed, and she is too shy to seek friendship on her own. It means a great deal to me that you would befriend her.”
“I will accept your gratitude,” she smiled warmly up at him, “though it was no trouble at all. Nothing like your patience over the past two weeks with Lydia incessantly chattering about her husband’s position and all the new possessions he’s provided her. Possessions which I am well aware they could not have afforded but for your assistance.” Her hand sought his and met it with a firm pressure of thanks. “You have been far more patient than I could have been in your place, and I was often ashamed on her behalf.”
He returned the squeeze and smiled tenderly. “Mr Bingley was correct. He told me once that the inconveniences of your… less scrupulous relations would pale in the face of having you as my wife.”
“I have always liked Mr Bingley,” she replied teasingly.
“But tell me, are you not overtired?” he questioned, voice tight with concern. “Lydia is taxing on us all, but you have more than your own body to sustain, now.”
“I am quite well, dear sir. I slept soundly last night and used my condition to its full advantage while Lydia was with us. Shockingly, it was the one subject which seemed to unsettle her and very nearly rendered her silent on several occasions.” Her mirth turned ponderous. “I wonder that she and Wickham have not… Well…”
“Produced offspring as of yet?” Mr Darcy finished for her. “Perhaps Wickham is less in love with his wife than she would have us believe.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Elizabeth sighed. “There is some possibility of Lydia resisting the notion of children as well. She did not seem envious of my estate. Recall how often she declared how very round I look now, and how much slower, and less lively I am.”
“She is a foolish and blind ninny,” he announced with authority. “Even I know you have barely begun to grow thicker about the waist, and I have the most intimate knowledge of what your gowns are concealing.” He said this with a look full of meaning that caused her to flush and smile. “Beyond that,” he continued more seriously, “I have noticed no great change in either vivacity or physical ability, but if you are feeling worn or having difficulties, I do hope you would tell me.”
“You have my word,” she replied. “Though only if you agree not to force me into bedrest over the slightest headache or lapse in energy. So long as I am able, I should like to remain mistress of my own activities and not be sentenced to the life of an invalid. I feel quite well and can attend to all the little hosting necessities of welcoming your sister and the colonel here.”
“Very well,” he relented, leaving her a final kiss of acquiescence. “I know there is no use arguing with you.”
“None at all!” she declared with a delighted laugh. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe that is the sound of the coach arriving with our dearly expected ones, and I wish to be first in greeting Georgiana.”
Elizabeth certainly did not seem sluggish or impeded by her condition as she made her way down to the drive in order to welcome her sister and friend. In fact, it was Georgiana’s appearance and listless exiting of the carriage that gave cause for concern. She was not only pale, but a heaviness had entered her eyes that spoke of more than mere physical ailments. Elizabeth ushered her immediately to her rooms, and rather than any weakly offered protestations as her gentility was wont to insist upon, Georgiana gave only profuse though tiredly expressed thanks. Elizabeth thought the colonel was out of spirits too, though he did a vast deal better in pretending all was well.
When she returned to the gentlemen in order to ascertain the source of Georgiana’s distress, her husband and the colonel had already turned the conversation to mundane matters of business that held no interest to her nor regarded poor Georgiana’s estate of lethargy. Even with Elizabeth’s capacity for communication it took some effort for her to bring the topic back to the ailing girl upstairs.
“Georgiana does not seem herself today,” she interjected during a lull in their uninteresting talks.
“Has she fallen ill?” Mr Darcy questioned.
“Not in the usual way,” Elizabeth frowned. “That is, I suspect there is more than physical discomfort that presently oppresses her. I would ask her myself, but I’ve no wish to disturb her while she rests.”
The colonel answered but was strangely unwilling to meet Elizabeth’s look directly. “I’m sure it’s the trouble she has with carriage rides. Best let her recover by and by in her own time.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But are you certain that is all? Did nothing transpire between Lady Catherine and her to cause such distress?”
The colonel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I think…” he said haltingly, “perhaps she was not quite ready to leave Rosings.”
“Not leave Rosings!” Elizabeth cried incredulously, looking to her husband for affirmation that it was a shocking thought. He appeared quizzical but did not share in his wife’s unbridled disbelief.
“Georgiana is not like you, Elizabeth,” he reminded her patiently. “It is possible for one to enjoy the formalities and routine of Rosings Park as well as the attention of my aunt. Georgiana has just that disposition to make such a visit agreeable to her.”
“Perhaps…” Elizabeth grew pensive a moment, then shook her head in dismissal. “Georgiana was rather reluctant to go at the first. She was uncomfortable with the thought of being much in the company of a relation who has spoken so openly against our marriage.” She turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam again. “Did Lady Catherine make her feel obligated to stay longer?”
“No. Nothing like that.” His frown deepened, as if it caused him a gre
at deal of effort to bid the next words come forth. “She may have had reason to enjoy the company of a certain person who was a guest at the house.”
“Colonel, it is not like you to be so melancholic and mysterious in your replies. You are making me anxious,” Elizabeth chided.
“Forgive me,” he shook himself out of his reverie and planted a smile on his face. “I am being discourteous. It may all come to nothing, and if she has formed any real attachment, I’m certain she will tell of it on her own time. But I am convinced that she is not only travel weary, but perhaps a little heartsore, and lovesick as well.”
“Lovesick?” Mr Darcy blanched. “Was there a young man at Rosings?”
“One of Lady Catherine’s own chusing,” the colonel said over raised eyebrows, “So you may be certain there were no intemperate advances. He gave me no cause for alarm, and nothing more than polite chatter and pleasant walks occurred.”
“Well…” Mr Darcy looked as if he was the one discomfited now. “As you said, if anything is to come of it, I’m sure we’ll hear more from Georgiana.”
That seemed to end the matter for him, and the gentlemen were both excessively eager to speak of other matters, leaving all discussion of Georgiana’s would-be lover for another time.
This was not a satisfactory conclusion for Elizabeth, but as Georgiana remained shut up in her rooms for the following three days, she could not ask her if she truly had formed an attachment with a young man, and whether she suffered any conflict of feeling over her previous regard for the colonel.
When Georgiana finally emerged, Elizabeth was assisting Jane with some nursery drama. Little Henry had his own complaints over the matter of several nubs of teeth breaking through his gums, which kept Lizzy sequestered with Jane and incapable of relentlessly seeking means by which to speak to Georgiana.
It had been several more days in passing, and what little of Georgiana she saw was discouraging. She was nearly silent at mealtimes, and any attempt to engage with her in pleasantries only produced watery eyes and a loss of appetite which alarmed Elizabeth into ensuring no one else spoke to her during the course of their meals either. In the moments between mealtimes, Georgiana insisted she would prefer to walk alone, to play without an audience, and resisted all conversation besides the very minimum of greetings and polite excuses.
This pressed Elizabeth to turn to the only other person she could gather real information from. She might feel Georgiana should be treated with care and caution but had less scruples against coercing answers from the colonel.
She caught him alone in the little music room one afternoon. A strange occurrence as Georgiana was nowhere to be seen, and the colonel was no musician.
Not wanting to risk her opportunity to question him, she resisted the desire to tease him over his choice of haven and made herself comfortable in the chair closest to the door, maintaining her watchful eye in case he attempted retreat.
He smiled upon her entrance, remarked politely on the weather, and would have continued in such an absurd topic were it not for Elizabeth’s determination to speak of other matters.
“Colonel, you know we are better friends than to restrain our comments to matters of cloud types and nesting habits of the local fowl,” she chastised. “Tell me of your stay at Rosings. In particular, I wish to know who the young man is that Lady Catherine has selected for our dear Georgiana.”
“You’ll forgive me, I do not feel up to the task of describing that gentleman,” he said as pleasantly as he was able, “even to satisfy your insatiable curiosity.”
“That is unfortunate,” she sighed, “for it will lead me to ask even more impudent questions. For example, if you will not tell me of her current or would-be suitor, you should instead tell me how you first came to love Georgiana yourself.”
A flash of pain crossed his features, his thumb brushing solemnly across a sheet of music Georgiana was especially fond of. “That is unkind of you, Mrs Darcy.”
“It was not my intention to be unkind,” she softened. “I had hoped to lift your spirits by making you dwell on pleasant things.”
“I had thought you more discreet than to speak of… your suspicions,” he wavered. “And memories, however pleasant, can be painful to relive when there is little hope of repeating them.”
“I have kept your secret since we first spoke at Rosings,” she assured him, “allowing you time and opportunity to confess on your own terms. My husband suspects nothing as I have not breathed a word of my observations to him, and he seems entirely blind to the deeper feelings of those closest to his affections.” She smiled to herself a little. “But I am sorry to see Georgiana so low, and as you will give me no information regarding the supposed culprit, I wish to be consoled and delighted by your history.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s frown continued to pester lines across his face, and Elizabeth did not think it the most flattering look for him. He was not a particularly handsome man, but it was his good cheer and manner of putting everyone at ease that made his face a pleasant one to behold.
“Do you not think it might alleviate some of your burden to express the multitude of ways in which you are deserving of her hand?” she teased cautiously. “Surely, you have longevity of affection on your side.”
This smoothed some of the hard lines in his brow, and he permitted the beginnings of a smile to form on his lips. “If you mean to say my age has given me an excess of years with which to let my affections deepen, you might as well say so,” he grumbled. “It is no easy task to pinpoint the day or hour which first led me to care for her. I have watched her grow from a young girl under my protection to a lovely woman possessing every virtue praised by gentlemen and gentlewomen alike. And of those qualities, what can I tell you that is not already known?” He shrugged at his own query. “Anyone who has the pleasure of her acquaintance is aware that she is handsome, gentle, accomplished, and considerate. I would be blind not to see all this, but I know more besides. For example,” his smile grew faintly more pronounced at a past memory, “I happen to know the reason for her treading so very softly on the stairs is because of an accident that occurred when she was ten.”
“I cannot imagine Miss Georgiana Darcy ever being clumsy enough to trip downstairs.”
“No, it was not Georgiana who fell. She stepped on Anne de Bourgh’s overlong hem, causing her to fall. It was barely two steps, and Anne was not injured, but Lady Catherine made such a fuss over it that I took the blame and would have got a thrashing for it had Darcy not stepped in to contest that it would be unjust to punish an accidental offence. The incident frightened poor Georgie so much that for months it took her nearly a quarter of an hour to make her way down the whole stairway.”
His smile was more natural now, and his voice had regained its cheerful cadence. “Perhaps it was then I first began to love her. Or perhaps it was the moment she put her trembling hand in mine and pleaded with me not to let Cook kill the family of mice discovered in the larder. Cook is not cruel, you know, but her rough ways have always frightened Georgie a little.”
“That, I can well imagine,” Elizabeth said, “the dear, timid girl.”
“She is shy,” he mused warmly, “but not without a temper. I have seen her eyes flash with the fires of indignation and have been both witness and recipient of several tongue lashings. I would tease her into a passion more often to behold it, but her penitence afterward for losing her temper is intolerably tragic, and not worth frequent recurrences.” His head fell into a pensive brooding again, and he said very softly, “Above all, I want her happy.”
“Then I suggest you stop this unnatural sulking and go speak your desire for her happiness to Georgiana directly,” Elizabeth declared, wondering if she alone heard the likeness of Lady Catherine in her tone. “She will either confide in you of her love for this young gentleman, or confess something else entirely, the latter of which is my hope. Either way, you will know for certain and may pursue her happiness in whatever manner she requires.”
> “I do not enjoy being chided by a woman several years my junior,” he groused, though there was humour in his voice.
“Younger than you I may be, Colonel, but I am also a woman most happily married, and intimately connected to the object of your own desire. Besides,” she said cunningly, “you will have to grow used to such disparity in age while being chastised if you intend to marry the young Miss Darcy.”
“Ah, now there is a fair prospect,” he sighed wistfully. “But I do not trust myself to be her confidant. I know I would advise her against Mr Polbright for no other reason than my jealousy.”
Elizabeth did not announce her triumph in wheedling a name from him, but asked instead, “Did you perceive any real preference for him on Georgiana’s part?”
“I hardly know. There were times I thought her merely polite, and other times she laughed and conversed with him as naturally as you and I might. It was he that showed the evident preference, but Georgiana was by no means unhappy to receive his attentions.”
“Now, Colonel,” Elizabeth cautioned, “Do not make the mistake of Mr Darcy who once assumed that a young lady enjoying pretty compliments and an engaging conversation was tantamount to giving her heart and hand away. You had best ask Georgiana outright what she thinks of Mr Polbright. And please do it soon,” she urged him, “for there is a dark cloud hanging over this house with the both of you indulging in gloominess.”
The colonel might have taken her counsel had he been given the chance to summon his courage, but a letter from Mr Richard Polbright himself had made it into the hands of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy before anything else could be done or discussed.
Chapter Nine
The gentle tread of the young lady over whom so much was surmised fell lightly across the floor as she entered her brother’s study, dutifully, as summoned. She paled in trepidation when asked to shut the door behind her, but as she was already grown rather wan and weary looking, her brother did not notice the change. Colonel Fitzwilliam, however, had eyes sharp enough to notice the slight intake of breath and nervous start of the hands as she carried out her brother’s instruction. The colonel was certain she had no reasonable fear of either Darcy or himself, unless it was the fear of disappointing one or both of them. He longed to reassure her, to tell her he would promote her happiness however he was able, but even now, with her eyes so misty, and her cheeks so sunken and colourless, he could only think of comforting her in a manner befitting a lover, not a guardian.