Georgiana Darcy, Matchmaker

by Bronwen Chisholm

  It became difficult for me to suppress my amusement when Elizabeth snatched her skirt back from a branch which had clung stubbornly to the material. The small tear was not given a moment’s notice as we continued onward. My mind ran wild with what members of the ton would say if they saw the woman before me.

  Elizabeth stopped abruptly, clearing my mind. Laying a finger to her lips, Elizabeth motioned for me to remain where I was. I did as I was told, and watched as Elizabeth moved soundlessly through a grove of trees and disappeared.

  Standing motionless, I listened to the sounds of the woods about me, trying to determine what was occurring. Leaves rustled in the wind above my head and the soft chirping of birds could be heard. A very distant neigh caused me to hope it was not our grey giving away our presence. A rustling came from behind me, but I was suddenly too afraid to turn around and see what was there.

  The snapping of a branch finally made me move. I began running in the direction Elizabeth had gone, but had only taken a few steps when I was drawn up short by a hand grasping my arm. I pulled, attempting to pry the fingers loose, but was unable to break the grip. In a moment of panic, I opened my mouth to scream, but a gloved hand clamped over it.

  “Miss Darcy, please stop struggling!” a man’s whisper in my ear caused me pause. I relaxed and the hand fell away from my mouth. “Thank you. Now what are you doing here? Did I not tell you to remain at Netherfield?” Anxiety could clearly be heard in Captain Jacob’s voice.

  I bit my lip as I turned to look at him. “Mrs. King has suffered an attack. Elizabeth and I rode out to find the apothecary.”

  “Knowing he was with us. How could you be so foolish?” His face reddened as he looked at me and then glanced around. “Where is Miss Elizabeth?”

  “She told me to stay here and then she went that direction,” I pointed toward the trees in front of us.

  His head dropped forward as he released an exasperated breath. “She is heading straight toward the trap we have set for Wickham.” Muttering an oath, he shook his head. He still had not released my arm, and now he pulled me with him as he moved toward the left.

  “Where are we going?” I asked softly.

  “I am attempting to think of a way to keep you safe and out of sight, without your brother or cousin knowing you were here.”

  “Oh.” I followed him a few more feet before he suddenly stopped and turned on me. Unable to stop quickly enough, my hand came up to rest on his chest as I bumped into him. I am uncertain how long we stood in this manner, but I wondered if he could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Reluctantly, I stepped back.

  “How did you get here?” he asked, appearing unaffected by our closeness.

  “We took one of the horses that had been saddled.” I pointed in the general direction where I believed the grey stood.

  “You rode astride?”

  I blushed as I lowered my gaze. “My brother believes ladies should know how to ride astride in case there is some emergency and it is the only option available.”

  “Mr. Darcy is a wise man.” The Captain’s voice held a hint of admiration and he tugged a little less forcefully on my arm as he turned and began walking again.

  I drew a deep breath. “You will not tell him I was here?”

  This time, the Captain slowed before stopping and we did not collide. He met my eye, his brow drawn down in a frown. “Miss Darcy, do you not understand? By separating from your companion, you have placed yourself in a compromising position … with me.” He glanced about, then back to me. “If anyone were to see us together …”

  “They would believe you were escorting me,” I replied, my eyes wide with innocence.

  “Possibly, but neither your brother nor your cousin would allow you to be escorted alone by an unrelated gentleman.”

  His eyes plumbed the depths of mine, seeming to search for my understanding. I knew I should be concerned by his words, but I was lost in the intensity of his gaze. The feelings from our earlier conversation in the garden resurfaced and I felt myself leaning toward him. His eyes grew darker as they dropped to my lips, but then he turned away and began moving once more. I stumbled after him, aware I was making too much noise, but unable to regain control of my traitorous limbs.

  Suddenly, the trees gave way and we stepped into a clearing. Elizabeth was standing to one side, speaking to an older gentleman. Captain Jacobs released my arm and made his way toward the others.

  As the warmth of his touch left my skin, I ran my hand over the spot where his had been. Uncertain what to do, I remained where I was and awaited instructions.

  Mr. Jones gave Elizabeth a slip of paper and laid a reassuring hand upon her shoulder. “I shall return to Netherfield once we are finished here. This should help Mrs. King until that time.”

  Nodding, Elizabeth glanced up as Captain Jacobs approached. She quickly shifted her concerned gaze in my direction then back to the Captain before swallowing hard. “Mr. Jones has been able to give me some direction. I shall take Miss Darcy back to Netherfield.”

  “Do you know where your horse is tied?” the Captain asked.

  Elizabeth nodded and moved toward me, but the Captain stopped her. “I believe it best if I escort you ladies back to the animal.” He fought the urge to smile. “Had you considered how you would mount again?”

  Eyes opened wide, Elizabeth and I exchanged a glance. Clearly neither of us had thought of such a mundane necessity.

  Captain Jacobs chuckled softly as he asked us to lead the way. Elizabeth went first as she was more familiar with the area. I followed, with the Captain just behind me.

  We had not gone far when we heard shouts and sounds of a skirmish. The Captain hesitated. All three of us turned toward the sound.

  “I do not hear the ladies,” I whispered.

  “The plan was to lure Wickham out of the house and capture him.” Captain Jacobs responded.

  The sounds quieted and we began walking once more. After taking only a few steps, the shouts began anew along with the sounds of someone crashing through the trees, moving in our direction. The Captain drew his sword as he motioned for us to continue on ahead of him.

  Before Elizabeth and I could take a step, Mr. Wickham burst through the trees and came face to face with us. The frantic look in his eyes became focused as he saw me and moved in my direction. I took a step back, but Mr. Wickham had suddenly stopped moving. Looking about, I realized the tip of Captain Jacob’s sword was resting just under Mr. Wickham’s chin. Wickham swallowed nervously, but the Captain did not move.

  “On your knees,” Captain Jacobs said slowly and clearly.

  “He went this way!” Shouts came from behind Wickham and the trees separated again as more men entered the area.

  Wickham looked about desperately. Clearly hoping the arrival of the others had distracted the Captain, he grabbed the tip of the sword and pushed it away from himself as he moved toward me with his left arm extended. Unfortunately for Wickham, the Captain’s focus was strong and his mission clear: keep Wickham from me.

  Reaching out with his left hand, the Captain grabbed Wickham’s shoulder while he swung the sword down upon the arm that reached for me. Wickham screamed in pain as blood spurted from the wound. The other soldiers surrounded the man who had fallen to his knees cradling his injured arm.

  I remained frozen in place, unable to look away from the scene. I had felt the warm spray of blood but thought nothing of the small droplets running down my face and covering my pelisse. Emotionless, I watched as the men half carried Wickham away in the direction they had come.

  “Miss Darcy.”

  The voice reached me from what seemed a great distance so I was surprised when I turned to find Captain Jacobs standing directly beside me.

  “Miss Darcy, are you unwell? Are you uninjured?”

  The look of fear in his eyes brought me back to myself and I slowly nodded.

  “Thank God!” he declared as he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping my face. “
I was uncertain if he had reached you, and feared I had accidentally hit you.”

  I shook my head slightly from side to side as I swallowed.

  The look of concern returned to his face as he slipped an arm about me. “Come, sit over here. There is a fallen log you might rest upon.”

  He led me to the log and I sat as he instructed. Slowly I became aware there were others around us. Fitzwilliam was holding Elizabeth where we had been standing, and she appeared to be weeping. I turned to my right and found Richard staring at me with fear in his eyes. I had never seen him afraid before. The reality of that brought me back to myself and I reached out to take his hand.

  Clutching my hand, Richard dropped down to his knee before me. “Georgie, what the devil are you doing here?” he demanded as he drew me into an embrace.

  “We came for Mr. Jones,” I whispered against his chest as tears began to fill my eyes. “Mrs. King had an attack.”

  Richard pushed me away from him, a hand on each shoulder as his eyes met mine. It appeared as though he would scold me, but he must have seen the fright and shock in my eyes. Slowly he released his breath and drew me to him once more.

  “Sir, I believe it best if the ladies be taken into the house to wash before they return to Netherfield.” Captain Jacobs’ voice was soft. “I fear their current appearance would only cause upset.”

  “Yes, you are correct Jacobs.”

  I felt Richard nod, but he did not release me. In the reassuring strength of his embrace, I allowed the tears to slide quietly down my cheeks. I had never seen a battle, nor seen anyone wounded before in such a manner. I knew I had no feelings for Mr. Wickham, but neither did I wish physical harm upon him.

  The sound of footsteps caused me to draw back and I looked up to see my brother approach, his arm still about Elizabeth. I looked her over, seeing the same emotions warring in her. Standing, I fell into Elizabeth’s arms and we cried.

  “I shall fetch the ladies’ horse, Colonel, and meet you at the house.”

  I saw Captain Jacobs bow in my direction before he turned and walked away. I buried my face in Elizabeth’s shoulder and allowed my tears to continue.

  Richard allowed us a few minutes in this stance, before he laid a hand on my arm and gently urged me away from Elizabeth. Placing an arm about my waist, he led me down the way the men had gone with Wickham. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth followed closely behind us. The newly made path opened to a clearing a short distance from what I assumed was the Schmitt’s home.

  There were raised voices coming from inside, and I was able to make out Mr. Bennet and Lydia as well as Mr. Singleton. The only other female voice was wailing. This, I assumed, was Miss King.

  Richard led me to the front of the house and inside. The scene before me seemed designed for the stage. Lydia Bennet stared toward a closed door, her fingers twisting a dry handkerchief as she demanded to know who had injured her George. Mr. Bennet stood in front of her, berating her foolishness. Mr. Singleton stood with his back to them, arms crossed, as he admonished his niece. Mary King appeared little more than a heap upon a bench, her cries growing louder as though she were trying to drown out the sound of the others.

  Placing fingers to his lips and taking a deep breath, Richard issued an ear-piercing whistle which drew silence from those assembled. “Now that I have your attention,” he motioned for me to take a seat at the kitchen table before he turned his attention to the others. “Is anyone injured?”

  “My George …” Lydia began.

  “Anyone other than Wickham?” Richard clarified forcefully.

  The ladies silently shook their heads.

  “Good. Now, we must learn what occurred here. I will hear your stories, but only one at a time.” He met their gazes directly, making it clear he would brook no bickering. When he was certain they understood, he nodded once. “Miss King, why did you leave the Netherfield ball?”

  While Richard spoke, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth approached me. Elizabeth found a bucket of water and ladled some into a bowl, then opened cabinets until she found some cloths. Dipping one in the water, she began wiping the blood droplets from my face and neck. All of us watched and listened to the others, eager to hear what was said.

  Miss King sniffled into her sodden handkerchief as she eyed Richard fearfully. “Mr. Wickham … he … he said it would be fun. Since we were already in our best clothing, we would elope and … everyone would be so surprised.”

  “Foolish girl,” Mr. Singleton growled.

  “Sir! I will not allow any interruptions or we shall be here all night.” Richard commanded.

  Miss King’s uncle looked as though he wanted to argue, but grudgingly nodded.

  “Very well,” Richard turned his attention back to the young girl. “And how did you and Wickham leave Netherfield? By coach?”

  “Yes, the one in which we arrived.” Miss King nodded.

  “Where did you go from there?”

  “George …” Mr. Singleton growled and Miss King swallowed hard before continuing. “Mr. Wickham said we had to make a stop. He said he was going to collect something he needed before we left.”

  “Do you know where he stopped?” Richard asked as he paced the length of the small room.

  She shook her head and he motioned for her to continue. “He left the carriage and when he returned Lydia was with him.” She glared at the young girl who returned the look with equal loathing.

  Stepping between the ladies, Richard turned his back upon Miss King. “Miss Lydia, what have you to say?”

  “She wasn’t supposed to be there!”

  “Allow me to clarify,” Richard said loudly as he took a step closer to her until he towered over her. “How did you come to meet Mr. Wickham and enter the carriage with him and Miss King?”

  “George and I were planning to elope. He asked me to bring twenty pounds with me when I came to the ball, as he was owed a debt of honour and the officer had not yet paid him.” She met only Richard’s gaze and would not be intimidated to speak properly. “When Papa would not allow me to attend the ball, I knew George would come for me. I slipped away from Hill and left a note for him at our secret spot. As I was returning home, I heard the carriage and hurried back. George asked me for the money, but I told him I would not give it to him until we were in the carriage.”

  Exchanging a weary glance with Fitzwilliam, Richard took a deep breath and turned back to Miss Lydia. “What happened when you entered the carriage?”

  “When George opened the door, I saw her and I refused to enter. I demanded to know why she was there.” She crossed her arms and glared at Miss King again. “He told me to get inside the carriage and he would explain everything, so I did. Once the carriage started moving, he asked for the money again. I told him I wouldn’t give it to him until he put her out.”

  For a moment, I felt a hint of pity for Mr. Wickham. Clearly he had not realized how obstinate Miss Lydia could be. He had found himself in a carriage bound for Scotland with two brides. I shook my head.

  Suddenly Miss King stood up. “Mr. Wickham would not put me out, as I was the one he planned to marry, not you!”

  “Only because your grandfather left you money! Who could want a nasty little freckled thing like you?” Lydia shouted back.

  “Ladies!” Richard’s voice boomed in the small house shocking them both into silence. He turned to Miss Lydia once more. “Did you give Wickham the money?”

  Her eyes fell to the floor and she twisted her lip into a sneer. “I did not have it with me.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Richard said, a smile tugging at his lips.

  Miss Lydia looked at him directly. “I had left it at Longbourn thinking George would come for me there.”

  Raising a hand to his chin, Richard turned away from Miss Lydia and paced the room. I watched him, seeing the glee in his eyes. I looked at my brother who also appeared to be hiding his amusement.

  “So,” Richard finally said in a voice not quite as harsh. “When Wickham discovere
d you had no funds, what happened?”

  A look of anger stole over Miss Lydia’s countenance and she turned her glare on Richard. “He was upset and said we could not go to Gretna Green.”

  “How did you come to be here?”

  “George said he needed to think. He was going to leave us in the carriage and take a walk, but I suggested we come here instead. I wasn’t going to sit in a carriage with her while he went who knows where.” Miss Lydia sniffed disdainfully.

  Fitzwilliam leaned closer to Elizabeth. “Well at least your sister knew she could not fully trust him,” he whispered.

  Elizabeth nodded sadly as she finished bathing my face. “Take off your pelisse, Georgie. Let me see if I can get some of those spots out before we return to Netherfield. We must not cause the others any additional distress.”

  I did as she said, but continued watching the story unfolding before me. From what we had heard, it was clear Miss Lydia knew Mr. Wickham was not trustworthy, but she seemed determined to attach herself to him. I could not fathom this. I was certain Miss King at least believed herself in love. I could not say such of Miss Lydia.

  Richard had begun to pace again, but he stopped near Mr. Singleton this time. “Miss King, would you

  please tell us what occurred when you arrived here?”

  A faint blush covered her cheeks as she looked at Richard and then toward Miss Lydia. “Mr. Wickham and the coachman argued. Mr. Wickham came inside and then returned to the coach. The coachman finally departed, but he was using the most reprehensible language.” The dismayed expression on the young girl’s countenance would have drawn laughter in any other circumstance.

  Elizabeth leaned toward Fitzwilliam. “I suppose Papa will have to ask the Schmitts to determine what is missing so we can replace it.”

  “Miss King,” Richard said in a firm voice, clearly ready to be done with this tale. “You and Miss Lydia were alone with Mr. Wickham for several hours.” He paused and allowed his words to have an effect upon her. “What happened during that time?”