Just to Hear 'I Love You': An Alternate Tale of Jane Austen's 'Pride & Prejudice'

by Sarah Johnson

  Fitz replied, “Darcy and I grew up nearly as brothers, and sometimes a few punches are just what we need to set to right our solid friendship. Did you never fight with your sisters?”

  Mary chuckled, “No, I cannot say we have ever had reason to cause harm to one another, though we have occasionally thrown a pillow or two at each other.”

  He smiled, wincing at the pain. He brought the handkerchief back to his lip, “Pillows would have been a gentler touch, but I doubt they would have had the impact I needed to find my resolve.”

  “Just what have you resolved to do, Colonel?”

  As much as he wished to take her in his arms right there, he did not want this moment to turn into something more—he had plans for his proposal, and this was not it. So he looked down at his attire, shrugged his shoulders, and answered, “I have resolved to get cleaned up before I become fodder for the maid’s room this evening. If you will excuse me,” he bowed, then turned to continue on to his room as Mary watched on, confused with his answer. When he was gone, she continued on her way, trying to determine just what he could have meant.

  Fitz found that, once his mind was made up, he quite enjoyed the presence of his dearest friend beside him even more. He hoped she accepted him easily, but if she did not he was determined to win her love in time.

  The evening meal and entertainment was pleasant enough, though Georgiana excused herself as soon as she could. Something was going on with her cousin—Georgiana just knew it. He was acting so strangely this evening that she hardly recognized him. He walked into furniture—twice. Several times, when she tried to speak with him, he completely ignored her. Once he even walked away when she was in the middle of talking. She caught a few glances he gave to Miss Mary, and that worried her. He would never raise the expectations of a young lady without due cause, but tonight he was clearly flirting.

  As she made her way up the stairs and down the hall to her chamber, she heard a small noise.

  “Psssss... psssss”

  With her candle in hand, she slowly made her way to the noise, surprised to see the maid Becky hiding next to a table. When she was close enough, the maid lifted her finger to her lips, indicating to Georgiana not to speak, then held out a letter. She took it and turned it over, recognizing the seal immediately. When she looked up again the maid had already disappeared, so she quietly went to her room, dismissing her own maid as soon as she was dressed for bed, then sat against the headboard of her bed, snuggled within her pillows and blanket, to read her missive.

  Dearest G.,

  I regret that I cannot put your name, for I dearly love to speak it, but I cannot risk this being found by someone other than you. The last letter I received from you was nearly found, so please be careful. Perhaps it would be best if you burn this letter and any others you may have in your possession as we cannot risk your brother finding out that I am so near you.

  When your last letter arrived I was surprised at the length you had written, but after reading it I am no longer shocked at you, but at your brother. What a tale you have laid out for me of your life since we were last together in the spring. I cannot believe your brother would lower himself enough to marry a woman such as Miss Bennet, but it seems he is not above falling in love as well.

  Unfortunately, love is not what is keeping us apart. It is the simple matter of my not being able to afford such a wonderful lady on my arm since your brother has cheated me out of so much of the inheritance I was due. I can well live without the money, but my heart aches at not having you beside me. If only I could be assured of having access to your money once we marry. Perhaps... no, I could never ask such a thing from you. Forget I even brought the subject up. If fate means us to marry then even your brother does not have the means to keep us apart.

  I have been successful in finding a career for which I feel I was ideally formed, and that your brother can have no say in. I will continue to save every spare bit I can, and when you are of age and we are finally able to marry, we will have enough put back that we will not have to rely on your money.

  Oh my dearest, I miss you tremendously. Do you think you will be able to sneak away into the woods one fine afternoon? If the weather and my commanding officer cooperate with such a plan, I will be waiting for you in the wood at the back of the gardens on Saturday. I hope to see you, and I promise more pleasurable pursuits than talk of us not being together and the financial strain your brother has caused me. Saturday—do not forget.

  I am always yours,

  G.

  Georgiana closed her eyes and held the letter to her heart, a smile forming easily on her lips as she said his name silently in her head—George! It was as if they were meant to be together—George and Georgiana. She was convinced it was what her father wanted; after all, her father always told her that they were both named after him. If her father were still alive she knew he would not keep her from the love of her life. Somehow she would find out what George refused to ask of her—she would discover if her brother and cousin had changed the terms of her dowry. In her sneaky way, she once heard them discussing the possibility, but she had no particular knowledge if they decided to or not. She would find out, and she would assure George on Saturday that even without that money, no one could keep her from him.

  She read through the letter once more before she folded the pages and carefully tucked them into her hiding place. She refused to burn such wonderful words! No one would find them in her trunk. Her brother was not even aware of George’s presence nearby, and her maid had no reason to need it until they packed to leave, so for now she felt the letters were safe.

  Georgiana yawned as she blew out the candle and climbed under her covers, going to sleep nearly the instant her head lay on the pillow. She dreamed of her brother walking her down the aisle of a church, happily kissing her cheek and giving her hand to George as they exchanged vows before the minister. It felt so real when he took her in his arms and kissed her so gently. She awoke to reality, but she would not give up her heart’s desire. She would one day marry George Wickham.

  Fitz rose early, as usual, and stood at his window looking outside for a long time. For the first time in his life he knew what his future would hold—or at least, what he hoped it would hold. Even the uncertainty of the moment could not dampen his enthusiasm.

  Sitting down at the writing table, he pulled out some paper and sharpened some quills, then laid them out in his usual fashion and uncorked the bottle of ink. He set about the task of writing to inform his commander of the decision to sell his commission. It took a few tries to get the wording right, and he was glad when he finally produced a legible copy to send on its way. When he pressed his ring into the red sealing wax he felt a great weight lift from his shoulders.

  He and Darcy had several detailed conversations, and it was decided that even if Mary did not accept his offer immediately, Fitz would still resign his position. Darcy was insistent upon his staying with them until his situation was settled, especially with the great risk of Fitz being sent back to the continent in just a few short months.

  Fitz placed the letter in his leather case along with the papers he was to deliver to Colonel Forster today. He called his man to help him dress. For the last time, he pulled the bright red uniform over his shirt sleeves, clasped the brass buttons, and looked in the mirror. Everything he saw in front of him would be no more after today. With a heavy sigh he picked up his leather case and hat, then descended the stairs and exited into the garden.

  When he saw Mary sitting by herself on one of the nearby benches, he turned towards her. “Good morning,” he signed when she looked up to see who approached.

  She smiled broadly, “Good morning.” She could not help but stare at him—especially in his uniform.

  Fitz sat down beside her, placing his leather case on the bench between them, then said, “I hoped to see you this morning before I left. I have something of import to tell you.”

  “Oh? What is that, Colonel?”

  “M
y cousin has finally persuaded me to do what I knew was right all along. I knew several months ago of the possibility of my going back to the continent early next year and, although I have enjoyed being a soldier, I cannot continue to put my own life in danger any longer. I have been on several campaigns already, and I know the risk I would take in going again. Darcy finally convinced me to sell my commission.”

  “You will no longer be in the Army? Where will you go?” She did not know what she thought of such news.

  “Darcy insists I stay with them for now, and I am happy to oblige,” Fitz said with a smile. “I have some plans which I hope will make my future very bright.”

  Mary could not help the relief she felt that he would not be going back to the Continent. “You will be staying then? You will not have to leave again?”

  He reached his fingers just slightly towards her hand, stopping himself just short of such a breach of propriety. “No, I will not have to leave again.”

  Mary closed her eyes and swallowed, trying to still her rushing heartbeat. When she opened her eyes again Fitz was watching her carefully. She gave a small smile, “I am glad.”

  “Are you?” he asked quietly. “You wish me to stay?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded and then stood, “I have one last bit of business, and I will be back later, but I wish to speak with you about something. Maybe we can take a walk when I return?”

  “I would like that,” she replied.

  He stood and bowed, then left on his errand, happily whistling a tune as he rode to Meryton. His meeting with Colonel Forster was over with quickly and went better than expected. The man was a very competent commander and the two colonels talked for nearly an hour about the different campaigns they had been in over the years. Fitz was surprised they had not met before, given the many places and battles they had in common.

  The local colonel had a personal messenger leaving with some mail bound for London today, and he was glad to offer his services in delivering Colonel Fitzwilliam’s letter to his commanding officer. Even more good news for Fitz was that the colonel’s nephew was in the Army and had served long enough to purchase the rank Fitz was looking to sell. Colonel Forster promised to send his nephew a note with the messenger, and was certain they would be able to meet within the week to work out the details.

  With even more bounce to his step, Fitz now walked down the streets of Meryton. He had plenty of time to stop at the library and a few shops, as his horse needed a new shoe and was now at the blacksmith’s shop.

  He passed the milliners and saw a hat in the window that he was certain Georgiana would like. He would have to tell Darcy. Just as he was turning towards the library, he caught the back of a man who turned off the street. He was a soldier, dressed in the usual red uniform indicative of the militia that was quartered here. There was something oddly familiar about him though, and it made Fitz stop for just a minute. He could not remember where he had seen the man before, and with only a glance at his back he thought perhaps he was wrong.

  He did not find what he needed in the library, but after searching the shelves at the book shop right next door, he was able to find a used copy of a book about flowers and their meanings—just what he needed. He purchased it and thanked the shop owner, then made his way back down to the blacksmith’s.

  As he waited for his horse’s shoe to be finished, he stood with his back against the fence, one foot cocked up on the railing. He thumbed through the book, coming across a few entries that may be of use in his plight.

  The sound of a young lady giggling across the street made him look up. Once again he saw the familiar soldier he had seen earlier. He was flirting with a young girl with bright red hair. As the soldier turned, Fitz recognized his profile immediately. George Wickham!

  Not wanting to give away the fact that he was here, he turned and leaned over the book. The two paid him no mind and walked on down the street, Wickham continuing his flirtations to the eager young lady. When Fitz was alone again he went to check on his horse. Finding the task completed, he rode back to Netherfield to speak with his cousin immediately.

  He quickly found Darcy and Elizabeth sitting in the library. “I hate to interrupt your privacy, but there is something of import which I must discuss with you,” he said when he came in the room.

  Elizabeth started to stand, “I will just leave you two alone then.”

  “Actually, I am certain your husband will want you to hear this as well,” Fitz said. When she sat again, he closed the door and pulled another chair closer to the sofa on which they sat, whispering when he finally spoke. “I was in Meryton just a few minutes ago, and you will never guess who I saw in the middle of the street, flirting with the local young ladies.”

  Darcy knew his cousin would only speak so of one man. His face flushed in anger as he said through gritted teeth, “George Wickham!”

  “I see you feel as I do about this information,” He looked back at the door to ensure they were still alone. “Do you think Georgiana knows he is in the neighborhood?”

  “How could she?” Darcy replied.

  “Well, she did go to Meryton without us last week,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  Darcy sighed heavily, “Miss Bingley. Oh God! How many times will that one bad decision come back to haunt me?”

  “Do not be so harsh on yourself, Darce. You know she is responsible for this mess, not you.”

  Elizabeth reached for her husband’s hand, squeezing his fingers lovingly. “Fitz is right—this is not your fault.”

  Darcy did not want to hear it right now, so instead he asked, “What do you think we should do? Question her?”

  Elizabeth spoke up, “No, I am certain she will just lie to you if you ask her straight out.”

  “I agree with Elizabeth,” Fitz said. “I think if she does know we may find evidence of it in her room.” He turned to Elizabeth, “Could you distract her for an hour so we can search through her things? Perhaps a walk in the garden?”

  “I doubt she would be willing to walk with me. Do you have any other ideas?”

  “I think she can be persuaded,” Fitz replied with a sly look. “Come,” he stood, “I think it is time we have a few words with Georgiana.” He led them all up the stairs and knocked loudly on his cousin’s door. When she answered, shocked to see them, he said simply, “Georgiana, we have not seen you outside of your room lately, and we all feel it would do you good to take a long walk in the garden with Elizabeth.”

  “But, I was just about to...” she started to say.

  He interrupted her with a stern look, “If I hear anything further it will be daily directive. Now change your shoes and be downstairs in five minutes.”

  She reluctantly turned and closed the door once again.

  When he turned back to Darcy and Elizabeth he noticed the shocked looks on their faces. “What?”

  “Do you think this will actually work?”

  “There is only one way to find out—you have five minutes to prepare yourself and meet her in the hall, Mrs Darcy.”

  Darcy turned to his wife and kissed her cheek, “Thank you.”

  Elizabeth slid her hand almost unperceptively across her slightly swollen abdomen as she took her leave of the gentlemen.

  When Fitz turned back to Darcy he could not help but laugh at the smile on his besotted cousin’s face. “You caught that little gesture?”

  “Yes; I am surprised you did as well.”

  “If I did not already know your secret I doubt I would have noticed anything.”

  Darcy became solemn once more as he replied, “If I cannot even properly rear my sister, how will I ever be a suitable parent for my own child? This situation is showing me more and more just how unqualified for such a position I truly am.”

  Fitz leaned in closer to his cousin, lovingly patting his shoulder, “Do not place the blame on yourself—this is all Georgiana’s fault. All of it—do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, but I cannot say I agree.”
/>
  “Well, for now, that answer will have to do. Come; we will hide around the corner until she leaves.”

  They hid from view until Georgiana went downstairs, then they quietly crept into the room, checking the dressing room for her maid. When they were certain they were alone, Darcy replied, “I will search in here and you search in there. What exactly are we looking for?”

  Fitz began to turn over the papers on the desk, “Anything—a note or letter, perhaps a handkerchief, a button—anything that looks out of place amongst your sister’s things.”

  “A button? Who would give a lady a button?”

  “When I saw him he was wearing the uniform of the local militia. It is not unusual for soldiers to give a lady they are courting a button from their uniform.”

  “Oh—that makes more sense then. I wonder how he was able to enter the militia?”

  Fitz shrugged, “Probably won it in a card game. He was always lucky in cards.”

  “Yes, unless he was drunk.”

  Fitz pulled a small trunk out from under the bed and pulled on the lid. “This is locked. Do you happen to have a key?”

  “Yes, in my room. I will be right back.” He left and quickly came back with a key, giving it to Fitz as he knelt down beside the trunk. When the lid was opened and they saw several letters in the otherwise empty trunk, he could hardly believe it. He reached for one and opened it, recognizing the scrawl immediately. “I think I am going to be sick,” he quickly stood and went to the dressing room. The last time he had felt such dread was when he discovered Georgiana missing in Ramsgate.

  Fitz followed Darcy, pouring some water in the basin and giving him a cool cloth, then he went back to gather the notes and lock the trunk again. He put them in his coat, then went to retrieve his cousin, taking him to his own room to recover and discuss what they found. The two pored over each letter, finding a few clues in them that led them to believe the two had been secretly writing since Ramsgate. One missive mentioned a maid named Becky and Darcy made note of it to follow up with Bingley.