Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  “No, I suppose not,” Georgiana agreed. “Were he to learn of it only after we were wed, I think he might resent me, or even feel he had been misled. Oh, but you must advise me – what am I to do? There is a small part of me that is very, very afraid. What if it makes him love me less? What if he judges me for my folly, my impurity? He may regret ever paying me his addresses at all. To accept his proposals under such false pretenses would be very wrong of me. I could never be dishonest with a man whom I truly esteem. What is love without honesty?”

  Mary considered; the ramifications of such a disclosure could be serious indeed. There was a possibility, perhaps but a small one, that Mr. Willoughby may yet be discouraged from making his proposals, and even a chance that if he were thus repulsed, he would have the power to add strength to the rumors about Georgiana that were only just beginning to die down. However, Mary’s moral side ultimately prevailed. “You must tell him, I think,” she said. “If he loves you as much as we have all begun to believe, I am certain he shall respect you all the more for being truthful with him, and you have a duty to yourself to honor him with your honesty.”

  “I can see that – I only worry what William will say. It displeases him that so many people in the family are already aware – he would have preferred it kept between the two of us, Richard, and Lizzy. I know I can trust you, Kate and Robert, and the Gardiners, and I believe Rebecca would kill for us all, so I really see no harm in that, but Mr. Willoughby has no loyalty to me until our betrothal is made official – with such knowledge, he would have the power to destroy me, if his love is not as strong as mine.”

  Mary considered. Certainly further assurance was needed, and she again mentioned the information they awaited from Mrs. Jennings, who was in a position to either vouch for Mr. Willoughby’s character, or inform them if he was not to be trusted. “Can you not simply stall until you receive word from her?”

  “I hardly know,” Georgiana replied. “My Aunt Jennings has not always been the most reliable correspondent, and I have no reason to expect any reply from her before Mr. Willoughby pays his addresses. How might I account for delaying my answer, when I have given him so much encouragement?”

  Mary had no answer, though she wished to be of use to her friend and sister. “We will put our minds to it, and I am sure it can be worked out.”

  Georgiana sighed, and shed a few gentle tears. “Once again I am the author of my own distress. To be thinking of such terrible things, at such a time when my heart should be full of happiness. But, as you say, I am sure we must think of something. I shall not make a muddle of it this time.”

  ***

  The May Faire in Hunsford was everything the young people at Cranbrook and Rosings could wish, and they occupied themselves in the village for the whole of the day. Happy as Georgiana had been, the last several weeks, to receive Mr. Willoughby’s flirtatious attentions, she began to feel some trepidation now that he was on the point of speaking. She contrived not to be alone with him, walking to the village, and not wishing to intervene in Mr. Tilney’s progress with Mary, she maneuvered to walk with Harriet and Mr. Rushworth. If Mr. Willoughby felt any regret over having to share her attention, he was too amiable to show it, and carried the conversation nearly completely, even encouraging Mr. Rushworth to be sensible enough to recommend himself to Harriet.

  Georgiana’s desire to forestall Mr. Willoughby’s proposal was made easier by there being so much else happening to divert them. The weather was perfect, and the whole of Hunsford had turned up for the fair, to partake of the sports and games, dancing about the maypole, and the general frivolity. There were vendors selling their wares, an abundance of food showcasing local delicacies, as well as puppet shows, acrobats, and even a fire eater. Mr. Willoughby purchased a few blossoms off a child selling flowers, making Georgiana a pretty little present. Her happiness was complete in witnessing the same joy upon the countenances of all her beloved companions. Everyone laughed, everyone made merry; Harriet and Mary had even been gifted flowers as well, though Georgiana could not determine who had given them.

  As Georgiana watched Mary and Harriet playing at lawn bowls with Mr. Tilney and Mr. Rushworth, Kate approached her with a playful smile. “I am sure,” she whispered, “that between the four of them are two happy couples in the making, thought I cannot guess which will ever be which!” Though she would not give Kate the glory of admitting it, Georgiana began to think that it may yet be Mr. Tilney to capture Mary’s heart. He followed her throughout the fair, was standing very near her whenever Georgiana happened to catch sight of Mary, and protested loudly when Mary was not crowned the May Queen, a distinction reserved, naturally, for Lady Catherine’s daughter.

  It was nearly dusk once they had all amused themselves enough; the time came to walk back to Rosings, and Georgiana cast about with a look of desperation. The Crawfords approached to speak with Mr. Willoughby, and Georgiana seized the chance to attach herself to Mary, who gave her a knowing smile and asked how she had enjoyed the fair. “If you will take my arm for the walk back,” Georgiana whispered to her, “I shall have my every hope for the day fulfilled.”

  “He has not asked you yet,” Mary whispered back.

  “No, but I am sure he means to. Oh, would that my Aunt Jennings was a reliable correspondent! How romantic a moment it might be, with the sun setting so prettily just now, and after such a day! But I am determined to wait.”

  “I am relieved to hear it,” Mary replied. “I am sure it shall be all the more romantic when he does ask you, because you will have certainty in your heart.”

  Georgiana smiled. “My goodness, Mary, how very prettily said. And speaking of romantic, I have been trying to puzzle it out – who gave you the flowers?”

  Mary blushed. “One was from Mr. Rushworth, and another from Mr. Tilney.”

  “Well!” Georgiana grinned at her.

  “I hardly know what to think,” Mary sighed, smiling down at the flowers. “Sometimes I fear they only flirt with me because Lady Catherine is always so near Harriet – and so very frightening!”

  They laughed together, and Georgiana was on the verge of giving Mary some further encouragement, when Lydia caught them up and linked her arm through Mary’s. “Who is so very frightening? Cynthia Sutton? Ugh! I am very cross with her, always fawning over poor Mr. Audley, putting herself where she is not wanted!”

  Poor Lydia! Georgiana began to feel some guilt at wishing to forestall the addresses of the man she really did esteem, while Lydia was impatient to settle things with Mr. Audley. In the end, she was not able to put Mr. Willoughby off entirely, and he chided her for leaving him in suspense all day. “You must know what I wish to ask you,” he said, drawing her aside into the music room, where they were quite alone. He took her hands in his as he dropped to one knee. “Dearest, loveliest Georgiana, you began to touch my heart from the earliest moments of our meeting. Your beauty, your grace, your uncommon talent – our many lively discussions and near-constant agreement in all things – all this has convinced me that you are the only woman in the world who could ever make me happy, and I cannot live without you. My first marriage was not for love, but my dearest wish is that my second might be. I beg you to end my suffering and agree to be my wife.”

  As Georgiana stared down at Mr. Willoughby, his face full of such earnest and tender sentiments, her anxiety gave way to elation. Every hesitation she had felt was discarded in an instant; she broke into a smile, nodding her head enthusiastically as she cried, “Yes! Yes, oh yes!”

  Mr. Willoughby leapt to his feet and took her in his arms, kissing her gently on the lips. “Oh, my dearest Georgiana! You have made me so happy, my love!”

  Georgiana gazed at him with adoration. “I am – I am so happy, too, dearest Mr. Willoughby!”

  “You must call me John, my love, when we are alone – which I very much hope we shall be, every chance we get! Once we have your family’s permission, of course.”

  “Oh,” Georgiana gasped. That. “John,�
� she said softly, “when do you mean to speak to my brother?”

  “Soon – tomorrow, if you like.”

  Georgiana looked away from him – it was impossible to think rationally, as she must, while meeting his gaze. She still had no notion of when she might hear from her Aunt Jennings, and it seemed foolish to delay making their engagement known when she had been so confident that there could be nothing ill of her handsome beau to be discovered. It was only her fear of telling him about Julia that gave her any real alarm; certainly he must meet with her brother’s approval before she could breathe a word of her secret to anyone outside of the family. Yes, that is it – he will speak to William, and William shall tell him everything. “Very well. Tomorrow, then. I shall give you a little note to pass on to him, informing him of how desperately I love you.”

  “Oh my dearest girl, I shall ride to Town tomorrow, and throw myself at your brother’s feet, begging him to think me good enough for you. I shall break my fast with you, for luck, and then leave directly.”

  The next morning at breakfast, a letter from Mrs. Jennings arrived from London.

  23

  Kent, May

  No sooner had Caroline returned to Rosings than she was obliged to go to Cranbrook, to pay Cynthia Sutton her bribe. Fortunately it was accomplished discreetly, as all the gentlemen had gone on a hunt, though her dealings with Cynthia were every bit as unpleasant as she had expected, full of Cynthia’s gloating and taunting; Caroline quit the place to return to Rosings as soon as she could, all the more sour from the experience. She wanted nothing more than to return to her chamber and fume over the entire affair, but that was not to be. She met with Kate in the corridor of the guest wing. “Caroline, did you just return?”

  “Yes – that is, I have been to Cranbrook, but they were all on a hunt.”

  “More the better – I think I had better warn them not to come for dinner tonight, for poor Georgiana has been in such a state since breakfast.”

  “Whatever is the matter? And where is Lydia?”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “She is at the dower house – I sent her away for Georgiana’s sake, though of course Lydia insists that any moment Mr. Audley must be coming to pay his addresses. He shall have to wait until morning, I am sure – I hardly think Georgiana could bear it, tonight.”

  Caroline was both confused and concerned. She was relieved for a number of reasons that Cranbrook should not be coming to Rosings for dinner – she had no wish to meet with Cynthia again, and hoped that she might likewise avoid Captain Wentworth, for now that she had done what she must, she had every hope of leaving Rosings in all haste. However, if Mr. Audley had not yet paid his addresses to Lydia, there may be some difficulty. “But what is this about Georgiana?”

  Mary emerged from Georgiana’s bedroom, her face stained with tears, and she looked at Kate and Caroline with immense relief. “Thank God you are here – I believe I require reinforcements.”

  Still perplexed, and not completely past the aggravation she had carried with her from Cranbrook, Caroline allowed herself to be ushered into Georgiana’s bed chamber, alongside Kate. Georgiana was lying in a rather crumpled heap on her bed, sobbing into her pillows, and Mary sat down gingerly beside her, stroking Georgiana’s hair with sisterly affection.

  “My God,” Caroline cried, “whatever is the matter, Georgiana, dearest?” She went to her at once, sitting beside Mary; Mary made way for her, moving to a chair nearby, and giving Caroline a look of utter helplessness.

  Georgiana’s sobs continued a few minutes more before she could rouse herself to speak. Finally, she pushed herself up, curling her knees into her chest and hugging herself tightly. In one hand she held a very crumpled letter, which she proffered to Caroline. “You may read it,” she said, barely intelligible through her weeping.

  Caroline glanced down at the letter. “Who is Mrs. Jennings?”

  Mary answered on Georgiana’s behalf. “Her father’s sister – I made her acquaintance myself, when she visited Lady Hartley in Hertfordshire last summer. It is as I feared; she is well acquainted indeed with Mr. Willoughby.”

  Georgiana’s sobs intensified. “You were right, Mary,” she wailed. “Good God, how I wanted you to be wrong! I have been such a fool!”

  Caroline scanned over the letter, which painted Mr. Willoughby in a rather different light. That he had once paid his addresses to Lady Hartley, before her first marriage, was far from damning on its own – but he had done so after deflowering and abandoning sixteen-year-old Eliza Williams, ward of Lady Hartley’s first husband, and when it was made known that Eliza had borne his child, he was forced to abandon Lady Hartley – then Marianne Brandon – after treating her in an infamous manner, and attach himself to a rich heiress on pain of disinheritance.

  “Oh, dear Georgiana,” Caroline sighed. “This is grievous indeed.” Though she dared not voice her suspicions aloud, Caroline recalled the rumors that had been circulating London about Georgiana, which, if true, would certainly make Willoughby’s history all the more nefarious. “Please tell me that you have not entered into any agreement with him.”

  Mary flinched and looked away as Georgiana moaned again. “I have, I have! He proposed to me last night after the May Faire, and I accepted him! Foolish wretch that I am, I gave him my word, yet he is such a man. Another Wickham!”

  “Hush, Georgiana,” Mary said sternly, swatting at the poor girl.

  Caroline had more sense than to ask what a Wickham was; she was also the sort of person who could only look upon a problem with an immediate and insatiable desire to arrive at an expedient solution, and so it was now – some details did not matter. She stood, looking over the letter once more, and began to pace as her mind raced. “Who else knows about your understanding with Mr. Willoughby? Has he spoken with your brother?”

  “Nobody,” Georgiana sniffled. “I knew I ought to wait before giving him my answer – Mary told me she suspected there was something…. I had hoped he would not propose to me until I heard back from AuntJennings, for I had written to her to ask what she knew of him. Would that she had written sooner!”

  Mary frowned and wrung her hands. “She answered you in less than a week, dearest. She might have delayed longer still. At least the letter came before Mr. Willoughby had actually left for London, and he is not likely to approach Mr. Darcy now. Surely if no one outside this room besides Mr. Willoughby knows of the arrangement, it can easily be done.”

  “Yes,” Caroline agreed. “If he has not spoken with your family, the damage may yet be contained.”

  Georgiana ought to have been relieved, but she only wept more intensely. “What of the damage to my heart?”

  Mary tutted sympathetically, and took Georgiana’s hand in a comforting gesture. “Perhaps it is my fault, for pressing you to inquire. I cannot help but wonder if you would have been happier simply not knowing the truth about him.”

  Georgiana looked up sharply, her tears giving way to a quiet rage. “Do not say that! Do not ever say that! Of course I should wish to know the truth. To actually be married to him, perhaps for many years, before making such a discovery, only then to find myself irrevocably bound to such a man, after all I have endured – no indeed!”

  “She is right, Mary,” Caroline replied. “It is much better she should know the truth now. Happiness in marriage can never be left to chance – it is far better to be fully aware of the defects of your marriage partner as soon as may be, and go into the thing with open eyes, leaving no room for surprises once it is too late – as I am daily proof.”

  The other ladies in the room gaped at Caroline, astonished that she should speak so candidly about her own wretchedness, but she was still far too sour from her dealings with Cynthia to check herself now. What she thought she really might like, at such a time, was to box Mr. Willoughby soundly in the ear for inflicting such pain on a dear, sweet girl like Georgiana. She should also like to know what the significance of Wickham was, though she thought she might guess. She had heard Mr.
Darcy mention such a person, as the son of his late father’s steward, and a man of ill-repute. Again she began to wonder if those rumors about Georgiana may yet be true, for a great many other ladies might have overlooked a young man’s previous escapades.

  “You poor, dear girl,” Caroline said, sitting down beside Georgiana on the bed. “How you must suffer! But you have friends here – this is your family’s home – he is the interloper, and he must be made to go away at once. Is he still in the house?”

  Georgiana nodded. “I received the letter in time to delay his going – but I have not told him why. He was confused, wounded even, but he went on the hunt with the others.”

  “Unfeeling man! Well, you needn’t see him, if you do not wish to – you needn’t be the one to break the thing off yourself, if you have not the heart for it. We shall see to it all, and he shall be made to leave at once.”

  Kate met Caroline’s eye and nodded emphatically. “Oh yes, I will tell Robert as soon as he returns from the hunt, and Willoughby shall be turned out straight-away. He will not remain a moment longer than necessary under our roof – I will not have it!”

  Georgiana went wide-eyed with fear. “Oh dear – must you tell Robert? I am sure he will tell William of it.”

  Mary gasped. “Georgiana! You would not keep such a thing from your brother?”

  Georgiana looked from Mary to Kate to Caroline in panic. “Oh please, please do not make me tell him. It is beyond humiliating! I cannot bear it!”

  Kate hesitated. “I cannot keep such a thing from my husband, not when it has occurred in his house.”

  “Might you compromise,” Caroline suggested. “Of course he must be given some explanation of why Willoughby must be made to leave the place, but surely the information this Mrs. Jennings has provided must be enough ­– Robert is already aware, as we all have been, of Willoughby’s interest in Georgiana – he need only be spared knowing that they had actually made an agreement between them, and conclude as he likes as regards the rest.”