by Elaine Owen
“You fell in love, and the gentleman did not return your interest? My dear sister, that is an old tale, one that has been retold many times. I cannot imagine why you think your brother might hold it against you.”
“But that is not all the story,” said Georgiana, her voice wavering a little. “There is much more involved. The gentleman was only in love with my fortune, not with me.” Her face flushed deeper.
“Did he speak to you of marriage, then?” This did put a different light on the matter. Elizabeth could well imagine that Darcy might be angry with his sister for accepting the attentions of a gentleman before she was out. Still, it seemed out of character for him to keep his anger against his beloved sister for long. “It was very wrong of the gentleman to speak to you in such a way when you were so young and had not even entered society yet. I wonder that he was foolish enough to attempt it.”
“Yes, we spoke of marriage,” Georgiana said, and she suddenly looked so much more miserable than before that Elizabeth knew they had reached the heart of the matter. “We planned to elope together.”
“Georgiana!” Elizabeth exclaimed, truly shocked. Immediately she schooled her features into something more consoling.
“I knew it was wrong. I knew I should not even be speaking of marriage with someone who had not spoken to my brother yet, but he and Fitzwilliam had been such friends that I knew he would approve eventually, and I did not care to wait. I was so flattered that he had chosen me, out of all the other girls he could have looked at, that I simply could not wait to be his wife. Oh, what was I thinking?”
Elizabeth laid a hand comfortingly on her arm. “I take it the gentleman was older than you. Was he old enough to know better?”
“Yes, but you must not blame him entirely. I did wish to marry him; he was not forcing me against my will.”
“Perhaps, but he had powers of persuasion at his disposal that you had not. And had he given you any reason to distrust him?”
“No,”—and Georgiana looked tearful once again—“I believed his intentions were honorable.”
“How, then, did you discover their true nature? That is, if you do not mind telling me.”
“My brother had made an establishment for me at Ramsgate, and Mrs. Younge, my previous companion, took me there last summer. It was there that the gentleman found me, while Fitzwilliam was away, and convinced me to be in love with him. We had planned to leave the house in the middle of the night, before anyone could catch us, and be halfway to Scotland before Mrs. Younge even noticed our absence. But Fitzwilliam came to Ramsgate unexpectedly just two days beforehand. I could not bear to disappoint him, after all he has done to support me, and I confessed everything to him at once. He was very angry.”
“With you?”
“No, with the gentleman. They had a great row in the drawing room. Such an argument! I can still remember every word of it. Fitzwilliam threatened to denounce him publicly, but he did not care. Then Fitzwilliam told him that if he married me, he would have none of my settlement until I reached my majority.”
“And how did your young man respond to that?”
“He said that he could not wait that long, and that he would need to make his fortune elsewhere in that case. He left the house without a word to me, and I have never heard from him since.”
Elizabeth fairly shook with the magnitude of the secret Georgiana had just confided. So, all was not as perfect as it had seemed at Pemberley! Her heart ached for the girl, carrying such a heavy burden of grief and guilt for so many months, and churned with anger toward the unknown seducer. What a lesson to learn for one of such a tender nature! But now was not the time to voice her anger. Georgiana needed consolation, not hostility. She wished she had Jane’s natural talent for seeing the best in every situation. “It could have been worse,” she offered. “You might have married him and then discovered what sort of man he was.”
“Yes, that is what Fitzwilliam said.”
“Your brother did well to cover the matter up so entirely. Not a syllable of this has ever reached my ears until now. Had Mr. Darcy chosen public exposure, your name might have been damaged irreparably; many a young woman has lost her reputation for less.”
“Yes, I know. My brother is so good; truly, he is too good for me,” Georgiana said tearfully.
“He would not say so,” Elizabeth assured her. “To him, you are all that is perfection.”
“But he left right after you spoke to him about Mr. Bingley—and me.”
“Oh, my dear!” Truly distressed, she did not know what to say. How could she comfort Georgiana without betraying the rift in their marriage? For surely Darcy would not care to have his private business discussed with his own sister. “Mr. Darcy—your brother—had other issues weighing on his mind. Though I cannot betray his confidence, please believe me when I say that his leaving for town had nothing to do with you. He is not the least bit angry with you.”
Georgiana did not look reassured. “Are you certain? It seems so strange that he would leave so quickly, immediately after you spoke to him about me not wanting to marry Mr. Bingley. I know I have been a great deal of trouble to him.”
“Is this what you meant when we spoke previously, when you said that your brother had reason to question your judgment?”
“Yes.” She burst into tears.
Elizabeth was dismayed. She had never dreamed that her troubles with Darcy would spill onto his sister in such a way. Here was yet another reason to regret the rash words that had driven him away. She put an arm around the girl and let her weep for a minute before she spoke again, keeping her tone as soothing as possible.
“Georgiana, if your brother were still angry about your actions from last summer, would you not have sensed that before now?”
Georgiana choked down a sob. “I suppose so.”
“And you saw Mr. Darcy just before he left for town, did you not? Did he do or say anything then that led you to believe that he was angry with you?”
“No,” came Georgiana’s muffled response, her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder. “But he looked so stern, and I wondered if you had spoken to him about me. And then when you said that you had—” Her voice trailed off and she said no more.
Girls Georgiana’s age, Elizabeth remembered, inexperienced in the world, did have a certain tendency to assume that every event around them was somehow connected to them. It was no wonder that Georgiana had assumed that her brother had gone because of her, without taking other possibilities into account. She spoke gently but firmly. “I can assure you from the bottom of my heart that your brother did not leave because of you and Mr. Bingley, nor because of what happened with you and this other gentleman. Though I do not perfectly understand all his business affairs, I can at least promise you that.”
“Are you certain?” Georgiana asked, still tearful. “I do not like to think that I have caused him any more distress, not after last year.”
“I am certain that your brother holds nothing against you, but you ought to hear that from him, not me. Why not write and ask him directly?”
“Oh, I could never! There are some things that we do not speak about in this house. I think it makes Fitzwilliam uncomfortable.”
“I see.” Perhaps Darcy felt he was protecting his sister by trying to pretend the unfortunate event had never happened, but that strategy had not worked in this case. “It is your decision, of course, but I have always found that asking someone what they think, rather than assuming, is a better course of action. Your brother might not want to talk about what happened for fear of upsetting you.”
Georgiana gave a tentative half smile. “I had not considered that possibility.”
“And he might be waiting for you to raise the topic first. Will you at least consider writing to him? Or will you perhaps speak to him about all this when he returns? It would relieve both your minds, I think, and it will put an end to this dreadful uncertainty you are facing.”
“I will consider it,” Georgiana said after
a moment of reflection, and Elizabeth had to be content with that. She was glad that Georgiana had chosen to confide in her, but it would take time and patience for Georgiana to work through the hurt she had sustained, and Elizabeth had driven away the one person most likely to help. Only Darcy would be able to assure her of the strength of his affection.
Georgiana needed Darcy, and in her own way, Elizabeth did too. When would he ever return?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Three more days went by with no communication from Darcy. Elizabeth counted those days off like beads on a rosary, clinging to some desperate hope with each one, though exactly what hope, she could not say.
On the fourth day Mrs. Reynolds brought in the afternoon post to Elizabeth and Georgiana together. Elizabeth’s heart fairly leaped into her throat when the housekeeper handed her a single envelope but sank again as soon as she saw the handwriting. It was from Charlotte Collins. She smiled sadly to herself. How odd it was to be disappointed by a letter from one of her oldest friends!
Georgiana was more fortunate. When Mrs. Reynolds gave her a letter with Darcy’s fine, bold hand showing on the front, she smiled tenuously as she took it. Her smile grew broader as she opened it and began to read, and then she looked up at Elizabeth with shining eyes.
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” was all she said, though the expression on her face conveyed far more. “I should have known you spoke the truth.”
“About what?” asked Elizabeth.
“Fitzwilliam is writing to apologize for anything he may have done in the past to make me feel uncomfortable. He says that when the time comes for me to marry, I must follow my own inclinations. I do not have to marry Mr. Bingley or anyone else who does not engage my affections.”
Elizabeth could only smile weakly. “I am very happy for you, Georgiana.”
“He also regrets that I did not feel at ease speaking to him directly on this subject. He says that I am fortunate to have a sister now who can now fill the role of confidante in a way he never could.”
Elizabeth wondered if Darcy wrote those words with real sincerity or in a certain bitterness of spirit. It must rankle him that Georgiana would choose to confide in her, a newcomer to the family, instead of to her own brother. She would say nothing of this to Georgiana, of course. “Your brother loves you devotedly. I was certain he would never force you into an alliance not of your choosing.”
“He would never have known how I felt if you had not spoken to him for me,” Georgiana answered gratefully. “I must reply to him at once. Thank you, so very much! I will feel much more at ease now when I see him again.”
Elizabeth wished heartily that she could feel the same way.
“Has Fitzwilliam said when he is planning to return from town?” Georgiana asked Elizabeth the dreaded question while they shared a small dinner together. She probably assumed that the letter Elizabeth had received earlier that day was from Darcy.
Elizabeth had not heard a word from her husband, of course, but she did not want to admit that to her sister. “I am anticipating his return, though I do not know when it will be,” she prevaricated. “He has not yet told me his plans.”
“It must have been something particular that took him there at this time of year,” Georgiana said, persisting in an opinion she had expressed several times. “He usually avoids town during the season.”
“He might be waiting to meet Mr. Bingley, to bring him with him to Pemberley when he returns,” Elizabeth offered. It was the only explanation she had been able to invent ahead of time in order to satisfy her young sister. “Perhaps they are planning on examining potential homes for Mr. Bingley while they travel north together.” Georgiana nodded and appeared satisfied with this weak excuse, although Elizabeth herself certainly was not. In reality, she had no idea what Darcy’s plans might be with regard to Bingley’s visit, or if Bingley would even come at all. The invitations for the dinner party sat, half-finished, in the top drawer of the desk in her room; she would have to decide their fate soon.
Darcy’s letter was also hidden away in that top drawer, untouched during the day. Each night after Elizabeth retired she removed it and read it carefully through in the lamplight, seeking answers still hidden from her in its pages, although the action was merely force of habit by now. She had already nearly memorized it, but certain phrases still puzzled her no matter how she tried to tease apart their meaning.
What did Darcy truly want from their marriage, and why had she never asked him such an important question before now? She could no longer believe what her uncle had told her, that he desired an heir and nothing more. A man with Darcy’s wealth and connections could have married anyone in order to achieve that end. Nor did he seem to want only a social hostess, someone to grace his table while he cultivated relationships with other wealthy and influential men. He showed little desire for society himself. He had only announced one dinner party so far—and that would likely not have been planned at all if Bingley had not asked to visit. If all he wanted was an older sister for Georgiana, Elizabeth could fairly say that she had fulfilled that expectation, yet she sensed he wanted more.
It seemed clear that Darcy was determined to improve her view of him, but why her regard mattered to him was more of a mystery. I know beyond a doubt your true opinion of me, he had said, but I request and require as your husband that you read this letter in its entirety. Had his pride truly been so deeply wounded? Had Darcy previously believed that she held him in much higher esteem? If so, he must have been incensed to discover her true feelings. Incensed and perhaps hurt. I hope after you have read it that you will at least acquit me of willful indifference to the feelings of others, if not of the arrogance and condescension that you so eagerly pointed out in my character when we spoke together. Elizabeth pictured again the expression on Darcy’s face when he had turned and looked at her for the last time before leaving her room. There had been more than just offense and anger in that look, but the name for the emotion embedded there eluded her.
It was several days later that Mrs. Reynolds announced that correspondence had arrived for Elizabeth and that it was in her room as requested. Elizabeth made her way there swiftly, both hoping and dreading that it was from her husband, but the writing on the front of the envelope indicated it was from her aunt Gardiner. Elizabeth weighed it in her hand for a moment, wondering at her aunt’s punctuality. She had received a letter from Mrs. Gardiner just one week earlier, and although her aunt was a faithful correspondent, writing twice in less than a fortnight would seem to indicate something of note.
The letter began with a brief recitation of the parties and assemblies Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had recently attended in town and some lighthearted gossip about mutual acquaintances. But abruptly, in a new pen, her aunt started a very different topic.
My dearest Lizzy, we were astonished yesterday afternoon to receive a visit from someone we never imagined would deign to be seen in Gracechurch Street, let alone in our humble home. Can you imagine who it might have been? You have been very sly never to mention his name, but you must have known that Mr. Darcy was planning to call on us. He arrived while I was at the park with the children, and when we came back, imagine my surprise to see your husband sitting in the parlor with mine!
After settling the children with the nurse, I was able to join the gentlemen, and I was then struck with the difference in Mr. Darcy’s manners from when we first met him in Hertfordshire. He assured us that you are quite well and gave that as his reason for calling. He made the usual inquiries into the health of your mother and sisters, and asked several times if Jane is still at Longbourn. When your uncle assured him that she is still there, he asked your uncle to let him know if there is anything that the residents of Longbourn might be lacking that would be in his power to supply. Although your uncle assured him of everyone’s well-being, Mr. Darcy made it apparent that he intends to be a diligent custodian of his wife’s family. Nothing, he says, is to be done for them that he will not do himself.
&nb
sp; My dear niece, I congratulate you on the changed aspect you seem to have inspired in your husband. He would never have called on us simply for our own sake.
May I say how open and charming I found your Mr. Darcy to be? This was my first experience having a conversation of any length with him, for when he came to Hertfordshire in the spring his dealings were almost always with your uncle, alone. Perhaps my memory is faulty, but he seems more open, more affable, and much less proud than I remembered him to be. He was very serious in his looks, perhaps even grave sometimes, which I gather to be his wont. He was especially serious in his manner whenever your name came up, but he exerted himself to be agreeable. We asked him to stay for dinner, but he claimed a prior engagement with such obvious regret that I was compelled to ask him to come for dinner Monday next, which he gratefully accepted.
Your uncle was as much struck by the change in Mr. Darcy as was I. He has said little of it except to comment that we were perhaps much mistaken in our impressions of the gentleman.
Please do write again soon, and if it would not be too much trouble to ask, may we look forward to seeing you some day at Pemberley? Your description of the park makes me think that a walking tour might not be enough to see all of it comfortably, but I trust that you will have other means at your disposal for entertaining your guests. That is, if you think your husband would not mind. I remain
Your most loving aunt,
M. Gardiner
Elizabeth had to read her aunt’s letter a number of times before she could begin to credit its contents. Never in her wildest flights of fancy had she imagined that her husband would voluntarily call on her aunt and uncle, that he would seek out the acquaintance of someone who was in trade, or that he would willingly associate with someone whose condition in life was so far beneath his own. It had been necessary for him to approach her uncle at Longbourn after her father died, in order to ask for her hand, but Elizabeth had never deceived herself into believing that Darcy would maintain a connection once the wedding took place. Everything in his prideful nature must revolt against it.