Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  “What shall we do today, Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked brightly.

  Coming to, Elizabeth cleared her throat, “I am at your disposal.”

  “Well, I, um. I have a new duet. I have wanted to try it. I thought you could practice it with me, that is if you want…I mean if it does not sound too boring,” Georgiana glanced away.

  Elizabeth reached across the table and laid her hand upon Georgiana’s. “That sounds delightful.”

  “Wonderful! And with you there, I can try to play with courage!”

  “Courage?” Darcy asked.

  Georgiana looked quickly at Elizabeth who smiled and said, “Tis nothing, Mr. Darcy, just a new concept we are trying.”

  Darcy nodded and sat while Georgiana ate. He felt that he was a poor container for all this joy, for surely it oozed from his pores. He had not felt this happy since he sat at this table with his parents. This was what he wanted. This was what was important in life. Darcy looked at Elizabeth and exhaled; he was totally within her power. He had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted this, as he wanted her. Her beauty wreaked havoc with his body, but it was much more than that, her kindness, her cheerfulness, her good sense, and wit stimulated his mind and emotions, and he knew he was lost, thoroughly caught with no desire to be freed.

  “Elizabeth, that was wonderful!” Georgiana gushed as they completed their duet. “Playing with courage makes the music much more enjoyable. Thank you, Elizabeth.”

  “Not at all! You were the one who played it so beautifully. And did I hear correctly, did you add an extra note or two?” Elizabeth looked at Georgiana with a smile and a sidelong glance.

  Georgiana chuckled. “I did! I have always wanted to play what I hear, which is sometimes different than the composer, but I never had…well, I guess the courage!”

  Elizabeth put an arm around Georgiana and squeezed lightly. “Maybe you will compose someday so that others can see and play what you feel.” Elizabeth bumped Georgiana lightly with her shoulder and smiled.

  Silence reigned as Georgiana sat with head down and shoulders drooped, all traces of the previous excitement vanished.

  “Georgiana,” Elizabeth leaned forward and looked at Georgiana whose face was downcast, “what troubles you?”

  Receiving no response, Elizabeth touched Georgiana’s arm, “Was it something I said? Please tell me so that I can make amends.”

  Georgiana’s head snapped up, and she shook it vehemently. “No, no, Elizabeth, you have been only kind.”

  “Then what is the matter?”

  “I was just thinking of the courage to compose music, you know, to allow people to see and know what I feel.” Georgiana shook her head. “No one would ever want to play anything that comes from me,” Georgiana spoke so softly that Elizabeth had to lean in to hear her.

  Elizabeth inhaled sharply, “Why do you say that?”

  “If I speak of it, you will only hate me.”

  “Never! Never can I hate you! Whatever you have to say cannot be so bad. But if it troubles you to speak of it, then keep your own counsel; I will not think less of you if you do not want to speak. But know this, you are wonderful and kind and generous; I am certain that anything you offered would be a gift to the world.”

  Georgiana made a decidedly unladylike sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, “I wish to speak of it. I do not want to be afraid any longer. I want to have courage.” She lifted leaking eyes to Elizabeth, “And I hope you will not hate me,” her voice so soft, nearly swallowed up in her tears.

  Desperate now to know the cause of such distress, Elizabeth placed an arm around Georgiana’s shoulder and spoke softly, “Georgiana, I assure you I will never hate you, no matter what you have to say. If you wish to speak, should we not return to your sitting room?” Georgiana nodded.

  When the ladies were settled in the shared sitting room, Georgiana inhaled deeply and blurted out, “Last summer, I almost eloped with the son of my father’s former steward, George Wickham!” She inhaled quickly and glanced at Elizabeth, who worked to control her breathing and to smooth her face into a placid expression.

  “Seeing that I was becoming a young lady, my brother engaged a companion, a Mrs. Younge. She was young and lovely with such happy manners, well, at least whenever my brother was around. I did not notice at first that when he left, she would become authoritative. I had never had a companion, and I thought that perhaps this was how they guided young ladies. At first, it was just small things, like pushing me to change my plans to accommodate hers. She wanted to spend a summer by the water, and she made it sound so lovely. She told me that at my age, most young ladies had already had a holiday away from their families. She suggested that I ask Fitzwilliam to rent us a house at Ramsgate.

  “At first, I resisted. I did not know her well, and she was very forceful, but eventually, I acquiesced, and brother was ever so glad to grant me what he thought I wished. He found the perfect house in Ramsgate and hired servants for my care. The day that my brother left Ramsgate, Mrs. Younge wanted to walk out. That is when we encountered George Wickham. George grew up at Pemberley. When I was young, he was very attentive, and I adored him. When we met in Ramsgate, it was like we had never been apart. We laughed and talked. He said it was like coming home. I knew that he and my brother were no longer close, but I remembered how well Fitzwilliam had loved George when they were young. I thought that maybe I could help mend the relationship and return Fitzwilliam to a happier time.

  “Since my father passed, Fitzwilliam has had an awful responsibility upon him. He used to attend to the estate and other business interests from early in the morning to late at night. Except for my cousin Richard, he rarely had companionship, and I wanted to see him happy and lighthearted again.” She looked up at Elizabeth, “Some people mistake Fitzwilliam, they think him aloof when he is just determined to make things perfect for everyone he loves,” Elizabeth inhaled and looked away at the assessment.

  “George, Mrs. Younge, and I, agreed to walk the next day. At first, we walked together, but very soon, Mrs. Younge claimed fatigue and hung back. George began to tell me how grown up I was and that he had never met a lady as lovely as I. He brought me gifts and read me poetry. Eventually, he declared his love for me asked for my hand. I was ecstatic. He is so handsome, and I believed myself in love. I wanted to write Fitzwilliam, but George said that because of the disagreement, Fitzwilliam might initially oppose out of petty anger. But, if we were already married, Fitzwilliam would see how much we were in love, and all his anger would subside since it was only built upon a misunderstanding.”

  Georgiana fiddled with the ribbon on her dress. “I did not want to elope. I did not want to disappoint Fitzwilliam. I told George, and he said he understood but asked me not to share our happy news just yet. He would first write brother first and resolve their disagreement – then we would marry.

  “I was elated; brother would be there to give me away. That night Mrs. Younge told me that I would likely never marry if I did not marry George. She said I was too shy and did not have the comportment of a high-bred lady, even though she had tried to instill it in me.” Georgiana stared down at her hands. “I did not understand what she meant, but I have always felt awkward, so I believed her. She asked me if I were willing to risk the possibility of my happiness? What brother would immediately grant to an estranged friend the hand of his sister? No, she said, they would first have to resolve all difficulties, and we both knew my brother to be resentful. By the time the resentment was resolved, George may have fallen out of love with me.

  “I was horrified. I thought love would be forever. She laughed at me and said I was naïve. She said that my school-girl fantasies were proof that I did not have the sensibilities of a high-bred lady. No, she said, young men not satisfied often fall out of love. I told her I would think about it. She stared long and hard, then she left. The next morning when George came, she sent me to walk with him alone. He asked again if I were willing t
o elope. I nearly acquiesced. But there is only Fitzwilliam and me, and I could not bring myself to break my brother’s heart. I pleaded with George to reconcile with Fitzwilliam. Finally, he agreed, kissed my hand, and left.

  “I did not hear from George for a few days. I could not eat nor sleep, and I ran to the window every time I heard a sound. Mrs. Younge warned me that I may have just lost the only man who would love me. I optimistically said that maybe he had gone to my brother, but she laughed and called me naïve. She said no gentleman would depart without taking leave of his fiancé first. She went on and on about my comportment and childishness, and I just wanted to disappear. I cried in my room for two days. Finally, George returned on a rainy day, and Mrs. Younge sent us to speak privately.

  Georgiana’s chest heaved, and her voice grew smaller. “I was so relieved to see him that I almost said ‘yes.’ But when George closed the parlor door and asked again, I could not do it; I could not hurt brother. I cried, and he held me, wiped my tears, and kissed me. At first, it was tender, but soon it became more, ah, demanding. I tried to pull away, but he pushed me back on the chaise and laid upon me and pulled at my gown.”

  Georgiana tapped her foot furiously, her eyes wide and her breathing harsh. “I, I begged him to stop, but he became rougher. And just when I thought I would be ruined, suddenly, he was yanked from me, and I could breathe. I looked up and saw Fitzwilliam throw Wickham against the wall. They fought, knocking over furniture and crashing vases. Brother held George by the neck and yelled at him over and over. George’s eyes bulged, and his face changed colors!

  “I was so frightened; I thought Fitzwilliam would kill George. I begged brother not to kill him, but Fitzwilliam could not hear me, so I shouted that George and I were to be married. I knew that George had become too, too, ah, amorous, but I thought it could be forgiven with those who are betrothed. I thought it would make Fitzwilliam understand.” Georgiana shook her head, her voice flat now, and her face deadpanned. “Brother released George and turned toward me. George fell down the wall gasping for air.

  “I said to Fitzwilliam, ‘You must not worry. I know of your small disagreement, but once we are married, all can be forgiven, and we can live happily at Pemberley as we did when Mother and Father were alive.’ I am ashamed now of my ignorance, but I thought if my brother could just move past his anger, he would be happy to have his friend back.

  “Instead, Fitzwilliam became deathly still and ordered me to my room. I had never seen him so angry. I was afraid that they would fight again, so for the first time in my life, I disobeyed brother and stood in the hall. I heard my brother say, ‘Small disagreement, huh? What have you told my sister, Wickham? That I denied you the parish living that father suggested in his will? Did you also tell her that you rejected the living and demanded 3,000 pounds for it along with the 1,000 my father left you? Did you also tell her that you wasted that 4,000 pounds in four years only to return and demand the living once all your money was spent? No? Well, surely you told her of your debts to the merchants that I have been paying since you were in Cambridge? Worst yet, did you tell her of the four by-blows you have that Pemberley money cares for?’”

  By this time, Elizabeth’s hands were shaking, and her eyes were abnormally large. Georgiana, heedless of Elizabeth’s distress continued. “Then George said, ‘Tell her yourself, Darcy, though it will not matter for she has been compromised, and no one else will have her. After we are married, and I have her 30,000 pounds well in hand, maybe I will tell her myself; then, I can cease acting the besotted lover. It is quite tiresome.’

  “I nearly collapsed on the floor, only the wall held me up. I did not even notice the sounds of scuffling in the room as it seems I could only hear the pounding of my heart. When I did become aware of the noise again, I heard thumping, and my brother threatened to throw Wickham into debtor’s prison for the rest of his worthless life if he ever came near me or breathed a word of this to anyone. He also said he would allow Richard to run him through.

  “I held my breath, and then I heard Wickham say that he only wanted, ‘the mousy little thing’ for her dowry. I heard a thump and a moan, and then Wickham exited with blood flowing from his nose. My brother was right behind him with a thunderous look upon his face. He was intent upon throwing Wickham out, but when Brother saw me, he called a footman to turn him out instead. I turned to flee, but Fitzwilliam caught me and would not let me go.”

  “I was so ashamed and distraught that I had failed Fitzwilliam. I refused to leave my room for days after we returned to Pemberley. Brother, tried to reach me, but I shut him out. I saw him one day after I refused his offer to stroll in the Pemberley gardens, his face was so crestfallen that I nearly relented, but my shame was too great, and I could not. He looked at me for the longest time with such sadness in his eyes, then he turned and went away. By then, he had engaged Mrs. Annesley as my companion, and I know he spoke with Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Annesley that evening, and the next evening after dinner, Brother informed me that he would be traveling to Hertfordshire to help Bingley with his new estate.” Elizabeth tensed. “I am ashamed, but I wanted him to go, and yet felt that he was abandoning me. I know now that he did not want to leave, though he smiled and tried to seem cheerful, but he was back to the sadness I had seen when Father passed. He blamed himself for trusting our Aunt Catherine’s recommendation of Mrs. Younge. I felt wretched.

  “After he left, I felt better. I was ashamed at first for being relieved, but Mrs. Annesley explained that I felt such respect for my brother, that seeing him reminded me of how I thought I disappointed him. It took several months of Mrs. Annesley’s care for me to not feel so ashamed.”

  Georgiana fixed her gaze on the wall before her. “George is in debtor’s prison now. Fitzwilliam refused to pay any more of his debts.” Georgiana laughed a humorless sound and shook her head. “He would have been my future if Fitzwilliam had not come. And Mrs. Younge was his paramour.”

  Georgiana finished her narrative and slumped on the couch, drained. The house was still, no sound of servants, no London noise; it was as if the universe held its breath in solidarity with Georgiana as she awaited Elizabeth’s judgment.

  Elizabeth sat as still as a fallen tree, only her eyes blinked as her mind absorbed what she had heard. The world seemed to have turned, and she half expected to find the moon in the eastern sky. How could she have misjudged Mr. Darcy so? He had been distraught during his time in Hertfordshire, and Elizabeth had excoriated him when what he had needed was understanding. Elizabeth felt trembling. “Am I trembling now,” she thought? Shocked out of her silence, she looked over and noticed Georgiana, trembling like an Aspen leaf on a sunny day.

  “Georgiana, you poor dear. What you must have endured.” Elizabeth held Georgiana’s hands. “You are so brave, dearest. I cannot conceive of the courage you must have to stand against two people who should have protected you.”

  Georgiana froze and looked up with searching eyes. “Brave? Courage? I was not brave! I was weak and silly and childish! And I do not see how you could ever want to be my friend!” She bowed her head and sobbed.

  “Georgiana, no! I am perfectly serious! Look at me. I will tell you why you were brave.” Georgiana’s sobs quieted to hiccups, and Elizabeth smoothed the hair from her face. “You were brave. You were only five and ten, and yet you stood against two persons much older than you. Young ladies are taught to trust those in authority. Mrs. Younge used the trust inherent in that position to manipulate and to shame you into doing what she willed. It was despicable. She knew exactly what she did; she planned it, but you dearest, you stood against her attack.” Georgiana was silent, but she sat a little higher.

  “And Mr. Wickham! How dare he trade on the good feelings you felt when you were young, and life was simpler. To use his handsome face and pretty words to try and steal your dowry and your heart is appalling. But dearest, you refused to elope. If you had not stood firm those manipulators would have whisked you off to Gretna
Green before your brother had a chance to arrive! Yes, you were brave. I am glad that Mr. Wickham cannot hurt another young lady. I shudder to think what would have happened if one such as he had been let loose in a small community like Hertfordshire. You, Georgiana, are as much responsible for your rescue as is your strong, brave brother,” Elizabeth’s voice softened, “for if you had not resisted, he could not have come in time. Can you not see that?”

  They sat quietly; Georgiana’s eyes fixed somewhere in front of her. The noises of the great house resumed like an exhale when doom has been avoided. Suddenly, Georgiana turned to Elizabeth and embraced her. Her chin resting on Elizabeth’s shoulder, she sighed. “Thank you. Thank you, Elizabeth,” she said quietly, all traces of tears and trembles gone. Then she rose and walked from the room.

  It had been little more than an hour since she and Georgiana had parted. Elizabeth walked solemnly through the corridors of Darcy house, trailing her finger along the wall. Georgiana’s revelations had removed the curtains and allowed the light to shine through, and Elizabeth was shaken. Her aimless wanderings brought her to a room lined with the portraits of generations of Darcys. She looked at a portrait of a younger Georgiana and smiled at the sweetness and shyness captured by the artist. A lovely portrait of Anne Darcy reminded Elizabeth of Georgiana. But it was the portrait of George Darcy that made her eyes bulge. The son was the spitting image of the father.

  Finally, Elizabeth stared at a portrait of a younger Darcy, which looked as if it may have been painted just before his father’s passing. He was very masculine, broad-shouldered and chiseled features. He exuded strength and confidence, arrogance even. It was what one saw immediately; however, when one looked closer, one also saw kindness and intelligence shining from those incredibly beautiful, sapphire blue eyes. Elizabeth stared for the longest time. Then, a sudden shudder struck her, and she gasped and staggered back. With her armor of prejudice now gone, Elizabeth knew that her relationship with Mr. Darcy would never again be the same.