by Leenie Brown
“Exactly!” Jack agreed. “What gentleman wishes to have the lady he loves question his gentlemanliness?”
“A lady should be given a moment to think,” Anne muttered. “Ooo.” She grimaced and placed a hand on her swollen abdomen.
“Are you well?” Alistair asked.
“I think it was just the little one stretching as he is sometimes wont to do,” she replied. “Ooo,” she said once again as she rubbed her abdomen.
“You should lie down,” Alistair suggested.
“Yes, you should,” Jack agreed.
“Not until I know why you are no longer distressed,” Anne replied, her hand still rubbing her stomach as she continued to grimace.
“Very quickly then.” Jack sat forward. He was not at all certain that Anne was indeed well, and the thought that he might be the reason was most unsettling. “I went home prepared to grieve my loss of Miss Darcy, and I was well into my painful reverie when her brother called on me. He explained a few things about his sister to me, assured me that Miss Darcy had not meant to refuse me, and then told me that he would not be opposed to having me as a brother.” A grin split Jack’s face. “I have done it, Al. I have won Mr. Darcy’s approval just as I set out to do last year. And,” he held up a finger to punctuate his point, “I have not lost Miss Darcy.”
Anne leaned forward, her face still wore a pained expression. “I am so pleased,” she managed to say between clenched teeth.
“You must go to bed.” Alistair was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet. “Jack, help me get her to her room.”
Jack took a place on the other side of Anne and offered her his arm. “Do not be afraid to lean on me heavily,” he said softly.
Slowly, they made their way up the stairs and to Anne’s room.
“Shall I fetch the doctor?” Jack asked as Anne pushed herself up onto the bed, insisting she would rather sit than lie down despite Alistair’s protests that lying might be best.
“Please,” Alistair said as he removed his wife’s slippers.
“A servant can go,” said Anne.
“No,” Jack said, placing a hand on hers, “I will feel better if I have something more to do than pace below, wondering what is taking the man so long.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Rest,” Jack encouraged. Then, he placed a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, looked his friend in the eye, and said softly, “I will be a quick as I can be. All will be well.”
As he hurried from the room, he hoped that it was true. It was too early for the baby to come. There was yet a month before the child was expected.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he told a maid, who was in the hall, to have the flowers Anne had left in the sitting room put into a vase and taken to Mrs. Pratt. Then he informed the butler that he would return soon with the doctor, and, snatching his hat from the table in the sitting room, he left.
~*~*~
Georgiana yawned and rested her head against the back of her chair. Her eyes were too tired to continue the stitching she was attempting to do. She would rest them for a few moments.
Sometime later, a hand gently shook her shoulder. “Good morning, my dear,” said Lady Margaret as Georgiana’s eyes opened. “I take it you did not sleep well?”
Georgiana shook her head. “I slept very little, if at all.” She tipped her head to the side, and her brows drew together. Why was her grandmother here? “I had thought you were not coming today. Were you not to visit Anne?”
Lady Margaret settled into a chair, and her maid arranged a basket of knitting supplies at her feet before scurrying off at the wave of Lady Margaret’s hand. “That was the plan before your brother’s note arrived insisting I come sit with you today in case you have callers.”
How long had she been asleep? Apparently, it had been at least long enough for her brother to send a note and for Lady Margaret to arrive. Georgiana shook her head in an attempt to clear the fogginess that seemed to reside within it. She still could not figure out why her grandmother was sitting with her rather than Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth is ill.”
“I beg your pardon?” Georgiana sat forward, eyes wide.
“It is nothing about which to fret,” Lady Margaret replied with a small knowing smile. “The doctor has arrived, and your brother will be put at ease shortly.”
“I do not understand.”
“My guess is that you will be an aunt in the not too distant future. Many ladies feel unwell at the beginning. I know I did.” She shook her head. There was a faraway look in her eyes and a small smile on her lips. “I could only eat dry toast and weak tea for breakfast for several weeks and only broth with bread for many dinners.” Her eyes came to rest on Georgiana. “Your grandfather was so solicitous and understanding.”
Georgiana loved how her grandmother’s face always shone with such fondness when she spoke of her late husband. “Do you really think Elizabeth is with child?”
Lady Margaret nodded. “I do indeed. Now, tell me, are you expecting any callers today?”
“There may be a few,” Georgiana replied. “However, I had hoped to call on Jack, but if Fitzwilliam is otherwise occupied…”
“I have a carriage,” Lady Margaret interjected, “so if your brother is not able to escort you to make your apology, I will.” She straightened in her chair and tipped her head toward the door where the butler stood. “It seems we will have at least one caller today.”
“Mr. Tibbett to see Miss Darcy,” said Mr. Kinney.
Lady Margaret shook her head. “Blast,” she muttered.
Georgiana giggled softly before greeting their visitor.
Chapter 11
“I am delighted to see you are well, Miss Darcy,” Mr. Tibbett said as he took a seat. “I was quite concerned after you left last night. Miss Parkes assured me it was nothing more than fatigue and a headache, but my mind would not rest easy until this moment when I could see for myself that you were indeed well.”
“My head has cleared, and all is beginning to be put to right.” Georgiana stole a secret glance towards her grandmother.
Mr. Tibbett shifted in his seat and rubbed his hands on his knees. “I had hoped to find your brother at home to callers, but your butler informed me that he was unavailable.”
Georgiana’s eyes grew wide. “Indeed?”
Oh, this was not good!
“Was there a particular reason?” Her heart raced, and she felt as if she might cast up her accounts.
It was a most shocking reaction to have to the news that a gentleman who had been calling on her regularly for two weeks wished to speak to her brother, but there it was. Fear, anxiety, panic, and the desire to flee warred within her. If she had not already determined that she loved Jack and that Mr. Tibbett was not whom she wished to marry, such an acute reaction as she was currently experiencing would have left no doubt in her mind that she did not love the gentleman before her.
For though she had been confused for the past two years about what did or did not constitute how a lady should feel about the gentleman she wished to marry, she knew that wanting to push him out of the room and throw the bolt on the door behind him was not an indication of affection.
“I had hoped to ask him for permission to seek your hand.” He swallowed, cast a wary look at Lady Margaret, and once again wiped his hands on his pants.
The action made Georgiana wish to giggle. It appeared as if his considering marrying her was causing him a great deal of pain, perhaps even as much as his proposing the idea was causing her.
“Why would you do that?” It was rather obvious he did not honestly wish it.
He blinked. “I thought we got on well.”
“Oh,” was all Georgiana said in response. It was not a ridiculous reason. Getting on well together was often the only requirement beyond wealth and standing spoken about by some – many in society.
“Do we not?” He was wiping his hands on his pants again.
A deep crease formed in
Georgiana’s brow as she considered his question. They had enjoyed themselves on drives and at the theatre, but that was not enough for two people to marry, was it?
“Do you love her?” Lady Margaret asked before Georgiana could admit that yes, they did get on well.
Georgiana silently sighed in relief that she would not have to broach the subject of love with Mr. Tibbett. She was not at all certain he would consider her opinion as valid, but the opinion of the Dowager Countess of Matlock should hold some sway.
“I… I… intend to,” Mr. Tibbett stammered.
“So, you do not love my granddaughter?”
“I am fond of her.”
“But fondness is not love,” said Lady Margaret.
“But it can become love,” he refuted.
“Fondness is not enough for me,” Georgiana said. “I wish to be loved.”
“You will be,” he insisted.
“But I wish to be loved now, though not by you,” Georgiana declared, causing the poor gentleman in front of her to gape. She was not even certain that he knew what love was, not that his knowledge or lack thereof would sway her in the least, but it was important to the happiness of a friend.
“And what of Miss Parkes?” Georgiana asked on behalf of that friend.
He blinked. “Pardon me?”
“Did you not, at one time, tell her that you loved her?”
“Is that what she has told you?”
Georgiana could see his ire rising in the way his eyes narrowed. “Did you tell her that you loved her?” Georgiana repeated.
He pressed his lips together into a displeased frown before eventually answering, “Yes, but it was years ago.”
“Was it a lie?”
His eyes grew wide. “No.”
“Then you still love her?”
“I… I… We do not suit.”
He would seek her hand when he loved another? Georgiana shook her head. Her own displeasure was mounting on Miss Parkes’ behalf.
“Do you know, Mr. Tibbett that I, too, enjoy reading novels and intend to continue to do so after I am married.” She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “And I expect to be trusted by my husband enough to select them for myself without his prior approval?” She smiled at her grandmother. “Revolutionary, is it not?”
“But a lady does not know what is best,” Mr. Tibbett protested.
“I beg to differ,” said Lady Margaret. “A lady who is as well-bred as my granddaughter, and I would venture to add Miss Parkes, knows very well what is best. They are ladies of high calibre, young man. They are not the sort of ladies to go cavorting or to throw caution to the wind at the smallest inclination of securing a bit of drivel to read. If you do not have enough respect for the lady whom you wish to take for a wife to trust her choices in reading material, how shall you ever trust her with your children or the household accounts?” Lady Margaret tipped her head and gave him a pointed look that said she expected a reply to her question. However, Mr. Tibbett seemed to be either unwilling or unable to formulate such a thing at present.
“I once had a gentleman tell me he loved me and then withdrew his words as you have done to Miss Parkes. I will not tie myself to such a man,” Georgiana said quietly.
“I did not withdraw my words,” Mr. Tibbett protested.
“Perhaps not in words but in action. A gentleman, who loves a lady and declares such to her, does not court or make offers to other ladies.” Georgiana shook her head. “She still loves you.”
She waved her hand from the top of his head to the bottom of his boots, indicating his person. “Not this gentleman, who is attempting to check off some list of what makes him the perfect husband with the perfect wife, but you. The you she knew for all those years before you became this.” Once again, she used her hand to indicate his person.
She paused as his mouth opened to make some retort but then closed again. With any luck, he was considering his actions in regard to Miss Parkes, though Georgiana was not entirely certain he was. It was more likely that he was formulating some way to renew his address. However, no matter how many times or in what fashion he attempted to press his suit, the answer would remain the same. He was not Jack.
“I should like very much to have you sit at my table someday for dinner with your wife and my friend at your side.” Georgina said, “I hold no ill will for you, Mr. Tibbett. Indeed, I wish you happy; however, I do not wish to marry you.”
Presently, the gentleman looked as far from happy as was possible. He had folded his arms across his chest and was scowling.
“It’s that Ralston,” he grumbled. “Not a serious bone in the man’s body and yet, he turns every female’s head.”
“Not Miss Parkes’ head,” Georgiana said.
Mr. Tibbett snorted.
“I assure you it is true,” Georgiana continued.
“But you? He has turned your head has he not? I saw how you looked at him last night while you were dancing.”
Georgiana shook her head and smiled. “No, Mr. Tibbett, Mr. Ralston has not merely caught my attention. He has captured my heart. I adore his lightness, but there is a depth to him, sir, that is…” she shook her head again as she attempted to order her thoughts, “remarkable. He is steady and true. He does not say one thing and do another. He is loyal and caring. He is…” she shrugged, and her smile grew, “everything for which I could hope to find in a husband, and I love him.”
Jack steps faltered as he followed Mr. Kinney past the sitting room door. Georgiana loved someone? His heart did not know whether to sink or take flight. Could he be the gentleman of whom she spoke?
“Mr. Ralston,” said the butler, who was several steps ahead of him.
“I will wait here for the doctor,” Jack replied. “You were correct, I do not need to accompany you.”
“Do you wish to be announced?” Mr. Kinney’s lips twitched slightly in amusement.
Jack shook his head. “No, I will make myself known.”
“Very good, sir. I will inform the doctor that the matter is of an urgent nature.”
“Thank you,” Jack replied before turning toward the sitting room and pushing the door open. She was wearing such a lovely pink gown that perfected her in a way Jack found quite captivating.
“Who?” he asked from the doorway. “Who is this fortunate fellow that Miss Darcy loves? Tibbett?” He looked at the gentleman in surprise. He had not realized that Georgiana had a caller.
Mr. Tibbett shook his head and rose. “No, it is not I.”
“That is fortunate for Miss Parkes,” said Jack. “She had hoped she had not lost you.”
Mr. Tibbett’s brows drew together.
“She is rather set on securing you,” Jack added.
“So I have been told.” Mr. Tibbett bowed. “Good day, ladies. Ralston.”
Jack watched the man leave the room. “He does not seem happy,” he muttered.
“No man is when an offer has been refused.” Lady Margaret’s lips twitched, and her eyes sparkled.
“He offered for you?” Jack could not contain his surprise as he turned to Georgiana, who nodded in answer. “Oh.” His heart both rejoiced that she had refused Tibbett and drummed loudly its fear at having come so very close to having lost her to the man.
“I should check on Elizabeth.” Lady Margaret tucked her knitting into her basket and rose.
“I had heard Mrs. Darcy is unwell,” Jack said. “That is why I am here, I was looking for Mr. Bishop.”
Lady Margaret paused at the door to the sitting room. “Why?”
“Anne is having some pains.” He blew out a breath. “And it is too early for that,” he added softly.
“I see,” said Lady Margaret. “Then, I shall go up and hurry the doctor along.” She nodded toward Georgiana and whispered “get on with it” before she left, making certain to close the door firmly behind her.
“It is not Mr. Tibbett whom you love?” Jack crossed the room to sit where Lady Margaret had been sitting at Georgiana�
��s side.
Once again, Georgiana found her heart racing and her being filled with flutters of nerves. However, this time there was no thought of fear nor even the smallest bit of panic. There was only joyful anticipation. “No, it is not Mr. Tibbett.”
“Then who?” he prodded hopefully.
“Before I answer,” she said, “I must apologize for my words last night. I know that you would never be untruthful with me. It was not that I did not trust you. I did not trust me.” She blew out a breath. Admitting one’s failing in person was just as difficult as committing it to paper. But it had to be done.
“I do not understand.”
“I once thought I was in love, but I was not. However, my heart had led me to believe it was true, and I nearly consigned myself to a life of misery and heartbreak.” She looked down at her clenched hands in her lap. “Since that time, I have had a great deal of difficulty knowing if I should listen to what my heart was telling me or not. It told me I could trust you, but I was not certain I could trust what my heart said since it had deceived me before.” Oh, how did one explain something like this?
Jack covered her hands with one of his. “No, your heart did not deceive you. It was deceived by a scoundrel – a good-for-nothing charlatan. You were not at fault.”
She peeked up at him. “You know about… Mr. Wickham?”
Jack nodded.
“How?”
“Your brother came to see me last night. I believe he wanted to make certain I did not leave town.”
She gasped. “You were going to leave?” How close had she been to losing him altogether?
He nodded. “I could not stay here and see you courted by another. Watching you these last weeks as you danced or went for a drive or attended the theater with this gentleman and that …” He shook his head. “Until last night, I had hope that you would eventually notice me, miss me even. While I harboured that hope, I could endure the discomfort, but without it, I could not.”
“Oh, Jack,” she cried. “Can you ever forgive me for causing you such pain? It was not intentionally done.” Tears gathered at the thought of having hurt him so severely.
