Georgiana looked at him pleadingly. This was clearly not a struggle worth fighting. After all, Aunt Augusta would keep Georgiana safe from his uncle, which was the important matter. “Very well. If Georgiana has no objection to accompanying you, you have my permission.”
“Of course Mary must accompany us, as well.” Aunt Augusta’s familiar self-satisfied expression did not waver.
“Of course,” he said drily, not fooled for a moment as to her intentions. “I hope the waters at Bath prove efficacious in treating your—Georgiana, what illness did Aunt Augusta mention?”
“Rheumatism,” Georgiana whispered, her cheeks scarlet.
Aunt Augusta laughed and nodded at Elizabeth. “You see, my dear, what a fine influence you have. One might almost think he has a sense of humour.”
“Only a man with an excellent sense of humour would choose to marry me,” Elizabeth said with a knowing smile.
Chapter 21
Bingley could not decide if the wedding breakfast was pleasure, torture, or equal parts of both. At least he could watch Jane, and since they were at Longbourn, he could pretend that she had never married and was waiting for his addresses. But Jane had never worn a cap in those days, and now she did. He could not forget her husband when she wore a married woman’s cap. Two years earlier he would have been at her side, speaking to her, but he had promised Darcy he would keep his distance.
Jane looked in his direction, and their gazes met. Her cornflower-blue eyes held his like a lifeline, but he kept his word and did not move. Jane did move, though. She glided across the crowded floor as if nothing could stand between them, until she was by his side.
Bingley looked nervously for Darcy, but he was already in the hallway with Elizabeth, preparing for their departure. Surely Darcy could not expect him to ignore Jane when she approached him. He would make polite conversation, but nothing more. There were too many ears nearby for anything private, even if he were tempted.
“Mr. Bingley, I am glad you could return to Meryton for my sister’s wedding. I hope your journey back to town is pleasant.”
He bowed, fighting the urge to take her hand. “Thank you. I will be returning to Scarborough, where I now reside. I was in London for some business, which fortunately happened to coincide with today’s happy event. London is not to my taste these days.”
Jane’s charming brows knitted slightly, but she did not enquire further. “I must go as soon as the bride and groom depart. I did not wish to spoil their special day, so I have not told them that Mr. Browning is doing quite poorly today. We cannot rouse him, and he has taken no food or drink for more than a day. I am sure you will understand that I cannot stay away long, although it means missing some of the festivities.” Her voice sounded as calm as ever, but she was wringing her hands.
Bingley did not wish to speak of Mr. Browning, but courtesy obligated him to respond. “I hope you will find Mr. Browning improved on your return.”
“I thank you, but I think it unlikely. He is failing rapidly.”
Failing rapidly? Why was she telling him this? Bingley’s heart leapt at the possibilities. “What do you plan to do?”
Jane looked down. “My sister has invited me to live at Pemberley, along with my son.”
Pemberley. He could go to Pemberley whenever he chose, and no one would think it unusual. “I am a frequent visitor at Pemberley. You will find it most comfortable, I am sure.”
“Perhaps I will see you there someday.”
There was a flurry of activity in the hall, and Mrs. Collins called out, “They are ready to depart!” The guests began to press towards the door to join in waving off the newlyweds. Jane took advantage of the hubbub to leave his side. Bingley looked after her, committing her features to memory.
Across the room, Mary said to Lady Seaton, “Mrs. Browning is leaving, and I must go with her.”
Lady Seaton frowned. “I am sure she will have adequate assistance without you.”
Mary gulped. “I will not be leaving for London immediately, so my place is by her side, until Mr. Darcy says otherwise.”
“If Mr. Darcy told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that as well?”
Mary paused to consider what the best answer would be and decided on honesty. “He would not ask me to do that.”
Lady Seaton barked a laugh. “True enough. Very well, girl, you may go. We will speak more in the morning.”
Georgiana said, “But I thought—”
To Mary’s relief, Lady Seaton shook her head. “Leave it be, Georgiana.”
Mary bobbed a curtsey and hurried off to Mrs. Browning before Lady Seaton could change her mind.
Georgiana climbed into the broad window seat of her room at Longbourn, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them as she looked out over the moonlit gardens. She missed the embrace of the hills of Pemberley. She always felt safer when the peaks rose around her with their granite boulders that looked like toys left behind by long-vanished giants. Hertfordshire was too flat.
An upholstery button stabbed her leg, and she shifted to avoid it, her nightshift rustling with the movement. It was not loud enough to disguise the click of the opening door behind her, but she did not look back to see what servant it might be.
“What, brooding, my chick?” The unexpected sound of Aunt Augusta’s strong voice made her jump.
Georgiana considered denying it, but she knew better than to think Aunt Augusta would accept a polite reassurance that all was well. “It has been a long day.”
“Yet you look troubled. That is not from the long day. Perhaps you would do better to speak your mind.”
Georgiana doubted that, but the words rushed from her anyway. “I thought Mary was coming to Bath with us. Why did you let her go back?”
“She will indeed go to Bath with us, but for tonight, it is best to allow her to return to Mrs. Browning’s home. It is what the girl wished. Think of all the shocks she had today and how out of place she must have felt. Her familiar routine offers comfort, even if it means working as a servant.”
“So she will remain a servant, then?” Georgiana could not hide her disappointment.
“I have no idea what your brother may have planned for her, though I have a few ideas of my own. I doubt your uncle will make any difficulties.”
“He will do nothing for her. He does not care what happens to her.”
“I agree. No doubt he has dozens of illegitimate children scattered hither and yon and never gives them a second thought. What is one more or less to him?”
“He brought them into the world. He should provide for them, not leave them unprotected and suffering.”
“I cannot argue the point, but Lord Derby is not known for doing things simply because he should.” Aunt Augusta shook her head disapprovingly. “Mary is fortunate that your brother took her in.”
“Fortunate now, but she has told me about her childhood, and how other children tormented her for being born out of wedlock.” Georgiana’s voice quavered as she remembered Mary’s stories. She had kept asking her to repeat them, as if to punish herself. “It was his fault.” She buried her head in her knees to hide her tears.
“What is the matter, dear? Surely you are not surprised by his behaviour.”
“It is not him. It is me. I am no better than he is.”
“That is perhaps the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard, and I have heard some quite ridiculous ones.”
“It is true! You do not know.”
Aunt Augusta’s eyes narrowed. “What do I not know, Georgiana?”
“I cannot tell you.” Her chest ached. Her brother would be furious with her for saying this much.
She felt movement as Aunt Augusta settled herself on the window seat beside her. “My dear, everyone makes mistakes. Some of us regret the harm done by our mistakes. Some do not care who suffers from their errors. That is the difference between you and Lord Derby.”
Georgiana stilled. “You know?”
“You are n
ot the first woman to have faced such a dilemma. It is far more common than you might think. There can be no good outcome to such a situation; we can only try to protect those we love as best we can. It is an error to bring up young girls in complete innocence of the ways of men.”
Georgiana struggled with the novel idea. Would she have been more able to resist George’s blandishments had she been more worldly? She could not imagine it; she had known she should not let any gentleman touch her, but each time, George said it was all right, that he loved her and would never harm her. Three lies. She wondered if she would ever forgive herself. “I should have known better. I am a Darcy.”
“If it is any comfort, you are not the first Darcy this has happened to. I found myself in the same situation when I was a girl, and the world did not come to an end. I married well and went on with my life.”
“You?” In her shock, Georgiana forgot to hide her face and stared at her aunt.
“Yes, even I.” Her aunt’s voice was unusually gentle.
“But how… I am sorry, I did not mean—”
Aunt Augusta stood up briskly. “Sometimes one has no choice in the matter but to make the best of it.”
“How did you make the best of it?”
“I made certain my son would be raised as a gentleman and would never know want. He has grown into a fine, upstanding young man, despite his unfortunate beginnings. I am sure you have taken the same precautions.”
“Fitzwilliam says the baby is well cared for and will be raised by a respectable family. He will not tell me anything more.”
“Your brother is a man of his word, and I cannot imagine he would leave a child unprotected, but it is unkind to leave you in ignorance.”
Georgiana shook her head. “He means only to be kind and to protect me. He hopes I will forget.”
“Foolish boy. As if any woman could forget a child she has borne! Would it relieve you to know more?”
“I… yes. I wish I could see him, to know he is well. Every time I see a baby, I wonder if he might be the one. I cannot bear it.” Georgiana’s voice caught.
“I can understand that, though I did not face it myself. I knew where my child was and could watch him from a distance. I will speak to your brother.”
“No! You must not! He will be furious at me.”
“No, he will not. He knows I can be trusted with a secret, and I think he will understand why you need to know more.”
The gloom of the previous year closed in on Georgiana, leaving her barely able to breathe, and then, for the first time, she felt a ray of hope that it might someday lift. “That would please me.”
Aunt Augusta tapped her finger against her lips. “That gives me an idea. Yes, I think a slight change of plans may be in order.”
***
Darkness was falling as Darcy and Elizabeth finally reached London. At first the familiar road had passed by quickly in Darcy’s curricle, drawn by matched greys who seemed to delight in speed, but one had gone lame en route, necessitating a stop at a posting inn to acquire a replacement. Darcy would not permit the greys to be separated, and the new horses were substantially slower. As the carriage approached the outskirts of the city, Darcy stopped again to light the lanterns and hang them from the front of the curricle. He did not wish to risk another delay.
Apart from the necessary business, the couple spoke but little on their journey, though if one were to count meaningful looks and stolen caresses, their conversation was continual. Elizabeth’s emotions were in constant tumult between joy, anxiety, and an odd worry that somehow it would all prove to be a dream. It was indeed the most familiar route to her, she realized as they neared Cheapside. “Are we to stop at my uncle’s house, then?” she asked.
“No.” Darcy said no more, so Elizabeth waited curiously until she recognized their goal. The expanse of Moorsfield, a riot of green hedges and tall summer wildflowers, opened before them, and Darcy skilfully steered the curricle onto the cart path through its midst before halting the horses near the copse where they had met so often. He said nothing, the reins loose in his hands, his eyes fixed ahead.
Elizabeth laid her hand against his, reminding herself that they were married and she need not worry about such an action. “Is anything amiss?” she asked.
Darcy shook his head slowly and then shifted to look at her. “I was recalling all the times I had to leave you here, and how I ached to bring you home with me, how empty my life felt when we were apart, and I had no hope of seeing you until the next morning. Our short hour together was such a delight, but it highlighted how much I missed you the remainder of the time. But I could not stay away, even when I tried.”
Elizabeth’s eyes misted. “I had no notion you felt it so strongly. I knew you enjoyed my company, but I did not let myself contemplate that it might be anything more, though I missed you terribly that time you disappeared for thirty days.”
“You counted?”
“I could not help it.”
His brow furrowed for a moment. “Elizabeth, when I returned after that journey to Kent, that day when we misunderstood each other so painfully—did you think of me as anything more than a friend at that point?”
Elizabeth laughed. “It will no doubt feed your vanity and pride, but I wished for something more. I thought it impossible, though. I was too low to be your wife and too proud to be anything less.”
“I am sorry, beyond sorry, to have been so unclear in my intentions that day. I paid painfully for it.”
“You must have thought me quite mad!”
“No, although I did not know how to understand your refusal at first. I thought it might be some attempt to punish me for my misdeeds.” He rubbed his hand along his cheek absently.
“I am still mortified that I went so far as to strike you.”
“That, madam, was the least of my concerns. I knew I deserved it for attempting to kiss you.”
“If it was the least of your concerns, I must not have tried hard enough.”
Darcy laughed. “You have no need to try harder, and I hope I will never give you cause to do so again.”
“Well, sir, I am sorry to begin our lives together with a threat, but I believe I will be forced to strike you again if—”
“If what?”
Mischief danced in her fine eyes. “If you do not kiss me.”
He took a deep breath to still his suddenly pounding heart. “You intend to strike me if I do not kiss you?”
“I shall be sorely tempted, I fear.”
“Here, in the middle of Moorsfield?”
“That did not stop you last time, sir, but if you insist, I will permit you to take me home before you kiss me, but my threat stands.”
He laughed. “Take you home—I like the sound of that. And although I cannot fear you, I will, on this occasion, accede to your demands.” He took advantage of the darkness to lean towards her, gently brushing his lips against hers.
She shivered as the heat of it raced through her. It was not enough. She wanted to forget the sorrow of Moorsfield and think only of him. He drew a deep breath at her look, and his eyes darkened as he drew her close and kissed her again, his warm lips clinging to hers as though near desperate.
All too soon, he drew away and straightened his shoulders. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“On this particular subject, you may feel free to threaten me at any point.”
“You do not, then, dislike the exercise?”
He leaned closer until his lips touched her ear, pressing a feathery kiss against the lobe. He whispered, “Elizabeth, with my body I thee worship. On that you may depend.”
Chapter 22
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook the snow from his coat before handing it to the hovering footman. “Is Darcy at home?”
“Yes, sir. You are expected?” The man sounded unexpectedly dubious. Usually the servants at Pemberley were better trained.
“This is a surprise visit.”
The man cast a glance out the
window, clearly wondering at the sanity of anyone who took on a long ride in the midst of a snowstorm, even if it was starting to lighten. “Perhaps you would like to wait in the parlour while I inform Mr. Darcy you are here.”
“Very well.” He strode down the hall, expecting the parlour to be empty. Instead, he was met by three snarling dogs and took an automatic step backwards.
“Frejya! Frigg!” A girl’s melodic voice spoke sternly. “Odin, I will thank you to sit, sir!” Instantly two of the dogs draped themselves by the feet of a lovely girl with blond hair, while the largest of the three sat erect by her side, his teeth still slightly bared as he eyed the colonel.
Richard extended a hand to the dog to sniff. The hound’s hackles slowly went down, and the colonel reached back to scratch the canine’s ears with a practised hand. The dog preened with pleasure. “Odin, you old softie.” The colonel laughed. “All bark and no bite.”
“He would bite you soon enough if I told him to, young man!”
He turned to see Darcy’s aunt regarding him with satisfaction. He bowed. “I have no doubt of it, Lady Seaton. I am sure he is well trained to the scent of Fitzwilliam blood,” he said dryly.
Lady Seaton smirked. “They have learned to subdue that particular instinct of late.”
He bowed once more. “On behalf of my entire family, I thank you. But I do not believe I have met this charming young lady whom your lapdogs are so eager to protect.”
“Lapdogs, ha! Colonel, allow me to introduce Miss Mary Seaton, my newly adopted daughter. Mary, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, your… well, one of your not-so-distant relations. But do not worry; he takes after his mother.”
Mary rose to her feet. She curtsied gracefully and glanced at Lady Seaton, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement.
Richard tilted his head to one side. “A relation?”
“A very close one, in fact,” Lady Seaton said with definite smugness.
His puzzled look gave way to surprise, and then he threw back his head and laughed until tears came to his eyes. When he finally could keep something remotely resembling a sober mien, he said, “Ah, Lady Seaton, I hope to have the pleasure of being in a distant country when my father hears this news.”
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