Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (20 page)

Mr Darcy must have known what he was. He would not have hastened back from town, had he not been terrified by the sheer notion of that man near his sister. So terrified that he had arrived as soon as humanly possible – must have left within hours of receiving Georgiana’s letter; must have travelled without stopping, day and night.

He might have felt at fault as well, for not leaving instructions that Mr Wickham should be denied the house. But his failure to anticipate that need could not possibly excuse her failings. She all but shuddered at what might have happened earlier that day. She had no business to linger in the bookshop dreaming of the man who paid her wages and any gifts she might have found for him, while Georgiana was being lured into a scheme that could have ended in her ruin.

It had not, the Lord be praised, and she had been able to preserve her, but it should not have come as close as that. She should have seen through Mr Wickham’s schemes – and through Miss Fenton’s. With hindsight, she could think of so many instances that should have aroused suspicion. And would have, had her head not been so unpardonably full of Mr Darcy.

She bit her lip and winced. She could not tell him that. But she would have to acknowledge most, if not all, of her other errors.

Now?

She winced again. It had to be done. In private. Their present circumstances afforded enough privacy. Quiet words would not carry to the coachman and footmen, over the noise of the moving carriage. He was fair. He would listen. Might not be too quick to forgive, but a full explanation might soften some of his unbearable anger. And she could not withstand another moment of the wretched silence anyway.

Her chin came up and she bit the bullet.

“Mr Darcy, I am woefully aware that I have failed you– ”

His eyes shot up to her, silencing her with their dark glare. He stared, daring her to continue. Daring her to provide an explanation. When she could not quite find the wherewithal to do so, he turned back to the window.

“You failed yourself more than you failed me,” he said, his voice ice-cold. His lips tightened into the grimmest mask of profound displeasure and he spoke again, without turning. “Distasteful as it might be to bring this up, I feel you should be warned before matters get well and truly out of hand. Do not pin your hopes on marriage. Your charms, substantial as they might be, are insufficient without a considerable dowry or at least well-placed connections.”

She froze. So he did know her secret. The shock of the disclosure was overpowering, and his choice to address this here and now scarcely less so. As was his dismissive reference to her shortcomings. And the words he had used. Distasteful. Her eyes stung, but with the greatest effort she kept herself in check. Her back stiffened and she clasped Georgiana’s crumpled pelisse closer to her chest.

“I wonder at your mentioning it at all, since it is so distasteful,” she replied, her tone just as icy, hurt feelings getting the better of her. “And I might as well wonder at your being so ungentlemanly as to feel the need to put it in so many words.”

His outrage was instantly apparent.

“Ungentlemanly? You lay that on
me?
”

“I most certainly do,” she defiantly retorted. “This is hardly the time or the place, but while we are on the subject pray let me assure you that I need no such warning. I had
not
pinned my hopes on marriage.”

His dark glare swept over her with something akin to disbelieving horror.

“Yet, knowing that, you would still choose to be in this untenable position?”

She shrugged and forced herself to reply crisply:

“As you see.”

His stare remained unbroken for a few awful moments, and then he looked away.

“You must understand that under the circumstances you cannot continue as my sister’s companion,” he said flatly, and the finality of the heartless statement chilled her to the core, as did his next, when he resumed. “You should leave to be with yours as soon as may be. At least there you might be at some distance from unsuitable associations.”

Her chest swelled in indignation.

“Unsuitable indeed! You have said quite enough, Sir. I perfectly comprehend your feelings and have now only to be ashamed of what my own had been. Rest easy, I shall leave Pemberley as soon as possible.”

Stony silence fell. Darcy turned to stare out of his window and Elizabeth out of hers. She would not cry! By all that was holy, she would
not
burst into tears like some weakling – like some spurned damsel. She wrapped her still burdened arms closer to her chest, as though to cover the gaping hole within.

The rolling hills scrolled before her eyes, eliciting no reaction. Least of all sadness at forsaking such glorious sights forever. If she never returned to Derbyshire again, it would be too soon.

CHAPTER 17

Elizabeth pushed the door open as soon as the carriage had come to a halt, not waiting to be handed down, nor for the step to be lowered. She spotted the other carriage just ahead, on the cobbled circle before the main entrance, with Joseph at the reins, presumably readying to drive back to Lambton to fetch her. She unnecessarily said to the young footman, who had jumped off his place at the back:

“No need, Peter. I am–” She was about to say “I am home now,” but the words caught in her throat. “I am here now,” she said instead.

“And the things, Ma’am? Have they been retrieved?”

“Yes. I will take them up.”

Peter nodded. Then, with a quick bow to her, he walked off to greet his master and give any assistance that was needed. Elizabeth paid no further heed to either Mr Darcy or his people. Instead, she made her way into the house.

She found Georgiana above stairs, in her bedchamber. The dear girl sprung up from the window seat to clasp her in a warm embrace.

“Lizzy! Thank goodness! That was very quick. Did everything go well?”

“I found your pelisse and reticule,” was all that Elizabeth was prepared to tell her. “Here they are. There was nothing else to look for, I hope.”

“I think not. Oh, you were so kind. And brave. I thank you.”

“Do not mention it. It was the least I could do, after leaving you at the dreadful risk of being lured away under false pretences.”

“False pretences?”

“Aye. Mr Wickham as good as admitted that.”

“Oh!” Georgiana gasped. “So you
have
seen him.”

“Briefly.”

“Goodness! Was it very awful?”

Elizabeth’s strained countenance darkened further.

“Sickening, rather,” she owned dejectedly, her voice gathering strength as she continued, “Georgiana, I am sick with guilt at what might have happened if he were allowed to have his way.”

“To do what?”

“Spirit you away. Inducement into matrimony, he cynically called it,” Elizabeth imparted with a grim set to her mouth. “Instead of being grateful for your father’s generosity, he felt himself cheated of a great deal more. He sought to gain it by marrying you.”

Georgiana’s eyes widened.

“So the professions of gratitude to my father…”

“Lies, all lies,” Elizabeth bitterly exclaimed. “His show of gratitude, his regard for your brother, his wishes for a reconciliation. A mere ploy to elicit your sympathy and play on your affectionate heart with childhood recollections. Only to resort to dire measures when he found himself running out of time. Force your hand, and your brother’s, to consent to the union through compromise.”

Georgiana brought her hand to her temples.

“How can anyone be so utterly devoid of every proper feeling?” she whispered.

Elizabeth put her arms around her.

“I know not. Nor do I know why Miss Fenton saw fit to lend him assistance, but– ”

“She did?”

Elizabeth let her arms drop and stepped back to catch Georgiana’s eye.

“Can you not see? She brought him here. She objected to my accompanying you to Lambton this morning. She took you to the inn and made herself scarce when Mr Wickham joined you by so-called happenstance. She sought to send your own carriage away.”

Georgiana shook her head in shocked incomprehension.

“Why would she collude to such a betrayal?”

“I know not,” Elizabeth replied with a deep frown that twisted into a wince. “I am to blame in this as well. For giving a Fenton the benefit of the doubt,” she all but spat the name, making Georgiana look up.

“What makes you say that?”

“No matter. I beg you would forgive my blindness as regards her, and worse still, Mr Wickham. He should not have been allowed to call and ingratiate himself with you.”

“Oh, Lizzy, hush,” her friend protested, clasping her hands in hers. “How were you to know? How were either of us to know it was all fabrication, when he sounded so open and genuine– ”

“So plausible and simpering,” Elizabeth scoffed. “He had no business to be here in the first place. I was not authorised to encourage gentlemen to call upon you, was I? In that, at least, your brother has every reason to be vexed.”

“You think he will be?”

Elizabeth pursed her lips and looked away.

“I know he is. Forgive me, I should have already told you. He is come.”

“My brother?”

“Aye.”

“So soon?”

“Post-haste, by the looks of it.”

“Oh, dear. The tidings in my letter must have been even more worrisome to him than we have anticipated. Rightly so, with hindsight,” Georgiana sighed and her brow clouded. “Is he very angry, Lizzy?”

“Yes,” was Elizabeth’s terse reply.

“How do you know? What did he say?”

“Not much. But enough to make his feelings clear.” Her lips tightened. “Would you excuse me? I would like to go and change.”

“Of course, do. I will see you when you come down. Or here if you prefer, as soon as you are ready. But pray do not look so downcast. I will speak to my brother and he will understand. Surely he must see we would not have given Mr Wickham the time of day, either of us, had we known what he truly was – had my brother but told us. And he must learn that if I was preserved, it was all thanks to you.”

Elizabeth could only shrug. That was as might be – all of it. Yet it changed nothing. Not the main reason why she would have to quit Pemberley. Georgiana’s mediation was powerless against it. Her countenance set, Elizabeth left her friend’s bedchamber for her own.

There was no comfort to be had, there or elsewhere. But she had not come seeking comfort. Just a quiet, private place, behind a closed door.

* * * *

The door was still closed and she was still leaning against it, sitting on the floor with her knees huddled to her chest. No tears. This was not a time for tears. She did not feel like crying anyway. She felt drained, empty of all feeling – or rather drained of the capacity to feel.

Too long a day, and too much upheaval. Fear for Georgiana. The rush to preserve her. The repulsive encounter in the parlour. The heart-breaking carriage journey. The dark look of disdain in Mr Darcy’s eyes. His warning – harsh and cutting. She would have thought him far above such wanton cruelty. Rightly hurt and disappointed as he might have been on account of her failings as regards his sister, did he really have to return measure for measure and injure her in his turn? State so very clearly that she was not good enough for him? As though she did not know as much already. As though she needed this, over and above his anger!

The light tap on the door behind her made her jump. She ignored it, hoping that whoever it was would go away, thinking the room empty. The tap turned into a knock, longer and more audible. She ignored that too and pressed her eyes shut. And waited, motionless and in perfect silence.

It was a small mercy on this day of frightful turmoil, but she was still thankful that she did not hear a third knock.

* * * *

As she had already said she would, Georgiana went in search of her brother. In his chambers first, thinking he might have repaired there to refresh himself after the long journey. He had not, so she stopped to let her friend know she would seek him below stairs. But there was no answer to her knock. Not to the first. Not to the second either. Lizzy might have already left her quarters or was changing in her dressing room, so Georgiana did not linger. If there was a trying task to be completed, it was surely worth addressing as soon as may be – that was what her brother always said, and she inwardly concurred. If nothing else, prompt action would dispense with the time of useless fretting so, with a valiant step, she made her way below.

When applied to, the butler informed her that Mr Darcy had gone straight to his study, and Georgiana followed.

Unlike the tap on her friend’s door, the tentative one on her brother’s got an instant response. The door was flung open as though he had been standing right behind it about to exit, and she was met with an uncommonly harsh “What is it?”. And then he caught sight of her and apologised.

“Ah. ‘Tis you. Forgive me, dearest. I should have come to you – sent word I was home. I know we need to talk. We shall. But not now.” He spread his hand over his brow and furiously rubbed his temples. When he glanced at her again, he looked almost wild. “You will excuse me, will you not? I was just going out.”

It was not a question, but a firm request. Her head gave a jerky little bob and Georgiana stepped back into the corridor to let him pass. He did and stormed away with no indication as to where he was going, and a few moments later she heard the front door slamming shut. She sighed. Lizzy was in the right. He was angry. Livid. In living memory she had never seen him thus.

She bit her lip and went to fetch a cape from the small closet where some of hers were kept at hand, for impromptu forays into the garden. She donned it without waiting for Peter’s assistance, although he was close by, having just rushed into the hallway, presumably drawn thither by the forceful slamming of the door.

She made to leave the house as well, but not by the front door, to chase after her brother. It was plain to see he would not thank her for it. Instead, she settled upon walking out into the garden in search of Elizabeth. She might be there. Just like Fitzwilliam, she often chose to walk off her frustrations and would seek to be outdoors when restless or upset.

“Is Miss Bennet out?” she asked Peter in passing, thinking she might as well inquire.

But all she got was, “I cannot say, Miss Darcy. I have not seen her since she returned from Lambton with the master.”

“She did?”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

That was a surprise. Lizzy had not mentioned anything of the sort.

“How did that come about, do you know?”

Peter’s gloved hand gave a little flourish.

“No, Ma’am. I can only guess he chanced to encounter her on the way.”

Georgiana nodded. The young footman would not have the answers. But Lizzy would have some. So, having fastened the cape and tied the ribbons of her bonnet, Georgiana gathered her muff and made her way into the garden, to walk off her own unappeased concern and hopefully find her friend as well.

* * * *

With a deep sigh, Elizabeth brought herself listlessly to her feet. She could not sit there forever, leaning against the door of her bedchamber and staring blankly into space. She would have to change. Go down. Face him. Face his anger and disdain.

She cringed. Heavens above, she could not do it! She could not. It was unbearable to think of that awful carriage journey, let alone contemplate more of the same. His resentment. His icy contempt. How on earth was she to sit down at dinner later on that day, with tension thick enough to be cut with a knife? How could she bear to meet his eyes, knowing that he knew her secret and, so ungenerously, despised her for it?

Ungenerous. Heartless.

Her eyes stung again, and she narrowed them in mounting anger. Not worth her tears. A lesser man, far lesser than she had thought him. Not even Lady Stretton, for all her palpable contempt, had been so purposely cruel.

It was a childish fit of passion, but she indulged it nonetheless. It took no time at all to find the handkerchief she had foolishly treasured and stored alongside her most precious mementoes. No time at all to retrieve it from the lacquered box, crumple it into her fist and cast it upon the glowing embers. No time at all to see it catching fire and sending the sharp smell of burning linen drifting up to her, as she watched the flames leaping around and eventually consuming the initials she could no longer bear to see, any more than the gentleman – nay, the heartless man – himself.

The square of fine linen burned, turning into a darkened shape, then into shreds, then into ash and smoke.

She could not bear to see him – and she did not have to!

Elizabeth’s head came up at the sudden notion, and she clung to it with fresh and fierce energy. She did not have to see him. Her eyes shot up to the clock on the mantelpiece. The day was young, or at least young enough. With any luck and a great deal of haste, she might make it to Bakewell by nightfall. Coaches ran from Bakewell day and night, up and down the country. There would be one heading south. If not tonight, then in the earliest hours of the morning.

She treasured the welcome notion; nurtured it. A few days more, and she could be with Jane. A half-hour more, and she could be safely away from here. And if the price for that blessed relief was travelling unattended, then so be it. She would be safe enough on the stagecoach. As safe as any traveller. Not that she cared one jot one way or the other just now, when she was so utterly wretched and wild with the need to be gone.

It could be done. Even without checking the contents of the box where she kept all her resources, she knew there would be funds aplenty. She barely had cause to spend on anything. Just the odd trinket. Or embroidery thread, to foolishly stitch her heart into an elaborate bookmark. Or books – one exceedingly overpriced in particular which, by the looks of it, she had done well to leave in Mr Howe’s shop.