Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“ I hate to leave you at such a time,” Mrs Gardiner said, her voice laced with concern. “I would never have accepted the invitation had I dreamt you would not go.” The Gardiners were all to depart for a long weekend at the country home of one of her uncle’s friends, some thirty miles distant. Elizabeth had flatly refused to accompany them.

“You accepted the invitation well before the end—or, the second end of my little romance was any consideration,” Elizabeth replied. “I promise, I shall not be crying in my soup. I simply long for a quiet time of reflection.”

“We should not leave you alone here.”

Elizabeth found a laugh. “Here alone, except of course for your housekeeper, cook, and a half-dozen servants?”

“My girl, you know what I mean,” Mrs Gardiner said, a little sternly.

“I assure you that I am completely safe—and especially safe from any excursion requiring shopping, entertainment, or people in general. Please, Auntie. Just this once, allow me to forgo your very kind invitation.”

Inside her heart, Elizabeth was screaming to be left alone. The idea of four days without having to paste a false pleasantness upon her face, to simply be left to her own misery, was almost an idyllic notion. It had been two days since she had seen the back of Mr Darcy. It felt like two years.

“Elizabeth, I hesitate to say this, but best I give this advice now rather than always wonder whether I should have spoken. It is obvious you are desperately unhappy. It seemed clear to me that Mr Darcy genuinely cares for you. I do not believe it is too late to change your mind. I can have your uncle send him a note, asking for him to come and talk once more upon our return. Your conversation with him did not last very long—I cannot believe you both said everything you meant or hoped to say.”

Oh, if only! How she wished for one more chance! ‘I shall never be sorry to have loved you, Elizabeth.’ But it would do nothing except make things worse.

She tried to explain aloud what was in her heart. “Learning that Mr Darcy deliberately concealed our engagement from the Bingleys—not simply waiting to reveal it—was very hurtful. However, once I discovered his reasons for missing the wedding, I immediately looked for excuses of why it made sense. He did not like to exacerbate Miss Bingley’s feelings, I told myself. A few moments later, however, I learnt that he purposely separated Mr Bingley from Jane. I asked him, Aunt, whether he had expected me to give up my family entirely upon our nuptials. He could not answer. He could not even look at me, and then he made a snide remark about the foolishness of introducing Mama to his uncle, the earl.”

Mrs Gardiner patted her niece on the shoulder with some sympathy. “Very unkind,” she murmured.

“I know Mama is not…refined. She would be no more comfortable in company with an earl than he would be in company with her. Yet, Mr Darcy’s own sister behaved monstrously, and I would be expected to guide her! Should she once again run off with a villain, the polite world would say it was my influence! I can assume the colonel would certainly encourage her to despise me. Should I surrender the family I love for a family who will hate me? It seems irrational. I think that in the pleasure of beginning to know Mr Darcy, in the beauty and newness of my feelings, I imagined him into the man I wished for, rather than truly seeing him for the man he is.”

Mrs Gardiner sighed. “Oh my dear, we all do that. The first year of marriage generally opens our eyes to those flaws new love blinds us to. It does not mean that what— who —is left behind is less worthy of every affection, and that a stronger love cannot build on that less-than-perfect foundation.”

Elizabeth bit her lip. How she wished it was a simple misunderstanding! But his family, plainly, hated her; Mr Darcy, plainly, was mortified by a connexion even to Bingley for Jane, who was so good, so gracious, so kind, and whose birth was better than Bingley’s own.

“I am sorry. I just cannot,” she whispered.

Mrs Gardiner gave her a long look, patted her shoulder again, and with another sigh, left her niece to check on the progress of the packing of the children’s trunks.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and wondered how long it would be before she would find her smile. Will I ever be happy again?

She straightened her spine. Yes, I will. As her mother had said, she was not one to lose her entire world over a man. By the time her aunt and uncle returned, she was determined to have these feelings packed away, attic-bound, the door to their memory firmly shut and locked. Nevertheless, she would take these few days—to grieve, to remember, and to mourn what might have been.

Three days after her brother returned from his call upon Miss Bennet, Georgiana sought out Mrs Annesley in a chamber where they would not be overheard. She might be making a terrible mistake, and not all her hard-won wisdom could tell her whether speaking to her companion was a good idea.

Her original notion had been to escape the house unnoticed, taking a hackney coach to the address on Gracechurch Street that she had memorised. Her time with George had taught her one useful thing—how to catch one of those breakneck vehicles racing along the streets of London carrying passengers this way and that, those smelly, often rickety carriages which barely stopped long enough for a lady to gather her skirts and leap inside. She knew she could get to Miss Bennet before anyone discovered her absence.

But discover her absence they would—and they all would believe she had run off again. If she was ever to earn Fitzwilliam’s trust, she must at least try to curb her impatience and play by his rules. Sort of. Nevertheless, she held no great hopes of gaining Mrs Annesley’s cooperation in this matter, and if it caused significant delay, her brother’s life might be ruined.

“Mrs Annesley, I need to pay a call upon Miss Bennet, and I wonder whether you would accompany me. I do not wish to inform Fitzwilliam of it.”

The older woman raised a brow. Georgiana knew the rules—until further notice, all excursions required her brother’s explicit permission.

“He has barely touched his plate in two days. He is grieving and upset, and it is all my fault. I cannot do nothing , yet he would never agree to my speaking with Miss Bennet. I know, for I have asked him.” She said the words all in a rush, afraid she would not be allowed to explain. “I simply wish to apologise to her for my part in him missing their wedding, and assure her that I do not intend to be—to be undisciplined and unmanageable and-and a hellion. He told me she has no dowry, and he made her feel the differences between her family and ours by his own actions, that she cannot respect either of us, and that she will never forgive him. But even if it does not help and comes too late, I need to do this. I cannot live with myself until I do. It is…it is the right thing to do, despite Fitzwilliam’s express disapproval.”

Mrs Annesley regarded her for a long moment. Then she stood. “I shall ask for the carriage to be brought round.”

Georgiana’s eyes widened in surprise. “What-what will you tell my brother? ”

“Not a thing. I daresay a stampede of carriages could blunder around the square for hours before he would notice, in his current mood,” she replied. “You had better change your dress—I expect the blue walking dress would be ideal for paying a call—and wear your boa to protect from the chill. However, if she will not receive us, you must accept it is out of your hands. Perhaps you could then write a letter instead, but that is all the interference I can condone.”

A little bewildered by her companion’s easy acceptance, Georgiana made haste to change. It was not until they were seated in the Darcy carriage headed for Cheapside, having departed the house without trouble, that she dared ask about it.

“I did not believe you would indulge me in this request without Fitzwilliam’s permission, not for any reason.”

Mrs Annesley met her gaze directly. “After your elopement, your brother would have been well within his rights to terminate our agreement, and let it be known to all the polite world that he found me incompetent and careless. I lost you, and no excuse was sufficient. Instead, he held himself equally to blame. He refused my offer to depart immediately, and instead sent me to Pemberley to await your return. Not one man in a hundred would have been as generous and gentle as he was with me. I shall do whatever is necessary to support his happiness, even should he dismiss me for it.”

Guilt again struck Georgiana. She had never, not for one moment, spared a thought for Mrs Annesley’s fate, had her elopement been successful. It had never crossed her mind that her actions might leave the older woman destitute.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “How is it that you do not hate me? ”

“How would hatred assist either you or Mr Darcy?”

It was a very practical response, and Mrs Annesley was a very practical woman; Georgiana tried to imagine feeling that way about someone who had treated her so ill, and could not. Except, she had, of course. George had been vile. And Davis, too. I let them both bully and manipulate me. But this was different.

She thought of how Mrs Annesley had also helped her discover the Gracechurch Street location from the Bingley sisters. In almost everything, Mrs Annesley complied with society’s dictates and expectations; yet, it seemed she evaluated her options and based her decisions, not upon authority or ‘the rules’—but upon her own conscience. Perhaps some believed women could not have a code of honour. But Mrs Annesley did.

“I hope,” Georgiana said, “that I shall become like you when I grow up. If I ever do.”

Mrs Annesley smiled.