Chapter 13

With an effort, Elizabeth forced herself to move at no more than a brisk walk. She would have liked to run, letting the wild beating of her heart drive all the shock and humiliation from her mind, but this could not be. Her private shame must not be allowed to become a public one. Elizabeth heard the door close behind her but refused to look back. If Mr Darcy had followed her to the door to ensure her absence, she would prefer not to see him. In any case, the precaution was unnecessary. Elizabeth had no intention of returning to the little rented house while anyone bearing the name of Darcy lived under its roof.

Hot tears brimmed in her eyes, but Elizabeth refused to let them fall. Bad enough that her friendship with Georgiana was shattered, that Mr Darcy had accused her of things so hideous she did not see how she could bring herself to repeat them, even to Jane. Matters would not be helped by allowing the confrontation to become a subject of gossip — that could only compound her shame and misery. She nodded to the people who called out greetings but did not trust her voice not to betray how upset she was. Mr Darcy had berated and insulted her in every way possible, calling her honesty and character into question.

She was not one to play games with a man's feelings to get her own way. Where would he have got such a ridiculous theory?

Elizabeth had little time to think on that subject, for the rain began to fall not long after she left the house. And it was not a soft rainstorm. It seemed the heavens had been rent from north to south and a shower of angry vengeance unleashed. It was just as well, for the raindrops masked the tears that dripped down her cheeks.

When she arrived home, she burst through the kitchen doors and retrieved a small towel, dabbing at her face. Her hair hung in tendrils, sticking to her cheeks and forehead.

"Lizzy? What on earth happened to you?" her mother asked in a high-pitched squeal of alarm. "I told you it would rain today. I can always feel it in my bones, you know. You should have stayed here by the fire, where it is warm —"

Elizabeth was in no mood to be taken to task. She mumbled an apology and brushed past her mother. She hurried through the house, leaving a puddle of rainwater in her wake. But she would not stop for anything, not even when her father called out a greeting from the open door of his study.

She barely made it to her room before she burst into sobs. Closing the door firmly behind her, Elizabeth went behind the screen to change out of her soaked things. Once in a dry nightgown, she sat down at the window and wrapped herself in an old patchwork quilt. It smelled of home, and the fresh sachet of lavender blooms the maid had put in the hidden pocket at its corner. Nothing helped to ease the ache in her heart.

The memory of what Mr Darcy had said, how he had accused her, kept her temper boiling steadily. Elizabeth took a deep breath and tried to think. Was there any hint of shame keeping company with her anger? Though she had known Miss Darcy was rich when she went to befriend her, it had not been foremost among her thoughts, and she had not even known she had an eligible brother. Elizabeth thought over every conversation she had engaged in with Miss Darcy, starting at the assembly and working her way to the present. Had there been guile in her heart, she would not be too proud to admit it.

There was none. She had only had compassion for a young girl on her first visit to a strange community. Her mind alighted on a memory of Mrs Younge standing behind Miss Darcy, whispering to her all throughout the dance. The woman had always seemed to have something odd about her, a secret perhaps. Was she jealous of the time Miss Darcy was spending with the Bennet sisters? She had, after all, been hired as a companion. A woman of her age ought to know better, ought to see Georgiana as her charge and think only of what was good for her. Would she really begrudge Miss Darcy having some friends around her own age?

Elizabeth shifted in the window seat, watching the rain make trails down the glass panes of the windows. Her breath made fog on the windows, but she did not move even when the chill started to seep through the blanket. Mrs Younge had lied about her. And while it would not be surprising to learn that her mother had slipped and made some indiscrete remark, it was not a reflection on Elizabeth and what was in her heart. Mr Darcy's wealth had never motivated her actions. The respect and admiration she had felt for him had been a mixture of Georgiana's warm praise of her brother and Elizabeth's own observations of his intelligence and love for his sister.

No more. That respect and admiration was all done away now. His pride had been revealed, and she was sure that he was now the last man on earth she would ever be prevailed upon to marry.

The opening of the door interrupted her thoughts. Jane entered, looking concerned. "Lizzy? My goodness, has something happened to you?" she asked. She closed the door behind her and hurried to Elizabeth's side. Kneeling on the floor beside the window seat, she touched Elizabeth's hair, feeling the dampness of the braid. "Are you ill?"

Elizabeth hardly knew how to answer. "I don't know. Perhaps." At the very least, she was heartsick. But it would be wrong to worry Jane unnecessarily, especially when there was so much she could not bring herself to say. "I shall be perfectly well after a little rest."

Jane stood, kissed her forehead, and started back toward the door. "I shall make you some ginger tea and ask Cook to make up a hearty broth for you."

Elizabeth did not correct her misconceptions that this was a winter malady. Only her heart was sore and bruised, and nothing but time could heal that.

Worse than all her shame was the knowledge that her friendship with Georgiana was at an end. In only a very little time, she had gone from being the stranger too haughty to speak to anyone at a public assembly to a shy young girl with a sweet spirit, one of the dear friends of Elizabeth's heart. That, too, was over. Mr Darcy had forbidden his sister from ever seeing her again. If there were any consolation in the matter, it was that Georgiana was already on the road to making new friends in the village. Elizabeth could at least help her there. There would be some awkwardness, and others were sure to notice the new distance between them. But if Elizabeth could only put the whole ordeal behind her and keep quiet, all might be given little weight. By showing that she bore Georgiana no ill will, she could encourage all the rest of the neighbourhood to continue in the friendly acquaintance they had begun. Georgiana's new popularity in the neighbourhood must not be ruined.

"This much, at least, I may do for my friend," Elizabeth whispered to herself.

∞∞∞

"Miss Georgiana, I wish you would come away from the window and come down to supper. It is your brother's last night here in Meryton," Mrs Younge wheedled.

Georgiana turned around, frowning at her. "How can I? I cannot believe Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be so heartless as to go behind my back just to get her hands on Fitz. It does not stand to reason." Her frown deepened. "And what do you mean, his last night? It is our last night in the vicinity for a while as well."

Mrs Younge sighed but did not dignify the last comment with an answer. "As I have tried to tell you and your esteemed brother, she is a master of deception. She is a clever fox, willing to do anything to get her way. You know what the Bible says about the little foxes, do you not?"

Georgiana was not in the mood for a sermon. Nor did she think Mrs Younge was entirely qualified to speak about matters of religion. She never seemed to listen to the parson with any attention, and that certainly was not the fault of the dear old rector at Lambton. He always preached sermons that went to one's heart, if one only listened properly. "No, I do not," she said dully. "I do not think Miss Elizabeth Bennet is capable of such treachery. Are you quite certain you overheard her saying those things?"

"I did, I am sorry to say," Mrs Younge replied. She sat down beside Georgiana at the vanity. Georgiana had been unable to stop crying since she had learned the news from her brother and Mrs Younge. She knew her face must be red and puffy from all the tears. She had changed into her nightdress, determined to go to bed and let all her feelings out as the tears wet her pillow. But when she had finished taking down her hair and arranging it in a messy plait, she had remained sitting there listlessly. As though a weight were pressing her down, it felt impossible to move from her spot at the vanity.

Georgiana turned her attention back to her reflection. "I do not wish to go down. I wish only to have a tray brought up and get an early night's sleep. We leave early tomorrow morning. Perhaps some time away will hep me to see things more clearly."

Mrs Younge stood and went behind Georgiana's chair. She placed her hands on her shoulders and leaned down so Georgia could see her face reflected in the mirror. "Are you sure you should leave?"

Georgiana screwed up her nose, then turned to Mrs Younge. "Yes, of course. Why? It has always been the plan since my brother made these arrangements. We will only be in London for a week or so before returning."

"I do not feel it would be wise to go now. Especially after what has happened today. Miss Bennet might try to spread rumours about you while you are gone. It would be a pity to allow her to triumph over you." Mrs Younge paced behind her. "Do you not see? She might very well make up any lie she wanted to discredit you and turn the people of Meryton against you once more."

"She did not turn them against me in the first place. It was my own fault they did not like me." Georgiana narrowed her eyes. "It was you, actually, who advised me not to dance with anyone on the night of the assembly. If I had danced with Mr Lucas, none of this would have happened."

"Do you really want to be saddled with a man like Mr Lucas?" Mrs Younge asked. "I have heard things told of him as well — more than I would wish to say to a young girl, but if you insist —"

"No, do not tell me," Georgiana said hastily. She turned back to her reflection, trying to stop the tears from welling up. Bad enough that she had lost the friendship of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that they would never again share the pleasant laughter and sisterly confidences that had flowed so easily between them. The loss of Elizabeth's moral character, of the respect she had for the older girl, was far worse. How much easier it would have been if they were separated only because she was returning to Derbyshire! Then at least she could have treasured the friendship as much as ever, and still had the pleasure of thinking well of Elizabeth and wishing her happy, even if they were not to enjoy each other's company. But to think that the friendship had never been real at all — to think that even the young woman she had respected and esteemed was an illusion, an act put on by an unscrupulous woman seeking an advantageous marriage, no matter who was hurt in attaining it — that thought held a bitterness that would be long in easing.

"Why grieve the loss of the Bennets' society? They are not the only people in Meryton, you know. There are charming and influential gentlemen here, especially since the militia has arrived."

"I am not interested in the militia," Georgiana snapped. Lydia and Kitty Bennet were entranced by the idea of the militia staying in town for the winter. At that moment, she did not care in the slightest

"Take my advice, Miss Darcy. Take a day to recover from the wrongs done to you by Elizabeth Bennet, and then you must get back out into the village and show your face. Show people you will not be chased off by a greedy little husband-hunter like her." Mrs Younge held her chin high, looking strange in the light cast by the candle. There was something frightening in her face, as though she did not actually seek to reassure Georgiana at all. With a shudder, Georgiana pushed the thought away, telling herself not to be absurd.

"I do not know if that would be wise. I promised Fitz I would come with him to London —"

"He will understand, my dear. Trust me. It would be best not to leave when your position here has only just begun to recover."

Georgiana bit her lower lip as she thought. "Do you really think it would be that detrimental to my reputation?" She had not thought a few days in Town would sway things so greatly.

"I do. You have momentum now. It would be a shame to lose it." Mrs Younge came back over to the seat she had occupied before she had started her pacing. Sometimes, Georgiana pictured her as a wild cat, sharpening her claws and biding her time until the right moment. But that, too, was only a ridiculous fancy, and probably ungrateful as well.

She quickly put the image out of her head. Mrs Younge was her friend, and she was older and wiser than Elizabeth. Georgiana sighed in resignation. "Very well. If you think it is a bad idea to leave, then I shall speak with my brother."

"Good. I think you have made the right decision, dear. And now, I shall ring for your maid and have her help you arrange your hair. Supper will be announced any minute."

Mrs Younge went to ring the bell while Georgiana stared listlessly at her drawn expression.

The following morning, Georgiana rose early to see her brother off for London. He had not reacted kindly to the idea of leaving her, especially when the idea that Elizabeth Bennet might seek revenge by spreading rumours about her was presented. That had been a mistaken, and one that nearly led him to forbid the whole idea. But at last, she had convinced him to allow her to stay on with Mrs Younge. They would face whatever came together. She stood in the drawing room now, close to the hearth to soak up its warmth. The maid had come in and built up the fire for her when she had rung, obviously surprised that she had risen so early. Georgiana wrapped her arms around her middle, staring into the flames while she waited for her brother to come down.

"You are up early," her brother said. He looked very tall and imposing, standing in the doorway.

Georgiana gave a weak smile. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Fitz walked toward her, wrapping her in a hug. She relished the warmth of his tight embrace, wishing to go along with him and hide her face from Meryton forever. But Mrs Younge was right. She had to be brave and stick out the remainder of her stay. He released her and put her an arm's length away so he could study her face.

"Are you sure you do not wish to come with me? It is not too late. I will delay my journey so you and Mrs Younge can pack your things. Indeed, it might be best to leave Meryton altogether and not return at all."

Georgiana's brows rose in surprise, and she turned to pace in front of the window. The grey light was giving way to golden rays as the sun rose over the distant hills. She had come to love this place, even after all her difficulties. Perhaps because of them, for in Meryton, she was learning to find her strength. She turned back to her brother. "No, I will stay."

"You are sure?" he asked once more.

"Yes. I know it is irksome for me to suddenly change our plans. But I think it is the best course of action. I have only just started making friends here and I do not want to lose them."

Her brother nodded. "Very understandable. I only want what is best for you, Georgiana. If I could only shield you from every painful experience that might befall you! But that is folly, of course." He sighed, joining her at the window. "I am only sorry for how Miss Bennet's treachery was brought to light. I should have been more tactful."

Georgiana could not argue with that. But the blame did not lay solely at his feet. Mrs Younge had spurred the situation into chaos with her sharp tongue. "I know you were only trying to protect me, and for that, I thank you."

He hugged her again, but it was short-lived. Georgiana heard Mrs Younge clear her throat as she came in. She was fully dressed and ready for the day, while Georgiana was still in her dressing gown and slippers. She raised a brow, annoyed that Mrs Younge would interrupt their goodbyes.

"My goodness. You two spoil me by coming to wish me farewell. I had expected you both to be in bed until long after I had departed."

"It would not do for the man of the house to go off alone without a proper sendoff," Mrs Younge said laughingly. "Godspeed, Mr Darcy, and a safe journey to you."

Georgiana drew her brother's attention back by taking his hand. "You will write as soon as you get to London, to let me know you arrived safely?"

"Of course, as I always do." He tucked her hand into his arm and they walked to the front door together. His bags were being loaded into the carriage by the footmen and his valet. "You're sure you won't come along? It has been a long time since we have enjoyed London together. I have not taken you to the theatre in an age."

Mrs Younge looked alarmed for a moment, as she had followed them out to the foyer. Georgiana thought it odd but turned her attention back to her brother. "I am sorry, Fitz. Perhaps come spring, you can take me to the capitol?" she asked.

"Anything you wish," he said. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Take good care of her, Mrs Younge."

To Georgiana's surprise, Mrs Younge stepped up and put an arm around her shoulders. Georgiana shivered under the touch and silently scolded herself for her coldness and ingratitude. What on earth was wrong with her? Mrs Younge guided her in everything, bore up admirably under all Georgiana's shyness and awkwardness, and yet she responded with distrust rather than the affection that ought to have been Mrs Younge's due.

"I will care for Miss Darcy as though she were my own daughter," Mrs Younge said.

Fitzwilliam walked out the door and climbed into the carriage, and Georgiana followed him out to the stoop to wave him off. Mrs Younge stayed indoors and half scolded her when she came back in. "It is not proper for a lady to appear out of doors with only her shift and a dressing gown to cover her, Miss Darcy."

Georgiana waved her off, attempting a smile. "No one saw me. I daresay everyone is still in bed, except the staff that run these houses." She walked up the steps, conscious of an unfamiliar annoyance growing in her breast. She was not a child, and Mrs Younge was not her mother.