Chapter 22

"Georgiana, wake up!" Mrs Younge hissed, and shook her charge harshly awake.

Georgiana sat up, wiping her bleary eyes and nearly tumbling out of bed at seeing Mrs Younge beside her. "Get up," Mrs Younge said again impatiently.

"Whatever is the matter?" Georgiana asked as she scrambled out of bed and came around to join Mrs Younge near the door. "Has something happened to my brother?"

"No, nothing as simple as that," Mrs Younge snapped. "Somehow, Elizabeth Bennet has found out about your plan to elope with Mr Wickham. We have to be quick in our preparations today. He has sent a note that we should be ready to depart by the early stage." Mrs Younge helped her don a dressing gown, and they went down to the dining room together. Neither of them could eat as they worried over what was to be done.

"Is not all lost? If Elizabeth knows of our plans, then won't she try to tell someone?" Georgiana asked.

"Yes, I am sure she shall," Mrs Younge said. "It will all be well in the end, Georgiana. We must simply move up our plans. If you leave for Scotland without delay, she will not be able to interfere."

"Please, let me go to London and speak with my brother. If I can reason with him, I am sure he will come round. He is —"

"No, we cannot go to London," Mrs Younge snapped. Georgiana looked at her in surprise at the harshness of her tone. And was there not something almost akin to contempt in Mrs Younge's gaze?

The expression vanished — or Georgiana told herself, perhaps it had never been there at all. Surely she was only imagining things.

Mrs Younge was smiling at her gently. "My dear, your brother is very old-fashioned. Please do not take that the wrong way, but he still believes that a young woman is incapable of knowing her own mind. He will try to dissuade you from marrying a mere lieutenant, no matter how amiable and charming he is."

"Do you think I am doing the right thing? It will be an awful blow for Fitz not to be at my wedding. And I had always hoped to have a church wedding, so he could walk me down the aisle. It will crush him," Georgiana said, her lip quivering. "He is all the family I have left in the world."

"If you delay, there will be no wedding. Is that what you want?" Mrs Younge pressed. She reached over and took Georgiana's hand. "Look to your own happiness, Georgiana. Your brother has made his decisions, but how can he know what is best for you?"

Georgiana took her hand away from Mrs Younge and sat back in her chair. She hung her head, thinking to herself. "My brother has always been good to me. He has never led me astray."

"Until now. He is not perfect, you know." Mrs Younge sighed. "Do you love Mr Wickham?" she asked.

"Of course I do," Georgiana replied, as though the question were an affront to her loyalty.

"Then all will be well. I promise you, Mr Wickham is the sort of man who will not stop until he gets what he wants. And you are what he wants, my dear. Do you not see that you cannot back out now? Mr Wickham has spent a great deal of time and money to see to your every need for the journey. And he will be heartbroken if you jilt him at the altar. I have never seen a man more devoted than he is to you." Mrs Younge smiled and patted Georgiana's cheek. "Trust me."

Georgiana said little else throughout their morning repast. She drank her tea in small sips, realising with a start that it had gone quite cold. Outside, a dreary rain fell, beating against the windowpanes. Georgiana wished there were someone closer to her own age that she could talk to. What would Elizabeth say about all this?

She quickly shook her head, trying to dislodge the traitorous thought. Elizabeth Bennet was not on her side. She was trying to destroy her happiness, not help her. Mr Wickham was the man she loved, the only man she would ever love. He was kind and attentive, and he was a superior soldier, on the rise through the ranks of his regiment. Surely it would not be long before he would be promoted, and they could live as respectably as Colonel Forster and his wife.

"Hurry, my dear. We have a lot to do today before we depart on the morrow. I have instructed the housekeeper to say you are ill, in case anyone comes to call on you this afternoon. It would be better if we cloistered ourselves indoors today so no one can become suspicious of our plans." Mrs Younge stood up from the table and exited the room. Georgiana only nodded and sat there in silence for a while longer. Her heart was heavy, and she did not understand why.

She and Mr Wickham would not be gone long. There was the journey to Gretna Green, a matter of several days, and then the marriage itself. Georgiana did not know how quickly that might be arranged. Perhaps it would even be on the day of their arrival. Then they would return to London, where they would announce their marriage to her brother. Fitz would be angry for a while, but he would not be so forever. They were brother and sister, after all, and loved each other with all their hearts. Fitz would turn her dowry over to her new husband, and they would be on their way. Perhaps she could even stay at Pemberley while Mr Wickham was away during his campaigns. All would be just as it was now, only she would be a married woman, safe and secure in her future, and with no need for a terrifying London debut. It was what her brother wanted, was it not? It was the whole reason she had come to Meryton, to practise her social graces so that she might find a husband in the coming season. Now she would be spared the ordeal of a London season, and the terrifying prospect of so many eyes on her, watching and judging her.

Georgiana pushed her plate aside and decided that it would be better for her to keep busy, thus distracting her mind from the worries that had assailed her at finding out Elizabeth knew of their plans. How that she had found out about them in the first place was impossible to fathom. She had not breathed a word to anyone, and surely Mr Wickham would not have spoken of their elopement to another woman.

She went to her room and changed into a simple day dress. The maid helped her to pack. "Oh, no, not that dress," Mrs Younge said from the doorway. "What are you thinking? It is impossible to find good help." She snatched the silvery silken fabric out of the maid's hand and threw it onto the bed.

"There will be no occasion for such finery, my dear." Mrs Younge's tone turned to honey as she spoke to Georgiana. She hated how Mrs Younge spoke to the maids as though they were stupid. Georgiana gave the girl an apologetic look, then went on looking through the wardrobe.

"What would be appropriate, then?" she asked, a little annoyed at the woman's meddling. "How is this for —?" Georgiana broke off abruptly and bit her lower lip. She could not say ‘my wedding'. They were trying to keep the matter from the servants for as long as possible. But it was difficult. "For what we need?" she amended.

Mrs Younge cocked her head to the side. "Yes. Blue will be quite becoming." She glanced at the maid and motioned toward the door, dismissing the girl with a curt nod. When they were alone, she took Georgiana's hands and had her sit on the chest at the foot of the bed. "You are not nervous, are you?"

"A little," Georgiana admitted. She had always hoped there would be someone to explain the intricacies of married life to her, but her mother was long gone. And she would have been mortified to ask her brother about such things. Besides, he was not married yet. What did he know? The only other married woman she knew well was her aunt, and she would have rather died than ask Aunt Catherine about such things. "I wish my mother were here."

Mrs Younge brushed her cheek tenderly and gave an encouraging smile. "There is no need to be frightened. Mr Wickham will be gentle that first night."

Georgiana frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, I…That is, you —" Mrs Younge had never seemed the type to get embarrassed, but now she tripped over her words as she tried to explain. "It is really not my place, my dear. Suffice to say, your husband will teach you everything you need to know."

Mrs Younge stood and went to the door. "I will see that the maids have packed all my things and then be back to check on you. Shall I call for some tea or anything? You look a bit peckish."

"Yes, some tea would cheer me, I think," Georgiana said softly. Mrs Younge left, and when the door was closed, Georgiana made her way over to the window seat and sat down. It was still raining. She wished the weather were not so dreary. Perhaps it would have combated the despair she felt creeping in on her. It was hardly ten in the morning, but it felt much later owing to the heavy, dark rain clouds that hung low in the sky.

A few minutes later, a tea tray was delivered, comprising a small pot of hot water, a teacup with leaves already in the strainer, and a small plate of biscuits. She munched slowly on a biscuit, but her stomach turned as soon as she had taken a few bites. She made the mint tea and sipped it slowly, trying to still the wild beating of her heart. When nothing worked, she gave her maid instructions with the rest of her wardrobe, then went down to the parlour to lose herself at her pianoforte.

Georgiana was still at the piano when the bell at the front door rang. Georgiana nearly jumped out of her skin, accidentally pounding on the black and white keys in her terror that someone would come to call and find out what she was about to do. She stood up and hurried over to the closed parlour door, putting her ear to it so she might hear who had come.

The housekeeper opened the door, and it sounded as if someone strode in, brushing her aside. Her heartbeat quickened, wondering if her brother had come. But no, once the gentleman spoke, she recognised him at once as Mr Wickham. Georgiana opened the parlour door and went out to him. Mr Wickham took her hand and kissed it, glancing sideways at the housekeeper. "How are you today, my dear?" he asked. "I have come to call, even though I know it is a little early."

"Nonsense. Do come in. And Mrs Bailey, please alert Mrs Younge that we have a guest. If anyone else comes to call, please inform them I am not at home."

Mrs Bailey gave Mr Wickham a suspicious glance but said nothing save for, "Yes, Miss," and walked away to do her bidding.

Georgiana took his hand and led him into the parlour, closing the door behind her. "Has something happened?" she asked.

"No, not at all. I merely wanted to come and see how you were holding up. I know it was not what we planned, but I think we can slip away before anyone is any the wiser." He smiled and took her into his arms. "I cannot wait to arrive in Gretna Green. Can you?" he asked in a low, husky tone that sent butterflies swirling through her stomach.

Georgiana was not sure how she was supposed to feel about any of this. She gently extricated herself from his embrace and walked toward the hearth. "Yes. I mean, no," she replied. She shook her head. "In all honesty, I am a little frazzled, Mr Wickham. This is all happening so fast and —"

He strode toward her and pressed her hand in his. "I know, my love. But do not lose heart now. I promise you that once we are married, everything will be well. Better than well. It will be perfect. Can you not see us settled in a little country home? Perhaps we may even find a place near Pemberley, so we may visit your brother anytime you wish."

Georgiana frowned. "Settle in Derbyshire? Will we not be moving about as you seek your promotion in the militia?"

Mr Wickham looked shocked for a moment, as if she had caught him in a lie, then quickly masked it. "Oh, of course we will. But after I have fulfilled my duty to the army, we will be free to settle anywhere we wish." He kissed her hand and changed the subject. "Have you chosen what you will wear on our wedding day?"

Mr Wickham drew her over to the settee, and they sat there for several minutes, discussing the wedding details. In fact, Mr Wickham was the one who did all the talking and Georgiana all the listening. After some minutes, Mrs Younge joined them. Mrs Younge kept the conversation on a light footing, despite the gravity of the situation. Georgiana said very little while the two of them visited. Indeed, it was as if she and Mr Wickham were the ones who were getting married, not Georgiana and Mr Wickham. Georgiana had never thought of herself as the jealous type, but then again, she had never been in love before, either. She found herself watching Mrs Younge closely — the way she laughed at Mr Wickham's amusing stories, how she placed her hand on his arm for the slightest moment. And the look in her eyes as she watched his every move.

Georgiana silently berated herself for her private thoughts. Mrs Younge was her friend, after all. And without her guidance, none of this would have happened. Georgiana had asked her several times if she would ever consider getting married again, and Mrs Younge had always vowed that she would never again take a husband. It made little sense to her, though. Mrs Younge was without protection and had little money to her name. A lady did not take work as a hired companion if she could afford to live as a gentlewoman.

Mrs Younge suddenly snapped her out of her reveries by calling her name in a shrill tone. "Georgiana!"

She jumped, looking between the two of them in alarm. "What is it, Mrs Younge?"

"You looked as if you were about to have a fit. Are you well, my dear?"

Georgiana felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Yes, certainly. I am perfectly well," she said, embarrassed to the core. It was Mrs Younge who had frightened her so badly with her piercing tone.

"She is right, my love. You look like you are about to faint. Should you not take some time to rest?" Mr Wickham asked.

Georgiana hung her head, studying the Aubusson carpet for a moment. She was starting to feel queasy, watching them talk as if nothing at all were the matter. All of their lives were about to change, and they were treating this visit as if it were just another social call. Georgiana stood hurriedly and went over to the door. "Perhaps you are right. I should like to lie down for a little while," she said. She opened the door and gave them one last saddened look. "Call me when luncheon is served."

∞∞∞

As soon as Georgiana was gone and the door had closed behind her, Mrs Younge turned to Mr Wickham. "It is good you've made arrangements to leave on the morrow. I believe our Little Miss Priss is getting cold feet."

"Well, that is where you come in. Do not let her get cold feet. Our future depends on her going along with the plan," Mr Wickham whispered.

Mrs Younge raised her chin. "Do not you think I know that? Why do you think I have tried to keep her busy all day? If she cannot think, she cannot change her mind." She glanced at the door before standing and turning the key in the lock. With a furtive gesture, Mrs Younge gestured for Mr Wickham to join her near the back of the room, where she pulled the shades on the window, so no one from the neighbouring house might see them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him full on the mouth.

He did not pull away from her, but neither did he deepen the kiss. Mrs Younge pulled away after a few moments, giving him a quizzical look. "What is it, Mr Wickham? Are you getting cold feet?" she asked.

Mr Wickham smiled wickedly, raising a brow. "No. However, I think you take more risks than is wise. I thought I told you we could not be together like this until after Georgiana and I are married."

Mrs Younge let him go, turning her back on him. "You worry too much, Mr Wickham. Tomorrow, we will be away from this wretched place, and on our way to making a new life. Georgiana is too na?ve to understand what goes between a man and a woman. She has not the slightest clue of what to expect. But that will be better for us in the end. She can be your wife in name only, and I can be the wife who warms your bed."

Wickham raised his brows at her boldness. Yet he would not argue the point — not as long as he still needed her to control Georgiana. There would be time enough later to disabuse Mrs Younge of the notion that she had any say over how he wished to arrange his life. He put a smile on his face and went to her, turning her so she had to face him. Wickham lifted her chin and gave her lips a peck. It was a small compromise to make. "Yes. Only a little while longer of this charade, and then we will be free to live our lives as we please."

This seemed to please her, and she raised herself up on her tiptoes, kissing him again. This time, he gave her what she wanted. It was a small price to pay in order to keep her in line. Once he was married to Georgiana, he could decide whether to keep her around. Soon, all of his plans would be a reality, and he would be the master of his own fate.

"You should go. It is getting late, and I am sure you have preparations of your own to make," Mrs Younge whispered. Her hair was mussed slightly, and she stood in front of the gilded mirror and fixed it. He leaned down and kissed her neck before heading to the door.

"Keep her in line, Mrs Younge. I am counting on you," Mr Wickham whispered before opening the door. He slipped out and hurried to the front door, exiting the house before the housekeeper had a chance to bid him good day. He hurried down the muddy lane, giving a backward glance to make sure no one had seen him leave.