Chapter 3

Georgiana's Private Sitting Room

Pemberley

Spending time in Georgiana's sitting room was a little like being inside a blooming rose. Pink striped wallpaper with pink rosettes on white, roses painted on the porcelain washbasin and pitcher, pink frilly cushions on the elegant chairs and love seat, pink roses in a cut crystal vase, and semi-sheer pink curtains edged with white lace half-drawn over the windows to tint the light filtering through them.

The fireplace sat empty and swept clean and cold. Beside it sat the lady of the room and her brother. Darcy held Georgiana's slender right hand between both of his own, his eyes filled with worry as his gaze rested on her face. Her eyes were bright with tears, and even as he watched, they spilled over to run down her rather pale cheeks.

"Poor Miss Bennet and poor Miss Lydia!" Georgiana said and quickly wiped her face with the handkerchief in her left hand. "Of course you must go and help."

"I feel badly about leaving you here, my dear, but..."

"I have Mrs. Annesley, and she is wonderful, and I am very fond of Mrs. Reynolds, and my maid, and ... well, I always feel comfortable here at Pemberley, and the Bennets desperately need your assistance."

"They do," Darcy agreed and could not help but smile adoringly at his sister; she was a kind soul, Georgiana, so eager to give up her own desire for his company in order to assist a woman who was little more than a stranger.

"And this time," Georgiana said, and suddenly her blue eyes were hard and determined. "Deal with Mr. Wickham as he deserves, Brother."

Darcy, thinking of George Wickham's licentiousness, and his debts, and his slander, and his attempt to run away with Georgiana, and his success at running off with Miss Lydia Bennet, felt his jaw set and his hands tighten. "I will, my dear. I assure you."

/

Music Room

Pemberley

Noon

Saturday, 8th August, 1812

The Pemberley music room was beautiful, with floor to ceiling windows to let in an abundance of light, pale blue walls, simple white wainscoting and fluting, and subdued off-white cushions arranged tidily on the blue-upholstered chairs and settee. It was a room that might well have been designed for the young performer now seated behind the elegant pianoforte, who was looking fresh and lovely in an uncomplicated pink muslin gown. Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Louisa Hurst, in contrast, were as out of place as a pair of peacocks in this delicate setting. The feathers on Mrs. Hurst's bonnet bobbed with every movement, and a vivid saffron satin shone incongruously. Miles of lace lined Miss Bingley's silk morning dress, and her hair was pinned with enamel pins a trifle too fancy for a leisurely day in a country manor.

Sunbeams slanted in through the windows, illuminating the room like spotlights. Dust motes and music notes danced through the air as Georgiana performed a very difficult piece with flawless skill. Nearby, her companion, Mrs. Annesley, had laid aside her habitual knitting and now listened with an approving smile.

Bingley himself maintained an attentive expression, but he allowed his mind to wander freely. Unusually heavy thoughts occupied him, while a low simmering anger smoldered in his breast. His sisters and Darcy had willfully deceived him by concealing the angelic Jane Bennet's visit and very presence in London from him, and he found himself riding the waves of hot incredulous exasperation. He wanted to be enraged that the three of them had dared to direct his life to their own pleasing, but he was an honest man, and was forced to admit that in this they were merely following their usual course.

Darcy, clever and some years older than himself, with a great deal of experience in managing both an estate and the intricacies of the haut ton, had long been in the habit of guiding Bingley. Thus far, Bingley had been happy with the other man's direction and interference in his affairs. While in this case, he was furious with his friend, it was not entirely fair to blame Darcy. Bingley was, at least, certain that Darcy's actions had been genuinely based on their friendship. Jane Bennet was a quiet soul and Darcy had, as he admitted, misread the situation.

Bingley's sisters had far more ignoble reasons for their efforts to separate their brother from Miss Bennet of Longbourn. The Bingley family, while respectable, had won its fortune in trade, and both Caroline and Louisa were determined to rise higher into society by marrying landed gentlemen, and they were equally resolved that their only brother would marry a woman with excellent connections. Jane Bennet, with her lack of fortune and relations in trade, would not help them in their ambitions, and thus they had sought to cast her aside as one would throw away a rag.

It made him want to grind his teeth in frustration and, yes, anger, that they would treat Miss Bennet so poorly. He wanted to yell at them for their cruelty to the lady he loved, not to mention their own indifference to his personal happiness.

Not that he would do so, however. He was not, by nature, a pugnacious or strong-willed man. He hated fusses and bothers and tantrums and vapors of any type, and he would assiduously avoid them. Caroline was especially well-used to getting her way, knowing that she could easily overcome her milder-mannered older brother with merely the threat of hysterics. Though everything within Bingley longed to rush at once to Netherfield and call upon the Bennets, to discover whether the handsome Jane still loved him as he loved her, he knew that both of his sisters would be extremely vocal in their disapproval of this plan. Even with all of his desire to see Miss Bennet again, he was not sure he could bring himself to weather the resulting emotional storm if he declared his intentions; his sisters would yell and scream and argue and cry, and his heart quailed within him at the thought.

"That was beautiful!" Caroline exclaimed, and Bingley clapped along with his sisters as he realized that the musical performance had come to an end.

"Was she not marvelous, Charles?" Louisa said, turning a penetrating look on her brother. Bingley was a trifle bewildered at the ferocity of Mrs. Hurst's glare, but he nodded and said, "Indeed, Miss Darcy, you are most accomplished on the pianoforte."

"Thank you," Miss Darcy said, blushing at so much praise, and Mrs. Annesley said, "Indeed, that was a charming performance, but I believe it is time for your French lesson in a few minutes."

Georgiana glanced at the clock on the mantel. "Oh, you are entirely correct. I will see you at dinner!"

Bingley rose to his feet and bowed a little. Miss Darcy curtsied in return and hurried out of the room with her companion at her heels.

Bingley sighed and looked outside. The weather was fine, and while he preferred a companion when he was riding, he would prefer to go out alone on his gelding as opposed to spending the next few hours indoors with his sisters as his companions.

"I think I will go for a ride," he announced.

The two sisters exchanged looks, and Caroline said, "Do wait a few minutes, Charles. We wish to speak to you."

Charles looked down at them and frowned. "What about?"

Again, the ladies glanced at one another, and then Caroline leaned forward and said, "As regrettable as it is that Mr. Darcy was forced to go to London on business, this is a fine opportunity for you, do you not think?"

"An opportunity for what?"

"Why, to court Miss Darcy, of course!" Caroline replied brightly.

/

Elizabeth's Bedchamber

Longbourn

Seven O'clock in the Evening

Saturday, 8th August, 1812

The last rays of the setting sun were warm on Elizabeth's back, where she sat on the window seat in her own room. Part of her heart was at ease, soothed by the familiarity of being home – with her own bed and her own knickknacks and the book on the side table, comfortable like wearing her old favorite dresses.

Yet sorrow and anxiety sat within her, sharp like a knife. She still reeled at the staggering depths of Lydia's foolishness and the consequences wrought upon all the Bennets. It felt strangely incongruous, to sit here in this room so dear and familiar, everything looking precisely as it always had, when in truth so much had changed, and for the worse.

"You wished to see Lydia's letter to Mrs. Forster, did you not?" Jane asked, digging around in her reticule.

"I did," Elizabeth agreed, reaching out her hand to take the letter, whereupon she spread it open so that the sunlight fell upon the written words.

My dear Harriet,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow morning as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement and dancing with him tonight.Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up. Goodbye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will drink to our good journey.

Your affectionate friend,Lydia Bennet

Elizabeth groaned as she folded up the letter. "Poor Lydia. She truly thought Wickham would marry her."

"And perhaps he will?" Jane suggested tentatively.

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. "You know as well as I do that Wickham wishes to marry a woman of substance, and we are poor. I can only hope and pray that Mr. Darcy will find a solution."

Jane, who had been dabbing her wet eyes with her handkerchief, turned a startled look on her sister. "Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth found herself blushing, and she fixed her gaze on her own hands. "Yes, I saw him again in Derbyshire when the Gardiners and I were touring Pemberley. I had asked a maid whether the Darcys were in residence and was assured that they were not, but then he came upon us as we were exploring the grounds."

"Oh Elizabeth! How uncomfortable that must have been after you refused him in Kent."

"Refused him harshly," Elizabeth replied and chuckled ruefully. "I was indeed most uneasy, but he was extraordinarily kind. In fact, he asked to be introduced to our uncle and aunt and called upon us at the Inn in Lambton the next day, along with Miss Darcy, who is charming and shy, and … and he also brought Mr. Bingley."

Jane's face turned pale at these words, and her eyes grew wetter. "You saw Mr. Bingley?"

"I did, and he asked about our family … well, in any case, yes. Then the next day we called on Miss Darcy at Pemberley, and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were there…"

She trailed off as Jane grew paler and shook her head. "I am sorry, Jane. I need to explain what happened regarding Lydia, and I have no desire to speak of Mr. Bingley's sisters. The following day I received your last two letters, as the first was misdirected. I was running out of the parlor to find my uncle, who was out walking with Aunt Gardiner, when Mr. Darcy was shown in. I told him that Lydia had run away with Wickham, and he said that he would help solve the problem for us."

"Mr. Darcy offered to help? Why would he?"

"Because he said he still admires and loves me," Elizabeth said and felt tears fill her own eyes. "Even though I was so unfair, so cruel, in Kent, he still cares for me."

Jane turned her blue eyes on her sister's brown ones. "And what of you, Lizzy? What do you think about Mr. Darcy now?"

Elizabeth blew out a breath and turned to stare out at the oak tree, which grew tall some dozen feet from her window. When she was a child, she had climbed that tree more than once, to the horror of her mother.

"I do not quite know how I feel," she replied after a minute of contemplation. "Or to be more accurate, I am not allowing myself to feel what I wish to. It is a great comfort to me that Mr. Darcy continues to think well of me, especially when I consider how poorly I behaved when we met in Kent, but oh, he cannot make an offer, a second offer, to a woman whose family is mired in scandal and ruin. It is too much to hope for."

"Perhaps Father or Mr. Darcy will find Lydia and Wickham and convince the latter to marry our sister," Jane said wearily.

"Perhaps, yes," Elizabeth agreed. "Mr. Darcy points out that Wickham will not be a good husband to our sister, but I am not certain of any viable alternative. We will see."