Chapter Fourteen

M r. and Miss Darcy led the way into his townhouse, Elizabeth and the colonel following. An air of disquiet hung over them even as the butler and footmen moved to welcome them with a reassuring efficiency.

"Mr. Yardley," Mr. Darcy said to his butler as they all handed over their cloaks and coats, "have tea sent to the blue drawing room."

The colonel pulled the butler aside, but Elizabeth heard him say, "Plenty of sugar, Mr. Yardley."

The older man beckoned one of the maids and issued the orders.

"Come," Mr. Darcy said gently, and ushered them all into a small room. It could hardly be considered a sitting room. It was more of a family parlour. Elizabeth wished to examine the plush rug, the comfortable furniture, and the cool blue walls, but all she could bring herself to do was sink gratefully into a soft settee. Without her cloak, she shivered slightly and clasped her hands together in her lap to still the trembling.

The colonel stepped out to the hall, and Miss Darcy stood and addressed Elizabeth. "May I sit with you, Miss Elizabeth? "

"Of course," Elizabeth told her. Miss Darcy sat, and Elizabeth was grateful for the weight and warmth of another body next to hers. "I am sorry, Miss Darcy. Had the conversation not taken the turn that it did, you would not have felt compelled to depart."

"It was not your fault, not at all," the girl insisted. "I should not have left, but it was terrible. I do not know how you could stand it."

"You need not worry for me, I am inured to such behaviour and regard it not at all. Lady Henrietta and I are not the best of friends," Elizabeth said wryly. "Though I cannot say why she had taken such a deep dislike to me. I want nothing more from her than polite indifference."

Elizabeth thought over the events of the day, recalling the way the horses smelled, the way they became larger and larger as they approached. Her stomach twisted, and she felt a little ill. Lady Henrietta had said nothing she had not expected to experience in London. But there were no words witty enough to arrest the forward motion of a coach and six.

When she took a steadying breath and looked up, Mr. Darcy was still gazing at her. Though she had attempted to put on a brave face, he had seen her mask slip. He had witnessed her panic, seen the fragility beneath her usual poise. It was unnerving, to be so thoroughly exposed.

Yet she, too, had been granted the sight of an unguarded moment. When Mr. Darcy was holding his sister in a desperate embrace, mere seconds after the peril had passed, Elizabeth had seen the stark terror etched into his handsome countenance. It would remain with her forever. In that moment, Elizabeth had understood that Mr. Darcy was not a man without feeling, but rather one who felt deeply. She had seen a fiercely devoted brother, a man who would place his sister's well-being above his own.

What must it be like to be the object of such a devotion? Elizabeth was certain she would never know. Her lot in life was to care for others, not to be the one cared for. Jane was the most wonderful sister she could ever hope to have, but there were things Elizabeth did not reveal even to her. Mamma was angry with her all the time, and her father would hardly be moved from his book room. Had something happened to her today, Elizabeth was not certain he would even have inconvenienced himself long enough for a trip to London.

Miss Darcy leaned against Elizabeth—it was not proper, of course, but the poor girl was done in. She clearly needed a friend, and that she could, would happily, provide. The girl quivered intermittently, and Elizabeth wrapped an arm around her, finding that her own tremors were lessened in tending to Miss Darcy's.

The colonel returned with two shawls. One he held out to Elizabeth, the other he gently draped over Miss Darcy's shoulders. Elizabeth was grateful for the additional warmth.

The colonel and Mr. Darcy retired to the other side of the room and conversed in low murmurs, their expressions etched in matching lines of concern.

The tea arrived. Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow at Mr. Darcy, silently inquiring whether he would like for her to pour as his sister was in no condition to perform the task. He shook his head slightly at her, doing the honours himself, adding two heaping spoonfuls of sugar to the cups, then stirring it in. He held one out to his sister and the other to Elizabeth.

She did not like sweet tea, but she lifted the cup to her lips, attempting to ignore the slight tremor that still afflicted her, and dutifully drank it all. Miss Darcy's lips curled down in distaste, but she, too, finished the drink.

"How are you feeling?" Mr. Darcy asked from where he was perched on the edge of the chair opposite them. Elizabeth studied him. He had a kind face. Why did he not display it more often?

"I am well, Brother, thank you." Miss Darcy set her cup and saucer aside.

"Miss Elizabeth?" he asked, his piercing eyes boring into hers .

"I am well, sir."

Mr. Darcy did not appear to believe her, but he nodded and spoke to the colonel. "We should send a note back to Miss Amberley's so that Miss Elizabeth's sister knows where to find her."

"I will see to that," Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He turned to Elizabeth. "You have my gratitude, Miss Elizabeth. If you or your sister ever find yourself in need of anything, you need only send word to me."

Elizabeth nodded, too unsure to speak, and the colonel turned smartly on his heel and left the room.

"He and my brother share my guardianship," Miss Darcy whispered to her.

Not two minutes later, the click of the knob turning heralded the return of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was leading Lady Carlisle into the room. Jane and Amelia hovered anxiously behind her. Apparently, there had been no need to send a note.

"Miss Elizabeth," Lady Carlisle said grandly, her typically impassive countenance betraying a glimpse of relief upon seeing Elizabeth. "Imagine my astonishment to arrive at the Amberleys' home and not find you within. I trust you are both well after your . . . ordeal?"

Elizabeth wondered how Lady Carlisle already knew about the near accident. She opened her mouth, intending to reassure the countess that they were unharmed, but Miss Darcy spoke first, her soft tones still tinged with a lingering distress.

"We are both well," she said, glancing at Elizabeth, who nodded encouragingly. "But if not for Miss Elizabeth's swift intervention . . ."

"Yes, quite." Lady Carlisle's gaze slid to meet Elizabeth's, and her lips drew taut. "While I cannot condone such rashness, I am relieved that your actions prevented any further unpleasantness. "

Elizabeth supposed that was one way to phrase it. She was too weary even to bristle at the hint of censure in her sponsor's tone. Lady Carlisle was responsible for her and well within her rights to offer the chastisement, no matter how necessary Elizabeth's impulsive actions had been.

"We must ask you to pardon us, Miss Darcy," Jane said, and Amelia nodded shame-facedly beside her. "I fear our talk became too sharp for you. It is entirely understandable that you would wish to depart."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Miss Darcy, leaning forward to accept Jane's proffered hand in both of her own. "It was not the three of you at all—you were only responding to the cruel remarks made by my own cousin and her friend. I was mortified! I fear I must apologise to all of you on their behalf."

"I think there has already been too much apologising amongst the four of us," Elizabeth said, ending a conversation that was threatening to turn maudlin. The two women who ought to be expressing contrition were not even here. She addressed the countess, upon whom she could count to remain dispassionate. "Is Lady Henrietta with you?"

"She did inquire after her cousin," the countess confirmed. "I told her I would assure Miss Darcy had reached home in safety, and she left it in my hands."

The colonel's countenance turned stony.

"We should depart," Lady Carlisle said. "We will be expected at home."

Elizabeth stood. "Miss Darcy," she said, "the invitation to tea remains open. Perhaps you might wish to discuss it with your brother and the colonel?"

Miss Darcy nodded. "Only after today, you must call me Georgiana."

Elizabeth smiled. "I would be pleased to do so. You already know my name and should feel free to use it."

The girl returned Elizabeth's smile with a tremulous one of her own. "I shall see you soon, I hope."

They left Georgiana in the sitting room with the colonel and Mr. Darcy walked them out. The other ladies had not bothered to remove their cloaks, but Elizabeth paused to accept hers. Except that the one the footman handed her was not hers—instead, he extended a heavy woolen garment of a vibrant sapphire blue, clearly tailored for a taller woman than she. She stared at it in bewilderment for a heartbeat until realisation blossomed. She had put on the wrong cloak in her haste to reach Georgiana; her own must still be lying on the street where she had dropped it or flung it aside—she had been so distracted she did not know what she had done.

Hesitantly, she accepted the garment from the servant's hand and held it out to have a better look. It did not belong to Jane or Amelia. She looked down at the hem that pooled on the floor and was dismayed to see a vivid slash of brown that travelled the width of the garment, ending with a jagged tear in the cloth near the hem. She stared at it until she grasped its significance.

It was the mark of a carriage wheel.

Her sharp inhalation drew the attention of her companions, and for some reason, her gaze flew first to Mr. Darcy. She witnessed the moment comprehension dawned—his expression remained almost inscrutable but for his suddenly clenched jaw.

It was as though a fog had lifted and the damp chill had gone. Elizabeth recalled the relief of being helped to her feet and then swung up into his powerful arms, the comfort of being drawn against his chest with an effortless strength. The world that had been trying to kill her, again, had righted itself. She had felt protected.

From the day her father had called Jane and her into his study to explain his plan for sending them to school to improve the family's position, Elizabeth had never felt entirely safe. How odd that it would be Mr. Darcy who could restore that feeling to her, even if only temporarily. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to preserve it in her memory. When she opened them again, she held out the cloak and said, "This is not mine. I must have lost my own . . ."

"Mr. Yardley," Mr. Darcy said, taking the cloak from her without hesitation, "bring Miss Elizabeth one of Miss Darcy's cloaks from last year, before she grew so tall."

"Right away," the man said from behind him, and within a few minutes, Mr. Darcy himself was helping Elizabeth into a deep red cloak that was still a little long and perhaps too young for her, but warm and unblemished.

"Good day, Mr. Darcy," she said at last, when she had fastened the button at the front and pulled the warm wool about her.

He stepped back and bowed to them all. "Good day."

Georgiana had finally explained the events of the call and had then immediately retired upstairs. The library was draped in deepening shadows, and Darcy sank into one of a pair of wingback chairs with a weary exhalation, cradling a glass of well-aged brandy. Georgiana's cloak, marred by a streak of brown filth, the hem rent and ragged, was tossed unceremoniously over the table before him.

Fitz dropped into the other chair with his own drink, frowning as he took in the sorry state of the garment. He grimaced. "We nearly lost Georgiana today. And it is largely Hen's fault."

"You will forgive me if I do not call tomorrow." Darcy took a sip of the liquor, letting the oaky flavour slide down his throat with a familiar burn that warmed him. "It may be some time before I can speak to her with any equanimity. She knew I trusted her to keep my sister safe and she could not be bothered with Georgiana's care even for the length of a morning call."

"I will speak with her." Fitz toyed with his glass but did not drink. "As Georgie's other guardian, it is also my place to censure her for her negligence."

Darcy nodded. "I thank you."

"There may be other consequences of Georgiana's flight and Miss Elizabeth's heroics today. We must discuss how we intend to act."

"The entire episode, including Lady Henrietta's role, will be dissected in detail." Darcy was dreading the gossip, not for himself, but for Georgiana. His anxious sister would be distraught to be the subject of derision for her attempt to leave her chaperones behind and walk home alone. He would bundle her off to Derbyshire this instant if he could, but that would only make the speculation worse.

"I am not in the least displeased that my sister will at last face the repercussions of her sharp tongue, but she has dragged both Georgie and Miss Elizabeth down with her. And Miss Elizabeth, at least, does not deserve it."

Darcy was incredulous. "You think Georgiana does?"

"No, but our sweet girl lacks the confidence even to remain in a house where other women are exchanging insults. Insults, I might add, that have nothing to do with her." Fitz sighed. "I cannot say whether it is something we have neglected to teach her or whether it is just her nature, but she put her life at risk over a few sharp words."

"And Miss Elizabeth's as well," Darcy said, resigned. "I know you are right, Fitz, but what are we to do? She has no mother, no female relation who might properly assist her."

His cousin regarded the cloak. "Georgie did say she had been invited to tea with Miss Elizabeth and her friends at Carlisle House. "

Not many weeks ago he would have scoffed at the very idea. Last week, even. But Miss Elizabeth, her sister, and her friend all seemed so self-assured, though in differing ways. "Can we presume upon Miss Elizabeth after all she has already done?"

"Miss Elizabeth issued the invitation even after all that occurred today. I think that young woman may be Georgiana's only chance at gaining the fortitude she requires. She does seem to possess it in abundance."

Darcy did not disagree, but he had seen that Miss Elizabeth had been afraid. She was brave, to be sure, but it came at a cost to her own peace. Perhaps that made him feel better about trusting Georgiana to her. She was sensible enough to feel fear but courageous enough to act despite it. An uneasy silence stretched between them, broken only by the low crackle of the fire in the grate.

Fitz studied him shrewdly. "As much as it pains me, we must accept that Georgiana's reaction will be misconstrued as delicate nerves by those who are kind and an unstable temperament by those less charitable."

Darcy's nod was terse. "If Lady Carlisle is willing to accept Georgiana as a guest of Miss Elizabeth's after today, it may do much to help stem any pernicious gossip. And the young ladies of the house are most likely better suited to assisting Georgiana than we are."

"Such as the admirably poised Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" Fitz arched one brow. "Are you ready to admit that you are rather fond of the lady?"

A muscle ticked in Darcy's cheek.

"I do not mean to tease you, Darcy. I can see that the two of you are on good terms now."

He shifted and crossed his legs. "I would not say we are on good terms."

Fitz smirked. "You think not? After quite literally sweeping Miss Elizabeth off her feet? "

Darcy shot him a quelling look. "A situation rendered necessary by the circumstances, as you are well aware."

"Of course, Cousin." Fitz waved a hand. "Fear not, I will defend you against any disgruntled matrons appalled by your unseemly rescue of an innocent and heroic young lady."

He would not rise to the bait. "Your solicitude is appreciated, I am sure." The path before them promised to be complicated, but he was resolute. He would safeguard his sister's reputation and prospects as well as he was able. If that meant enlisting Miss Elizabeth's aid, he would humble himself before her, and before the earl, if it was required.

"Well then." Fitz drained his glass and reached for Darcy's. "It seems we must once again prevail upon the lady's stout heart, for all our sakes."