14. Chapter Fourteen

Elizabeth had found Georgiana in the music room at Netherfield, her delicate fingers trailing listlessly over the piano keys. The young girl's face was pale and drawn, her eyes distant. Elizabeth's heart ached at the sight. She had become quite attached to Georgiana in the last few days, finding her to be a sweet girl, eager to please and not at all proud.

"Georgiana, are you quite well?" Elizabeth asked softly, settling herself on the piano bench beside the younger girl. "You seem out of spirits today."

Georgiana started, as if pulled from a reverie. "Oh! Forgive me, Elizabeth. I was woolgathering." She attempted a smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

"You know you can confide in me, Georgiana," Elizabeth said gently, placing a hand over the girl's. "I hope you will consider me a friend."

Georgiana's lower lip trembled. "I do, Elizabeth. Truly."

"But you do not wish to attend the soirée at Lucas Lodge with us, and your cousin Anne, tonight?" Elizabeth pressed.

"No." Georgiana shook her head. "Thank you. I would rather not."

Elizabeth considered this, studying the lines of strain around Georgiana's eyes, the tautness in her shoulders. Clearly, more weighed on the girl's mind than a simple aversion to social events. An uneasy suspicion began to form.

"Georgiana," Elizabeth began carefully, "is there someone who is likely to be in attendance tonight, whom you might wish to avoid?"

Georgiana's eyes flew to Elizabeth's face, shock blooming in her expression. "How did you… did my brother say something?"

"He did not," Elizabeth refuted that suggestion quickly. "But Lydia mentioned that when she and Kitty took you into Meryton, Mr. Wickham paid you some attention. Has Mr. Wickham...has he done something to distress you? Something beyond his general disagreeableness? I know he and your brother are not on particularly good terms, and I hope Mr. Wickham has not taken his displeasure with Mr. Darcy out on you."

Georgiana flinched as if struck. For a long moment, she was silent, her breath coming faster. Then, in a voice scarcely above a whisper: "He tried to convince me to elope with him last summer."

Elizabeth inhaled sharply. Mr. Darcy had hinted that Wickham was not a man of good character, but to think he would prey upon a trusting young girl, to think of the pain Georgiana must have endured...rage and fierce protectiveness bloomed in her chest.

"Oh, my dear girl," Elizabeth breathed, drawing Georgiana into an embrace as the first tears began to fall. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, do you hear me? The shame is entirely Wickham's. He took advantage of your kind heart."

Georgiana clung to her, small sobs wracking her frame. "I was so foolish, Elizabeth. So na?ve. I truly believed he loved me. But he only wanted my fortune."

"You were not foolish," Elizabeth said fiercely, stroking Georgiana's hair. "You were an innocent, trusting a man who should have protected you, not betrayed you. No more tears for one so unworthy, my darling."

Gradually, Georgiana's sobs subsided into sniffles and shuddering breaths. She pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "Fitzwilliam...my brother...he stopped us in time. He was so angry, Miss Elizabeth. Not with me, but with Wickham. I had never seen him in such a fury."

"As well he should be," Elizabeth said staunchly. "Your brother loves you dearly, Georgiana. As do I. We will keep you safe, I promise you."

A wobbly smile bloomed on Georgiana's face, and she squeezed Elizabeth's hands. "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. Truly. I do not know what I would do without your friendship."

"Well, you shall never have to find out," Elizabeth declared. "Now, dry your eyes. I will make your excuses to the Lucases. You needn't stir from Netherfield tonight unless you wish it."

Georgiana's smile returned, stronger now, and genuine gratitude shone in her eyes. "I shall not leave Netherfield's grounds without my brother. I made a promise to him, once I knew Wickham was in Meryton."

As Elizabeth drew the girl back into her arms, she silently vowed that Wickham would never again be permitted to darken Georgiana's door, nor to shatter her fragile trust.

The party at Lucas Lodge was in full swing by the time the Bennets arrived, red-coated officers mingling with the local gentry in a bright, colourful display. Elizabeth stood for a moment in the entryway, allowing her eyes to adjust to the brightness and her ears to the cheerful din of conversation and laughter.

It did not take long, however, for the genteel noise to be pierced by a shrill giggle that set Elizabeth's teeth on edge. She turned to see Lydia and Kitty huddled in a corner with Maria Lucas, their heads bent close together as they whispered and tittered behind their hands.

Elizabeth's brow furrowed as she watched them, a sense of unease prickling at the back of her neck. Lydia and Kitty were always prone to silliness, but there was a furtive, almost feverish quality to their mirth that troubled her.

Catching Charlotte's eye across the room, Elizabeth tilted her head towards the girls, a silent question in her gaze. Charlotte frowned, then nodded, moving to join Elizabeth as she made her way towards the giggling trio.

"Lydia. Kitty. I would speak with you, please." Charlotte's tone brooked no argument. "And Maria… I daresay you may as well come too. It will save Mother from having to repeat what I am about to say." Her tone brooked no argument, and both her stepdaughters and her sister followed her meekly from the room.

Satisfied that Charlotte would have some sharp words with the younger girls about their behaviour, Elizabeth relaxed and began to look about. Mrs. Hurst passed her on the arm of one of the officers, barely inclining her head to Elizabeth's greeting, and Elizabeth smiled wryly, before looking for Anne de Bourgh. Mrs. Hurst had declared she was happy to bring Anne to the party, wishing to get out of Netherfield, but had apparently left the heiress to her own devices. Knowing Anne to be very nearly as shy as Georgiana, Elizabeth thought she had better see if Miss de Bourgh would like the company of a familiar face.

Elizabeth was shocked, as she entered another room, to see Anne de Bourgh on a sofa with a red-coated officer, sitting intimately close as he whispered in her ear. Elizabeth was utterly aghast when both looked up at her gasp, and Elizabeth saw that the officer was Mr. Wickham.

With Georgiana's dreadful tale fresh in her mind, all Elizabeth could think of was getting Anne away from Mr. Wickham as quickly as possible.

"If you will excuse me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Miss de Bourgh? There is someone I should like to introduce to you."

Anne rose to her feet with obvious reluctance, a hint of rebelliousness crossing her expression, but she was too cowed by her mother's obnoxious bossiness to do more than think of arguing with someone who acted as though they had authority over her, Elizabeth suspected. And thank goodness for that, she thought, as she seized Anne's hand and led her hastily from the room.

"Do you know Mr. Wickham well?" she asked as they made their way through the crowded parlour. "From your visits to Pemberley in your childhood, I suppose?"

Anne looked at her oddly. "I beg your pardon? I have never met Mr. Wickham before this week. Why should I have met him at Pemberley?"

"He is the son of the former steward there, I understand. Certainly, Mr. and Miss Darcy are well acquainted with him, and neither of them approve of his company." Elizabeth hesitated, and then decided to share a little of what she knew. "Part of Miss Darcy's decision not to attend tonight was because of the likely presence of Mr. Wickham."

Anne blinked, but then she shrugged a little defiantly. "Who my cousins choose or do not choose to associate with is nothing to me, Miss Elizabeth. Now, who did you want to introduce to me?"

Having forgotten the excuse she had made to get Anne away from Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth cast about for a moment before her eye alighted on one of their neighbours. "Mrs. Goulding should like to meet you, I believe. She hails originally from Kent, though I have no idea if anywhere near Rosings; you shall have to determine the geography with her directly."

As the Bennet carriage rolled down the dark lanes back to Longbourn, Elizabeth's mind raced with the events of the evening. The laughter and chatter from the party at Lucas Lodge seemed a distant memory now, replaced by a growing sense of unease that settled heavily in the pit of her stomach.

On the opposite seat, Charlotte, Jane and Lydia were all dozing. Elizabeth had insisted on staying until Mrs. Hurst left with Anne de Bourgh, and consequently they were among the last to leave as Mrs. Hurst would not quit the card tables. It was very late, and Elizabeth hoped her father was not sitting up wondering where they all were.

Beside her, Kitty giggled and hiccupped, the effects of too much wine evident in her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. "Isn't it romantic?" she slurred, leaning heavily against Elizabeth's shoulder. "Anne and Mr. Wickham, running away together like something out of a novel!"

Elizabeth stiffened, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean, Kitty?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "What have you heard?"

Kitty grinned, her words tumbling out in a drunken rush. "I overheard them talking at the party," she confided, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're planning to elope, can you believe it? Anne's going to sneak out of Rosings before dawn, and Mr. Wickham will be waiting for her with a carriage. They're going to run away to Gretna Green and get married!"

Elizabeth's blood ran cold, her mind reeling with the implications of Kitty's words. After her conversation with Georgiana, she knew all too well the kind of man Mr. Wickham truly was - a fortune hunter, a liar, a man who would stop at nothing to secure his own interests. And now, it seemed, he had set his sights on Anne de Bourgh and her considerable inheritance.

The thought of poor, na?ve Anne falling victim to Wickham's blandishments made Elizabeth's stomach churn. Anne, with her sheltered upbringing, was even more vulnerable than most.

As the carriage rattled on through the darkness, Elizabeth's mind raced with possibilities. She had to find a way to stop the elopement, to save Anne from making a terrible mistake that would ruin her life forever. But how? Wickham was cunning and persuasive, and Anne was clearly infatuated with him. It would take more than mere words to convince her of the truth.

Beside her, Kitty had fallen asleep, her head lolling against the carriage window. Elizabeth envied her sister's blissful ignorance, the way she could so easily dismiss the gravity of the situation as nothing more than a romantic tale. But Elizabeth knew better. She had seen the pain and suffering that came with misplaced trust, and she would not let Anne fall victim to the same fate.

As the carriage finally pulled up to Longbourn, Elizabeth's resolve hardened. She would find a way to stop the elopement, no matter what it took. Anne's happiness, her very future, depended on it. And Elizabeth would not rest until she had made things right.

"Stepmother." She grasped Charlotte's hand. "I must speak to you. Now."

It took Charlotte only one glance at her face to know that Elizabeth's urgency was not feigned.

"Take Kitty and Lydia inside, Jane," Charlotte said, her voice calm. "We'll join you shortly."

"We have to go to Netherfield," Elizabeth said, as soon as her sisters had quit the carriage. "Now. Miss de Bourgh is about to make a terrible mistake, eloping with Mr. Wickham."

Charlotte's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" was all she asked, however, and when Elizabeth nodded, Charlotte said "Very well. Wait here for five minutes, and I will come with you."

Charlotte stepped out of the carriage and called up to the coachman, presumably telling him his night was not yet done, before going briefly inside Longbourn. Elizabeth sat in the carriage, wringing her hands together, the only thought in her mind that she must get to Netherfield in time to avert disaster.

As the carriage rattled along the dark country lanes, Elizabeth's mind raced with the implications of what Kitty had told her. Anne de Bourgh, eloping with Mr. Wickham, a man Anne claimed she had only met this week? It seemed unthinkable, and yet...

"Lizzy, are you quite well?" Charlotte's concerned voice broke through her reverie. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

Elizabeth shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts. "Charlotte, I fear we may be too late. If what Kitty said is true..."

"We must hope it is not," Charlotte said firmly. "And if it is, we must do whatever we can to stop it."

Elizabeth nodded, her jaw set with determination. She would not let Anne throw her life away on a man like Wickham, not if she could help it.

As the carriage drew up to Netherfield, Elizabeth leapt out almost before it had stopped moving, Charlotte close behind her. They hurried up the steps and into the house, startling the sleepy-eyed footman who opened the door.

"Miss de Bourgh," Elizabeth said urgently. "Is she here?"

The footman blinked, looking confused. "I believe she retired to her room some time ago, miss. Shall I-"

But Elizabeth was already moving past him, taking the stairs two at a time in her haste, Charlotte hard on her heels.

They found Anne in her bedchamber, a small valise open on the bed, half-filled with clothes and valuable little trinkets. Anne looked up from where she sat at her writing-desk as they entered, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear. "Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennet," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "What are you doing here?"

Elizabeth stepped forward, her expression gentle but firm. "Anne, we know about your plans to elope with Mr. Wickham. And we're here to stop you from making a terrible mistake."

Anne's face flushed, and she drew herself up haughtily. "I don't know what you're talking about. And even if I did, it's none of your concern."

Charlotte shook her head, her expression sad. "Oh, Anne," she said softly. "If only you knew the truth about Mr. Wickham. He's not the man you think he is."

Elizabeth nodded, her heart aching for the young woman before her. "Anne, please listen to us. Mr. Wickham is a liar and a scoundrel. He's only interested in your fortune, not in you. If you go through with this elopement, you'll be ruining your life forever."

Anne's eyes filled with tears, her lower lip trembling. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, that can't be true. He loves me, I know he does."

Elizabeth reached out, taking Anne's hands in her own. "I know it's hard to believe," she said gently. "But we have proof, Anne. Proof that Mr. Wickham is not to be trusted." Elizabeth left the room briefly, to find the young maid who had shown them upstairs and was now loitering uncertainly in the hallway.. "Please wake Miss Darcy at once. Tell her that her presence is urgently required."

The maid curtsied and hurried away, leaving Elizabeth and Charlotte alone with the distraught Anne. Elizabeth approached the heiress tentatively, her heart aching at the sight of Anne's tear-stained face.

"Anne," she said gently, "I know this is difficult, but we must speak the truth. Mr. Wickham is not the man you believe him to be."

Anne shook her head stubbornly, clutching her half-written note to her chest. "You don't understand. He loves me, and I love him. We are meant to be together."

Charlotte sat down on the edge of the bed, her warm brown eyes full of compassion. "Oh, my dear girl," she murmured, "I know it feels that way now. But sometimes, what we believe to be love is nothing more than a fleeting infatuation."

Before Anne could respond, there was a soft knock at the door. Elizabeth opened it to find Georgiana standing there, her face pale and anxious. "You sent for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elizabeth nodded, ushering her into the room and closing the door behind her, to ensure the curious maid could not overhear them. "Yes, Georgiana. I'm afraid we need your help."

Georgiana's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her - Anne's packed bag, the crumpled note, the tears on her cheeks. "What has happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "Anne was planning to elope with Mr. Wickham," she said quietly. "But we believe he may not be the honourable man she thinks he is."

Georgiana gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. For a moment, she seemed unable to speak. Then, in a voice choked with emotion, she began to tell her story.

She spoke of Wickham's charm and flattery, of how he had made her feel special and loved. She spoke of the secret meetings, the whispered promises, the plans to run away together. And she spoke of the devastating moment when she had learned the truth - that Wickham had only been interested in her fortune, that he had never truly cared for her at all.

As Georgiana spoke, Anne's face grew paler and paler. By the time Georgiana had finished her tale, Anne was openly weeping, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

"I'm such a fool," she cried, burying her face in her hands. "How could I have been so blind?"

Charlotte gathered her into a warm, motherly embrace, rocking her gently back and forth. "Hush now," she soothed, stroking Anne's hair. "You are not a fool. You are a young woman with a tender heart, and that is nothing to be ashamed of."

As Charlotte comforted Anne, Elizabeth turned to Georgiana, her own eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you," she whispered, taking the younger girl's hand in her own. "I know how difficult that must have been for you."

Georgiana managed a watery smile, squeezing Elizabeth's hand in return. "I only wish I had spoken sooner," she said softly. "Perhaps then, Anne would have been spared this pain."

Elizabeth shook her head firmly. "You mustn't blame yourself," she said. "The only one to blame is Mr. Wickham, for his deceit and his cruelty."

Anne's sobs had quieted to the occasional sniffle, and she raised her head from Charlotte's shoulder, her face blotchy and her eyes red-rimmed. "Please," she said, her voice hoarse and trembling, "you mustn't tell my mother about this. She would be so terribly disappointed in me."

Elizabeth exchanged a glance with Charlotte, seeing the same sympathy and understanding she felt reflected in her stepmother's eyes. "We won't tell her," Elizabeth assured Anne gently. "But you must promise us something in return."

Anne nodded eagerly, clearly willing to agree to anything if it meant keeping her secret safe. "Anything!" she exclaimed.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew she must say. "You must promise us that you will never speak to Mr. Wickham again," she said firmly. "Not a word, not even in passing. If you should happen to meet him in company, you must not acknowledge him in any way. You will give him the cut direct."

Anne's eyes widened, and for a moment, Elizabeth feared she would protest. But then, slowly, the younger girl nodded. "I promise," she whispered. "I never want to see him again, not after what he's done."

Relief washed over Elizabeth, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. She knew that the road ahead would not be easy for Anne, but with the support of those who loved her, she would heal in time.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, Elizabeth felt the exhaustion of the long night catching up with her. She stifled a yawn, blinking heavily as she tried to focus on the conversation around her.

Beside her, Georgiana seemed to be struggling with her own fatigue, her head nodding forward as she fought to keep her eyes open. Without thinking, Elizabeth reached out and drew the younger girl into her arms, offering what comfort she could.

Georgiana stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised by the gesture. But then, slowly, she relaxed into Elizabeth's embrace, her own arms coming up to encircle Elizabeth's waist.

"We must go," Charlotte said at last. "Will the two of you stay together? We will come back later today, and I promise we will not tell Lady Catherine anything, but we do need to know more of what Wickham said to you, Anne."

"We will stay together." Georgiana reached out and took her cousin's hand. "Won't we, Anne?"

"Yes." Anne nodded. "I promise. And… thank you. For stopping me from making a terrible mistake."

"We are glad to have been of assistance, Miss de Bourgh," Elizabeth said.

"I think we are past such formalities now, don't you?" Anne smiled weakly. "You must call me Anne."

The carriage jolted as it hit a particularly deep rut in the road, shaking Elizabeth from her drowsy reverie. She blinked, taking a moment to orient herself to her surroundings. Beside her, Charlotte shifted, her own eyes heavy with fatigue.

Through the window, Elizabeth could see the sun rising over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the countryside. It was a beautiful sight, but one that she found difficult to appreciate in her current state of exhaustion. All she wanted was to sink into her own bed at Longbourn and sleep.

At the edge of the park, beneath a blasted oak tree, a solitary carriage stood waiting, driver slouched in his seat. And there, pacing back and forth beside it like a caged animal, was the unmistakable figure of Mr. Wickham.

Elizabeth felt a surge of anger at the sight of him, his handsome face twisted into a scowl of frustration.

Beside her, Charlotte let out a soft snort of disgust. "Look at him," she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. "Pacing about like a petulant child denied a sweet."

Despite her exhaustion, Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at her stepmother"s words. It was true; there was something almost comical about the sight of the dashing Mr. Wickham reduced to such a state of impotent fury.

As their carriage drew closer, Wickham's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of them. For a moment, Elizabeth thought he might try to approach them, demand to see if Anne was with them.

But then, as if thinking better of it, he turned on his heel and stalked back to his own carriage, yanking open the door and climbing inside.

Elizabeth let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, slumping back against the cushioned seat. It was over. Anne was safe, and Wickham had been thwarted in his schemes.

She turned to Charlotte, a weary smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "We did it," she said softly.

Charlotte squeezed her fingers, her own smile tired but triumphant. "We did," she agreed. "And now, my dear Lizzy, I believe it is time for us to get some well-deserved rest."

Elizabeth nodded, already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at her eyelids. As the carriage rolled on towards Longbourn, she allowed herself to drift off, secure in the knowledge that, for now at least, all was well.