Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Elizabeth left the house early and told no one she was leaving, being sure to put two guineas from her last five pounds into her pocket. The sun was just up, and it was quiet this Sunday morning as she made the short walk to Berkeley Square to meet Georgiana.
She was waiting alone by the collapsing equestrian statue at the centre of the square.
Elizabeth thought it strange to see a young girl all by herself in such a public space, but of course Georgiana was married now.
Still, she must have come a long way alone.
Wherever the Wickhams were lodging, they could not afford a house by Berkeley Square unless they were living with a generous friend.
“Good morning, Mrs Darcy,” she said sweetly.
“You may call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy.”
Georgiana grinned. “Oh, no. To be married is a great privilege for a woman. I find it such a relief. Do you not enjoy hearing yourself called ‘Mrs Darcy’? I do so love to be called ‘Mrs Wickham.’”
Elizabeth held back a flinch. Georgiana’s tone was so bright and proud, she had to find her patience. “Do you have many friends to call you ‘Mrs Wickham’ and wish you well?”
Georgiana’s expression fell. “No one has left their card, and former friends turned me away.”
“Your rank is now commensurate with your husband’s.”
“But they do not know him,” she insisted with a stamp of her foot.
She rather thought that they did. Had Wickham been a clergyman or a lawyer with a stellar reputation, many of Georgiana’s circle might accept her.
But rumours of how Darcy did not approve and how Wickham was guilty of all manner of vice followed him into his new marriage.
“Does that not give you pause as to the sort of man you married?”
She scoffed. “It is because the world pays too much attention to money. Wickham will sue my brother for my fortune and win, and when we have the money, more doors will open for us.”
Those were phrases Wickham must have said to her again and again. “That might be true, but what sort of friends are those who would overlook moral failings for money?”
“He has no failings,” she insisted. “Even if he drank and gambled when he was young, it is all in the past. He is devoted to me now. All young men are prone to vice, and then they devote themselves to their wives. We do not deserve to have my brother withhold my money. We are renting rooms and have so little of our own.”
“It is a consequence of whom you married, and in defiance of your family’s wishes.
You have been rejected from society, held in contempt by all you knew and loved, just for the sake of a man we told you was no good.
Even your brother’s good name is threatened by your choice.
But he will withstand any scandal if you leave Mr Wickham—”
“I am a married woman,” she said with a gasp. “Would you leave your husband if your father asked you to come home?”
She must have seen the answer in her expression, because Georgiana said, “Then why would I leave mine? Being married is all I ever wanted.” She looked about to cry, blinking and looking away.
“This was a mistake. George said you would not help me, but I was so sure you were still my friend even though he chose me over Lydia.” Georgiana stalked off across the square.
“No, I want you to stay,” Elizabeth called after her. How could she get brother and sister to reconcile if she never saw Georgiana again? “I have brought some of the remainder from my personal expenses.”
Georgiana came back and dried her eyes before Elizabeth handed it over. “Perhaps you can now afford a better servant, or it will pay for the circulating library subscription. I fear you are being kept in a manner not—”
“Thank you, Mrs Darcy,” Georgiana said, squeezing her hand. “We had so little left after going to Scotland.”
She wondered how much of that two guineas would be spent on Georgiana’s situation and how much would be spent on drink or cards or prostitutes. But perhaps Wickham would want to care well for Georgiana if he knew Elizabeth was in contact with her.
“I must get back before I am missed. I hope to see you again,” Elizabeth said. “I worry for you, and if you ever need a friend, you must send me a note.”
“If we have need of more money, I will write.”
That was not what she had meant, but Elizabeth gave a strained smile before walking back to the house.
She supposed she could give Georgiana a little more money in the future.
Every chance to talk with Georgiana was another chance to convince her to leave Wickham before she caught the pox or had her spirits entirely broken.
She would make Darcy happy if she brought his sister home.
When she entered the house she startled the footman, which was not terrible, but at the same moment Darcy was coming down the stairs, placing his hat on his head. He gave her a confused look. “Were you just coming in?”
She hated to lie, but she was far from persuading Georgiana, and in the meantime Darcy would be displeased she gave his sister any money.
Once she convinced Georgiana to abandon her immoral husband, Darcy would be so delighted to reconcile with her that he would excuse his wife’s falsehood and the few pounds spent.
It was not done maliciously, after all, and he would have Georgiana safe as a result of it.
“I wanted to see how fair the weather was,” she said, running a hand down the sleeves of her pelisse. “I did not want to be cold on the walk to church.”
He smiled, holding out his arm for her to take.
They walked to St George’s at Hanover Square, arriving from St George’s Street through the impressive porticoed and columned entrance.
The building was as impressive as its parishioners.
As she and Darcy took their seats, she noted the titles and wealth of the people they passed.
Plenty of heads turned their way during the service, surreptitiously judging the new Mrs Darcy.
After the dutiful left, she was more prominently on display as Darcy touched his hat to a dozen people, and introduced her to more.
It was not as though the highest peers of the realm noticed her.
But at a certain level of London society—wealthy gentlemen, baronets, a few earls, and a viscount—whom Mr Darcy of Pemberley had married was a genuine matter of interest.
At least she supposed she must be of interest, given how many men and ladies gawked at her.
Elizabeth kept on a cheerful expression and was amiable to everyone, but she saw in Darcy’s face that he grew weary of the notice.
He wanted to turn the tide of favour about his family, but he did detest the attention.
They were both a curiosity, but the pressure of their success or failure was almost entirely on her.
She had to be a credit to him, be near perfect in her behaviour to be accepted, and be on display a great deal more than she wanted.
But did being a wife not also mean taking care of her husband?
During a pause in the conversation, she put an arm through his and said, “Mr Darcy, I am afraid I am rather tired.”
He immediately made their excuses to take his wife home, and when they were on the street and farther from the groups lingering outside the church, he said in a low voice, “I suppose you were tired of being judged?”
She was, but she had been thinking of him. “I thought perhaps you too were tired of it.”
He exhaled a heavy sigh that answered for it. “I did not consider how tedious it would be to prove to the world our marriage is not a mistake.”
She hated it as well, but she had to be recognised by Darcy’s circle. How could he fully accept her as his wife and partner if she were a disgrace? He might not say it, but nothing less than excellence would be tolerated.
“We will return wedding visits and attend dinners beginning tomorrow. I just need a brief reprieve from being a curiosity.”
As he agreed, she looked back at the fashionable church before they turned down the street and said, “Did you think you would have married from there?”
“Actually, I had assumed I would be married at the parish church at home. But now that I think on it, surely every woman also believes she will marry from her father’s house, so I would more likely have married from wherever my future wife lived.”
“An innyard in Scotland was never a consideration?”
He smiled. “Certainly not. But here we are, and I believe the vows stated are more important than how fashionable the church or if a special licence was used.” As they neared the house, he asked, “Do you want to go in, or walk in the Green Park? We are sure to see Lady Summerlin or Mrs Ballston, who both wished to know you better.”
And it would be good for her to be noticed by them.
Normally, she would always prefer a walk, but there would be many of the first circles strolling through all the public spaces today, and many who were not friends of Darcy’s family, like those two ladies were.
But either way, supportive friend or society stranger, she had to impress them.
“There would be stolen stares and more impertinent questions, Darcy, and I would rather avoid it. Do you mind? I know we are here to be on display, but could I have one more day of rest before we begin again? I do not mind becoming acquainted with your friends and returning calls, and I enjoy meeting new people and studying their characters, but…”
“But the whispers are not as quiet as they think,” he said carefully. “‘Do they love one another?’ ‘Why did he elope with her?’ ‘Did he marry her because she is pretty?’ ‘Did she marry him for his money?’” He sighed. “Why do we not conserve our strength for the week ahead?”
As they entered the house, Darcy went into the library, leaving the door open behind him as though expecting her to join him. She smiled to herself as she did. He remembered how her father had acted toward her, and so he welcomed her into his space.