Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth was not surprised when Fitzwilliam stepped into the nursery while Miss Wilson quizzed Georgiana about the name of each sort of metal.
Georgiana’s happy squeal as she ran to her brother’s arms was much as expected.
As Fitzwilliam listened to Georgiana hurriedly exclaim about how well he looked, and how much she had missed him, Elizabeth waited with desperate dread. Had he broken up Jane and Wickham’s engagement by offering himself as an alternative suitor?
In general, Elizabeth would not credit Jane abandoning a fiancé for a wealthier man, but this was Fitzwilliam. Any woman would be fit for Bedlam if they did not accept his offer of marriage. And Jane had always been hesitant and almost unhappy when she spoke about the marriage and Wickham.
Fitzwilliam said while he still held Georgiana, “I must immediately be off to Matlock. Papa has sent me there; he wishes me to speak with our uncle, and to see Richard while he is there.”
There was a strong repressed emotion in his voice. Anger. Grief.
Elizabeth relaxed. It was like the sensation of falling down a set of stairs and then catching oneself on the banister.
Mr. Darcy had sent Fitzwilliam away so that he could not interfere with Jane and Wickham’s wedding.
Of course. Mr. Darcy would think that Jane was below the expectations that he had for his son, and he would hate the prospect of the scandal that his son marrying a woman who had broken an engagement for his sake would cause.
Elizabeth hated that she was happy that Fitzwilliam was not happy.
She should be unhappy along with him. If she was good, she would want his every dearest wish to be fulfilled. But she couldn’t.
She wasn’t good in that way.
“He has sent you away also?” Georgiana said. “He hates us both? I thought he only hated me. I am happier to know this.”
“He does not hate us,” Fitzwilliam said. “He only...”
“He hates me. Why else would he—” Georgiana started crying. “He won’t even let you stay to see me off! He hates me. He does. I hate him too. I’m glad he’s dying!”
“Don’t say that!” Darcy exclaimed. “Never say that.”
Elizabeth embraced Georgiana. “What happened when you spoke to him about Jane?”
Darcy grunted. “Words were spoken. I can say nothing else. I’ve sworn an oath to say nothing else.
But you shall have a very pleasant brother-in-law.
The sort of man who everyone wishes in their family.
I wish you all the joy of a Wickham. Lord!
Lizzy, forgive me. I hardly know myself.
I had expected grief, but this…I must leave within ten minutes if I shall reach Matlock before it is too dark to see. ”
“You are going so soon,” Georgiana moaned. “I didn’t mean that. Don’t hate me too. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want Papa to die.”
Fitzwilliam embraced his sister. “I know you do not. It is easy to disappoint Papa. He does not tolerate our imperfections so well, though he delights in those of others.”
With light footsteps another person entered the room. Elizabeth thought it was Jane from how her slippers sounded.
Jane said lightly, “Hello, Fitzwilliam. I am glad to see you. Oh, I must believe it will be better for Mr. Darcy now that you are here. But how do you do?”
A long silence.
Then Fitzwilliam said in a tight voice. “My apologies. Georgiana, Lizzy, I must immediately set off for Matlock. I...goodbye. Until we meet again.”
He then walked off with quick, heavy footsteps.