Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
E lizabeth could hardly believe the dastardly tale Georgiana told her. George Wickham belonged in a novel where he could play no other part than that of the lecherous villain. To steal the heart of a vulnerable girl barely out of the schoolroom was reprehensible, but to take her inheritance and flee across the Atlantic Ocean was indefensible. It made her sick to learn that the painting hanging in her father’s study was Georgiana’s inheritance, and when Georgiana spoke of the memories attached to the painting and her brother’s motive for giving it to her, it twisted like a dagger in Elizabeth’s gut.
Fitzwilliam Darcy would go to the ends of the earth to keep a promise to his sister. Elizabeth now understood how futile her conversation with him had been, and she could not fault him for it. She would do the same. They were at an impasse.
Georgiana’s narrative of the subsequent pursuit of her painting’s thief burst from her with an unstoppable force that brooked no interruption. When she revealed how the fiend had come to his demise—death by rat bite—Elizabeth was speechless. The irony was stunning.
Elizabeth’s sympathies and protective nature extended to her friend. “You have suffered a terrible ordeal.”
Covering her hands with her face, Georgiana groaned. “But that is not the worst of it. Well, it is. You can hardly get worse than death, but— Oh, what will you think of me when I tell you?”
Dear Lord, there is more? Elizabeth did not know what to expect. While a part of her wanted to hear no more, another part of her wanted to help. She took a deep breath and braced herself. “What kind of a friend would I be if my loyalty was so easily lost?”
Georgiana, too, took a deep breath, her cheeks puffing out as she exhaled. “When I learned that George was dead, I realized that I had not thought of him at all for weeks!” She gestured wildly, tears pouring down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. “My brother was more upset at the news of his death than I was! Even Richard seemed more moved. And he had threatened George with Constance!”
Now was not the time for Elizabeth to ask who Constance was. Georgiana was too upset for rational speech, a condition Elizabeth had witnessed many times over with her younger sisters and sometimes her own mother. The coils in her shoulders relaxed. This she could manage. Right now, Georgiana only needed her to listen.
“Even now, all I can feel toward him is… indifference… and annoyance at the inconvenience he has caused my brother and cousin.” Georgiana paused, blinking several times and sniffing. “What does it say about me that I am capable of forgetting a man with whom I was going to elope?” She was mature beyond her years in many ways, but her heart clearly belonged to a girl of fifteen.
Elizabeth gently caressed her face, drying her tears as she would have done for any of her sisters. “Just because you did not love him does not mean you are incapable of love. It only means that you have not yet met the person you will love despite the obstacles and disagreements you are bound to have, someone who will make you laugh with one knowing look and make your heart whole with one embrace.”
“George and I never argued.”
“I could never trust a man who agreed with me all the time. I would find myself saying the most outlandish things just to provoke a difference of opinion.”
“That is something my brother would do.”
Yes, that did sound like him. He would make a worthy opponent in a debate. “He is a gentleman of good sense.”
“He must think that I have been pining over George this whole time.” Georgiana sighed.
“You could tell him the truth.”
“We do not discuss our feelings. ”
“Why not? What harm would it do?” So many needless misunderstandings could be resolved if people would simply talk.
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “It is simply not done.”
Such a weak argument could not stand against Elizabeth, who had rebelled against society’s norms for too many years. “Do you doubt your brother’s love?”
“No, not at all.”
“And it is your firm belief that his efforts to find your painting and follow Mr. Wickham were for your benefit?”
“Yes.”
“Then do you not think he would be relieved to hear from you exactly what you wish for rather than making him guess?”
Georgiana did not look convinced, but Elizabeth had her attention and added, “It seems that he has tried many things to no avail. He is probably pacing the halls of Netherfield Park wondering what else he can do to give you cheer.”
“He offered to get me a puppy.”
Elizabeth’s heart swelled. “You see? He is trying, but he does not know what you need unless you tell him.”
The seed of the idea had been planted. Elizabeth had said what she could to help, but now it was up to Georgiana to act on it.
They were close enough to the house for them to part ways. “If you go through the kitchen, you might escape notice. The cook and Molly will help you.”
Georgiana embraced her tightly and then let go and ran to the house, the dogs loping behind her.
“Remy!” Elizabeth called, not too loudly. Movement in a window caught Elizabeth’s eye, but it was likely a maid cleaning the glass or dusting the curtains. She turned to leave before anyone else saw her.
She understood Mr. Darcy now, and despite the complications surrounding the Rembrandt—perhaps because of them—she respected him more. What she felt for him surpassed a fleeting infatuation. She loved him.
Darcy tried to apply himself to his letters, but he lacked concentration. Every thought, every breath and blink brought him back to Elizabeth. His thoughts ought to be occupied with his sister, whose disappointment was so great she suffered from a headache and had isolated herself in her rooms.
Slumping forward, he propped his elbows on the desk and cradled his head in his hands. There was no helping him. He loved Elizabeth. And she was the one woman he could not have. Mr. Bennet would not even see him; he would certainly not agree to allow Darcy to marry his favorite daughter. It was hopeless.
Leaning back, he pulled her sketch out of his pocket and the envelope he created to protect the charcoal from smudging in his pocket. He would much rather have one of her likeness, but he took great comfort knowing that she saw him through kind eyes. He heard her laughter in his mind and felt his lips tug into a smile in response.
Glancing around him, he tucked the sketch back into his pocket and stood before he could start imagining a conversation between them and talking to himself.
He needed something to do. He could help Bingley find Archie.
But first, he must check on Georgiana. He glanced at the clock standing in the corner. It had been over an hour since she had retired to her rooms. Not wanting to wake her, he tapped on Mrs. Annesley’s adjoining room. “How is she?” he asked.
“She is sound asleep. She asked not to be disturbed until dinner.”
Darcy’s concern increased exponentially. Dinner would not be for hours.
Mrs. Annesley smiled understandingly. “I had thought to peek inside her room without waking her to ensure all is well.” She understood him perfectly.
“I shall accompany you.” Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, he opened Georgiana’s door.
As expected, he saw where she lay sleeping in her bed. Mrs. Annesley reached to close the door, but he stopped her, unable to tear his eyes away from the lumpy bed. Something was not right. The room was too quiet. The figure in the bed was too still.
Moving silently in case his instincts were wrong, Darcy tip-toed to Georgiana’s bedside. His stomach twisted as he got closer. Her hair was not visible on the pillow. Had she covered her head with the blankets?
Hoping with every fiber of his being that his instincts were wrong, he pulled the blankets back… and saw a narrow mound of feather pillows.
Panic surged in his breast. Georgiana was gone! Alone! Had she run away? Where would she go?
Mrs. Annesley was at his side, one hand over her heart. “I shall enlist the help of the servants.”
“Tell only Mrs. Nichols and the scullery maid named Molly.” They were trustworthy and would not alert the Hursts―who had not called with Bingley at Longbourn―about Georgiana’s disappearance. “I am going to the stables. Richard is there. Perhaps Georgiana is with him.” That was unlikely, as she clearly had wished for her absence to go unnoticed.
Darcy ran downstairs and out to the stables, his mind reeling. If she tried to get a horse, Richard would have seen her. One of their grooms would have informed them of her actions. She had almost an hour and a half advantage. If she was on foot, she could not be more than three to five miles away… unless she secured a horse or arranged for a conveyance. In which direction would she most likely travel? South to London, or north to Pemberley? She had retired to her room after learning that Darcy had failed to return with her painting. Perhaps she had called at Longbourn. Would she try to talk to Mr. Bennet? Darcy groaned. Not only was she bound to be disappointed again, but Miss Bingley would witness her defeat .
Potential scenarios heightened his panic. Georgiana was injured. She was accosted by a band of ruffians. She was kidnapped by a highwayman.
By the time he reached the stable, he burst inside, causing Bingley’s groom to look up from polishing a saddle and the stable boy to set down the wheelbarrow he had been carting. “Where is Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Darcy asked with enough calm to encourage the stable boy to continue with his duties.
The groom nodded down the hall of stalls. “Third on the right.”
After giving his thanks, Darcy followed the groom’s directions and crossed his arms over his chest to hold himself together when he saw Richard casually brushing his horse. “Is Georgiana here?”
His cousin stopped brushing. “No.”
“Have you seen her?”
Instinctively, Richard reached for Constance. “Tell me what has happened.”
“She is gone. She put pillows in her bed and asked not to be disturbed.”
“She sneaked out?!”
Darcy shushed him. If word got out, Georgiana’s reputation would be in peril. It was his responsibility and Richard’s to protect her, and they had failed. Again.
Richard crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled. “Impressive.”
Had he gone mad? “No, it is not! She could be hurt or in danger or lost or… We ne ed to find her!”
“She must be on foot,” Richard said in a tone more appropriate to the gravity of the situation. “All the horses are here aside from Bingley’s chaise and four.”
Darcy exhaled. “Good. She cannot have gone far then.”
They had saddled their horses when Molly found them. Breathlessly, she leaned against the opening of the stall. “Mrs. Nichols sent me to tell you that Miss Darcy found Archie. They are in the front parlor if you wish to see them. Mr. Bingley will be relieved, as I am sure you are.” Looking about, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “She came in through the kitchen, so no one in the household is the wiser.”
Darcy’s relief was immense. If anyone in the stables overheard the news or commented on his hasty entrance into the stables, they could credit the disruption to Archie’s prolonged disappearance. “Thank you, Molly. You have done well.”
She bobbed a curtsy and scurried back to the house, Darcy and Richard following minutes later.
Now that he knew Georgiana to be out of danger, Darcy’s relief became overwrought with all the dangers she might have faced. A dark cloud settled over him.
Richard elbowed Darcy’s side. “Do not be too hard on her, Darcy.”
Darcy directed his scowl at his cousin.
Raising his hands, Richard said, “Your frown is a fearsome thing to behold.”
“Do you expect me to smile after she scared us out of our wits? ”
“No. You may frown. Just try not to frown so thoroughly.”
Darcy spoke through gritted teeth. “Why should I listen to you?”
“Because of the two of us, I have my emotions under firmer regulation than you do.”
That was a first. Darcy wished he could deny it, but he could not rightly object. He was thoroughly rattled. Cross but not wishing to scare his sister, he ceded to Richard until he gained his composure.
After entering through the back of the house, they passed the stairwell to the entrance hall and the open door of the front parlor. Darcy heard Georgiana’s voice mumbling. “Where are they, Archie?” He and Richard were about to cross the threshold when she said more excitedly, “E.B. There they are! As clear as day!”
Richard charged into the room with Darcy close behind him. Georgiana stood before the two paintings on the wall, startled and face-flushed but seeming not at all guilty or self-conscious about her deception. Archie stood at her side, looking intently at the artwork as though they might produce a bone if he stared hard enough.
“What is as clear as day?” asked Richard, moving beside her to look at the paintings.
“Ah, er…C.B., of course. Many artists hide their initials in their art. I was merely trying to find Miss Bingley’s initials. C.B.”
“And did you find them?” Richard leaned closer, searching for the hidden letters .
Georgiana tittered and shrugged. “I think I did, although I am uncertain whether the initials were added intentionally or not.”
“We shall have to ask Miss Bingley.”
“Oh, she has not returned yet from Longbourn, and I daresay I shall forget to ask by then. It is nothing.”
Darcy could not care less what Miss Bingley had done, intentionally or otherwise. Archie, too, lost interest. He trotted over to the window facing the road, jumping onto a chair he was not allowed on for a better view.
“Oh!” A shriek from the chair nearly made Darcy jump out of his skin. “You naughty boy!” continued the shrill voice of Mrs. Hurst.
She stood and smoothed her gown, only then looking up to see that she was not alone in the room. “Oh dear, I must have fallen asleep in the chair. My apologies if I gave you a start.”
The blush drained from Georgiana’s face, leaving her as white as the bedsheet she had used to hide her escape.
Darcy had not thought it possible for his mood to worsen, but it did.