The Rapprochement
As they approached the door, Elizabeth wondered which Georgiana Darcy would walk in on her guardians—the shield-maiden who had Mr Wickham tarred and feathered, or the timid mouse who quaked in her half-boots at bombastic threats from her nearest relations and supposed protectors.
The question was answered soon enough when her companion threw the door open, marched in, and half-yelled, “Fitzwilliam Darcy! Richard Fitzwilliam! Explain yourselves! How dare you criticise me for doing what neither of you had the courage to do.”
“Georgi—” the colonel began, but she would hear none of it.
“Do not ‘Georgi’ me! You two had a decade or more to deal with that miscreant, and you left it to me. He convinced a na?ve fifteen-year-old girl to elope, after which he would most likely have abandoned me, leaving me one of dozens of girls he has interfered with, and what did he get? A strongly worded letter!”
She turned to Mr Darcy, and Elizabeth was amused to see the tall man recoil from a girl half his size and age.
“You ignored him because our idiot father liked him, while I had to deal with him definitively.”
“Peace, Georgiana,” the colonel said. “Now that I am assured of your safety, I am no longer angry.”
Mr Darcy seemed somewhat muddled, having barely recovered from his sister’s diatribe enough to notice Elizabeth in the room.
She gave him a sarcastic smirk and curtsied slightly insolently.
Darcy finally recovered his wits in time to evade another kick from his cousin.
“I am not angry, Georgi. I am relieved you are safe. Men bluster when they are worried.”
“I am not only relieved—I am impressed, my girl,” the colonel cried emphatically with a disarming smile.
Elizabeth suspected he believed his charm would get him out of her brown books—an unfortunate trait he shared with Mr Wickham. Elizabeth had to admit it might work with her young friend, but she did not care for it herself.
“Impressed?” Georgiana asked.
“Yes, that was neatly done. I could not have done better myself!”
“Obviously!” Georgiana snorted. But since the sting was leaving her, Elizabeth hoped all would be well.
“Since Miss Darcy does not appear to be in any danger, I shall leave her in your hands,” she said, then curtsied and turned towards the door.
“Wait!” Georgiana cried in near panic.
“Do not tell me you feel unsafe with your guardians.”
“Of course not! It is only… we are not finished.”
“We most assuredly are,” Elizabeth said emphatically, not in the least interested in any more conversation with the group.
Georgiana stared at her for a moment and said, “Fitzwilliam, can you explain something to me in language simple enough for even my simple, young, silly female mind to comprehend?”
All three occupants watched her nervously for her words were just dripping with poison honey.
She turned abruptly and stamped over to face her brother from a few feet away, tapped him in the chest with her forefinger, and spoke emphatically.
“What on earth possessed you to insult my friend repeatedly? Are you blind, stupid, or mad to call her not handsome enough to dance with? In an unguarded moment she admitted that with the demise of Mr Wickham you are not dishonourable—but that only reduced her list of your offences by about a quarter. Just what were you thinking? Have you spent so much time around those nasty Bingley sisters that you forgot even how to be polite? Has your brain rotted entirely from too much exposure to the harpies of the ton? Have you lost the ability to act in a gentlemanlike manner? I suspect Mama would be appalled!”
Darcy stared in shock, as if he were next for tar and feathers, while Elizabeth felt embarrassed and sorry that she had confided in the hostile young lady, who was clearly enjoying making a dent in the world for probably the first time—and frankly, a bit too drunk on her new power.
While she applauded the young heiress’ efforts to control her own life, she did not appreciate the child bludgeoning her brother with words spoken in confidence, which could have a negative influence on Jane’s happiness.
It seemed obvious the despicable Mr Darcy would find some way to blame her for his own sister’s intransigence.
While the two antagonists faced each other and the colonel looked on in either shock or amusement, she quietly left the room, then the house, and ran for Longbourn at a pace even Tom Kendall would envy.