Chapter 15
“It looks like the militia are out in force today,” Elizabeth observed gaily as she and Miss Darcy walked together along a path in Hyde Park, its greenery heavily dotted today with the bright jackets of militia officers. “Do you think Napoleon is hiding somewhere in the trees, perhaps?”
Miss Darcy giggled at this idea.
“They are like exotic animals in their red coats, are they not?” continued Elizabeth, steering her charge around two bright-eyed young officers who attempted to make eye contact with the two unaccompanied young ladies. “We could pretend we were in a zoo, but it is rude to stare.”
Amused but unsure of herself, Georgiana Darcy cautiously took in the clusters of red-coated officers strolling around the park, sitting under trees or walking with ladies.
Mr Darcy was not with his sister and Elizabeth today, having gone to call at his bank instead.
The smaller of the two Darcy House carriages waited at a nearby stopping point for whenever the ladies grew tired.
“There are not usually so many officers in the park at once, are there?” the girl reflected. “I wonder what brings so many of them here today.”
“Maybe there is some meeting in London for militia officers,” speculated Elizabeth.
“Or some general is giving a ball here tonight. You are right that there must be some reason for so many to be in town, and at leisure. Well, my youngest sisters will be disappointed if all the officers from Meryton have come to London.”
“What do you mean?” asked Miss Darcy, and Elizabeth paused, remembering the younger woman’s more sheltered life and Mr Darcy’s disapproval of the younger Bennets.
“Lydia and Kitty will have no one to dance with at the local assembly rooms if all the young officers are here in town,” Elizabeth told her, truthfully enough. “Well, they will just have to dance with one another, as Jane and I have often done.”
“I wish I had a sister,” sighed Miss Darcy with feeling. “You are so lucky to have four, Miss Bennet.”
“Lucky?” laughed Elizabeth. “That is the first time I have ever heard anyone call having five girls in a family lucky. Most consider it the deepest misfortune. Still, you are right that it is good to have sisters, especially Jane.”
“Is Jane very pretty?” asked Miss Darcy hesitantly. “In the garden yesterday, I heard Mr Bingley tell my brother that she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He seemed to like her very much.”
This intelligence stopped Elizabeth in her tracks, a smile forming on her face as she halted under a tree.
Jane’s last letter indicated that Mr Bingley’s recent call at Gracechurch Street had gone well and that her uncle had invited him to supper.
Modest and circumspect as Jane was, it had been hard to guess at the real success of the call. Now she knew.
“Mr Bingley is very kind,” Elizabeth murmured, wondering whether Charles Bingley was preparing to declare his intentions and hoping that Mr Darcy would not seek to dissuade him. “Jane is easily the most beautiful in our family, although it is her character that makes her so beloved by all.”
“Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t have repeated what I heard Mr Bingley say,” Miss Darcy suddenly thought aloud with an expression of chagrin. “I was very quiet, and I think my brother and Mr Bingley had forgotten that I was in the garden at all. Mrs Annesley says that gossiping is a very antisocial habit.”
Elizabeth patted her charge’s arm, knowing that neither Lydia nor Kitty had the slightest qualms in passing on far more awful rumours about people they knew far less. She would not wish them too shy, but it would be well if her younger sisters had some of Georgiana Darcy’s reticence.
“I do not think that very strong gossip,” Elizabeth reassured Miss Darcy. “It was a kind comment that only illustrates Mr Bingley’s generous character. However, if it was a private conversation, we should probably not speculate further. Mrs Annesley is right in principle on that point, I am sure.”
Miss Darcy nodded her dark head, satisfied with this response. When they began walking again, Elizabeth swung them in the direction of the lake.
“The geese and swans should be building their nests now,” she remarked. “We will be in Kent when they lay their eggs but I dare say there will be many little cygnets and goslings here when we return to London, as long as no children disturb them…Oh, look, over there, is not that…?”
Elizabeth’s eye had been caught by a group of officers gathered at one bench a little further up the path they were on.
One of these gentlemen, who wore a jacket that marked him as a lieutenant, was holding his hat in his hand and laughing at some joke.
His chestnut hair and handsome features were instantly familiar to Elizabeth, but also strange in this unexpected environment.
“What is it?” Miss Darcy asked with a frown. “Have you seen the swans already from here?”
“No, it is Mr Wickham!” Elizabeth blurted out, nodding in the direction of the officers at the bench, too surprised for anything but truth.
She had not seen George Wickham since she left Hertfordshire after Christmas and had put him and the rest of the Meryton officers almost entirely from her mind.
Indeed, there had been some gossip that Mr Wickham was courting the well-monied Miss King.
Knowing of his straitened circumstances, it made much sense.
The next news Elizabeth expected of George Wickham was a marriage notice in the newspaper.
Beside her, Miss Darcy made a sound, her hand clutching at her companion’s arm.
Doubtless, Mr Wickham’s appearance was a surprise to her too.
Too late, Elizabeth remembered the enmity between Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham.
How much did Georgiana Darcy know of it?
Regardless of the girl’s understanding, or how unjust Mr Darcy’s prejudices might be, Elizabeth knew it was impossible for them to approach George Wickham.
Turning to Miss Darcy to suggest they reverse their course, she was struck by the alarming greyness of the young woman’s face and the unsteadiness of her feet.
Georgiana Darcy’s expression was far beyond mere surprise, more indicative of horror and fright.
Had her brother laid down some terrible interdiction on contact with Mr Wickham?
“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth exclaimed, putting a strong arm about the girl’s waist to support her. “We shall return immediately to the carriage. You are not well.”
Glancing back at the officers, Elizabeth saw that, as she feared, they had now been noticed. George Wickham was looking straight at them, his own countenance as shocked as Miss Darcy’s, although not frightened.
Allowing herself to give the smallest nod of recognition that politeness demanded, Elizabeth prayed that Mr Wickham would not come to their assistance. If Mr Darcy had forbidden his sister to talk with his father’s former protégé, then his help could only make matters worse.
To Elizabeth’s relief, neither Mr Wickham nor his companions moved from their bench, and she was able to steer Georgiana Darcy back along the path.
By the time they reached the coach, she saw that Miss Darcy was weeping and bundled her swiftly into the vehicle before her distress could attract attention.
What on earth could Mr Darcy have threatened to produce such a dramatic reaction, Elizabeth wondered? Having seen the close and affectionate relationship between the siblings, such an extreme seemed quite out of character, even considering his admitted contempt for George Wickham.
Closing the carriage door and knocking on the roof to communicate departure to their coachman, Elizabeth put a careful arm around her young charge, feeling quite as protective as if Miss Darcy were her own sister.
“There, we shall go home now, Miss Darcy. I am sorry that you had such a shock.”
“Oh, Miss Bennet…” the younger woman began to say, but then descended back into sobs on Elizabeth’s shoulder, still far more heartfelt than her companion could understand.
By the time they reached Darcy House, Georgiana Darcy’s tears had subsided, but her face was still pale and red-eyed, and her limbs weak.
She made no objection as Elizabeth put her to bed and Mrs Stark fussed over her with bed-warmers and beef tea, wondering whether they ought to call out the physician or await Mr Darcy’s return.
“Oh, do not worry my brother with physicians,” Georgiana Darcy insisted, sitting up in her bed with what looked like wild-eyed alarm. “I need only rest for a while, and I shall be quite myself again. Please do not call any physician out to me, or bother Fitzwilliam over apothecaries and the like.”
Reluctantly, Elizabeth and Mrs Stark agreed to do nothing until her brother returned.
Elizabeth sat with the young woman until she slipped into sleep and then let herself quietly from the room.
It was all quite incomprehensible. How could the mere sight of a harmless young man, an old acquaintance of the Darcy family, reduce poor Miss Darcy to such a wreck?
Taken with the unwillingness to worry Mr Darcy, Elizabeth’s mind returned to her original supposition, that Mr Darcy had laid such dire strictures and warnings on the sensitive girl that the sight of their object had made her quite ill.
It still seemed out of character, but arrogance and prejudice against George Wickham might have blinded Mr Darcy to the effect of such terrible warnings on his young sister.
Mr Darcy himself had just returned to the house from his outing to the bank when Elizabeth descended into the hallway. She greeted him coolly, still wondering how much he was to blame for his sister’s dismay.
“Did you and Georgiana enjoy your walk in the park?” he asked politely, looking over Elizabeth’s shoulder in silent enquiry after his sister.