Chapter 38
Milo of Croton
“Do you know of Milo of Croton?[xxiii]” Georgiana asked pensively.
“I see you are taking your brother’s advice about analogies. Well, throw out your lure, young lady, and I shall bite. No, I have never heard of Milo.”
“He was an ancient Greek wrestler.”
“Do go on.”
“He was reputed to be the strongest of men, rather like Hercules. Legend has it that he picked up a newborn calf as a young man, then carried it every day until he could carry a full-grown bull.”
“This is fascinating. I know my first task when I get to my father’s library.”
“You can read about him here in our library if you like.”
“Perhaps.”
“I suppose I should finish the story. You see, in a way, I have always felt my brother’s life was rather like Milo’s. I know it sounds absurd, but it is just an analogy.”
“I frequently use them and the fit is never perfect. Pray continue.”
“Fitzwilliam lost his mother when he was but 12. When he was 22, he lost his father and had to take over management of the estate—about as old as your elder sister. He lost his long-time steward 6 months later. Of course, he also became, along with my cousin Richard, guardian of a very young sister, whom he had never spent more than a month in the same house with. A few months later, he capitulated to nearly ceaseless nagging… can I say that word without sounding unladylike?”
“It is just us here.”
Georgiana smiled. “He reluctantly decided to participate in the season, and barely escaped an organised and ruthless compromise attempt the first month. He has played the fox in the marriage hunt since he came of age, but the pressure doubled or trebled when he inherited.”
Elizabeth tapped her chin. “I never considered it in that light.”
Georgiana stared down at her shoes. “It gets worse… far worse. I would like to tell you my most shameful secret, if you are of a mind to hear it.”
Apparently, it was time to take up the yoke of Mistress of Awkward Conversations again.
“Something tells me you have a need to tell this secret to someone, and I am elected. I do not mind. I have heard secrets before, and I keep them to myself. Something in my character encourages people to unburden themselves.”
Unable to look Elizabeth in the eye, Georgiana began her tale at barely above a whisper.
“My father’s steward’s son was his godson, and he took the trouble and expense to raise and educate the boy beside my brother. He even paid for a gentleman’s education and arranged for a valuable living to be reserved should he take orders.”
“I know some of that.”
The assurance seemed to steady Georgiana.
“After Father’s death, the son came to my brother and claimed he did not want to be a clergyman.
He asked for and was granted ￡3,000 in exchange for the living, as well as ￡1,000 willed to him outright.
Fitzwilliam considered it a bargain because he thought too poorly of the man’s character to allow him to take charge of people’s spiritual needs. ”
The young lady started to shake, so Elizabeth sought to distract her for a moment. “That clears up a point. I am embarrassed to admit I once believed your brother denied the living. I came to think better of him, but it is helpful to have the full story.”
Georgiana shook even more and could not look at her new friend. “Oh, you do not have the full story—not by half.”
“Are you certain you wish to tell me?”
“I am… I feel… well—” she mumbled, “I have two reasons for telling you. First, I want to be your friend, and I think you need to know what kind of person you might offer the hand of friendship to.”
“And the other?”
“As you said, I need to tell someone. Nobody knows about this except Fitzwilliam and Richard, but I trust you, and I would be relieved to say the words.”
“Why do you trust me? You hardly know me.”
“My brother told me to trust you implicitly. You are the only person, male or female, to earn that distinction. Even our relatives do not get such faith.”
Elizabeth blushed at the compliment paid outside her hearing. “Your brother is right… occasionally.”
“This may be one of those times.” She paused a moment, plucking up her courage.
“Fitzwilliam had no idea what to do with me, so he sent me to school, as happens to most ladies of my station. Last summer, at my request, he took me from school and granted me a holiday in Ramsgate with a new companion.”
“Generous of him… or careless. It could go either way.”
Surprised at the criticism, Georgiana continued, “Probably the latter. That same man… the steward’s son—”
“Mr Wickham?”
Georgiana turned sharply to stare at her friend.
“He joined the militia and is stationed in Meryton, near my home. All the ladies swooned over him for a time, but his character has recently been revealed as lacking.”
Georgiana stared down. “His is not the only one. He came to Ramsgate, seemingly by chance, to convince me to elope with him.”
Elizabeth gasped in shock and nearly shouted, “He what?”
Georgiana cringed. Elizabeth immediately slid across the couple feet that separated them and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Tears leaked from Georgiana’s eyes, and Elizabeth felt as though she had slapped the poor girl.
Carefully, very carefully, she murmured, “Shh… Shh… Georgie… Georgie… that was not for you! That was for him! The man is an absolute scoundrel. I imagine he was after your dowry?”
Georgiana nodded.
“Your companion! Oh, my goodness! Did he corrupt her?”
Georgiana hugged her new friend back. “Brother said I would only have to tell you half of anything I wanted you to know.”
Elizabeth hugged her tightly. “It is not an unreasonable supposition, Georgie… Oh, I am sorry. You never gave me permission—”
“Please! Do not be alarmed. I like it. Nobody ever called me that and… well, I like it very much.”
“Then you shall call me Lizzy. Now, when did all this happen? How old were you?”
Elizabeth could probably guess the details, but she wanted her friend to get it all out, reasoning that Georgiana needed to say it more than Elizabeth needed to hear it.
“It happened last summer. I was 15. Fitzwilliam visited a day early by chance, and I confessed the scheme, so he arranged to end it. He has been afraid to retaliate against the man because he fears for my reputation.”
Elizabeth laughed gaily, though awkwardly. “Do not concern yourself with him. He got on the bad side of my 15-year-old sister; I doubt he will survive unscathed.”
“Do tell!”
“There is nothing to tell… yet.”
Georgiana grinned, relieved again.
Another thought storm gathered. Elizabeth gasped and smacked her forehead, startling her young friend. “Last summer! That means last autumn—”
“Fitzwilliam was in a frightfully bad humour.”
“I must definitely rethink my first impressions. Shall we return to Milo?”
Georgiana giggled, absurdly relieved. “Back to Milo, and the question about what you did with my brother. As I said, he has always seemed like Milo. He carries whatever there is to carry. Some would see only a rich and spoilt young man, every advantage laid at his feet. I see a careful young man, whose decisions are responsible for the livelihood of nearly a thousand people. He takes it very seriously, and feels it his duty to do more than is required.”
“An honourable man could not see it any differently. He expected to have years or decades to train with his father. How long did he have in the end?”
“3 months.”
Elizabeth took a sharp breath and squeezed her fist again. “Well… hmm… Certain aspects of his character now make more sense, but I do not believe our Milo is yet finished.”
“Imagine Milo carrying that calf, gradually working his way up to carrying a bull every day. What would that man be like?”
“I imagine it is difficult to have light conversations while carrying a bull. Even if you can manage it, everyone you encounter will spend all their time staring at the horns.”
“Exactly!”
“And a bull is quite valuable, so I imagine if you are carrying one around all day long, you would have to worry about others trying to steal it, or at least part of it.”
“Precisely!”
Elizabeth got more into the spirit of the thing. “A single misstep could spell disaster for both master and bull, so he would have to be very careful.”
“Indubitably!”
Elizabeth smiled. “Georgie, that has actually been helpful, but something tells me you are not finished.”
Georgiana gave a sly look. “Suppose your Milo—”
“He is not my Milo!”
Georgiana laughed and ignored the interruption.
“Suppose your Milo encountered a wise person, who said, ‘Milo, you do realise if you set that bull down, he can walk on his own, and to be honest, I am not certain you need to keep a bull with you at all times. You might occasionally let it enjoy life among the other cattle.’”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
“Milo’s bull sits upstairs somewhere, probably in the mistress’ suite.”
They laughed, and Georgiana went on. “When Fitzwilliam returned from Rosings, he was like another man. He talked to me… not like a silly younger sister, but like a friend, like a… well, not like an adult per se, but not a child either. He even did the best thing he has ever done.”
“Which is?”
“He chastised me for my silliness and lack of sense last summer. It is not as if I was never taught that eloping was both wrong and incredibly stupid. I was 15, had an excellent education, and did something I should have known was wrong; and for the past year he tried to take all the responsibility. He should have taught me better. He failed to hire a proper companion. He failed to bring Mr Wickham to heel sooner… you understand my meaning.”
“I see.”
“At long last, a few days ago, he gave me a proper scolding. He chastised me within an inch of my life for my blatant stupidity, then explained in excruciating detail how much was wrong with the scheme, and how very, very wretched my life would have been had I gone along with it.”
“It sounds barbaric!”
“It was wonderful. The hardest but most wonderful hour of my life.”
“How so?”
“Because he respected me enough to stop treating me like a child. I know my conduct was stupid, and he knew but would not admit it. Now, using Anne’s mirror analogy, we both look into the same mirror and see the same thing.”
“I may strangle your cousin over that mirror story.”
“So, you see, Lizzy… your Mr Darcy is a changed man. Shall we get back to my original question?”
“Which was?”
“What in the world have you done to my brother?”
“Are you expecting an answer?”
Georgiana leaned forward again and took Elizabeth’s hands.
“Actually, no! That is the best part. It does not matter! Somehow, you broke through his shell of reserve and manners and responsibility and hurt and pain and awkwardness. Somehow, you made him closer to whole. I imagine you must have had a strong conversation, as that would appear to be your forte. I imagine he looked in the mirror, decided he did not like what he saw, and set about cleaning himself up to make his reflection closer to his true nature. He is probably stropping his razor as we speak.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny. I already violated his privacy more than I am comfortable with.”
“However you did it, I must say I like it. He is like a hideous but expensive piece of jewellery that can be melted down and remade into something pretty.”
“I am not certain he would appreciate that analogy.” Elizabeth laughed.
“It worked. He is like a new man. I should not be surprised if he made you an offer.”
Panic seized Georgiana—she had gone a step too far.
Elizabeth replied with surprising calm, “He already has.”
Georgiana’s face lit up like the sunrise, only to fall at once. “You must have declined. If you had an understanding, you would have steered this conversation in an entirely different direction.”
“I did. It was as gentle as I could make it, but I did decline.”
Georgiana looked pensive. “Might I know why? Or whether you declined before or after his transformation?”
“You wish to establish cause and effect?”
“Yes!”
Elizabeth considered a moment. “We are intruding more on your brother’s business than I am comfortable with, Georgie. Let me say I declined because… because… well—”
She grasped for the right way to say it.
“Because I do not care for bulls.”