Chapter Eight #2
“He will be missed, but I understand. He had written to Mr. Ashley last week of some of the difficulties he was experiencing. I am happy he can at least see his way to the end.”
“That is true,” Georgiana answered. “I am thankful he will be at Matlock in time to see our cousin before he departs with his regiment. He believes he will arrive just before Stephen’s leave begins at the end of the month.”
“That is certainly something to be thankful for,” Jane agreed with an encouraging smile. “When you write him, please send him all of our regards.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, having finally found her voice, though her disappointment still choked her. “And let him know that he will be missed.”
“But we understand the necessity of his absence,” Mary added.
“Of course we do,” Miss Baxter agreed. “I am grateful he allowed you to stay at Matlock and come to Barlow Hall so that you might attend me. It was generous of him to give up your company, as I know it is his most prized possession.”
Georgiana blushed at this praise but nodded her acceptance of the compliment.
“Shall I have your writing materials fetched that you might reply?” Mrs. Gardiner asked.
Georgiana was amenable to this plan, and when Mrs. Gardiner rose to ring the bell, Georgiana moved to sit beside Elizabeth.
“I am particularly sorry you and Fitzwilliam will not see one another.”
Elizabeth scrambled to think of a response.
Before she could stop herself, she picked the most innocuous of her questions and asked, “Why me in particular?”
“It has just been so long since he was able to converse with you, and he so enjoys it and even though I include his questions and comments in my letters and offer yours back to him, it is not the same. You know he does not make friends easily, and it has been a year and a half since your visit for the holidays . . .” Georgiana swallowed here, and the girls looked at one another in an unspoken acknowledgement of shared grief.
Elizabeth reached out and held her friend’s hand.
“All that to say I am sad you will miss one another and have to wait another year for a reunion.”
Elizabeth bit back her much more precise account of how long it had been since she had seen him and how long it would now be until she did.
One year and seven months and two years and five months, respectively.
Instead, she said, “Please let him know that I am sorry to miss a chance to best him at chess and look forward to hearing his account of Aileach.”
“I will do just that,” Georgiana happily responded as she thanked the maid who delivered her writing materials.
After settling at the desk beside where Elizabeth sat, she added, “By the time he sees you next summer, he might not even recognise you. When I first saw you this summer, I was surprised at how much you had changed.”
“Changed how?”
“I suppose you look much more grown-up. At Twelfth Night, in your aunt’s gown with your hair styled so differently, I saw a little of it.
You looked older, but not as you do now.
It was a glimpse of the woman inside the girl.
Now it is the reverse. You are fully the woman, but I do still catch glimpses of the girl. ”
“I did not realise I had changed that much.”
“Perhaps it is because I had not seen you in over a year that it was so noticeable to me.”
Elizabeth thought on this many times over the final week of her visit.
When she looked in the mirror as the girls prepared to attend Miss Baxter’s wedding, she tried to trace the change in her features.
She had to stop herself from imagining how Darcy might react to seeing her next summer.
Would her physical transformation force him to see her in a new light, or would she always be his sister’s friend, a young girl, not someone he could see in any other role?
While Elizabeth was standing outside the church after the ceremony, Mrs. Robertson approached her.
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. It was a lovely ceremony, was it not?”
“Indeed, they are both such wonderful people, it is a joy to watch them commence their life together.”
“Just so,” the older woman replied, then seemed to hesitate before saying, “When I wrote John of the wedding, he asked to be remembered to you if I were to see you. He was sorry his new curacy began at such a time that prevented him from seeing you during this visit.”
“And I am sorry to have missed the chance to see him again,” Elizabeth said.
She was sincere. Though she had not thought of John as often as she imagined would be required for her to believe herself in danger of falling in love with him, she did genuinely enjoy his company and would not be sorry to see him again.
“I will let him know,” Mrs. Robertson responded with a broad smile before wishing Elizabeth a good day and joining her husband, who was in conversation with the minister.
Choosing to defer any serious consideration of the state of her heart with regard to a seemingly real potential beau and the only one she had imagined in that role, Elizabeth applied her considerable will to not thinking about John Robertson or Fitzwilliam Darcy for the remainder of her stay in Derbyshire.
She was far more successful at the former than the latter.