Chapter 10
Drawing Room
Pemberley
That Evening
The drawing room seemed oddly quiet, the only sounds the rustle of paper as Darcy reviewed his correspondence at the desk and the crackle of the fire.
Georgiana found herself looking around and paying special attention to the familiar features of the room.
It had not been updated in many years, not since her mother, Lady Anne, had passed on to her reward.
No doubt many ladies of the ton would scorn old furniture and decorations, but Georgiana relished the room, which reminded her of her dear mother.
What would Lady Anne say, she wondered bleakly, if she knew of Georgiana’s near miss?
She had come so close to utter catastrophe, and she was still badly shaken.
She forced herself to keep her hands still, her fingers entwined together in her pink muslin-covered lap.
Her maid, Sophia, had helped her dress for dinner without the benefit of Mrs. Younge’s advice, and Georgiana was vaguely aware that her hair was not as well arranged as usual.
Not that it mattered a great deal, not with everything else on her mind.
Georgiana still could not quite comprehend it all.
It seemed so impossible. She kept turning to address some remark to her former governess and companion, to share some observation.
Each time, there was empty space and silence at her elbow or shoulder, and she was violently reminded of Mrs. Younge’s perfidy and betrayal.
She was enormously grateful to be in her brother’s company now, though he was too busy to speak as he labored over his letters. He had been busy with his work all day, meeting with the steward and responding to his man of business and meeting with Lord Throckmorton to discuss the … the abduction.
Georgiana could scarcely think about it, even as it hovered like a great storm cloud in the back of her mind. It was stunning how so much could change so quickly. Two days ago, she had been content and happy.
Her gaze drifted from the fire to the workbasket tucked half under her former companion’s favorite chair. A corner of linen draped out of the top, the partially visible project indicative of Mrs. Younge’s skill. It would never be finished now.
Georgiana swallowed a sob. She desperately wanted this all to be just a nightmare, for the woman she had come to see as not only as a paid companion but a genuine friend to come back, to take up her needlework, to discuss Bach and Mozart and the day’s French lesson.
That was all past now, impossible because Mrs. Younge had shown herself as a liar and conspirator and betrayer of the worst kind.
She had knowingly befriended Georgiana, had successfully gained her trust, intending all along to betray her to a scoundrel for a price.
It was the sort of wickedness that boggled the imagination.
It did not help that Dorothea Younge’s presence was everywhere.
The occasional lingering whiff of her perfume in Georgiana’s suite of rooms, the book she had been reading left on the sitting room table, the way she had organized the music on the pianoforte.
Traces of her were left all over the manse, all over Georgiana’s home, which felt a little dimmer, a little colder than before.
In time, she hoped, the feeling would pass.
For now, she kept jumping at shadows, twitching at noises and oppressive silence alike, and eyeing the footmen askance when she passed them in the halls.
Sophia had been her personal maid for six years now, coming into her room the very day she had left the nursery, and her presence made Georgiana comfortable.
Ever since, she had been a pillar of strength, and Georgiana was grateful that Darcy had ordered that a cot be set up in her room for her loyal maid.
Sophia she still trusted, and Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, and Williams, the butler.
The rest of the servants, even the maids who had been with them for years, Georgiana could not refrain from viewing with anxious suspicion.
Was it possible that someone else in the house was in league with Wickham?
She felt better knowing that Wickham and his accomplices, including Mrs. Younge, were safely locked up in the magistrate’s house under guard.
Some part of her could not help wondering, what if they escaped?
What if they convinced one of their guards to let them go?
What if they came here to Pemberley and tried again?
What if they corrupted, bribed or threatened one of the servants tasked with keeping her safe?
It was terrifying not knowing who she could trust.
The door opened. Georgiana leaped to her feet as Miss Bennet hobbled into the room using a pair of crutches with her aunt and uncle at her heels.
“Miss Bennet!” Georgiana cried out, hurrying forward. “Oh, your poor face!”
This last statement was blurted out, and she stopped stock-still and felt her face flush crimson.
“I am so sorry,” she stammered, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That was so rude. I am…”
She halted her apology at the feeling of a gentle hand on her own, and she looked up to see Elizabeth Bennet, supported by her crutches, her battered face creased with amusement.
“Pray do not worry, Miss Darcy,” she said. “It is foolish to ignore the truth that I have a very serious bruise. But the doctor assures me it will fade in time, and I am not disturbed by it. I suppose it helps that I only see it when I look in a mirror.”
Georgiana smiled gratefully and tremulously, and then looked at Miss Bennet’s bandaged foot. “And what of your ankle?”
“The doctor checked it today, and he thinks it is sprained, not broken. Now that I have crutches, I can make my way here and there, which pleases me greatly. Speaking of that, thank you, Mr. Darcy, for the crutches.”
“It was my pleasure, of course,” Georgiana’s brother said. “Now, shall we all sit down? Miss Bennet, perhaps you would like that chair there, which has a footstool? I believe we will be called to dinner in a few minutes.”
Miss Bennet made her way over to the chair in question, and Mr. Darcy gravely assisted her in sitting down. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner sat down as well, with the latter taking a seat near Georgiana.
“Miss Darcy,” Mrs. Gardiner said once she had settled herself, “I hope you were able to sleep last night after such a horrific experience yesterday.”
Georgiana’s blue eyes welled with tears at these sympathetic words, and she said, “Thank you. I confess to still being distressed. I can hardly believe that my governess…”
She gulped convulsively, and Mrs. Gardiner stretched out and took Georgina’s right hand in her own.
“Oh, my dear. It is a sad reality that when a young lady is wealthy and well-connected, there are those who will cruelly attempt to take advantage of her. None of this is your fault, and…”
Mrs. Gardiner trailed off and looked expectantly at Fitzwilliam, who said, “Georgiana, I am so sorry that I hired a woman who was a villain. I confess that I was especially busy when searching for your companion and did not properly check Mrs. Younge’s references.
Next time, I will be as thorough as possible.
You need never fear such an event again. I promise.”
Georgiana found herself searching her brother’s face carefully. Fitzwilliam was an exemplary brother and had never broken a promise. She could trust him always.
She nodded, and he smiled at her, just as the door to the drawing room opened to reveal the butler calling the group for dinner.
***
Rose Garden
Pemberley
The Next Morning
Thursday, 13th June 1811
One of the finest features of the rose garden was that it boasted so many charming places to sit.
Elizabeth was currently established on a wooden bench weathered to a silky smooth finish, with a firm back to support her.
A cushioned footstool sat incongruously before her, carried out by the solicitous Molly so that Elizabeth might elevate her foot with ease.
The crutches were tucked nearby within easy reach should Elizabeth wish to leave her spot.
At the moment, she was perfectly happy to sit right where she was and enjoy her surroundings.
Above her arched a trellis of the same wood as the bench, which protected her from the summer sun.
Vines climbed up and over and down and around and through it, heavy with dark green leaves and elegant wine-red blossoms that filled the air with a heady perfume.
Out beyond the little bower, the sun blazed down and glared off the crushed white gravel of the path and sparkled like diamonds in the water tossed by a dolphin fountain some fifteen feet away.
Occasionally the same breeze that bobbed the heads of the flowers would catch the misty spray of the fountain and fling it towards her to dampen her face and hair.
A closed book of Shakespeare's sonnets sat on her lap, unable to lure her from the glory of the garden.
Around her was a sea of roses in every shade and hue of red and pink and white and peach and blush.
Roses in full bloom, buds just beginning to unfurl or still curled tightly and clothed in their velvety green, hips swelling with seeds, all of them nestled like jewels in beds of green or delicate purple leaves.
A side door into the manse opened ten feet away, and Elizabeth smiled at the sight of Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was, without a doubt, an impressive man, tall and muscular, with a straight nose, a firm chin, deep brown eyes and curly dark hair.
“Miss Bennet,” the gentleman said, halting in place and bowing to her. “I hope you are well today?”
“Yes, very well, thank you. Your rose garden is lovely.”
“It was my mother’s pride and delight, and I have done my best to keep the garden as she envisioned it. Do you mind if I sit down beside you?”
“Of course not,” she replied, gesturing toward the open seat next to her.
He sank down and said, “I hope you slept well and that your foot does not pain you too much?”
Elizabeth looked at her foot, which had been wrapped again by the doctor two hours previously, and said, “It is well enough so long as I do not try to put weight on it. As for sleeping, yes, the couch is comfortable, and Molly has been helpful in fetching this and that for me as needed.”
“I am glad,” Darcy said. “I do not wish to embarrass you by thanking you repeatedly…”
“Pray do not do that, sir,” Elizabeth interpolated with a chuckle. “It was my honor to assist your sister, who is a lovely young woman.”
“She is, yes, and I will not … that is, I hope you know that you have only to ask for anything, and if it is in my power to give it, I will.”
There was sincerity on the gentleman’s face, and Elizabeth felt a quiver in her soul.
She did not pretend to know Mr. Darcy well, but given the size and state of Pemberley, and the happy multitude of servants, and the incredible, well-tended library, and the man’s obvious affection for his sister, Mr. Darcy was a truly exemplary individual who was not only wealthy, but clever, hardworking, and honorable.
“I will keep that in mind,” she replied and then added lightly, “if a dragon should happen to fly over the wall and land in the garden, I must request that you slay it on my behalf. I fear I cannot run away very well at the moment.”
He chuckled at this, and, to her relief, turned his attention on the book in her hands. “You like the sonnets?”
“I do, yes, though I enjoy Shakespeare’s comedies more.
I appreciate the beauty of the words and the skill in arranging the quatrains and sestets, but I generally like longer pieces.
However, this book caught my eye last night, and in any case, I have been too busy enjoying the scenery to read this morning. ”
He leaned back against the bench and openly relaxed.
“It is very beautiful,” he mused. “I should come out here more.”
“It is wonderful.”
Silence fell for several minutes, and Elizabeth was surprised that it was a comfortable silence. Mr. Darcy was one of those rare souls who could simply sit without feeling the need to talk.
“Miss Bennet?” Darcy said finally, turning toward her with a solemn expression on his face.
“Yes?”
“You and my sister, as you know, will be required to testify regarding the abduction attempt. Given the severity of the crime, the death penalty is a possibility. How do you feel about that?”
Elizabeth was genuinely startled. The events of the last days had been sufficiently extraordinary that she had thought little beyond the attempt itself, and her own injuries, and the need to testify in a court of law.
She had not considered that her words could result in the death of two men and a woman.
“Oh,” she said, rather blankly.
Again, silence fell, and Elizabeth was thankful, as it allowed her to ponder at length.
“I am furious at all three miscreants,” she said finally, “but I am least outraged by Zimmer.”
Her companion tilted his head and regarded her with curiosity. “Why is that?”
Her brow creased, and she said, “It is because … it is the lack of loyalty. I mean, Zimmer’s to your family.
That is to say, Mr. Wickham was your father’s godson, and Mrs. Younge was hired to care for Miss Darcy, so both of them had more reason to be loyal and faithful.
Zimmer is just a … a ruffian who was hired for a job… ”
She trailed off, grimaced, and said, “I am not explaining myself well.”
“No, you are explaining it perfectly,” Darcy replied.
“I had not thought of it quite in that way, but you are entirely correct. Wickham was raised here at Pemberley. My father paid for his schooling. For most of his life, Wickham was supported by the coffers of Pemberley, and instead of being loyal to my father’s memory and kindness, Wickham tried to abduct Georgiana. It was a hideous betrayal.”
“And Mrs. Younge!” Elizabeth said, her voice trembling with anger.
“How could she do such a thing to any young lady? And to think that she was paid to care for Miss Darcy makes it even more iniquitous! I grieve that she and Mr. Wickham were so wicked as to dream up such a scheme, but I will not grieve over their deaths, if that is their sentence. Of course, Miss Darcy may feel differently.”
Darcy suddenly reached out to touch her hand, and the feeling of those strong fingers on her own made her shiver.
“I thank God for you, Miss Bennet,” he said huskily. “Not one in a hundred ladies would have behaved not only with courage, but with wisdom.”
She blushed rosily. “Now, Mr. Darcy, you said you would not keep thanking me…”
He smiled at her. “I did say that. I fear I have work to do and must go indoors. Do you wish to stay here for now?”
“Yes, very much,” Elizabeth said, turning back toward the splashing fountain.
“Until later then.”
“Until later, Mr. Darcy.”