Chapter Fifty-Eight
Georgiana managed to leave Netherfield without a single soul noticing her departure. Her heart hammered as she walked swiftly across Netherfield’s back field, headed for the section of fence that met the road.
George loved her, she was certain of it! If he was willing to meet with her in secret, he must intend to propose to her! Her mind was filled with romantic images of him kneeling before her, begging her to make him the happiest man in all of England!
And then he would kiss her! What would that be like? She had imagined it, she had even practiced kissing her pillow, but she was certain that the reality would be far, far different.
Mr. Wickham, standing at the appointed place at Netherfield’s fence, considered what he must do to ensure his marriage to Georgiana.
Darcy would never consent, that much was certain.
He knew he had not the money to take Georgiana to Scotland, and chances were that she did not have enough coin either, so there was really only one choice available to him.
It should not be too difficult, given that she was completely in love with him already. He smiled; women were easily fooled!
And there she was, skipping with joy as she caught sight of him! He opened his arms, and she flew into them. “George!” she cried.
“Did anyone see you?” he asked, urgently.
“No one! I was so very careful!” she laughed.
“It is too public here; anyone might see us,” he said. “Come, let us walk just a little way into the woods.” He took her hand, and led her away.