Chapter Nine
Georgiana coughed a little to clear the lump in her throat. “Um, there used to be someone. However, he proved not to be a gentleman.”
“Goodness,” Mary said, coming to a stop and staring up at her with wide eyes. “Whatever happened?”
“I…I thought he loved me. It turns out, all he loved was my money. He suggested we elope.” Georgiana paused when Mary gasped.
“Dreadful, was it not? I thought it terribly romantic. Our plans were set. We were to leave as soon as…the gentleman in question…had finished his preparations. I was staying in Ramsgate—taking in the sea air—with my governess-companion.” Georgiana bowed her head, feeling awful about her younger self.
“Mrs. Younge entered into all my feelings, so—”
“—you thought your decision to elope must be perfectly acceptable, in spite of how you felt in your secret heart?” Mary asked in a pithy voice. “Oh, how we can be deceived by our foolish elders.”
“You are right. I was deceived by her.”
“As was your brother,” Mary reminded her.
Georgiana’s frown deepened, and she heaved a sigh.
Mary tsked. “Pray, believe me when I point out that Mrs. Younge deceived a man older and more knowledgeable about the world than you were,” she said ferociously. “How old were you?”
“It was the summer before last. Five-and-ten.”
Mary tsked. “No older than Lydia—who thinks she is up to snuff, but is nothing of the sort.” She grasped hold of one of Georgiana’s hands and squeezed it comfortingly. “Since you are not married, something must have disrupted your plans?”
Georgiana nodded. “Fitz arrived the afternoon before we were to depart. My happiness knew no bounds. I never believed my brother would object to my elopement. How foolish I was!” she cried softly, hearing the anguish in her own voice.
“In my joy, I told Fitz everything. I have never seen him so furious.”
Mary stiffened. “With you?”
“Oh, no. Not with me. He was ever so kind. Fitz explained how inappropriate eloping would be. He told me the…gentleman…was no gentleman at all, and that he had proven himself time and again that he was a fortune hunter.” Distressed, Georgiana pressed the back of her hand against her cheek.
“Did you believe him?”
“I must admit I did not. I had known the…gentleman…my entire life. He used to be one of Fitz’s friends, or so I thought.
Fitz said he would explain to my…fiancé…
that we would not be able to marry until I reached one-and-twenty.
‘So long?’ I asked him. ‘I promised Father that you would not marry until you were older,’ he said.
‘If your…fiancé…truly loves you, he will wait for you. He will use these six years to prove himself worthy of you and your fortune.’”
“How did your fiancé respond to Mr. Darcy’s assertions that you had to wait?”
“He left Ramsgate that afternoon, and I have never heard from him since,” Georgiana admitted, blinking away a tear. “Not even a letter.”
“I know I have never met the man, but I think he must be a blackguard,” Mary said fiercely. “He should have been horsewhipped for trying to elope with you. Fifteen. My word.”
“I should have known better,” Georgiana claimed.
“How? How were you to know that a man you thought you could trust was a scoundrel?”
Georgiana turned her hand in Mary’s and clasped it even harder. “I cannot trust my judgement anymore in regard to gentlemen. They talk smoothly to me, and I quake inside.”
“Listen to me, Georgiana Darcy,” Mary said, staring hard at her.
“You have not finished growing up yet. Your understanding will improve every year. I am not the same person I was at fifteen, or sixteen years. I am not the same as I was just one year ago. Pray, do not take yourself to task with so much vigor. Your brother does not expect you to be presented until you are eight-and-ten. If he spoke truly, he will not be encouraging you to marry for a few years more after that.”
Georgiana nodded, but scrunched up her face. In a throbbing voice, she said, “My aunts are pushing me to marry swiftly after I am presented. I do not know what to say to them when they say such things.”
“You need say nothing,” Mary said in a firm voice. “My mother is constantly lamenting that none of her daughters have married. She is afraid my father will die, and we will be left penniless.”
“But…your father cannot be more than fifty.”
“He is eight-and-forty—too young to be thinking about dying,” Mary huffed.
“His fortune is entailed?”
“Yes. My cousin is to inherit.” Mary wrinkled her nose. “We do not know him. So, say nothing when they pester you. Just smile and nod.”
“Just smile and nod,” Georgiana repeated in a contemplative voice.
“A plan helps with anxiety, does it not?” Mary asked. “It helps me.”
Georgiana gazed at her. Hesitantly, she asked, “Do you have a plan for your future?”
Mary sighed. “I am still…considering what to do.”
Georgiana impulsively embraced her. “You will discover a way,” she promised in a whisper.
“I pray so.”
*
Lizzy crossed the paddock to where Mr. Darcy waited patiently in the golden autumn grass for Harry to bring back his stick.
“He is indefatigable,” Mr. Darcy mentioned as she approached.
His striking appearance drew her attention, standing as he was with the blue sky behind him and his hat tipped a little to one side.
She caught her breath, but managed a chuckle. “Harry is beginning to tire. Do you see how he is pausing to look for clumps of green, wide-leaf grasses?”
Mr. Darcy looked away from her toward Harry. “Yes.”
“He particularly likes to chew those. When he is fresh, he is more interested in the stick, but as he tires, he becomes distracted by his favorite grass clumps.”
“Like now,” Mr. Darcy remarked, nodding to where Harry had dropped his stick and was chomping on the grass like it was a rare delicacy. Mr. Darcy glanced around. “Where is my sister?”
“Georgiana and Mary went for a walk on their own,” Lizzy explained. “I think they are kindred spirits.”
He gazed down at her, his expression intent. “I thought Georgiana and you might become friends.”
Warmth flooded through Lizzy’s chest. It is lovely that he wishes me to be friends with his sister. She gave him a slow grin. “I like your sister, and I believe she likes me. Mary, however, needs a friend. In a household of five sisters, she is often left out, standing alone in the middle.”
“There are no young ladies in the neighborhood to fill that duty?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“Maria Lucas is Mary’s age, but she tends to associate with Lydia and Kitty. Charlotte Lucas is my particular friend, but she is as old, or older than you, Mr. Darcy. Charlotte is kind to Mary, but there is no fellow-feeling between them.”
“Do you think there is fellow-feeling between Miss Mary and Georgiana?” Mr. Darcy asked, grimacing slightly.
“I think there may be. But tell me if you would, what is your concern?” Lizzy asked, frowning back at him. He did not respond immediately, and seemed to be brooding. She gazed across the paddock at her dog.
Harry noticed, then, that she had arrived, and he picked up his stick and brought its slobbery length to her. He dropped it at her feet and looked eagerly up at her.
“We are going to look at the owls and buzzard,” she told him. “Go put your stick away, please.”
Harry sighed like he had been betrayed. However, he picked up his stick and headed to where he kept it leaning against the stone wall.
Lizzy took Mr. Darcy’s arm and turned him in the direction of the aviary. “Come along and look at my birds while you tell me about your concerns.”
Mr. Darcy remained silent as they exited the paddock and strolled toward the enclosure. If he does not wish to speak, I will not tease him with my questions. The matter may be an exceedingly private one. Just as this thought developed, he spoke, his voice low and tender with worry.
“My sister’s disposition has become anxious—more anxious than is usual for her nature.”
“Do you understand the reason why?” Lizzy asked.
His lips tightened, and his jaw worked.
Lizzy squeezed his arm. He looked down at her. “I assure you, Mr. Darcy, that whatever you say will remain with me. I give you my solemn word.”
He took a deep breath and held it as he stared at her. Finally, he released it and gave a short nod.
“I will tell you this,” he said in a voice filled with regret and fury. “A man Georgiana thought of as a trusted friend attempted to lure her away from her family by convincing my sister that they should elope.”
His revelation shocked Lizzy to her core. “You stopped them? Never mind, of course you did. What happened to the man?”
“I was sorely tempted to call him out,” Mr. Darcy admitted, his eyes flashing. “However, that might have ruined Georgiana’s reputation beyond repair.”
“Heavens,” Lizzy gasped. “I thank the Lord for your self-control.”
They had reached the aviary, and they stood next to the entrance gate. She released him and took one of the gloves out of their box. She tugged it on and clasped her hands before her waist, facing Mr. Darcy.
“Georgiana’s confidence must be severely shaken,” she observed.
“It is,” he said shortly.
Lizzy glanced down at Harry who was padding his way toward them. “That is why you want a dog for Georgiana to keep with her—to help comfort her.”
“Correct.”
Nodding emphatically, she said, “I think I know just the one.” Tilting her head to one side, she asked, “Are you afraid of entering the enclosure?”
Mr. Darcy snorted and reached for the gate handle. “Do you have another glove?”
“I do,” she said, reaching into the box for an additional one.
“We have a groom, Peter, who is something of a falconer—trained by his father. He has a kestrel. Besides helping to keep the orangery clean, Peter helps me care for raptors whenever we have one—or more—in care. You may borrow his glove. Harry, stay, please.”
After donning the thick leather glove, Mr. Darcy opened the gate and permitted Lizzy to go through first. Harry sat on his haunches and yawned.
“Who is this?” Mr. Darcy asked, gesturing to the buzzard.