Chapter Twenty-Nine
Georgiana's Truth
Georgiana chose to tell Elizabeth about Ramsgate.
Darcy did not arrange it.
That mattered.
They sat together at Pemberley several weeks before Elizabeth's wedding. Rain tapped softly against the windows, and the fire in Georgiana's sitting room had burned low while they spoke of books and a new piece of music Mary had sent from Longbourn.
Then Georgiana's hands began to tremble.
"There is something I want you to know."
Elizabeth knew.
Of course she knew.
She also knew this version of Georgiana needed to own the telling.
So Elizabeth waited.
Georgiana drew a breath. "It concerns Mr. Wickham."
Elizabeth set aside her sewing. "All right."
The story came unevenly.
Mrs. Younge. Ramsgate. Wickham's arrival. The secrecy that had seemed romantic because Georgiana had been lonely and eager to prove herself grown. The plan to elope. Darcy's unexpected arrival.
Georgiana cried before she reached the end.
Elizabeth did not interrupt except to hand her a handkerchief.
When Georgiana finished, she stared down at her hands. "I thought you should know before you became my sister."
Elizabeth moved closer. "Why?"
Georgiana looked up. "Because it concerns my character."
"No."
The word was firm enough that Georgiana blinked.
Elizabeth took her hand. "It concerns his."
Tears filled Georgiana's eyes again. "I lied to Fitzwilliam."
"You were frightened."
"I nearly left with him."
"You were fifteen."
"I knew better."
Elizabeth's heart ached. "Knowing a rule is not the same as understanding a person who means to deceive you."
Georgiana looked away. "Fitzwilliam came before--"
"And you told him."
"Because he found us."
"You still told him."
Georgiana began crying.
Elizabeth held her.
After a while Georgiana whispered, "He said the same thing."
Elizabeth smiled into her hair. "Your brother occasionally has sense."
Georgiana laughed weakly.
At the doorway Darcy stood unseen.
He had come to ask whether they wished to join him for tea and stopped when he heard Georgiana speak Wickham's name.
He should have left.
Instead he remained long enough to hear Elizabeth say that his sister's shame did not belong to her.
Darcy closed his eyes.
In their first life Elizabeth had helped heal Georgiana because he had finally brought them together.
This time Georgiana had walked toward Elizabeth herself.
Another choice.
Another difference.
Good.
He retreated before either woman saw him.
Later Elizabeth found him in the library.
"You heard."
Darcy looked up from a book he had not been reading. "Some."
Elizabeth crossed the room and stood before him. "She is stronger already."
"Yes."
"And you?"
He frowned. "What about me?"
Elizabeth touched his face. "You are allowed to forgive yourself too."
Darcy's eyes closed.
He had not known he needed permission.
The weeks before Elizabeth's wedding brought Lady Catherine at last.
Her arrival at Longbourn was less dramatic than the first life only because Elizabeth knew exactly how formidable the lady appeared when angry. Mrs. Bennet did not.
Lady Catherine entered the drawing room, surveyed the Bennet family as if evaluating livestock, and demanded a private audience with Elizabeth.
Mrs. Bennet immediately bristled. "My daughter has no secrets from her family."
Elizabeth nearly laughed. That statement was spectacularly false.
Lady Catherine looked offended by the existence of Mrs. Bennet. "This matter concerns my nephew."
Mrs. Bennet's eyes widened. "Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth stepped in before incomes were mentioned. "Mama, I shall walk with Lady Catherine."
Outside, the confrontation began much as Elizabeth remembered. Anne. Family expectations. Connections. Duty.
But this Elizabeth was not merely refusing to promise. She was already engaged.
At last she said, "Lady Catherine, your nephew has asked me to marry him and I have accepted."
Lady Catherine stopped.
The silence was magnificent.
"You have what?"
"Accepted him."
Lady Catherine's face changed color.
Elizabeth almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
"He cannot--"
"He has."
"I shall speak to him."
"You may."
Lady Catherine stared. "You are remarkably calm."
Elizabeth smiled. "I have had practice."
Danger.
Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes, but anger carried her past curiosity.
She departed for London the next morning.
Darcy received her fury with greater patience than before. He did not reject his aunt. He simply refused her claim to decide his life.
Months later Lady Catherine attended their first Christmas dinner at Pemberley.
She criticized the soup.
Elizabeth considered this reconciliation.
Lady Catherine's fury was followed by an unexpected letter from Anne de Bourgh. The letter was brief and written in a careful hand.
I hope you will be happy. I am relieved Fitzwilliam has chosen for himself. Perhaps now Mama will allow me to do the same.
Elizabeth read it twice.
Darcy stood at the window of the Gardiners' drawing room. "Anne wrote to you?"
Elizabeth handed him the page.
His expression changed as he read.
"We forgot her," Elizabeth said quietly.
Darcy looked up. "No."
"In the first life, we thought of her mostly as someone Lady Catherine meant you to marry."
Darcy sat beside her. "She was ill much of the time."
"And still a person."
He nodded.
They answered together. Not with advice. Not with a plan. Merely warmth.
Anne eventually came to Pemberley after their marriage, traveling without Lady Catherine for the first time in years.
Away from Rosings she proved dryly funny and far more observant than anyone had credited.
She tired easily but enjoyed Georgiana's company and developed an unexpected friendship with Mary through letters.
Elizabeth watched Anne laugh one evening and felt another sting of humility.
The first life had taught her that even people she disliked had depths.
The second taught her that people she scarcely noticed did too.
Darcy seemed to have the same thought.
"We missed much," he said later.
Elizabeth slipped her hand into his. "We were busy being the center of our own story."
"Everyone is."
"Perhaps."
That was one more reason not to spend this life arranging everyone else's ending.