Last chapter: Georgiana observes her brother's happy marriage, and talks with Elizabeth about the sort of man a self-respecting woman should marry. Their idyll is, however, interrupted by the arrival of Darcy's cousin, Lord Milton, and his feverish, very pregnant mistress, who -- to quote an esteemed reader -- is very snippy indeed for a doxy, and suggests to the incredulous Georgiana that she has heard something that implies they are not that different. Elizabeth sends Georgiana downstairs posthaste.

Chapter Eleven

Georgiana's heart was pounding in her ears when she reached her brother's study. She dashed a few scalding tears off her cheek, composed herself, and knocked.

'Fitzwilliam?' she called. 'Elizabeth said to come downstairs . . .' Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

'Come in,' he replied. Georgiana slipped in, looking from her brother to her cousin. Milton was in Fitzwilliam's chair, leaning over with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. He appeared utterly dejected. Fitzwilliam seemed more exhausted than anything else right now, though she doubted anyone but herself or Elizabeth would have seen it. In the set of his mouth and shoulders, however, she could perceive hints of resentment, even as he rested his hand reassuringly on Milton's slumped shoulder for a moment.

'I — Fitzwilliam — does — does he know? about him?' She knew it was ill-bred to speak of her cousin as if he were not present, but she could think of no other way.

Milton lifted his drawn, pale face, staring at her. 'What are you speaking of, Georgiana?'

'No,' Fitzwilliam said, frowning. 'Why should you think so? Did something happen?'

She sat down, staring down at her hands. 'It was something Miss Martin said. She said that he — that is, that you, cousin — had said something . . .'

Fitzwilliam glanced at their cousin, his expression at once angry and bewildered. Then it smoothed away as if he had not lost his composure for an instant.

'Georgy,' Milton said in a voice raspy from weariness and disuse, 'how is she? Is Hannah . . . is she . . . well?'

Georgiana suppressed a shiver and replied, 'I would not say . . . well, exactly. She was very cold, and she talked — rather oddly, I think. Though I would not know how she usually is.' She did not think so ill of her cousin's judgment as to suppose he would really love someone who was that — well, awful — all the time. Even Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst —

Milton groaned. 'The fever, I suppose.'

'Fever?' Fitzwilliam spun on his heel. 'How long has she been ill?'

'A little over a fortnight.'

He muttered something under his breath and wrote a short note, and sent for Farley to deliver it.

'Is there any particular reason you did nothing?'

'I tried,' Milton protested, but weakly. 'The first doctor was an utter quack — she only got worse. And then there was no money.'

'Oh, of course — your financial troubles,' Fitzwilliam murmured. 'I had quite forgotten.' Milton refused to look at him, though he did sit up properly. 'And your father — '

'I brought her to Houghton, and — '

'I beg your pardon? You brought your mistress under the same roof as your wife? Have you taken leave of your senses?'

'I had to do something! What other choice did I have?'

'Do not raise your voice in my house,' Fitzwilliam said coldly. 'Did you consider laying the whole of the situation before my uncle?'

'No, and I am glad I did not,' Milton snapped. 'The instant he discovered Hannah's presence, he threw us both out. We are in disgrace. I knew if we came to Pemberley . . .' He stopped, flushing a little. Georgiana at once pitied him and was glad to see that he had some shame left.

'Ah, yes — Pemberley. I was hoping the story, highly diverting though it is, would wind around to some sort of explanation for your intrusion.'

Georgiana knew, then, that her brother was not only upset, but that he had very thoroughly lost his temper. He looked composed, but there was colour burnt high along his cheekbones, and he spoke with an unfamiliar harsh, sharp edge in his voice. She suppressed a shiver. She had only seen her brother angry a few times in her entire life, but it was never pleasant, even though she had never been the object of it. She would not have traded places with her cousin for anything in the world.

'She needs a doctor,' Milton said. 'I knew you would not turn us away; I knew that your wife, at least, would see that Hannah is properly cared for, until — '

'I see.' Fitzwilliam's mouth twitched into a faint, sardonic smile, but Georgiana did not think he was remotely amused. 'Your clever idea was to use my own family feeling against me. How charming.'

'And if it was the woman you loved, what would you have done?' Milton demanded.

Fitzwilliam laughed softly and humourlessly. 'It must have escaped your notice, Milton. I married the woman I love.' He turned away then, calling for a maidservant. 'Addison, his lordship is quite tired. Please escort him to his room.'

'Yes, sir.'

Milton opened his mouth, then after a glance at his cousins, shut it again, following the maid out with a defeated expression. Fitzwilliam sat down, leaning back and lifting one hand to rub his temples. Georgiana approached him timidly, and reached out to press her fingers against his; he looked startled, but smiled.

'You see what a brutal temper your brother has, Georgiana,' he said, his fingers icy cold against hers.

'Milton deserved it,' she told him stubbornly. 'He may have been desperate but it was still very wrong of him.'

'My dear Georgiana — semper eadem.' He leant on their clasped hands one moment, then straightened, tightening his grip before releasing her hand, withdrawing a little.

'That was Queen Elizabeth's motto, was it not?'

'Yes, it was, although I rather think it suits you better.' His eyes crinkled around the corners.

Their own Elizabeth's voice rang out. 'Did I hear you two talking about me?' She stepped past the doorway; she, too, seemed tired.

'No, in fact. I was just admiring Georgiana's constancy,' Fitzwilliam replied, a smile warming his face and erasing the weary, angry lines of before.

'You are right to help,' Georgiana said, 'but he was wrong to come.'

'Quite,' Elizabeth said. 'I only hope that woman behaves differently when she is not feverish — if not, I shall have to question your cousin's sanity.'

Georgiana suppressed a giggle, then thought over the brief, unpleasant scene again. Her brow furrowed. 'I do not understand what she meant at all,' she confessed.

Elizabeth shot an uneasy glance at Fitzwilliam. 'She knows that you know,' he told her.

'I do?' Georgiana blinked.

'You remember, I told you, when I ret — last spring.'

'Oh!' Georgiana, he'd said, not just his usual quiet self, but sombre and melancholy, I had good reason to believe that a — a respectable, virtuous young lady had formed an attachment to Mr Wickham. You know — he stopped, took a breath, then continued, I felt obliged to warn her, and she had been so misled by his appearance of goodness — he had, it seemed, told her any number of falsehoods — that I knew she would not be persuaded of his true character unless I told her all. I hope — he looked away — I hope you may forgive me for having done that much without reference to you. And, overflowing with compassion for that unknown young lady, Georgiana instantly denied any necessity for penitence.

'That was — you?' She stared at her sister-in-law. She had felt herself so silly and vain for having been fooled by Mr Wickham — but if Elizabeth had been attached to him, had made something like the same error that Georgiana herself had — either she was not so foolish after all, or Elizabeth was just as bad as she was.

Georgiana's head hurt. 'Milton does not know,' she said, her head spinning.

'What did she say to you?' Fitzwilliam asked intently. 'What does it have to do with what happened at Ramsgate?'

Georgiana's eyes burned, but she refused to cry. She wished suddenly for Narcissus.

Elizabeth spoke, instead, her voice softer than what Georgiana was accustomed to hearing from her — 'She asked Georgiana if her — if her sensibilities were offended, and then said that they — she and Georgiana — were not so different, from what "Edward" — Lord Milton, I presume? — had told her.'

'That is his Christian name,' Fitzwilliam admitted, 'though I have never heard anyone use it. As for the other — no, I swore Richard to secrecy, and never spoke of it to anyone but you, not even Eleanor. I cannot image how he could have discovered it.'

Elizabeth seemed at once perplexed and pleased. 'What would he have told her, then? Was it simply the fever talking?'

'It cannot be anything you have done, Georgiana,' Fitzwilliam said, 'she might mean simply as a Fitzwilliam — '

'I do not think so,' Elizabeth replied, 'she seemed very particularly — Fitzwilliam, what is it?' Georgiana looked at her brother in alarm; he was staring at something in the distance, his eyes black against his whitened face.

He got to his feet. 'Please excuse me, both of you — I have to go — and think. Elizabeth, watch over Georgiana — she should not be alone with that woman — no, not in her company at all. I beg your pardon.' He was gone before either young lady could utter a word; they simply stared at one another in astonishment.

'Tell me, is he often like this?' Elizabeth enquired, with an arch smile.

'No,' Georgiana said blankly, 'no, never. Do you have any idea what he thought of?'

'I? No — I was about to ask you; you must know more about the family than I do, if indeed that is what — ' Then she tilted her head to the side, looking startled. 'I do not know — perhaps, it is possible that — ' She chewed on her lip, then said decidedly, 'That is enough of that for now. I do not think I can sit an instant longer. Will you walk with me, Georgiana?'

Half-curious and half-frightened, Georgiana assented, and her sister-in-law made easy conversation as they walked down the Long Gallery. The portrait that Lord Ancaster had returned before the wedding was restored to its proper place, beside her father, and as Georgiana allowed the long ramble of family history to calm her nerves, she found her eyes resting on her mother.

'She was very beautiful,' she said wistfully. 'I wish I were more like her.'

Elizabeth replied, 'I was just thinking that there is quite a remarkable resemblance between you.'

'Really?' Georgiana felt, for a moment, as if she could see what Elizabeth did — a pale, oval face, straight nose, and heavy dark hair. Yes, those was hers, and they were from her mother, though she was her father's child too, more than Fitzwilliam.

'It is odd, that you both should be so unlike the Darcys — but you have your father's eyes.'

'Yes.' Georgiana looked from her own painted eyes, to her father's and aunt's and grandfather's — 'Yes, we all do, except Fitzwilliam. Even Courtland has them.'

'Lord Courtland? Is he a Darcy?'

'Yes — a distant uncle of ours, mine and Fitzwilliam's, was a younger son, adopted by his mother's family, and Courtland is his descendant. That was generations and generations ago, of course. We are not really very near relations, though the nearest in the direct line. Fitzwilliam told me once that if he had not barred the entailment when he came of age, Courtland would have been his heir instead of me — though I hope I shan't be for very long. It would be awful; I suppose my husband could change his name, but there have always been proper heirs.'

'Well, let us hope I take after my mother then,' Elizabeth said cheerfully, turning away from Lady Anne and George Darcy. 'Tell me, who is that woman there?'

'Oh,' Georgiana said, glad to change the subject, 'that is my great-grandmother, Georgiana Elizabeth. My father and I were named for her.'

Elizabeth took a step closer. 'Why, she looks positively merry! How very improper.'

Georgiana allowed herself to laugh, then said, 'That is her husband, Francis Darcy; Fitzwilliam admires him very much. Francis was very devoted to her — his family opposed the match tooth and nail, but they managed to reconcile them, and were married. My great-uncle Sir James, you met him, he is their son.'

'How remarkable,' Elizabeth said, studying the portrait. 'Why did his family disapprove of her? Did she smile too much?'

'No, she was just a provincial baronet's daughter,' Georgiana said thoughtlessly, then gasped, covering up her mouth. 'Oh! I am so sorry, I did not mean — '

Elizabeth laughed. 'I understand your family's censure, Georgiana; I do not agree, but I know perfectly well that in material terms, I am an astonishingly bad match for him.'

'I — I think, from what I have heard, and read — there are letters, Fitzwilliam lets me look at them — that Francis' family was very fond of him too.'

Elizabeth gazed at her a moment, then smiled. 'I am glad to hear it.'