Wow! I have been absolutely blown away by the response from the first chapter that I ended up posting this one early. I already have the first 45K words written, and I anticipate it being around 90K, but who knows? Thank you all for your kind words.
Also, I'm still looking for a beta reader to help me revise some issues with the next 4-5 chapters that I have written. Please PM me if interested :)
Georgiana had fallen asleep in his arms before he realized that Miss Bennet was gone. He had not given a thought to the woman who gave his sister refuge until he picked Georgiana up to tuck her into bed—Miss Bennet's bed. In any other situation, Darcy would have certainly laughed at the absurdity that he—who prided himself on never finding himself in a compromising situation—would think nothing of tucking his sister into the bed of an unknown, unmarried woman without her consent. Yet, he doubted that anything could be more horrifically absurd than the unimaginable coincidence that brought him to be here at this moment.
He pulled a chair from the corner of the room to the bed and sat there, clutching her hand in sleep. They had not spoken of what happened yet, and perhaps that, more than anything, distressed him. His mind vacillated between numbness and imagining the worst possible scenarios that could have happened.
He could not be sure how much time elapsed before the door quietly opened and Miss Bennet slipped inside with an older woman. Darcy felt incapable of standing and greeting them, and it seemed that Miss Bennet sensed this because she only glanced at him before making the appropriate introductions. "Mr. Darcy, this is my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, with whom I am travelling. Being that she is a married woman and a mother, I felt it apt that she join us as a chaperone. I believe she can be most beneficial to Georgiana at this time."
She turned to her aunt to introduce him, and he saw the low light of the fire and her aunt's candle illuminate her face. Light glinted off a wet line on her cheek where a tear must have fallen, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. It made her look younger and totally artless, and he felt as if her distress was confirmation that he could trust her.
"Aunt, this is Mr. Darcy, Georgiana's brother. He only had just arrived when I came to get you," her voice did not waver, but it was not as confident as it had been before.
Mrs. Gardiner spoke, "My niece informed me of the situation in vague terms, Sir, but she suggested that she wait to explain the rest until she had returned to your sister. My husband is currently waiting out in the hall whenever you are ready to discuss how you would like to proceed in dealing with the culprits."
He nodded and stood, relieved that he managed to remember at least some of his manners. "I thank you and your husband for your assistance, Madam. As you can see, my sister is now asleep, and I do not want to wake her from her rest. Miss Bennet, would you mind explaining what you know of the situation and how you came to be involved?"
He brought his chair over next to the settee and gestured for the two ladies to sit. Miss Bennet was direct and matter of fact as she relayed meeting Wickham and his "sister," whom he assumed to be Mrs. Younge, as well as her meeting with Georgiana in the hallway. His heart ached as he heard Miss Bennet describe Georgiana's loneliness and distress.
As she told them of her actions when she suspected something to be amiss with Georgiana, he had to look away. He leaned his forehead against his hand, thinking about how this young woman—a stranger for all intents and purposes—had protected his sister better than himself or any of the people with whom he left her.
"I believe, Sir, that her companion plotted with Mr. Wickham to convince her to marry. This is just my inference from the bits that she has been able to tell me, but Miss Darcy told me that she had been left alone in her room all day after she expressed some doubts to her companion about your approval of the match.
"Her companion seemed to have made her ashamed of having second thoughts and wanting your approval, leading me to believe that she was the woman I saw with him earlier. And, once Georgiana had escaped, I heard him whispering with a woman in the hall. I believe they were plotting together."
Darcy wiped his hand over his face, sighing in exhaustion. All were silent for a moment before he looked up at the two women. "Forgive me, Miss Bennet, for I am too distraught and exhausted to fully convey my gratitude for all that you have done for my sister this night. I commend you and thank you sincerely."
Miss Bennet only gave him a wan smile and nodded.
"I still have further questions, if you do not mind. My thoughts are rather disorganized, and I am trying in vain to articulate them. So, pardon me if I appear blunt, but you said that Wickham and my sister were in the room together alone. Do you—" he shivered just to think of the possibilities, "do you know what happened before you knocked?"
Miss Bennet looked away, and Mrs. Gardiner stiffened beside her, clearly nervous to hear the answer. "I know not, Mr. Darcy, but your sister is wearing my dressing gown because her chemise was ripped. That is all I know. I did not want to trouble your sister with further questions."
Darcy's heart constricted in his chest, and he felt nauseous. His eyes smarted, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to stifle the urge to cry. He would not cry in front of these two strange women.
"God, I do not even know how to ask her the question," he spoke loudly, unthinking.
Georgiana stirred in the bed, and he looked over at her—simultaneously willing her to awake and cursing himself for disturbing her rest. Mrs. Gardiner cleared her throat, and Darcy turned to look at her.
In a soft, calm voice, she spoke, "I understand your fear well, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps, you would like me to speak with your sister? I believe the questions you mean to ask may come easier from a older, married woman than a brother."
He saw the sense in Mrs. Gardiner's idea, but could he trust this woman he only just met with information that could surely destroy Georgiana's reputation? He had trusted Mrs. Younge. However, Mrs. Gardiner seemed like an intelligent and genteel woman, and she had a motherly presence about her.
Likely sensing his reluctance, she said, "I would let you know all that she said immediately after. However, she is waking, and I think it would be best to make a decision now."
He did not know why, but at that moment, he looked to Miss Bennet, as if to get her approval. She looked slightly surprised at his questioning look but nodded nonetheless as if to show her approval for the plan.
He sighed. "Very well, Mrs. Gardiner. I thank you for your assistance. Perhpas I should speak to your husband now."
After introducing a very weary Georgiana to her aunt, Lizzy made her way to her aunt and uncle's rooms with her uncle and Mr. Darcy. "Mr. Darcy, this is my uncle Mr. Gardiner."
The men shook hands, and Lizzy had no idea what to do next.
"Uh…my aunt is with Miss Darcy right now, trying to help her describe the particulars of what happened," she informed her uncle.
He nodded solemnly, and there was a moment of silence before he spoke. "How is the girl?"
Lizzy sighed. "We do not know yet, but she was able to sleep. At the least, I am relieved by that. She was very distressed though, Uncle."
Making eye contact with the very weary Mr. Darcy, she felt the urge speak on his behalf as he seemed hesitant to do so himself. "The man—the culprit—Mr. Wickham," her head felt jumbled as she struggled to articulate what she wanted, "Could you aid Mr. Darcy in deciding what to do about him? Surely, he must be brought to justice is some way."
"Now, wait, Lizzy," her uncle spoke gently yet his tone boded admonishment. "We do not yet know the particulars. Mr. Darcy may not want to pursue justice until he knows what must be done about his sister."
Lizzy looked at her uncle as if he was a stranger. How could he ever suggest such a thing? Not holding that monster to account for hurting Miss Darcy so! He could not possibly be suggesting that Miss Darcy…
"You are not suggesting that she be made to marry him, are you uncle? I would rather bring the man to justice myself than have that sweet girl forever chained to that rake!"
"Lizzy!" her uncle hissed, "That was not what I was suggesting. I was suggesting that perhaps Mr. Darcy would like to hear the particulars of the incident given that the case is very sensitive and Miss Darcy's reputation may be at stake. 'Tis not my place to make such decisions," he turned to Mr. Darcy, whom Lizzy suddenly remembered was present.
"I apologize, Mr. Darcy, my niece can be impulsive, and she is clearly distressed."
Lizzy shook her head as if to clear it of its fog. "Yes, I apologize, Sir. I forget myself. I do not at all feel well, nor am I thinking clearly. I've let my anger run away with me."
Mr. Darcy surprised her by quite nearly smiling albeit half-heartedly. "Do not worry, Miss Bennet. I believe I was thinking almost exactly the same thing, and I, too, cannot seem to prevail myself to think clearly. This evening has certainly been taxing on all of us. But your uncle is correct. I would like to hear what Mrs. Gardiner has to say before I decide what to do about Wickham. As much as I would like to see the man hang for harming my sister, I could not in good conscious consign my sister to a life of infamy if the details of this were ever to become public."
Lizzy looked at Mr. Darcy and decided in that moment that she liked him. Even in his apparent exhaustion and agitation, he was so sensible and explained his thoughts so eloquently. Not to mention, he did not dismiss her anger or her concerns and refused to consider forcing Georgiana to marry the reprobate.
Looking at her uncle in apology for her impertinence, she spoke to Mr. Darcy again. "Pardon me, Sir, but how do you propose bringing him to justice while maintaining Miss Darcy's confidentiality? Should my uncle not summon a magistrate? I would assume that Mr. Wickham is still here in one of the single gentleman's rooms."
Mr. Darcy shook his head. "Mr. Wickham and his accomplice, Mrs. Younge, have fled. They noticed me upon my arrival, and I only managed to detain Wickham long enough to attain my sister's whereabouts."
"And, the charges, Mr. Darcy," her uncle chimed in, "are you hoping to bring him up on an unrelated charge with an appropriate punishment?"
"Perhaps. I first need to locate the man. I have no doubt he has left a trail of debts in his wake, so I am assuming that he will try to earn some income on the black markets of London. I may perhaps attempt to purchase his debts, but I find myself unable to think of the particulars at the moment. I will have to confer with—"
"Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Gardiner appeared in the doorway.
Lizzy thought Mr. Darcy looked as if he was being sent to the gallows.
"Dear Lizzy," her aunt said, taking her hand, "would you mind keeping Miss Darcy company? I need to speak to Mr. Darcy about a matter privately. I will come and retrieve you when we have finished speaking."
Though reluctant to leave the conversation, Lizzy did as she was told. She lingered on the other side of the door just long enough to hear her aunt begin to speak. "It is not the worst we feared, Sir. There is no threat of a child, but—"
Deciding it was perhaps best to leave her knowledge of the situation there, she hurried back to her room where she found Georgiana sitting in front of the fire with her arms around her knees. Georgiana looked up only briefly before returning her gaze to the fire.
Coming tentatively around to sit next to her, Lizzy spoke softly, "How are you feeling, Georgiana?"
The girl turned to her and cocked her head, "'Tis strange that you call me Georgiana already."
Slightly alarmed at the girl's comment, she spoke hastily. "I apologize, Miss Darcy, if I appear officious. I—"
A corner of Georgiana's mouth lifted slightly, but instead of the smile Lizzy assumed she intended, it appeared as more of a grimace. "No, I did not mean to chide you for it. I was just thinking how strange it is that it is only one o' clock in the morning and we met—I cannot be certain—not yet six hours ago, I suppose. And, in the intervening time, you have saved my life. I have met your aunt and told her unspeakable things, and you have had to introduce yourself to my brother in a most improper fashion.
"As it so happens, I believe I have come to feel closer to you in a few hours than nearly any other lady of my acquaintance. So, by all means, call me Georgiana or Georgie or whatever name you prefer, Miss Bennet. I…" her voice, which until that point had been flat, cracked, and she leaned against Lizzy's shoulder.
Placing an arm around her shoulders, Lizzy simply said, "I quite agree, dearest Georgiana, and you may call me Elizabeth or Lizzy or even Eliza if you please."
Georgiana gave her a small smile through her tears, and they were silent for several minutes before Georgiana sniffled and spoke. "Your aunt is an exceedingly kind woman."
"Yes, she is. She and my uncle are the dearest relations I have besides my sister Jane."
"She reminds me of what I imagine my mother was like."
"You never met her?" Lizzy asked and then winced, realizing what an inopportune time it was to ask such a question.
Georgiana must have sensed this. "I truly do not mind talking of her, and quite frankly, I would rather speak about anything than—than what is going on," she paused for a moment, biting her lip. "Fitzwilliam and I are orphans now, I suppose, but it has never felt that way because in many ways he has been a parent and brother to me in the last five years since our father died. He and my cousin Richard are my legal guardians."
Lizzy's eyes widened. Mr. Darcy could be no more than thirty! "He must have been very young when he became your guardian!"
Georgiana laughed a little, and it felt like the first genuine moment of happiness she had seen in the girl since they had met. "Oh yes, he was just out of Cambridge, and as much as he tried, he was not very good at being a guardian to a ten-year-old girl."
She giggled again while Lizzy did the math in her head and realized Georgiana was not yet sixteen. The poor girl! She was likely not out yet and so unprepared for courtship. Heavens, Lizzy had been officially out for nearly four years, yet she still felt unprepared for dealing with men, courtship, and marriage!
Georgiana continued, distracting Lizzy from her musings. "He is truly the best brother I could ask for, but he could never quite manage the sternness of Papa. It is quite diverting to think that my dear brother, for all his appearances of severity and gravity, can never truly be so with me. He will, I think, forever be my brother and friend, hiding sweets for me behind my sheet music or racing me through the park at Pemberley—our home…"
She trailed off, and Lizzy jumped in sensing the girl's distraction. "How lovely to have such a brother as he! I do not have any brothers—much to my mother's chagrin! I have always longed for a good big brother, though, to spoil and protect me!"
"Yes, but you have a sister!" Georgiana contradicted, "I would love to have a sister! I have always dreamed it."
"Then, dear Georgie, you can have one of mine because I have three to spare!"
Georgiana's eyes glazed over in wonder. "Might you tell me about them?"
"Well…" she paused and laughingly tapped her chin in mock contemplation, "what to tell of the infamous Bennet sisters…"
"Infamous!" Georgiana exclaimed in amusement.
"Oh, yes, infamous we are indeed. My youngest sister Lydia is but fifteen yet perhaps the boldest of all of us. She has a laugh so loud you could hear it in Scotland—I am sure. Then, the next youngest is Kitty who just turned seventeen. She is rather diffident and always seems to be sick somehow. For a country girl, she has a rather delicate countenance and frame, yet she can be just as boisterous as Lydia when she has a mind to!
"Mary is the middle child—but a mere two years younger than me—and she is of a rather pious disposition. She loves reading moral works and chiding her older sister on her hoydenish behavior!" Lizzy said archly.
This prompted another genuine laugh from Georgiana, and Lizzy felt a strange burst of satisfaction and relief, having provoked it.
"Then, there is Jane—my dearest friend and confidant. She is the first among us in age, beauty, grace, and sweetness. You actually remind me of her quite a bit." Georgiana beamed in disbelief, and Lizzy continued, "Jane and I have a fine, unspoken agreement between us. You see, Jane teaches me to be good when I am wicked, demure when I am impulsive, and serene when I am furious. And, I boast to everyone about Jane because she is quite possibly the best person in the world yet the last person to draw any attention to that fact."
Georgiana's countenance became serious. "I doubt I am like your sister," she said gravely, "I believe this evening shows just how wicked and impulsive I am."
"Georgiana, no!" Lizzy cried.
"Fitzwilliam will be ashamed of me. He is ashamed of me. I cannot face him now. We have not yet spoken of what happened. I knew he would be disappointed, but I still went along with it!" Her voice had picked up speed as she continued, "Perhaps, I unknowingly told George to compromise me. I doubt he would have—"
"Stop!" Lizzy said brusquely, stilling Georgiana's hands with her own. "Please, stop!"
Upon seeing Georgiana's fearful expression, she modulated her tone. "I am sorry for being so brusque, but I cannot let you continue thinking these horrid thoughts—these horrid, untrue thoughts.
"First of all, your brother knows what happened. He knows of your supposed engagement. I told him, and I apologize for breaking your confidence—I would not have done so had the circumstances not been so dire."
Georgiana said nothing and just looked at her intently. "He also knows, however, that you wanted to be honest with him and had scruples, and he knows that Mrs. Younge made you feel guilty for that. Even now, dear Georgiana, I can see just how much he loves you. His only concern is your welfare! He does not blame you!"
"Well, he is too good then! It is because he cannot see me clearly! He still sees me as an innocent child. But perhaps I brought this upon myself, and he cannot see it!"
She was frantic as she spoke, and Lizzy was surprised by how capricious her mood was. "Georgiana!" she cried forcefully to get her attention. "How old are you?"
The girl seemed to shrink before her eyes. "Fifteen," she murmured.
"And how old is Mr. Wickham?"
"Thirty."
Lizzy took her hands gently. "You are not a little girl anymore, but you still do not have very much experience with men or society. That is not your fault. The rules of propriety and courtship are intricate and confusing—even for a woman five years your senior such as myself! Most of the time, no one properly explains such things to a woman—my mother certainly did not—and with two male guardians, how could you know all the unspoken rules by which we ladies must abide?
"Your brother did right by employing a companion, but any companion acting in your interest would not have convinced you of engaging in a courtship without your guardian's consent! That is her fault, not yours!
"And, Wickham is double your age! If he had interacted in society at all, he would have known better than to court you in such a way. He would not have taken such liberties as he had, and he would not have ever made you feel ashamed or guilty or like you had to do anything in secret."
Seeing Georgiana's wet eyes, Lizzy squeezed her hands. "I am sorry. I do not mean to offend you or to worry you. I just cannot bear the idea of you blaming yourself for being so mistreated. You do not deserve that, my dear friend, because I like you very much and want the best for you. And believing these lies are not what is best for you."
At that, Georgiana burst into another fit of tears.
"I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I know not what has come over me. I feel fine one moment and then angry the next and then so very grieved!"
"All is well," Miss Bennet soothed. "Sometimes 'tis best to let all of the emotions out as you feel them and sort them out later."
"Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Gardiner whispered as she joined him in front of the door. "I know it is much to deal with so unexpectedly, but I believe it is better not to tarry and to give her your assurances as soon as possible."
Darcy agreed, but Mrs. Gardiner was mistaken as to the source of his hesitation. He had just come from his painful interview with the Gardiners and was about to knock on the door when the sound of his name beyond the door gave him pause. He stood and listened for a minute—or maybe five—while Miss Bennet somehow managed to take all his jumbled thoughts and articulate them so clearly to his distraught sister.
He had never been so grateful for and jealous of someone in his life as he had been at that moment. While his worst fears had been averted on this night—for Georgiana could not be with child—the idea that she was no longer a maiden and that Wickham had attacked her in her sleep was the stuff of his wildest nightmares. The fear that gripped him rendered him nearly unconscious with grief. As such, Miss Bennet and the Gardiners were truly God-sent, but they also showed him his defects as a guardian in painful detail. Why could he never speak to Georgiana in such a way? He was certain that if he had to give Georgiana the same assurances, he would only manage to make her feel guiltier. At the very least, Miss Bennet and Miss Gardiner had made the task before him now much easier.
Standing up taller, he knocked firmly on the door and entered at Miss Bennet's call of "Come in."
Mrs. Gardiner stepped in before him and spoke. "Lizzy, 'tis late. Why do you not come and sleep in my room tonight?"
Miss Bennet seemed to defer to Georgiana for she only moved once his sister had given her a small nod. The two women curtsied briefly before taking their leave, and he felt the absurd impulse to laugh—or cry. On this night of a thousand improprieties, when these two women had witnessed and learned more about his sister than most people ever learn about even their closest acquaintances, they still curtsied to him. He strangely wondered why. Was it out of force of habit? Or, was it consciously done to offset the impropriety of them being in their night clothes in front of him? Why did he suddenly feel like everything he had ever been taught about right and proper behavior was utter rubbish?
It was only when Georgiana called his name in a frightened voice that he realized he had been glaring at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace.
"I apologize. I was woolgathering." He shook his head and took a seat in the armchair adjacent to her.
Not knowing where to begin, he reached out to take her hand.
"Fitzwil—"
"No—" he cut himself off at the look on her face and cursed himself. "Please, dearest, let me begin. I would very much appreciate it."
She nodded, and he went on. "I want you to know I spoke with Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet about what you told then and what they observed, and I want you to know that…"
That what? he asked himself. That she was not entirely ruined? That he would never let that lech or that vile woman near her again? That he was sorry he failed her? That he loved her no matter what? Nothing seemed like the right thing to say at that moment.
"First, I want to know. How are you feeling...generally?" He doubted he could have spoken in a more awkward manner if he had tried to do so purposefully.
"Uh…I feel pain in certain places where he grabbed me," she swallowed noticeably, "hard, and I…I am uncertain how I feel. One moment I feel fine like nothing extraordinary has happened, and a moment later I feel like everything is so strange like I am trapped in a glass box and I do not know what is going on."
He did not know what to say to this, so he simply said, "I am so sorry, Georgie."
His voice cracked when he spoke, and this seemed to alarm her more than anything had. Tears began to flow down her face, and her whole body began to tremble. "Fitzwilliam, please. Just tell me what you are thinking. I could not bear to be the object of your disdain," she begged softly.
Her quiet plea twisted at his heart, and unthinkingly, he moved to sit next to her on the settee and embraced her. She shuddered before sinking into his embrace. "I could never disdain you, Dearest. This is my fault, and I promise to do whatever I can to repair the situation for you. Please, do not blame yourself. Do not worry yourself. I will take care of you."
Georgiana did not say anything in response to this which he took to be an indication that he managed the situation adequately, if not well.
Not long after this he carried Georgiana to bed and tucked her in. He could not help but dissatisfied with their conversation. He expected it to be longer and more difficult. He expected her to speak more and to seem visibly reassured by his word. Regardless, it was a beginning, and perhaps with a little more discussion, they could put it behind them.
The next morning Lizzy sat in the common room of the inn, staring out the window where her aunt and uncle were conferring with their coachmen about preparations for their journey. Their movements were slow as if moving through treacle, which was eminently strange for two people who usually did everything with alacrity. She supposed they were all rather subdued today.
She turned in her armchair and noticed Mr. Darcy conferring quietly with the innkeeper and handing him what appeared to be a banknote. The innkeeper nodded vigorously at whatever Mr. Darcy must have instructed. She noticed for the first time since meeting him how tall and commanding he was. He stood several inches taller than the innkeeper and had broad shoulders, making the paunchy, round man next to him seem small. His posture was straight, almost to the point of rigidity, and he was dressed simply and elegantly in a well-cut coat and a silk cravat.
The innkeeper bowed deeply and took his leave of the man, shuffling through a doorway behind him. Mr. Darcy turned and made eye contact with her, and she felt slightly discomfited. She doubted he had slept much from the darkness around his eyes, but it was not his apparent exhaustion which gave her pause. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Darcy was a very handsome man—a very handsome man who had seen her in her disheveled nightclothes. She felt herself flush much to her chagrin. "He likely did not notice your dishevelment, you vain creature!" she thought defensively.
She looked away and opened her book. He made his way toward her and bowed. "Miss Bennet," he said primly. "May I?" he gestured to the armchair next to hers.
"By all means," she said, managing some semblance of equanimity. "How is your sister this morning, Mr. Darcy?"
"Better I believe, thanks to you, Miss Bennet. We spoke last night, and I do hope she was reassured."
She nodded, not knowing what to say to him. His expression was strangely placid and impassive, and she could hardly believe that this was the same emotive man she met last night. Feeling the need to lighten the somber mood which hung over them, she irrationally felt compelled toward pertness. "I must tell you, Mr. Darcy, my uncle was none too pleased last night when you offered to compensate him for his silence."
He looked at her in complete shock, and she wondered whether she had made a terrible mistake. She was about to dissemble when he spoke clearly. "Yes, he was rather vehement in his refusals."
There was nearly the hint of a smile on his face, and the expression disarmed her more than if he had grinned.
"So, Mr. Darcy, tell me, are you the type of gentleman who assumes that money can buy all things? The silence of an innkeeper? Or my uncle?"
"It seems to me that poverty is an eyeglass through which one may see his true friends," he responded cryptically.
She tilted her head and regarded him curiously. Upon seeing her confusion, he gestured to her copy of The Canterbury Tales, and she smiled, realizing that he was quoting the book.
"Bravo, Mr. Darcy. Point taken," she said, nodding as if to concede. "And, I am inclined to agree. I have seen wealth—or appearance of it—too often become bait for unscrupulous people."
He frowned, and she wondered from what, in her previous statement, he took offense if he had taken none at her previous sportive comments.
"I apologize, Mr. Darcy, for my impertinence. I truly mean no offense," she hoped she managed to convey sincerity.
"And, I took none, Miss Bennet. I assure you." He sighed. "It is merely that your words once again reminded me of the predicament I find myself in at the moment."
"You think what happened was the result of Miss Darcy's fortune?"
"I can think of no other cause," he paused for a moment, seeming to think it over, "except perhaps revenge."
She looked at him with his immaculate clothing and his noble carriage. He was clearly a very wealthy man—perhaps the wealthiest she had ever met—yet he seemed to be weighed down by the world's troubles more than most. He had a commanding presence, yet he was not appalled by the nearly irreverent remarks that she could not help but blurt in her discomfited state.
In short, she found him fascinating. She could not, however, justify the additional impudence required to ask what he meant by revenge.
He may have sensed this because after a long pause, he spoke, "I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet. I have been too free with sharing my speculations."
She nearly laughed at the excess of contrition in his tone for she would have preferred him tell her too much than too little. He was so sincere, though, so she felt the need to reassure him. "'Tis no matter, Sir. If we must blame one of us for speaking improperly, then the blame should be mine, not yours. I was not you who accused some poor, unsuspecting gentleman of being avaricious."
He laughed—a warm, rich tone—and his face transformed for a moment. "No, indeed I did not, but nor did you. If I recall, you merely asked a question, and instead of taking it in the good humor in which I believe it was intended, I spoke arcanely."
This managed to provoke a laugh out of Lizzy which was too close to a giggle for her to be pleased with it. "Come now, Mr. Darcy. Do not dissemble. Your disguise does not fool me! I am certain that you knew I would be pleased by your witty ability to answer my jest with a Chaucer quote, but I shall have you know I was not at all pleased with you. I do not like to be outwitted," she said an arch smile.
His eyes widened for a moment before he squinted and crossed his legs toward her. She felt a bit of a thrill at his evident surprise—at her ability to flap a seemingly unflappable man. "So, first I use money to solve all my problems. Now, I am disingenuous. I feel that naught I can do will please you. Is that correct, Miss Bennet?"
She laughed, and he joined her. She was about to reply when her aunt arrived looking grave. "Good morning, niece, Mr. Darcy." Lizzy glanced back at Mr. Darcy who had suddenly reverted to an impenetrable wall of reserve.
He stood and bowed formally to her aunt, and when he spoke, his words were sincere yet restrained. "Good morning, Mrs. Gardiner." Then, his hand clenched—the only indication of his discomfort. "I hope I might offer my thanks once again for you and your husband's invaluable service last night. I must thank God for the good fortune that brought you here."
"You are sincerely welcome, Mr. Darcy," her aunt said with a smile. "We wish the best for Miss Darcy and yourself. Take care."
He bowed to her aunt, and she waited for him to acknowledge her. He kept his eyes on her aunt, however, until they were beginning to walk away at which point, he glanced in her direction but a moment before bowing to her. "Miss Bennet," he said and bowed again. "Mrs. Gardiner."
She and her aunt had made their way out of the inn when her aunt looked at her gently. "How do you fare, dearest Lizzy? The last day of our trip was quite strenuous for you in particular, I believe."
"I am well, Aunt, but do tell me truthfully. Will Miss Darcy be well?"
Mrs. Gardiner hesitated for a moment. "She will although there is much with which I believe I must acquaint you, my dear. When we arrive in London tonight, you and I shall have a nice long chat to discuss it all."
Lizzy nodded gratefully, understanding that her aunt would let her know the details that she had not been privy to the night before.
"Elizabeth!"
Lizzy turned around to see Georgiana rushing out of the inn with her bonnet strings untied and her spencer hastily slipped on.
Georgiana reached out her hands, and Lizzy took them. "Dear Georgiana, your brother told me you were still abed!"
"I could not allow you to leave without saying goodbye," she whispered. "I wish you did not have to leave."
Lizzy grasped the girl's hands tighter. "Please do not worry, Georgiana. This will not be the last time we meet. I am certain. I feel it in my bones."
Georgiana stepped back and cast her eyes down. "I wish you a safe journey."
With that, Lizzy hopped into the carriage, and they were on their way—beginning an uncomfortably somber ride back to London. She watched as Georgiana's figure appeared further and further away, frowning upon seeing Georgiana swipe at her tears.
Her last image of the girl, though, was that of her brother taking her gently by the arm and walking her back to the inn.
A/N: To all those who asked, it is intentionally vague what happened to Georgiana. I did this intentionally. Mainly, I did this because I don't think Georgiana or Lizzy would fully understand or know how to describe things that were so incredibly taboo in words. Words often allow us to create specificity in our minds, and I think the ambiguity of not fully explaining what happened to her could reflect the lack of vocabulary that a young woman would have to describe such a violation. But, also partially because I don't believe the details are relevant beyond a certain point to illustrate her pain. I also think that graphic depictions/descriptions of sexual assault that are metaphorical or simply conveying darkness/grittiness are too ubiquitous in our society/literature! So much so I wrote a 20 page paper on it at university!
