Chapter 2: Poetry
As dinner came to a close, Rachel rose and hurried discretely to the hostess.
"Lady Fairweather, I'm terribly sorry but I've developed a persistent headache. I must beg leave, I'm afraid I'm not very good company in my current state…" Rachel spoke softly, her eyes imploring. Lady Fairweather, looked at her knowingly.
"Very well Miss. Darcy, but you must come back to play me that concierto sometime, it was quite beautiful. And bring George too…"
"It would be my pleasure" she replied guilelessly, quickly saying farewell to other important guests before walking over to where George was speaking with Lissa. Rachel ungenerously interrupted them "Time to go, George" she said gaily, looping her arm through his. George jerked his arm from her grip and instead politely bid farewell to Lissa. Rachel waited impatiently until George finally followed her from the room. Rachel raised an eyebrow at him as they left.
"Well, somebody is in a temper." she said provokingly. George didn't respond and she surmised that he was ignoring her. Rachel didn't really mind. As their carriage pulled off she stared out of the window, her mind full of suppositions on the content of her letter.
At last they arrived and she jumped out of the carriage before it had completely stopped. She bid a sarcastic goodnight to George and hastened to her room. She hurried in, not even bothering to close the door, and grabbed her letter. Finally reclining on her bed she tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter. She grinned as she saw Edmunds characteristic precise cursive:
My dearest Miss Darcy,
I deeply appreciate the letter you sent me. Whilst I understand that you are young, I cannot help noting that you did not extinguish all hope that perhaps, one day, you may come to see me as more than a friend. Please be assured that my feelings for you are, as ever, unmuted. I admire you more than any other, you are beautiful, accomplished and intelligent…
Get on with it, thought Rachel irritably, why did he keep sidestepping the declaration she was waiting for! Pen had already had Richard declare his love for her – she'd fobbed him off with some excuse. It wasn't any fun if you didn't string them along a little. She continued reading, unable to stop giggling as she continued
...I have written this poem to you, to express my feelings more eloquently than I ever could in person;
Flowers pale against your fresh beauty
Butterflies follow your trail
Your graceful -
-"Oh!" yelled Rachel, as the letter was snatched from her hands. "George! Give that back now!"
"So this is the serious business eh? From your laughter, it can't be that important. Let's see what's so amusing" he replied eyebrows raised.
"How dare you! You have no right..." she cried jumping up, trying to grab the letter, her cheeks flaming bright red. He put his arm up high angling the letter so that he could read the words. She jumped, desperately trying to snatch it from his hands. But George began reading, and a frown soon replaced his grin.
"This is from Edmund?" He asked
"What if it is?" Said Rachel, panting from her useless efforts and glaring at George.
"Edmund is a friend of mine. And you were laughing at him?"
"I wasn't…" Rachel saw George's glare and changed tack "Well, how could I not?! That poem is ridiculous…" she answered petulantly. George shook his head and turned around to leave. "Give me back my letter!" demanded Rachel stamping her foot.
"Why would I return something my friend wrote, to a cruel child who just wants to ridicule him?" asked George angrily.
"If he wants to make a fool of himself that is his own issue!" she cried defensively
"Please Rachel, I've seen you flirting with him. If you simply refused his letter, told him you
weren't interested, he would understand and so would I. But this?" he sighed "This is low."
"I've done nothing wrong! All of the girls do it…" Rachel said. George's eyes darkened
"Perhaps 'all of the girls do it' but I know who leads them. I've seen you in your 'clique', holding court, bullying those who won't do what you say. And I've had enough! I'm telling Edmund to forget it, I'm telling him the truth."
"Do not interfere in my life George! This is my house not yours!" cried Rachel
"There you go again. This is your father's house. And when it comes to my friends, I protect them. You should try it, otherwise in a few years' time you won't have any left." George stormed out of the room.
Rachel was furious. How dare he! She would teach him, she'd get her father to kick him out of the house! He had no right to criticise her! She rushed out of the room and along the corridor to the master bedroom.
"Father!" she knocked loudly on the door "Father!" She growled her annoyance, he was probably fast asleep, he was always impossible to wake after drinking. He would understand being woken though; this was important! She pushed the door open and walked into the dark room. The curtains and windows were open, letting in the moonlight and a cold breeze. Goosebumps appeared on her arms, it was chilly, but she disregarded it. As her eyes adjusted she made out the shape of her father, curled up in bed. She rushed over and shook his shoulder "Father?" she asked. Something felt wrong, her Father's arm slumped down; he looked like he was sleeping and yet… "Father?" she asked more desperately, her mind suddenly still. Willing her father to wake up. She shook him again, violently, and he fell onto his back, Rachel stared into his face "Oh no, no, no…" she whispered "Please, no, Father, no..", she abruptly backed away, bumping the table lamp, which fell to the ground, shattering. Rachel's back hit the wall, but she couldn't stop looking, his form looked so tiny in the bed; her knees gave way and she slumped down, her eyes blurry…. She could hear terrible harsh sobs coming from somewhere. She wished it would stop. All she could see was her father's lifeless face. Why wouldn't that noise stop!?
Rachel felt strong arms lift and hold her. Like her father had used to, like her father had when her mother had died. But when she looked up, instead of her father's face, it was George's.
"Rachel, I'm so sorry." George held her as she cried, she buried her face in his shoulder, not daring to look at the bed again. If George was here it was true. She didn't want it to be true.