Georgiana awoke in a room that she did not recognize.
She slowly recalled where she was.
Oddly, her first memory of the previous day was not of the terror of hearing her husband plot to kill her, nor of facing him and him trying to grab her. Nor even the run across the city and the freezing cold afterwards.
Instead it was about how little Beth Gardiner had plopped herself next to her at dinner and proceeded to talk to her as though she was now a dear friend who needed to hear everything the little girl had to say about everything — how great the melted cheese on toast tasted, how pretty Georgiana was, how pretty Aunt Lizzy was, how pretty Aunt Jane was, and how pretty a woman she saw in the park two days ago had been. There was an extended explanation of how Beth considered it wholly unfair that Hector was not allowed to eat with them, and instead made to eat scraps in the kitchen.
Georgiana laughed and smiled more than she probably had in the entire period since her marriage.
It was odd.
It was foolish. But she felt wholly safe here. As though she was in a new home with these people.
She was sleeping in one of the two guest rooms, as after some discussion Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet had determined to sleep in the same room for the night so she could have her own room.
The fire had been banked properly and given an ample supply of coals. When Georgiana pushed aside the covers to sit up in the borrowed nightgown she'd been given by Miss Bennet, she woke to the first warm morning since the weather turned.
Georgiana yawned and stretched her arms.
Everything felt luxurious, even the night gown whose arms and hem were two inches too short.
Even if she no longer was a Darcy, she was tall like the rest of her family.
She'd slept later than she had meant to, and early morning sunlight streamed into the room. She smiled to see it, and she felt better than she had since the first night upon the road when Wickham had taken her. She'd realized later that he'd been driven more by a need to ensure that she could not change her mind than by lust.
Georgiana climbed out of the bed and stuffed her feet into a pair of kid and lamb slippers, also borrowed. Her Darcy instincts screamed that it was a worse degradation to be the object of charity than it had been to marry Wickham. But Miss Elizabeth, Beth, Mrs. Gardiner — they all were so kind. So caring.
Those instincts had done her no good, and she was not a Darcy anymore, and if that meant she was now an object of charity, she would simply find a way to make herself useful and pay back her hosts in some way.
But she still had an almost dread of the further conversation with Mr. Gardiner about what would be done with her. No matter how comfortable she felt here, she was an outsider, and she did not actually belong. He would insist that she contact Fitzwilliam, and he might become angry, because she simply could not and would not. But Georgiana still remembered the way that he'd looked at Wickham as he'd promised that he would kill him if Wickham struck her.
Everyone had been very kind. Miss Elizabeth had especially been determined to champion her and involve her in the conversation. The vivacious and laughing manner with which she sat at dinner, and the complete ease with which she talked to Georgiana — a complete stranger — and set her at her ease created a sort of longing in Georgiana. She wanted to be more like Miss Elizabeth.
Her father had often told her that one should not concern themselves overmuch with the thoughts and feelings of those outside the family circle. If a person was not a Darcy or one of their connections, and if they did not depend upon the Darcy family, then they were of little importance.
The whole attitude of the Gardiners, and especially of Miss Elizabeth, seemed to be the opposite: Of course, we will help you, even when you insist that you need no help.
Georgiana opened the door cautiously, and though the hour was rather early for breakfast, she heard the clink of dishes, and the air was filled with the rich scent of freshly baked bread.
Rather than hunger she felt a wave of nausea that roiled up and burned in her throat.
Georgiana took several shallow breaths. She pressed her forehead against the cold wood of the door frame. The feeling of nausea passed, and she found that she was still delighted and eager to go downstairs and join everyone, and more than a little hungry.
Downstairs Georgiana was cheerfully greeted with a breakfast table that was laden with rolls, preserves, butter, a collection of boiled eggs, and a small platter of cold meats left over from the previous night. In front of Mr. Gardiner was a rather odd dish that mixed a flaky fish with eggs, rice, and a strong aromatic spice. A mixture of cups filled with coffee and tea, depending on each person's preference.
She was greeted cheerfully and made to sit between Miss Elizabeth and Beth. A cup of tea was immediately poured for her, as soon as she expressed her preference for that beverage, and the meat, eggs and rolls were piled onto her plate. Normally Georgiana preferred coffee, but with her unsettled stomach, the idea of drinking it was wholly unpalatable.
Despite the feeling in her stomach, Georgiana was happy, and she set to eating with unusual hunger. This was the best food that she had eaten since a month after her marriage, and while the table was set with considerably less fashion and pomp than her brother's table, in terms of taste, it was in no way backwards.
After he finished his meal, Mr. Gardiner wiped his hands off and stood. "Mrs. Georgiana, before I head over to my warehouse, we ought to discuss more of what your plans shall be."
"Your warehouse?" Georgiana said in surprise, "You are in trade? But you are all so genteel."
A flash of smiles was shared between all the adults in the room, in what Georgiana could detect was amusement at her expense.
Georgiana flushed a deep red and thought that she had just been inexcusably rude. Beth Gardiner did not notice any tension at all, and she exclaimed, "Papa buys all the best wine from Portugal and Madeira so that all the Lords and Ladies can sip it at balls!"
"Oh."
Georgiana looked around, with something rather like confusion. The idea that the daughter of a great gentleman could treat on terms of equality with someone who actively was in trade — a Cit was the term she'd always heard slightingly applied — was odd to her. She then smiled slowly.
This was also part of not being a Darcy. "That sounds like a profitable trade."Beth cheerfully exclaimed, "Papa says that the London season could not happewithout a great excess of fine wine!"
Miss Elizabeth laughed and hugged Beth. "It hardly could, but one should not brag about one's importance to society."
The tone with which Miss Elizabeth said that made Georgiana giggle.
Miss Elizabeth looked at her and smiled. "It is often assumed that a connection to trade must be regretted, but I think the truth is quite the opposite."
"Oh, yes! I can see that." Georgiana breathed out.
"Well then," Mr. Gardiner said. "Now that we have established that without me — or at least those in my profession — the London season would be impossible, let's discuss present matters in my office."
It was odd.
Since her marriage Georgiana had seen that the prejudices that she had inhaled at her father's knee were often largely inaccurate. The first, and greatest, discovery had of course been that he had been deeply mistaken in Wickham's character.
But here, it was simply the case that there was nothing that was not genteel, respectable, and admirable in Mr. Gardiner, Miss Elizabeth, and the others.
Georgiana followed Mr. Gardiner, with Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Elizabeth joining them.
Mr. Gardiner's office was a booklined room, with a large desk in the middle that had a comfortable chair with a swivel and four other chairs in front of it. Two neat stacks of paper on the corners of the desk and a fine black ink well with several pens sat in the middle. A finely done small portrait of a smiling and younger Mrs. Gardiner stood on the desk facing inwards.
"Come to represent Mrs. Georgiana, should she be unable to manage me on her own?" Mr. Gardiner smiled wryly at Miss Elizabeth.
She shrugged and smiled. "Our new friend reminds me of a friend." Miss Elizabeth turned to Georgiana and smiled brightly. "You do not over mind if it was in part for his sake that I instantly adopted a fondness for you?"
"No." Georgiana shook her head. "Not at all."
"I understand that you do not wish to contact your brother." Mr. Gardiner steepled his hands. "Or to send a message to any other member of your family."
"I can't. I can't." Georgiana felt a shaking anxiety, and not just for Fitzwilliam's safety. "I won't."
Miss Elizabeth took her hand. "You need not, dear."
"Well, well." Mr. Gardiner frowned. "And it is true that she does not, but if that is determined impossible, plans must be made. How do you intend to maintain yourself without the support of your family? — I assume you cannot draw upon the income from your fortune without your husband's concurrence."
"I can, but my brother's demand was that the income only be given directly into my hands at the offices of Childe's bank."
"Childe's?" Mr. Gardiner nodded. "A good firm. I see. You can gain the money, but not without giving both your brother and your husband information about your location. Hmmmm…"
"The money for the quarterly is already paid out."
"And I would assume the instructions to the banker is that no advance is to be paid out, at least not without your brother's consent." Mr. Gardiner rubbed at his chin. "I cannot force you to contact your brother. You said that he is generally calm and collected, he could be dissuaded from shooting your husband, or being shot in turn by him. And with his aid you can be placed in a location of safety. It is possible — though this is a question which depends on the details of the forum, that with your guardian's concurrence a new will can be drawn up which would ensure that your husband would not inherit the fortune settled on you, even following your decease. Thus, the incentive for him to risk such an action would be removed."
Georgiana just stared back at Mr. Gardiner with wide scared eyes. She felt that her face was sickly pale. She'd not been out of doors often for the past six months, as Mr. Wickham had seemed to not trust her with any money to spend, and she had further had nowhere to go, and no one to speak to.
"There is one further consideration. From what you have said, your brother likely has some remaining concern for your welfare. It is possible that he will discover on his own about your disappearance, and that will lead him to confront your husband to demand information about your whereabouts and welfare. This may lead to the fight between them that you fear."
Pale. Georgiana pressed her hand against her mouth.
She ruined everything.
"I won't — I understand. I will leave." Georgiana stood up. "I thank you sincerely for your hospitality. And the kindness of you all to me, but I will not—" She started crying, and she did not even know why.
Terror.
She would not contact Fitzwilliam. But obviously she could not depend upon the charity of a family in trade, and she really had nowhere to go. Nothing that she owned or could claim. But leaving and going into the freezing cold — with no coat again, because she owned no coat — it was more than she could face without tears.
"Oh, you poor dear." Miss Elizabeth hugged her and then led her back to the seat. "There, there. Georgiana, there, there. It will be all right. It will be. We won't let you wander back out into the world with nothing. Do not worry. Do not worry."
But the comforting words only made Georgiana sob harder. Suddenly she gripped Miss Elizabeth tightly and held on to the physically smaller woman as though she were the only thing stopping her from toppling into an abyss.
Miss Elizabeth whispered comforting sounds to her and squeezed her back.
After a little while Georgiana began to recall herself, but for some reason she did not feel as terribly embarrassed as she usually would following any display of emotion. Mrs. Gardiner joined Elizabeth, and she also put an arm around her, while Mr. Gardiner had an expression that managed to be understanding without being pitying.
"I don't understand. I don't usually cry. I almost never cry," Georgiana said. "Papa always told us not to cry, since—"
"Oh, those rich and noble fathers! I am happier than anything that I had an imprudent man who only wanted me to be happy for a father!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Every time I speak to someone from a grand family, it seems they are tortured by how their father raised them — and with no worthwhile, tangible benefits so near as I can tell. Cry when you are sad. That is how your soul cleans itself."
Georgiana wiped her eyes. "I was not worthy of my Papa. I never was. But I didn't like… that sense I must learn how to be. That was part of why… I made my mistake and married Wickham. I didn't any longer want to be… the family."
"Your Papa was not worthy of you," Elizabeth replied fiercely.
Georgiana could not look at them all. Then after a while she forced herself to look at Mr. Gardiner — it was easier to not be cripplingly shy than ordinary, and she said, "I truly do not know what to do." Georgiana wiped at her eyes. After crying the terror and badness of the fact no longer had the same terrible feeling.
It was as though the way that Elizabeth hugged and comforted had robbed her helplessness of its ability to torment her. She would somehow be cared for, and then she would someday find a way to be worthy of that care.
It was an odd moment of complete trust that she felt, complete trust in this family of tradesmen. An irrational feeling, but it was there, and it made her happy.
"I can see you do not." Mr. Gardiner smiled, then he leaned back into his chair and rubbed at his chin.
"Which returns us to the question: If you never ask your brother, nor anyone else, for help, how will you be maintained?"
"I might…" Georgiana's voice faded out. She had nothing to sell, nothing of her own.
"You see the essential problem. But what you said about how your income is only to be delivered into your hands gave me a notion. I suspect that—"
"Make her Beth's governess."
"What?" Both Georgiana and Mr. Gardiner said that with surprise at the same time.
Mrs. Gardiner smiled thoughtfully. "Yes, yes that ought to work."
"She is much too young—" Mr. Gardiner said. "Mrs. Georgiana, who has been married these six months, just what is your age? By the calendar, if you please."
"I am only sixteen. I couldn't teach anyone. I don't know how to teach anything. I don't really know…" Her father would stare at her with as much scorn as he did at the tradesmen who were helping her if she descended so far from her station as to take a dependent position, even if it was in the comparatively respectable occupation of being a governess.
"Nonsense," Elizabeth said. "You were educated exquisitely, were you not? What languages do you know?"
"French, German and Italian. I also learned some Spanish as my cousin served on the continent, and I wanted to know more about where he was fighting."
Mr. Gardiner immediately asked her several questions in French and Spanish, speaking easily and clearly, but with an accent that she'd learned to recognize from the masters who taught her as à la mode anglaise. He added a couple more questions in broken German, which she replied to in her own fluent, though rather stiff German.
"I can safely assume that your Italian extends far beyond my own," Mr. Gardiner said in French after satisfying himself in this way. He then switched to English. "And your other accomplishments will be equally well molded. Drawing, fine embroidery, music?"
"Particularly the piano."
Mrs. Gardiner said, "Beth likes her a great deal, and there is enough difference in ages for a tutoring relationship to work."
"But…" Georgiana flushed. She began to object that she couldn't become a governess.
"There is wide difference between knowing and teaching — an easily forgotten fact. Besides, would it not be beneath your dignity?" Mr. Gardiner said that without any tone of mockery, but she thought there was some judgement of her in the statement.
It was that implied challenge — and a sudden desire to spite Papa's glaring eye. She was tired of it. If she had proven herself unworthy of the Darcy family, she ought to cease to be guided by the requirements of station. "My dignity means nothing now. I abandoned any right to demand it be respected when I eloped. If you are willing to give me a trial of position, I will fill it to the best of my ability."
Mr. Gardiner's gaze sharpened, and he studied her, looking for something. Georgiana sat straighter, and she watched him back. He then nodded at last. "You'll do — though I fear it is near certain that we will lose you before you become full trained to the position — but you have that in your eyes which I like to see in a young man when I take him into the business. Determination and a willingness to learn are generally worth more than preexisting knowledge. If you accept this charge, I'll ask your word that you will stay as Beth's governess, no matter how your circumstances change, until we have found a suitable replacement."
"Of course! Of course!"
"I do not mean in a case where it is a matter of safety. If we must secret you in some hidden corner of the countryside with a distant acquaintance to protect you from your husband, we shall do so immediately. But if your situation resolves… in a different manner, I shall hold you to this promise."
Georgiana grinned, suddenly feeling light and free.
"In that case… Hmmmm, well the smaller guest room will work. You shall dine at the table with the family, and I will offer you a sum of fifteen pounds per annum as the salary, a value that we will negotiate to increase at the end of your first year of service if your employment has proven satisfactory."
End of the first year in service. That had such an odd sound to her. Another great change in her life.
"I will be," Georgiana said with a sudden burst of determination.
Papa's glaring eye was angry, and Georgiana did not mind this time.