By that time, Elizabeth was quite certain she knew who her companion was, but she obviously could not accost her while Mr Darcy was a mere six feet away, nor was she quite willing to give up the best show to hit Meryton in years just yet.
She was trying to decide what to do when she noticed another officer ride into the town at a fast trot and jump from the saddle to land right in front of Mr Darcy. It was either quite a daring display of skill and daring; an indication of extreme urgency; or more likely, just showing off.
The man looked around carefully to ensure nobody was in eavesdropping range, without bothering to check her window, and spoke quietly.
"Georgiana has absconded. She told a few clever lies to my mother and Mrs Annesley early this morning, confusing where she was going to be and with whom, then disappeared like a ghost. Do you think she might have gone to meet Wickham again?"
Elizabeth thought she would forgive his lack of common sense, since he was clearly agitated and had most likely ridden hard from London without stopping—especially since she was the unintended recipient of his words.
Mr Darcy growled. "I suspect, but cannot prove, that she did have a rendezvous with Wickham, but not in the way you might think."
Elizabeth looked to her companion, but she was studiously peeking out the window whilst making doubly certain she was not visible and had no attention to spare.
"What do you mean?"
Darcy pointed to the crowd on their way to the smithy.
"I suspect she somehow arranged this. That over there is Wickham, on his way to get tarred and feathered, and once he gets those off, I suspect his colonel is going to have him flogged, and if there's anything left of him, they will send him to a penal battalion or the navy."
Elizabeth wondered how he had learned about the latter two plans in the few minutes that has passed since he arrived, and if in fact those were already in the works, or they were what he was planning to ensure. She ruefully thought that Mr Wickham probably deserved all that and more, so she was not overly concerned for his comfort and safety.
The colonel let out a series of curses that put Elizabeth to the blush, but fortunately, he did so quietly enough that she and her companion were the only ones to witness it.
"I will kill her with my bare hands," the colonel grumbled. "She has no idea how dangerous that is and leaving her companion like that… absolutely unacceptable. Mrs Annesley is beside herself, and mother vacillates between being panicked and livid—though predominantly the latter."
"Agreed… planning to elope with that scoundrel was bad enough, and now this!"
Elizabeth gasped quietly at having her supposition so easily confirmed, and looked at her companion, who she now understood was obviously a direct victim of Mr Wickham and was enacting personal retribution.
She was alarmed to see the poor girl at the end of her rope, nearly ready to collapse. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, she was a hero—someone to be feted, not punished.
She quickly reached across, took the obviously Miss Darcy's hand, and pulled her around to stand behind her. Then, she quietly turned around, kissed her on the cheek, put her mouth right up to her ear and whispered, "I do not know about you, but I have had just about enough insolence from these lunkheads."
She whispered back, "They are my guardians."
"Not much of ones, if you ask me. They allowed you into the clutches of that brute and chastise you for doing what they would not."
The young lady looked like that was the first time that idea had ever occurred to her.
Elizabeth suspected she was feeling all the guilt of whatever her actions had been and had probably taken all the blame on her own shoulders just for doing something so abominably stupid. If the child had agreed to elope, she deserved her fair share of censure, but no more. If she was a typical girl of her age, she would either take all the blame as Jane would, or none of it like Lydia. It was her guardian's job to teach her the right lessons, and hers seemed singularly incapable—although she had to keep in mind that her own father would have been unlikely to do any better.
She said, "Step back a bit…" then leaned down to the window and saw the two gentlemen still present.
She had missed nothing but several reiterations of their same ridiculousness, so she spoke quietly.
"You two sound very much like men. You leave the woman to do your dirty work, and then complain because they did not do it the way you imagined it in your minds."
They both whirled around in something like panic, which Elizabeth quite enjoyed. She liked it even more when the colonel's sword got caught between their legs, and they both tripped and fell to their knees. She was not entirely certain about how she felt about Mr Darcy bashing his head into the window frame, but provisionally approved.
"That was a private conversation," the colonel growled once they both sprang to their feet looking both angry and sheepish, with Mr Darcy rubbing the newly formed knot in his head.
"Big man," she sneered, then she turned to Mr Darcy.
"How long have you known the man is a scoundrel? How many times have you cleaned up the mess your father apparently made? How did you allow your young and probably well-dowered sister into his clutches, and most importantly …"
She lifted the window up the rest of the way, and leaned out until her face was a foot from his before hissing menacingly, "… What was your plan for protecting the good people of Meryton? You told me he makes friends but does not keep them—not much of a warning!"
"I was—and still am—trying to protect my sister," he snapped.
"At the expense of mine?" she growled.
He stopped whatever he was going to say abruptly, although whether he had suddenly come to his senses, or he was reacting to his cousin kicking him in the shin was anybody's guess.
The colonel held his shoulder in a death grip. "Darcy, will you do me the honour of introducing me to this lady?"
Mr Darcy was still obviously not in much of a mood for politeness, but he managed to make the introductions with only a little grumbling.
The colonel said, "Miss Bennet—you are exactly as I expected."
Taken aback, Elizabeth startled hard enough to bang the back of her own head on the window frame, and in the case of it being her head instead of Mr Darcy's, she was most decidedly opposed. She saw the colonel repressing laughter and had to admit she probably deserved it.
"How exactly do you have some expectation of me, colonel? How have you ever even heard of me?"
"He wrote about you."
"I see… so my terrible reputation precedes me," she said in real agitation.
She stared at the colonel for a minute, then at Darcy, and finally said, "Well gentlemen, enjoy the rest of your day," then slammed the window and closed the curtains abruptly.
She turned to her companion, and snapped, "You have some explaining to do if you expect me to shelter you from those brutes."
"They just talk tough," she said. "As you no doubt surmised, I am Miss Georgiana Darcy. I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet."
"Miss Elizabeth," she replied offhand, thinking of other things entirely. "Miss Bennet is my elder sister."
"The one you walked three miles to tend?"
"Good lord, you sound like Miss Bingley! Three miles is nothing!"
Much to her surprise, Miss Darcy laughed. "That is almost verbatim what Fitzwilliam wrote."
"The colonel wrote about me?" she asked in complete confusion.
"No, Fitzwilliam Darcy—my brother. He wrote me from Netherfield about you… three or four times."
"Hardly surprising," Elizabeth grumbled. "We have never liked each other, so I suppose he needed a good example of the savagery of the neighbourhood."
"To the contrary, I suspect he is half in love with you. He has never, in the entire course of my life, written of another unmarried woman with approbation."
Elizabeth stared at her and wondered if she had gone mad, but finally said, "I can assure you that you are incorrect."
"What if I am not?" Georgiana asked quietly.
"I suppose it depends. If he leaves town expeditiously, as I expect—it will make little difference, as he will forget me five minutes of his departure. If he proposes… well… I suppose I will endure the disagreeable task of declining my second eligible proposal in as many weeks, and my mother will lock me away forever."
"You would DECLINE?" she asked in a squeak.
"I would! He has never done a single thing to gain my esteem. He has never even apologized for some of the nasty things he has said about me, and I can assure you that first slight was not the last. Servants talk, you know!"
"We are a family of idiots—absolute, complete, and utter fools," Georgiana sighed dejectedly.
"You are young, my dear. You have time to overcome it," she said gently. Elizabeth really was not in the mood for a crying young lady at that point.
"My brother has not, and when I think about Mr Wickham, I begin to doubt my father."
Before Elizabeth could react to the extraordinary assertion, the door opened, and a Mrs Philips' housekeeper peeked her head in.
"Ah, Miss Lizzy—there you are—enjoying the spectacle, I see. There are a couple of gentlemen at the door asking to speak with you. I told them it would not be proper with the master not at home, but they are —"
Elizabeth could see the poor woman struggling with what to say without giving offence and racked up one more complaint against Mr Darcy.
"It is all right, Mrs Watson. Can you put them in the parlour and tell them I will be with them directly."
Mrs Watson looked sceptical, and Elizabeth said, "Tell them it may be a while, and if they prefer not to wait, they can return to Netherfield …" Elizabeth said, and quietly muttered under her breath, "… or Derbyshire or Timbuktu for all I care."
With a shrug, she left, and Elizabeth asked, "Do you want me to hide you? It seems a bit pointless, but I will do it if you ask it of me."
"I have a better idea," Georgiana said, and marched resolutely toward the door.
She walked out briskly, then turned around and said sheepishly, "I have no idea where the parlour is."
"What do you intend?" Elizabeth asked curiously. She was mostly convinced it would not end well, but as far as she was concerned, it would at least end, and she would be content.
"Is it unpatriotic to quote George Washington?"
"Probably best to keep it amongst the ladies. Men are such touchy creatures, especially since our fine English army lost!"
Georgiana laughed. "He asserts that the best defence is a good offense."
"If you say so," Elizabeth said, and led her new friend up the stairs to the parlour.