One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (52 page)

“These are heavy burdens indeed, Aunt.” Richard soothed her. “How may I be of assistance?”

“You must convince Fitzwilliam to marry Anne.” Lady Catherine declared. “And it must be done immediately.”

“I cannot.” Richard shook his head.

“Why ever not?” Lady Catherine sat up in an even more stiff posture than she had been and glared at him. “He may listen to you, although he does not listen to me.”

“Did you not know? Darcy has gone to London.” The colonel patted his aunt's hand. “I do not know when he is to return.”

“London?” Lady Catherine gritted her teeth as she spoke. “He leaves Anne and me here in this house of disease while he goes to London? This is not to be borne! He said nothing of London this morning. Order my carriage, nephew, and call for the servants to come pack our things. Anne and I will return to London as soon as all is ready.”

“As you wish, Aunt Catherine. I am happy to assist in any way that I can.” Richard stood. “I will send Anne to speak with you. I am certain you wish to advise her of the change in plans.”

“Yes.” Lady Catherine sniffed. “And I shall make her drink some hyssop tea as well. The lemon balm will do nothing!”

Richard smiled indulgently at his Aunt and quit the room. “Too easy.” He muttered under his breath as he walked away.

He had not taken three steps before Sarah, the maid who had been helping with Elizabeth, breathlessly stopped him in the hallway. She made a hurried curtsey and delivered her message. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, begging your pardon, sir, but Miss Bennet asks that you come to Miss Elizabeth's room—as a matter of urgency.”

“What is it? Has she taken another turn?” He asked, alarmed.

“No sir. Miss Bennet said to tell you that her cousin, Mr. Collins, is in Miss Elizabeth's room at this very moment. Mrs. Bennet brought him to see her, and it could not be helped.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned and ran toward Elizabeth's room without another word, the young maid but a few steps behind him.

~*~

Darcy awoke as his carriage reached the outskirts of London, when the familiar sounds and smells of the city stirred him. It was already dark, a light drizzle of rain was turning to mist in the streets, and the first traces of fog hung in wispy trails along the walkways. He was filled with foreboding as he looked to the dark alleyways leading to the labyrinth that was the underbelly of London. Wickham, he assumed, was hidden somewhere in the seamy parts of the city, and a bitter tang entered Darcy's throat as he thought about the man who had once been his friend.

By the time the carriage swept down the crescent row where Darcy House dominated the terraces, his anticipation of seeing Georgiana had overcome any trepidation he felt regarding the conversation they must have. He eagerly descended from the carriage and entered his house straightway.

The dining room immediately off the entryway was lit, and inquiring after his sister as he shed his coat and hat, he learned that Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley had only just begun their supper. He instructed his housekeeper that he would join them, which sent the servants scurrying to accommodate the directive immediately.

Georgiana had stopped eating to listen when the front door had been opened. When Darcy entered the dining room, she leapt from her seat at the table with a soft squeal and welcomed her brother with an enthusiastic hug. Although she was a young woman now, the mode of their greeting had changed little in the past decade. He fondly wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, after which he gripped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes with all of his brotherly affection. “Are you well?” he asked gently.

“Oh yes, I am better every day.” Georgiana replied with a shy smile. “Mrs. Annesley is very kind, and I am learning a splendid new concerto on the pianoforte. We did not know you were coming—this is a great surprise, dearest brother, to find you here with us in London.” She hugged him again.

“I did not know I was to come either, until this morning.” Darcy replied. “There is much we need to speak of. Let us eat, and afterward, I would speak with you privately.”

Georgiana looked at him curiously and nodded. “But, of course.”

The meal passed pleasantly, with Georgiana quietly answering her brother's questions about how she passed her days, how she was doing in her studies, and who had come to call. After the meal, rather than separate for any length of time, he invited her directly to join him in the library, which also served as his study when he was in town.

She followed him meekly, with the demeanor of a child who knew she was in trouble, but uncertain as to why. By the time he closed the door behind her, she was trembling. Darcy wrapped his arms around her again and comforted her. “Do not fear, little one.” He soothed. “You must know that I love you.” She nodded, and they sat next to each other on a settee.

Darcy extracted a handkerchief from his inside pocket; he held it out for his sister to see.

She took it, curiously, spreading it open in her palm to study the whitework embroidery. “Oh brother, this is so beautiful! Have you brought me another gift from Hertfordshire?”

“No, sister, I am not giving this to you, but I wish to tell you something about it. It belongs to a lady in Hertfordshire named Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Darcy explained.

“You have written of her! She is the one with four sisters, is she not?”

“The very one.” Darcy nodded indulgently. “And she embroidered this handkerchief these past weeks. She finished it but a few days ago.”

“Why do you have it? A lady would not give up a treasure such as this ... oh! Did she give it to you as a token? Do you carry it for love?” Georgiana smiled up at her brother with a knowing smile.

“Do not let your imagination run away with you, Georgiana. She dropped it, and I retrieved it. I will be returning it soon.”

“Oh.” She looked back and studied the handkerchief. “Did you not say that her name was Bennet? Why is there not a “B” in the pattern here? What does the “D” represent?”

“I do not know.” Darcy admitted. “Miss Bennet is somewhat mysterious at times. This is one of those mysteries.” He smiled indulgently at his sister. “I was wondering if you would like to help me return it.”

“How could I do that? Is she now in London?”

“No, dearest. I thought that perhaps you would like to visit Hertfordshire and stay for a few weeks at Netherfield Park. My friend, Mr. Bingley, was most pleased at the idea of your visit, and I think you would enjoy it there.”

“And I shall meet the mysterious Miss Elizabeth, shall I not?” Georgiana smiled happily at her brother.

“She would very much like to make your acquaintance.” Darcy nodded. “I think you shall like her.”

“When do we leave? I must begin to plan!” She cried happily.

“In a few days, I hope.” Darcy replied with a soft smile. “But first, we must speak of something less pleasant, which is of a serious and urgent nature.”

“What is it? I see this distresses you! What do you speak of?” Georgiana's countenance shifted to concern.

“I wish I did not have to ask this question of you, but I must.” Darcy shook his head. “Please know that I am not angry with you, but I must insist that you speak truthfully. I did not press you on these things those months ago, but I must do so now.”

Georgiana nodded silently, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

“Last summer—when you were at Ramsgate with Mr. Wickham—did you ... that is ... what did you ... I mean to say ... did he commit anything improper on your person?”

“Oh.” Georgiana blushed. “Not terribly so, dear brother. He did kiss me once—when I agreed to marry him, but it was very fast. I told him that I wished to wait until after our vows for anything more, and he went no further. Is that what you needed to know?”

“You are a good girl, my dear.” Darcy smiled at her. “Did you, during this time, write any notes or letters to Mr. Wickham?”

“Not exactly.” Georgiana replied. “But I did once write a letter
 
for
 
him.”

“What does that mean?” Darcy asked abruptly. “There is a letter?”

“Well, yes.” Georgiana nodded with some fear. “George—I mean Mr. Wickham, told me it was necessary for us to travel to Scotland—in case someone stopped and questioned us. He told me everything that I was to write, and then he was to carry it with him in case it was needed.”

“What did it say?”

“I hardly remember.” Georgiana frowned. “I suppose it said that I loved him and wanted to marry him. There was something about our elopement being of my own free will. He had me write that my parents were dead and that my governess and companion, Mrs. Younge, was aware of all the particulars.”

“Was there anything more?” Darcy pressed her. “Think carefully.”

“I do not believe so.” Georgiana shook her head. “He did ask me to put in a part about being compromised, to prove that the elopement was necessary, but I told him that was silly. One did not have to be compromised to go to Gretna Greene, and since I was of the minimum age, I felt that adding a lie to an otherwise truthful document would be a mistake.”

“What happened to the letter?”

“Mr. Wickham took it. I imagine it is gone now. We did not marry, after all.” Georgiana shrugged her shoulders. “There is nothing to be done with such a letter now.”

“Have you seen or heard from Mr. Wickham since Ramsgate?”

“Well, yes. It was only today, but earlier, of course. Mrs. Annesley and I saw him in the park. He was wearing a red coat and looking very fine. He came to speak with us and said he was on leave from the militia. He asked me many questions about you and was ever so friendly. I do not believe he is angry that we did not marry at all, which was a great relief for me.”

“That will be all for now, Georgiana. You may plan to leave for Netherfield in a few days. I will let you know when I have concluded my business.” He turned to the pile of correspondence that sat on the desk.

“Fitzwilliam?” Her soft voice interrupted.

Darcy looked up. “Yes?”

“Thank you for the blue shawl you sent me.” She said with a shy smile. “I love it and think of you whenever I wear it.”

Darcy came around the desk and hugged his sister once again. “That shawl is very special to me as well. I believe we will both be happy when you are using it. Very happy indeed.”

Chapter Forty-Two

The Proposal of Mr. Collins

M
y mother has lost her mind.
Elizabeth sat, propped up in the bed, her mouth agape as Mrs. Bennet fluffed the pillows behind her, raising her daughter to a near sitting position. Mrs. Bennet then smoothed out Elizabeth's hair with a quick finger-comb and tied the top of her dressing gown closed.

“Mama, stop this.” Elizabeth protested. “I am very tired.”

“No,” Mrs. Bennet muttered under her breath, and then tugged on the end of the ribbon. “We had best leave him with a little view. Nothing shocking.” She spread the top of the dressing gown wider, exposing Elizabeth's neck. “Oh, that's better.”

“Mama, what are you doing? Elizabeth re-tied the ribbon as best she could with fumbling fingers. “I do not want to see
 
anyone
 
right now.”

“Miss Lizzy, you must listen to your mother, and do as I say.” Mrs. Bennet puckered her lips and nodded firmly at her daughter. “I know what I am doing, and you must trust me. For once in your life, set aside your foolish notions and do the right thing for your family.” Her face softened and she sat down next to Elizabeth on the bed. “You would not want your poor mother to starve in the hedgerows now, would you? I realize it is not the best time for it, but Mr. Collins will be returning to Kent soon, and we must make the best of things while he is here.”

“Mama, let Jane come to me. I need Jane.” Elizabeth pleaded, closing her eyes. “Send Mr. Collins away. I will not see him.”

“I will do no such thing, Miss Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed in a whisper. “You will see him! He has come all this way, eager to speak with you! Deny him an audience, indeed. Are you determined to put me into an early grave? My nerves cannot take much more of your obstinate ways. You are too willful—too headstrong! The world does not change for one such as you; you must change for it, and you will start today.”