Trouble With Wickham (9 page)

Fitzwilliam chuckled at such foolishness. He had heard that the Radcliffe family was slavish in their devotion to their home county. He was happy to see his sister acting good naturedly with her hosts, for he had feared her reluctance to accompany him had put her in a foul mood that would reflect badly on both of them. He gave her credit for rallying.

“How wonderful! Then I will ride with you as well,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Charlotte will you come too?”

“If Mamma can spare me,” she said.

Georgiana, who hadn’t been planning to ride along the hunt, suddenly vowed to do so.

“I simply adore hunts! I am quite enthralled by the scarlet!” she lied.

“You don’t say!” This news cheered Hugh greatly.

“I have been in London for too long and yearn for the glory of the open fields and the bray of the hounds,” she exaggerated.

“Well you have come to the right place. How wonderful to hear that the commotion of the hunt does not annoy you. Charlotte complains constantly about the barking dogs.”

Georgiana shook her head, feigning a complete adoration of the sport.

“Noise does not bother me. Neither does the kill.”

Hugh’s eyes widened. It was the rare woman who dared to address the fatal demise of the fox.

“Is that so?” he laughed. Georgiana was proving to be a creature of lively emotions, leading him to wonder what he had ever found desirable about the placid Miss Jane Bennet.

“Indeed it is,” she said saucily.

“Well then, here’s to the hunt,” he said, lifting his glass to hers. She clinked his and said, “To the poor fox, wherever he is tonight.”

Georgiana glanced over to see Darcy’s eyes fixated on her with a curious look she had never seen on him before and a sense of dread stopped her still. He would not approve of her flirting with the young Mr. Radcliffe, she was sure of that.

Was there no end to his disapproval, she grumbled to herself?

On instinct, she turned her attention to the window treatments, pretending to be fascinated by the swooping yards of French silk and the shiny tassels that pulled them back. When she returned her attention to the group her countenance was much changed; all her lively emotion replaced by a stiff and studied politeness.

“I must mingle. Thank you for the invitation to ride along tomorrow.”

Hugh barely had time to mutter a response before he was staring at Georgiana’s retreating back. He wondered bitterly what he had done to give offence. He rifled through his memory of their conversation; no internal warning bells had gone off. What could he have done? Self-doubt filled his heart.

Was there a single, beautiful girl in the world whose attention he could hold?

With Georgiana gone he tried to become interested in small talk with the Darcy couple, but his spirit deflated like a punctured bellow. He excused himself from the group to get his glass refilled.

Lady Radcliffe noticed Georgiana Darcy move through the crowd to stand alone at the curtains, staring out onto the grounds, seemingly lost in thought. From the moment she entered the drawing room that evening Lady Radcliffe had been dazzled by Georgiana’s utter existence. She had a darling figure, unafraid to accentuate her height by piling a great nest of golden hair atop her head.

Her fashions were finer than anything she’d recently seen available through the Meryton Millinery Shop. Oh, how Lady Radcliffe despised that shop now, preferring instead to travel to London or Bath, rather than patronize the establishment where she and Charlotte had been cut in the days immediately following the last Meryton Assembly.

She had kept her gaze fixed on Miss Darcy and could not help but notice Georgiana and Hugh speaking animatedly together, nor could she help where her mind went next—that Georgiana Darcy should be the next mistress of Bennington Park. She had not anticipated the arrival in her home of someone as naturally glamorous trailing with her such an impeccable pedigree.

And the bloodlines! She must consider the bloodlines!

Lady Radcliffe pondered the physical qualities of Miss Anne de Bourgh, with her looks as plain as a digestive biscuit and her weak constitution, and compared her to the hearty Georgiana Darcy, with her rosy coloring and confident posture, and tried to imagine her future grandchildren. Honestly, did she want little Anne de Bourghs limping along the gallery or little Georgiana Darcys dancing down the halls of Bennington Park? With horror she thought of the ordeal of childbirth. Surely it would do Anne de Bourgh in, sooner or later. In that moment her mind was decided.

She left the drawing room and moved quietly to the dining room, where she deftly switched the place cards, moving Miss Georgiana Darcy from her place at the end of the table to a prime location directly across the table from her son, where he could not help but see her lovely face every time he looked up from his plate.

Sadly, she had already promised Lady Catherine that her daughter Anne would be the only young woman seated next to Hugh. Too late to do anything about that, but oh, how she wished she could take back that promise! Still, she considered, a view across a candle-lit table was highly conducive to falling in love.

As the invited guests continued to arrive, the noise in the drawing room rose considerably. Anxious to exchange confidences after their long separation, Charlotte convinced Elizabeth to move to the empty library. The room was dimly lit, and she drew Elizabeth to the only warm spot in front of the hearth, where a small fire illuminated her inquisitive face.

“My brother seems enchanted with Georgiana. Pray, is she much like her brother?”

“In some ways yes,” Elizabeth said. “And in some ways no.”

“What is the difference?” Charlotte did not want to automatically assume Georgiana was as prideful as her brother.

“She has grown up since our wedding. A year ago she was slightly withdrawn yet very compliant but since then it seems her nature has swung in the opposite direction. Mr. Darcy will not leave her at home unattended and ever since our marriage she seems to chafe at his oversight. That is why we begged your indulgence in bringing her with us to the hunt.”

“Oh, it is no trouble at all. Pappa says our bedrooms are here to be filled up.”

For a brief moment, Elizabeth let down her guard and spoke frankly about her sister-in-law. “She needs to settle down with a sensible man. Fitzwilliam worries so about her, as her fortune is well known. Although she does confide to me that the business with Wickham was so long ago she is not the same girl anymore.”

“With Wickham? You mean Lydia’s Wickham?”

Elizabeth blushed and covered her mouth in alarm.

“My apologies. I spoke rashly. Pray, I should not say.”

“Lizzie! You can’t stop now. What business with Wickham?” Charlotte was unable to withstand the tease. “Tell me!”

Elizabeth glanced at the doorway. It was empty.

Charlotte pulled at Elizabeth’s sleeve excitedly. “No one can hear us.”

Unable to resist the lure of spilling secrets to her trusted friend, Elizabeth whispered, “If I take a chance and tell you do you promise that I will have your confidence?”

“You are guaranteed my confidence as your friend and as your hostess,” Charlotte assured her.

“I am sworn to secrecy, however, it has struck me that I am not the only owner of this news and as it is in the past...” She let her words trail off for a moment, then added, “My it is hot in here, isn’t it Charlotte?”

Charlotte felt the opposite. “It is but a small fire, Lizzie. To me the room lacks warmth.”

“Never mind. I feel flushed but I am sure it is but a passing thing. Now, promise that you will say nothing, and I will tell you everything, for I can have no reserves from you my dear friend!”

Charlotte promised. She listened carefully as Elizabeth described the goings on of years past; how Wickham had convinced Georgiana to elope and how the plan might have gone off without a hitch if Georgiana had not been overcome by her conscience and confessed everything to her brother, who was able to stop the scheme.

“Was she very much in love?” Charlotte asked, intrigued by the idea of a secret elopement.

“Who?”

“Georgiana?”

Elizabeth’s face was expressionless.

“I have never wondered whether her heart was wounded or not. It was the duplicity of Wickham that astonished us and which necessitated quick action. Her thoughts and feelings I have not been privy to.”

“Surely she must have felt tenderly toward him to have entertained the idea?”

Elizabeth stared blankly back at Charlotte. “I simply cannot attest for her sentiments. As for her behavior, which could be observed, she acted very foolishly and her imprudence showed herself to be a poor judge of character.”

“But Elizabeth that is a sin that you and I are both guilty of as well. I erred with the Earl and you had your own misjudgment of Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth considered Charlotte’s argument and then dismissed it as irrelevant. “It was the subterfuge of the elopement that has shaken Fitzwilliam’s trust in her. She came clean to him before any harm was done to her reputation. Restoring his confidence in her judgment, however, may take some time.

“Wickham and Lydia’s marriage has further complicated our family relations. Fitzwilliam will not receive either of them at Pemberley. It is a cause of disagreement between Lydia and me but I cannot make her understand. Fitzwilliam has always acted impeccably where Georgiana is concerned and he will not have her upset by him. Georgiana is Fitzwilliam’s constant concern. Both of us pray that the influence of a good man will settle her.”

“Could my brother be that good man?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

“What an interesting idea!”

“Her fortune would not make a difference to Hugh,” Charlotte plotted. “Mr. Darcy could be assured that any affection that would bloom on my brother’s part would be without ulterior motive.”

“Likewise on her part as she has no requirement to marry if she does not desire it. She is welcome to live at Pemberley always.”

Charlotte was watching Elizabeth intermittently lick her lips and raise her hand to her brow as she spoke. “Elizabeth, are you quite alright?”

“I am feeling a little parched but do not be concerned. As soon as we finish talking I will get some refreshment.” Elizabeth then turned away and sneezed.

“My apologies.”

“We can be finished talking currently, for you do not look as well as I am used to seeing you. My only caution is to not let on to Hugh that we have hopes for him and Miss Darcy. He can be prickly and very private where matters of the heart are concerned. It’s my belief that he fears the influence of our mother’s preferences and as a result any pursuit on his part is chilled. So let him believe that any bond between them is his own idea. That, I believe, is the surest way for such a union to come to fruition. Now, I feel I need to get you some punch to drink.”

Charlotte, who felt the tips of her own toes and fingers growing numb from the chill, gently led Elizabeth back to the party in the drawing room, sitting her gently down on the silk settee where Mr. Darcy already sat comfortably, then hurrying away to procure her a cool cup of refreshment.

Upon handing Elizabeth the cup their hands brushed and with concern Charlotte noticed the unnatural warmth of Elizabeth’s skin. She considered the very real possibility that Elizabeth could be ill. As her hostess, Charlotte realized that she must tend to and anticipate her guest’s needs, without being overbearing or violating their privacy. She would keep an eye on her good friend, but refrain from questioning her about her health again.

Guy approached his wife with a crooked smile on his face. It was obvious to Charlotte that he was enjoying the party.

“Are you making friends my dear?” she asked, linking her arm into the crook of his.

“The Mooreton brothers are my new best friends! They have told me the most scandalous story about an overturned donkey cart, a tavern maid and a stolen case of ale. I am glad you did not overhear!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes, glad that Ludlow Lodge was miles away and that having to shut down a growing connection between her husband and the Mooreton boys would be unlikely.

Guy bent down and whispered in his wife’s ear: “My goodness, will dinner be called soon? I am famished!” Charlotte laughed at her husband, whose empty stomach had somehow become her responsibility. During the course of their stay at Bennington Park she had unsuccessfully tried to convince him to take the liberty of ringing for Hastings or Mrs. Holmes and ordering his own food when and if he felt peckish.

“You are no longer an employee here,” she encouraged him. “You must take the initiative.” Still, he would not act on his own behalf, and relied on her to procure for him his biscuits and cheese and hot milk at odd hours.

“Wait for my father to call dinner,” she whispered. “And sit down if you are feeling faint.” She then quickly added, “But do not sit near Elizabeth, as I fear she may be unwell.”

Suddenly a deep booming sound filled the air. Charlotte wondered about its origins for a split second before correctly assuming that the vocals belonged to none other than their honored guest, the esteemed—if only in her own mind—Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who was advancing quickly towards the drawing room.

Upon entering the room she looked imperiously over the gathered company, her eyes rapidly devouring each face until they feasted on her intended target, her wayward nephew Fitzwilliam and his troublesome wife. Immediately upon locating the couple she strode like a general swiftly toward them. Her daughter Anne followed absentmindedly in her wake.

“Pemberley does not agree with you!” Lady Catherine shouted at Elizabeth, despite stopping less than six inches from the girl. Charlotte thought that a lady with a reputation as grand as hers would certainly seek to modulate her voice in a social setting, but this was a nicety beyond Lady Catherine’s concern. Hence all in the room were privy to the gush of her opinions.

Fitzwilliam stood up and kissed his aunt gently on each cheek, then placed his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I do not understand why you should say so, my dear aunt. Elizabeth is thriving, in my opinion.”