Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of December 3, 1998
Miss Darcy's Dilemma 14
Lady Catherine sailed into the breakfast parlour like the Spanish Armada in full sail. Indeed, her quantities of lace suggested a Spanish connection, that of keeping the whole area of Valenciennes in employment all year round.
"Darcy, I am here for two reasons and as you know I do not leave Rosings easily!" She sat down with great ceremony while Lady Emma and Mrs. Annesley hovered nervously behind her.
"Now, nephew, I demand you tell me the whole story behind the scandalous rumour of your attachment to Miss Bennet!"
Miss Bennet? Oh, Lord, Honora has done it, she has actually repeated my nonsensical remark at Lady Phoebe's ball to Aunt Catherine!
Mr. Darcy looked rather angry and assured his aunt in the fewest words possible that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, between himself and Miss Bennet. She was not convinced and spoke at length about the Bennet sisters being perfectly blasé and notorious in their determination to snare rich husbands. Darcy ignored her and she was forced to resort to her second complaint which was that Lady Emma was not fit to have charge of Georgiana having permitted her to dance and ride with Henry Crawford.
Mr. Darcy sighed heavily, "Lady Emma could not possibly have known Crawford would run off with Rushworth's wife. In my opinion, Crawford himself did not know until the last moment."
"I am not interested in what Henry Crawford knew or did not know," continued Lady Catherine, "I am interested in my niece and her well being and in less than two months that woman has allowed her name to become linked to both Henry Crawford and Frederick Tilney. She is not fit to escort her kitchen maid to the end of the lane let alone a Miss Darcy into society!"
"I beg to differ, Lady Catherine," replied Mr. Darcy, "Henry Crawford's action is reprehensible but he will never be admitted to really good company again...."
Lady Catherine snorted, "I see you do not observe what goes on around you, Darcy. His uncle is living with his mistress in full sight of Bath and is regularly admitted to the so-called best society. As for General Tilney..."
"I do not wish to hear of General Tilney," said Mr. Darcy, "and I assure you Captain Tilney is not paying court to my sister nor will he ever."
Georgiana slipped out and ran upstairs. She found Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson in the yellow parlour and after staring quite hard in the Darcy way at Mrs. Jenkinson managed to drive her out of the room.
"I wish I could do that," said Anne regretfully.
"No, you do not," said Georgiana firmly, "it isn't a very nice thing to do but she can't be got rid of any other way."
"How are you, cousin? Mamma says you are in all the society columns."
"Am I?" Georgiana was surprised. She had not thought to sneak a look at the papers since coming to London. "Why?"
Anne shrugged, "Because you are rich and beautiful, people find that interesting. Did you like Mr. Crawford very much?"
Georgiana stoked the fire a little, she did not want Lady Catherine's anger at Anne getting cold.
"I liked him quite well, I think I could have got to like him a lot better but it seems he prefers Mrs. Rushworth. Oh, Anne, men always prefer other women to me!"
"Such men cannot be worth having," replied Anne, "would you like a marzipan?"
Georgiana took two, "When did Aunt Catherine allow you to eat marzipans?"
"She does not. Colonel Fitzwilliam gave them to me and I hide them from Jenkinson."
"Mr. Crawford preferred Mrs. Rushworth and Mr. Wickham prefers Miss Bennet. I wonder who Captain Tilney will prefer?"
"Miss Bennet!" shrieked Anne, "Did you say Mr. Wickham and Miss Bennet?"
"Yes," replied Georgiana coolly, "my friend, Miss Lambe, says in her letters that they are quite close."
Anne paled, "Whatever you do, do not tell my Mamma."
"Do you seriously think I mention Mr. Wickham to any member of the family apart from you?"
Georgiana took another marzipan. "Why, what is your mother's interest in Miss Bennet?"
Anne shook her head, "Oh, George, I never imagined that I would be able to give you news! Do you not know that Mr. Darcy.... well, it is rumoured that Mr. Darcy is in love with Miss Bennet?"
Georgiana's eyes widened, "My brother and Mr. Wickham in love with the same woman? It cannot be!"
"It seems that Mrs. Collins told Mr. Collins and Mr. Collins told Mamma," explained Anne, "and then we packed up and came here directly."
"Mrs. Collins? Yes, I remember, your parson got married. What is wrong with the woman, has she two heads that she was prevailed upon to marry such an loathsome man?"
"No, she is rather nice but very poor, and a great friend of Miss Bennet's."
"I wish with all my heart that Fitzwilliam would marry Miss Bennet," sighed Georgiana, "it is inconceivable that any woman should prefer Wickham to my brother but I know your Mamma is wrong - my brother is going to marry Caroline Bingley."
Anne grimaced, "I have always longed for a sister - but such a sister! I do not envy you one jot, George."
"Why do you think I am looking for a husband? I had not thought to do it in earnest for another two or three years but anywhere be it Everingham or Northanger will be preferable to Pemberley with Caroline installed as mistress."
Anne nodded in mute agreement and offered her only comfort - another marzipan.
"We are neither of us fated to be happy in love, Georgiana, men always prefer someone else to me, too. Your brother prefers either Miss Bennet or Miss Bingley but that does not signify much as I am not in love with him but I loved Captain Benwick so much and then he married that Louisa Musgrove..." she stopped and snuffled a little into her hanky.
"What became of the parson you liked so much, the unfortunate brother of the odious Mrs. Dashwood?"
"Edward Ferrars. Did you not hear? He was engaged to a Miss Steele the whole time, and when she threw him over and married his brother, he married his sister-in-law."
"How complicated," murmured Georgiana, "I am afraid we will be old maids at last, Anne."
Part 15
"Anne, Anne... where are you?" Lady Catherine's imperious tones sounded in the corridor outside. Anne sighed heavily.
The door opened and Lady Catherine appeared looking remarkably angry. It seemed to Georgiana that although her Aunt always looked angry that today she was excessively so.
"Your brother is a fool," she announced, "an unmitigated fool. I am done with him. I am utterly through with him. The day may come, Anne, when we must find you another husband."
Anne looked thoroughly downcast. She did not want to marry her cousin, the woman who had been so very in love with Captain James Benwick was not likely to lose her heart over Fitzwilliam Darcy but she dreaded her mother's idea of a second choice.
"Why are you displeased with my brother, ma'am?" enquired Georgiana tentatively; it took all her energy to complete the question with a little bob and she feared that if her Aunt did not answer straightaway she would never have the nerve to repeat herself.
Lady Catherine glared at her but remembering whose daughter she was softened slightly. "Your brother is, I believe, considering a very foolish match and I am attempting to steer him away from it, as I know your dear mother would have wanted."
Mother would have wanted Fitzwilliam to be happy.
"In what way foolish, Aunt?"
"The lady in question is utterly without breeding or taste, my dear, she will pollute the shades of Pemberley and reduce you to nothing in your own home. The middle-classes are invariably grasping, they are all out for what they can get."
Caroline Bingley. She must mean Caroline Bingley. Good God, it is true - Fitzwilliam is about to make an offer to Caroline!
"I hope my brother takes your advice, Aunt," she replied with more than accustomed sincerity. Please God, let Fitzwilliam listen to Aunt Catherine, just this once!
"It is time for Anne to leave," continued Lady Catherine authoritatively, "she needs her rest."
"Will I see my cousin at Mrs Heriot's ball tonight?" asked Georgiana anxiously as Mrs Jenkins arrived and began to bundle up Anne for the return journey to Richmond Square.
Lady Catherine frowned thoughtfully, "Anne is almost certainly not well enough to attend such a function," she replied, "but Mrs Heriot is such an elegant woman with such remarkably good taste for someone not born into the aristocracy that it may be possible for me to attend. Yes, I think I shall. It is decided."
"But Mamma," protested Anne, "I do so want to go too!"
"You cannot dance," replied her unfeeling mother.
"Indeed, ma'am, my cousin dances very well!" cried Georgiana. Goodness, I have more balls in a week than she does in a twelvemonth!
Lady Catherine fixed Georgiana with an unpleasant stare. "What did you say, child?"
"Anne can dance," faltered Georgiana.
"She has never learned," said Lady Catherine angrily, "I hope you are not still imagining things, Georgiana, you are far too old for silly games."
"Miss Pope taught me," murmured Anne.
"Miss Pope!" Lady Catherine's voice raised a jot above ladylike, "Miss Pope gave you dancing lessons? The nerve of the creature! Oh, I should not have spoken so highly of her to Lady Metcalfe had I known that."
"Nevertheless it is done," continued Georgiana, "and so Anne can attend the ball."
"I should be afraid in Richmond Square without you, Mamma," said Anne rightly guessing her mother had a pressing reason to attend Mrs Heriot's ball herself.
Lady Catherine sighed heavily, "Very well, then, I agree. However, you will not dance."
Toosh! said Georgiana to herself, Not dance? I shall see about that.
"You, young lady, are growing up too much like your brother," said Lady Catherine as she left, "headstrong and obstinate. I hope you do not disgrace the family with your choice of spouse as he quite obviously intends to."
Georgiana promised faithfully to do nothing to disgrace the Fitzwillliams or the Darcys and wondered greatly at her Aunt's hatred of Caroline Bingley. Caroline's father or grandfather had been in trade, to be sure, but her mother had been a gentlewoman and she did have a fortune of twenty thousand pounds.
What on earth does she want? A title, I imagine, but as a man does not acquire his wife's title it seems rather foolish to me.
However, it was not her place to divine her Aunt's ambitions and her imagination soon fell to happier pursuits. She saw herself the centre of attention for Henry Crawford, Captain Tilney and a host of other gentlemen all at once and Anne as happily catered for as herself. She had but danced the boulanger with Mr Crawford when Mrs Annesley and Peggy entered anxious to know what she would wear that evening and how she wanted her hair dressed. The choice of gown was made easily, it had to be the pale cornflower blue silk with silver embroidery that she had had made last time she was in London. Jewels, however, were another matter. She finished her toilette and still without necklace or ear-rings made her way downstairs to where her brother and godmother were sitting together in the drawing room.
"You cannot wear that gown without jewels," was Lady Emma's first remark, "it is too elaborate."
"Why do you not wear your new pearls?" asked Mr Darcy to their joint contempt.
"Pearls are too simple for the dress," explained Lady Emma. "Let me see your jewel box, Georgiana."
Georgiana handed it over and sat down confident that Lady Emma would fare no better than she had done herself.
"Honestly, Darcy," she remarked as she opened and shut the various little drawers and inspected the assorted pearls, diamonds, amythests and held up a priceless necklace of ancient Chinese jade, "the poor girl has absolutely nothing!"
The poor girl looked at her brother with great interest.
"I am sorry to hear that, Lady Emma," he replied, "but even if I buy her more tomorrow it will not solve the problem of tonight."
"I will have to change my gown," cried Georgiana disconsolately, "and I so wanted to wear this one!"
"Do we have time for you to change?" enquired Mr Darcy, "the carriage will be here in two hours."
Georgiana shot him a horrible look, one that had been known to make nannies quail.
"Do not mind him," said Lady Emma as she rang the bell. "I will have Mrs Goode bring down a selection of suitable items from my collection."
Mrs Goode appeared and after a few hurried whispers ran upstairs again with a broad smile on her face. She returned five minutes later with a large box that looked faintly familiar to Mr Darcy if not to his sister.
Lady Emma opened it and carefully removed a pair of large cornflower-blue sapphire and diamond ear-rings. Georgiana gasped in delight.
"Oh, Lady Emma, I have never seen anything so lovely in my entire life!"
Mrs Goode gently fastened the ear-rings to Georgiana's tiny lobes and she gasped again with the sheer weight of them.
"What do I look like? What do I look like?"
Lady Emma and Mrs Goode laughed and a mirror was provided. Georgiana stared at herself quite transfixed. The ear-rings were of the finest quality, according to Mrs Annesley only the costliest sapphires were such a clear shimmering blue, and each tiny diamond seemed to sparkle with a thousand lights.
"Now for the tiara," announced Lady Emma.
"Tiara?" repeated Georgiana.
"Tiara?" repeated Mr Darcy. "Lady Emma, I think a tiara is rather much."
"Nonsense," replied Lady Emma, "the ear-rings and the tiara are a set, besides it will bring her good luck."
"I do not believe in luck," rejoinered Mr Darcy firmly.
"Ah, but I do," replied the unrepentant godmother.
"I know you do," smiled Mr Darcy, "I shall not forget the evening I came home to find you holding court with the gypsies in my library at Pemberley."
Lady Emma laughed, "Every one of their predictions has come to pass, Darcy."
"Coincidence!" he cried.
"What did they say?" demanded Georgiana as Mrs Goode began to rearrange her hair slightly, "Oh, do tell me what they said! Did they speak of me or of Fitzwilliam?"
Lady Emma's eyes twinkled, "They said of Fitzwilliam that he would find true love in a most unexpected place."
Georgiana flashed her eyes wickedly at her brother. The sister of one's best friend is hardly in an unexpected place so perhaps it is fated that you will not marry Caroline!
She stood up hardly able to bear the weight of the combined items on her head. "I feel like a real lady," she remarked ruefully, "but I am not sure I will be able to walk like one!"
"You will have a splitting head-ache by the end of the evening," remarked Mr Darcy.
"She will get used to the weight," smiled Lady Emma indulgently.
Georgiana practiced walking for a while and tried to imagine dancing in it.
"Why will it bring me luck?" she asked needing a good reason to keep it on.
Lady Emma looked at Mr Darcy for a moment. "Well," she began, "those are the very jewels your mother wore the night she met your father. At the end of the evening when Lord Gordon asked him how he had enjoyed himself he could only reply that he had fallen in love with a girl with eyes like sapphires."
She turned the box towards Darcy. "Do you not recognize the intial?" she asked pointing to the intricately woven AF on the lid.
"And do you think I shall meet my future husband tonight?" cried Georgiana entirely forgetting how uncomfortable it had all been a moment ago.
Mr Darcy groaned.
"Your mother left them to me when she died," continued Lady Emma, "she said sapphires were for fair hair but I think they look much better on Georgiana than they ever did on me."
Georgiana's joy was complete. She could not imagine that the gems would do less for her than for her mother and really only wanted to be told that they had been mentioned by the gypsies to be sure of meeting the man of her dreams that evening.
Posted on Wednesday, 23-Sep-98
Mrs. Heriot's ball was everything that money and good taste could make it. Neither Lady Catherine nor Lady Emma had anything to complain about except that the other had been invited; Mr. Darcy, fastidious as he was, was well pleased with what he saw, not least when he saw Mary Crawford. Georgiana, however, would have been content with a good deal less for the acquisition of her mother's jewels had cast a fairy glow on everything and the simplest of arrangements would have seemed sumptuous to her under the circumstances.
She walked around the room arm in arm with Mary Crawford while they sized up the company and prospective dance partners.
"My brother is not here," said Mary who assumed everyone wanted to dance with Henry all the time.
Georgiana was aghast, it was true that she had still occasionally thought of Mr. Crawford since his unfortunate liaison with Mrs. Rushworth but she had not expected to hear him spoken of.
"He is in Northamptonshire..." whispered Mary as the passed a gaggle of notorious gossips, among them Lady Fitzwilliam and Fanny Dashwood.
"I do not understand," replied Georgiana, "the newspapers!"
"Wrong, my dear," Miss Crawford steered her expertly out of the way of Miss Bingley, "he took Mrs. Rushworth home, that is all, my sister Mrs. Grant, traveled the entire distance with them. Nothing could be more respectable."
"I am astonished," cried Georgiana, "but most relieved! However, I am sorry to hear Mrs. Rushworth's marriage is so unhappy."
Miss Crawford sighed deeply, "I once thought a large income the best recipe for happiness but upon observing the Rushworths I have decided there is a missing ingredient somewhere."
"Love?" suggested Georgiana with a mixture of archness and seriousness that made her companion laugh.
"Perhaps," she smiled, "but for the present I leave love to Henry. He remains in Northamptonshire for he has begun to make real progress with Miss Frances Price!"
Miss Crawford was soon whisked off by the very Mr. Elliot that Anne de Bourgh so longed to avoid and Georgiana had time to observe the male population of the room very carefully. Potential husbands seemed in short supply. There was Frank Churchill being charming but too charming; John Willoughby was rather handsome but very much engaged; Edmund Bertram looking every inch the solemn ass and his brother, who although quite dashing, was a fearful coxcomb. She raised her hand to make sure the tiara was still in place and relinquished all thoughts of it working any magic tonight, even magic had to have decent raw material and not one of those toads could be transformed into a prince not even in the blue glow of her sapphires. A feigned headache released her from any obligation to dance with Mr. Robert Ferrars whose grasping little wife glared jealously at her. A moment later she was accosted by Captain Tilney, she had noticed him of course, such arrogant good looks and a red coat are hard not to notice but she had rather hoped he would be too busy to talk to her particularly as there were one or two women in the room with more than thirty-thousand pounds. What made Captain Tilney who was always lounging about, pinching snuff and looking disdainfully at people think she was interested in him?
"You look quite woebegone, Miss Darcy," he murmured, "not that I blame you."
"I have a head-ache," she replied, "perhaps you would be so good as to fetch me some tea."
He smiled and miraculously attracted the attention of a servant who was then dispatched to bring the tea. The tea arrived and in its wake the event of the evening. Georgiana had just taken her first sip and was noting anxiously the approach of the loathsome Fanny Ferrars Dashwood when a vision of masculine loveliness materialized before her startled eyes.
"Hello, Tilney," it said in a lovely northern accent that was cultured but not spoiled.
Captain Tilney smiled good-humouredly but with more than a hint of resignation and regret.
"Michael FitzAllan! What brings you back to our shores, I thought you had elected to live out your days in Germany?"
Germany? I should hope not!
"My uncle's health is failing," replied the all enchanting Mr. FitzAllan, "I owe the old gentleman too much merely to return for his funeral, he needs me now."
Captain Tilney nodded somberly, "I sympathize, the General's health is not what it once was. However, let me introduce some brightness into the proceedings... let me present to you Miss Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire's greatest natural beauty and, I believe, your near neighbour."
The penny dropped. Of course, Michael FitzAllan, the nephew of old Mr. Henry FitzAllan-Browne of Candles Priory, Pemberley's very near neighbour.
Captain Tilney very graciously disappeared into the crowd and Georgiana was left, more or less alone, with the uniformly delicious Mr. FitzAllan. Not entirely alone, of course, for Lady Emma was hovering almost within earshot.
"So, you are on your way to Derbyshire?" she said when she was sure Lady Emma could hear. Let her hear something innocent to start with and she might away to gossip elsewhere!
"Yes," he replied, "shall I have the pleasure of seeing you there soon?"
Good start! "Yes, we leave London next week." She smiled, hoping he might return to his friends and tell them he had met a girl with eyes like sapphires. More than likely he'll say he met a girl with eyes like green glass but I can hope!
Another cup of tea and two dances later Georgiana could say that most of her dreams were coming true and when Fitzwilliam found no fault with their neighbour's nephew her faith in the magical sapphires was restored completely. Once or twice she caught sight of Captain Tilney and wondered why he was looking at her instead of pursuing the heiress Fitzwilliam said he needed to bolster Northanger Abbey, she even wondered at herself for thinking about him. Why on earth was she thinking about that arrogant, self-satisfied devil when she had an absolute angel courting her? And courting her he certainly was.
Part 18
Posted on Sunday, 18-Oct-98
"Fitzwilliam?" she rubbed her eyes, it was a mirage, she was tired. She closed the door and fumbled with the brooch on her shawl, suddenly there was a vivid pain as the pin went through her finger... she stumbled and pushed at the form that had come out of the darkness by the chair and grabbed her. With one hand over her mouth he dragged her over to the sofa and pushed her on to it.
"I'm going to let go of you," he warned, "and I don't want you to say a word!"
"George?" she whispered as soon as he had released her, "Get out of my room or..."
"Or what?" he had lit a lamp and was sitting opposite her.
"I'll scream, George, I mean it." she stood up and tried to move away from him, but with one deft movement he pushed her back on to the sofa.
"Scream away, Georgie, the walls in this place are three feet thick, and no-one will hear you over that noise."
He indicated the sounds of revelry and merrymaking from across the courtyard, everyone would be there, and he was right, no-one would hear her tiny voice.
"What do you want?" her wrist hurt where he had grabbed her and the blood from her finger was seeping into the pale fabric of her gown.
"I just want you to be nice to me," he replied, "here, bind your hand, I didn't mean to hurt you."
She took the handkerchief and tearing off a strip tied it around her finger, but the blood continued to ooze through.
"I do not call this nice," she said stiffly. Caroline, where are you when I want you to mind my business?
Wickham sighed, "I wouldn't call what you did to me nice. You promised to marry me, Georgie, and then you jilted me for Henry Crawford. Now, that wasn't nice."
"There was never anything between me and Henry Crawford!" she replied indignantly.
"No," said Wickham, "but you rejected me because I wasn't gentleman enough for you compared to him, that's about the sum of it, isn't it Georgie?"
Georgiana began to feel threatened by the way he kept repeating her name, she glanced at the door and prayed fervently that Miss Bingley or Mrs. Annesley would appear. Wickham divined her wishes and laughed, "Not a chance, Georgie, they're otherwise engaged. The old witch has gone to watch the dancing, and the young one is flirting with your Mr. FitzAllan."
"Michael is here?" Georgiana was on her feet again but the door was several yards away and Wickham had seized her again long before she got to it.
"I keep telling you, Georgie, you are not being nice! It's just you and me tonight and that's how it's going to stay."
Georgiana gasped. Just you and me tonight.... She swallowed her nausea and made another dash for the door, but Wickham was not only stronger than she, but faster as well. He held her against the door so that the handle pushed excruciatingly into the small of her back, "Well, this is where you want to be, isn't it?"
"Let me out!" she choked, the pain in her back was intolerable.
"I might..." he grinned, "if you kiss me. One little kiss isn't too much for a former fiancé, is it?"
Georgiana miraculously found saliva in her dry mouth and spat at him, she earned herself a slap, and without more words he forced his lips on hers. The experience was revolting, he had been drinking and his breath was bitter and sour; she turned her face away as soon as she could.
At that moment the door was pushed open very gently but Georgiana was so wound up that she jumped and Wickham caught her in such a way as to make it look as if she was voluntarily in his arms. Georgiana turned weakly expecting to see the means of her salvation but Michael FitzAllan simply stood in the doorway as pale and confused as she was herself.
"Forgive me," he blurted out and vanished.
Georgiana began to tremble, "I don't understand..."
"Don't you?" Wickham got up and locked the door, "I should have done that before, don't you think? Anyhow, let me explain. All your poor Mr. FitzAllan saw was you standing here holding me like your long lost lover..."
Georgiana put her face in her hands, "Please, George," she begged, "please, please don't do this to me... you said you loved me... if you love me don't do this..."
"I promise to marry you," he replied as if that made it all right. "Now, I want you to have a little drink... loosen up, Georgiana!"
Georgiana shook her head adamantly against the whisky Wickham was offering her, she felt sick enough and fear was making her see stars that were never in the sky. Oh, why didn't Caroline or Mrs. Annesley come?
She stepped backwards again out of his reach but she knew that sooner or later she would run out space and find herself against the wall. What would she do then?
Why was I ever stupid enough to get involved with you again? Oh, why didn't I listen to Fitzwilliam... why didn't I listen to him? Please God, help me... make Mr. Bingley come upstairs... now... I promise never to lie to Fitzwilliam again... ever...
She cringed against the velvet of the curtains as Wickham attempted to force her to turn around and face him and then suddenly the door burst open with tremendous force, and a strong arm pulled Wickham away from her. She opened her eyes and watched as Captain Tilney's other hand met Wickham's jaw, causing a torrent of blood and teeth to tumble down his white shirt.
"Please let me go... I never meant to harm her..." Wickham began to whine as well as he could with a mouthful of gore. Captain Tilney, however, seemed to be afflicted with deafness, for his only reaction was to force him to stand senselessly against the nearest wall. He turned to Georgiana.
"Forgive me a foolish question, but are you all right?"
Georgiana found the strength to blush from somewhere. She knew exactly what he was asking her, but did not know how to answer him properly. The word was definitely in the Bible, so it must be decent but still she was not going to use it, no, nice girls did not say virgin to men even men who had just saved their lives.
"The... the damage is limited to what you see, Captain, nothing a bath and a seamstress can't cure."
She felt very daring putting it like that, but it appealed to him, and she almost caught a flicker of amusement in his eye.
"I admire your nerve, Miss Darcy," he replied gallantly.
"Yes, Captain, I'm alright. Please don't kill him..."
A glimmer of hope, of triumph even, fluttered across Wickham's bloodstained face. Georgiana felt her numbness wear off and sickness and anger well up inside her.
"He isn't worth hanging for!" she added.
"If they hang me for killing this piece of vermin, I'll be the happiest corpse in England!" was the response.
He drew his sword and pointed it at Wickham's throat. Georgiana pulled the throwover from the sofa around herself and huddled against the dresser, nothing could compensate for what had happened to her, but there was a certain comfort in seeing Wickham reduced to the same state of fear as she had been herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them Captain Tilney's sword was still pressed against Wickham's flesh, she shuddered as a tiny droplet of blood appeared.
"What do you think, Wickham?" Captain Tilney's voice which could be so sensuous in a ballroom had become hard, "How much further can I go without finishing you... an inch... two inches? I don't know as I'm not a surgeon, but what do you think?"
"Don't... please... I'll do anything you want..." Wickham was quivering so pathetically, a rivulet ran down his trouser leg and splashed over his boots. Captain Tilney groaned in disgust and with a deft crack of his skull against the plaster put him temporarily out of his misery.
Georgiana looked up at Captain Tilney as Wickham's limp frame hit the floor. She owed him so much gratitude yet only felt guilt at having thought him an arrogant, fortune-hunting rake. He had believed in her, and she began to weep realizing that Michael FitzAllan had not.
"How did you know to come here?"
"Chance... providence... whatever you call it," he washed Wickham's blood off his hands in Mrs. Annesley's rose water.
"It was chance you were outside my room?" she asked in disbelief.
"No, it was chance that I stopped off at this inn rather than riding on to Newbridge," he replied, "I met this despicable creature in the courtyard and he told me that he had come here for a romantic assignation with you..."
Georgiana shivered. It was incredibly embarrassing to have Captain Tilney think she could ever be attached to Wickham, but it was not so long ago that she was planning to elope with him.
"I will confess," sighed Captain Tilney, "that I was disappointed to hear that. I did not think him good enough for you and then I met our friend FitzAllan, and he launched into a tirade against me for ever having introduced him to you. He said he had found you in a compromising situation... I could not believe that... I knew that no matter how in love you were, you would never compromise your honour in any way."
Georgiana glanced at the half-dead figure on the floor, "I will never have to see him again, will I?"
"Of course not!" he exclaimed, "Your brother will ensure this brute never sees the light of day again, and if he does not then I will."
"No!" Georgiana almost shouted, "No, my brother must never know of this!"
"I do not see how you expect to conceal it."
"Captain..." she stumbled to her feet, "Captain Tilney, Mr. FitzAllan came in here and thought I was... I was a willing participant... I feel dirty..."
"No!" he responded emphatically, "I will not have you think of yourself as soiled in any way. You are the victim and the only dirt involved is Lieutenant Wickham."
Georgiana took a deep breath, "I will tell my brother in my own time and meanwhile I cannot bear the idea of anyone else knowing!"
"I'll do whatever you want," he replied in a voice choked with emotion. He knew what he wanted to do; he wanted to gather her tiny frame in his arms and carry her out of the inn, away from her absent brother, useless friends and back to Northanger where... where the General would make her miserable. Frederick Tilney was not a romantic man, between him and happiness - between him and Georgiana Darcy - there stood his father's rapacious need for money. He would not have it said that he married her for her fortune, and so little by little he let his dream slip away, but he could not resist pulling her close to him for a moment. She leaned against him, feeling the breadth of his shoulders, the warmth of his breath against her hair and the regular, safe rhythm of his heart.
"You must find something else to wear," he whispered as his fingers traced her neckline lingering on her cold translucent skin.
Georgiana nodded, somewhere in the struggle she had torn her dress and she needed to replace it before Mrs. Annesley saw her. "What shall you do with him?" her glance indicated Wickham still lying in a heap on the carpet.
Captain Tilney prodded the inert figure non too gently with his boot, "I'll get my man to him," he said, "Froggett will nursemaid him most appropriately."
Georgiana shook her head, "No, I do not doubt the sincerity or appropriateness of Mr. Froggett's administrations but please have him bring Wickham to his senses and let him go."
Frederick blanched, "You cannot mean that! I do not understand you, Miss Darcy."
She drew herself up to her full height, and composing as much of the Darcy demeanour as was possible under the circumstances, she repeated herself, "Have him cleaned up and put out."
Captain Tilney liked a touch of authority in his women, but not too much, however, Georgiana Darcy in a torn dress and untidy hair was unlikely to overdo it, he smiled and agreed. The door closed and she sat down on the small chair; the immediate danger was over, Frederick had saved her virtue, Wickham was unconscious and the rest of the party seemed unaware of her ordeal. So far so good, but she felt sick with fear. Finally it abated, and she was able to wash her face from the jug, apply a little Gowland's and find a change of gown. She chose a lemon silk with seed pearls, it seemed sensible to account for her change of appearance by saying she had thought of coming downstairs to join the ladies for coffee. On opening the door she found Captain Tilney leaning against the wall in the passage.
"What do you want me to tell your friends?" he asked.
"Nothing," replied Georgiana, "I want you to help me downstairs and I will deal with them myself."
He left her at the parlour door and she stood for a second listening to the sounds of merriment from within. Mrs. Annesley must be at the piano, for the performance was not that of Mrs. Hurst who was really very good or Caroline who was entirely affected. She pushed it and walked in.
"Georgi-ANA!" Miss Bingley was at her side in an instant and for once she was grateful. The party was small enough but inevitably held a few strangers and, to her confusion and horror, Mr. FitzAllan was among them. Had she imagined he had left? Ridden off into the night because of her? He shot her a single disappointed and disgusted glance before returning to his game of cards. She shivered but did not have the energy to blush. Mrs. Annesley continued to play, the firelight and her short-sight prevented her seeing much wrong with her charge but Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst could not be ignorant for long. Questioning looks passed between them, punctuated by Miss Bingley's attentions to Georgiana and Mrs. Hurst's observation of Mr. FitzAllan.
"Have they met and argued?" whispered Mrs. Hurst when they went to the sideboard to fetch their tea.
"Has he proposed and been refused?" wondered Miss Bingley.
"He looks like a jilted man to me," replied her sister.
Miss Bingley frowned in the direction of Mr. FitzAllan whose head was bent closely over the card table, she could not see his face. She looked at Georgiana who was sitting very quietly, she looked sick and Miss Bingley moved quickly to her side.
"Georgiana," she hissed, "I know there is something going on, what is it?"
Georgiana laid down her tea-cup, she had begun to think that she might manage to conceal the unhappy business in its entirety but it was not to be. She allowed Miss Bingley to steer her out of the room and into the chilly reception hall.
"I had a little upset," she murmured.
Miss Bingley seized her arm and pushed up her sleeve to reveal a bracelet of finger wide markings.
"A little upset," she repeated angrily, "it does not look little to me, Georgiana."
Georgiana pulled back before Miss Bingley could investigate anymore of her clothing.
"A man..." she paused and built up courage, "Mr. Wickham burst into my room and tried to attack me... I cried out and fortunately Captain Tilney happened to be on the stairs and he dealt with Mr. Wickham for me."
Miss Bingley stood stunned and useless; she was very good at running a house and ordering the latest fashions but in a real emergency she was helpless.
"He tried to attack you?" she questioned stupidly.
Georgiana nodded, this stupefied inability on Miss Bingley's part was a surprise to her and she began to feel she might still be able to control the situation a little.
"I do not want to cause a fuss," she whispered.
Miss Bingley fidgeted in her reticule for salts and sat down on the nearest settle. Her dearest Georgiana nearly ruined while she gossiped and drank tea? It was not to be borne; she took a deep breath and made herself sick with the ammonia. How was this to be phrased to Mr. Darcy? Charles, she thought, Charles must do it. With great determination she staggered back into the parlour.
"Charles... Louisa..." she whispered between them, "the most horrific thing has occurred... that scoundrel Wickham attempted to attack Georgiana in her chamber..."
Louisa gasped and stared dumbly while Bingley assumed his funny little brother look: Caroline was alone. She pinched her arm and downed Charles's wine.
"Meet me upstairs," she said firmly and swished out of the room. Another whiff of her salts cleared her brain and the wine gave her courage.
"You had better lie down," she said firmly and took Georgiana's arm.
Georgiana was not too pleased at this reversion of Miss Bingley to her old, bossy self. She had begun to see uses in the shocked and hopeless Caroline but they were gone, just odd little flutters in the back of her imagination. She was taken to Miss Bingley's room where she insisted on undressing alone and enveloping herself in that lady's longest and most modest nightwear before admitting even Mrs. Annesley. Fortunately everyone attributed this to shyness and by the time she was swathed in shawls for even more modesty and Bingley permitted a moment's interview she had once more recovered her sang-froid. She told him the same story she had told Caroline but with drastically different results; her first thought had been for Georgiana's comfort but his was that Wickham should be caught and punished. To this end he summoned the commander of the local militia and sent a servant to Pemberley.
Part 20
Georgiana was glad to curl up in bed after it was all over; she bathed herself and Miss Bingley had provided an assortment of cold creams for her bruises that made her smell like an apothecary's shop but she was grateful all the same. She had also exchanged rooms with Miss Bingley and between the heavy linen sheets, the small fire rustling softly in the grate and the watchful figure of Mrs. Annesley at the foot of the bed she felt she might almost be safe again.
Miss Bingley, however, could not sleep. She paced the floor uncomfortably thinking of what might have happened to Georgiana if Captain Tilney had not happened to be practically outside her door at the time and suddenly her foot crunched on something hard, she bent down and picked it up: a pearl. Lighting her candle from the remains of the guttering fire she quickly found more of them and realizing that Georgiana would like them restrung set about finding the entire length. At last she estimated she had one more to get and that was under the sofa, she knelt on the floor and stretched her hand out feeling carefully and when she eventually withdrew the pearl she brought with it a tiny scrap of blue embroidered material. Georgiana's dress? She asked herself incredulously; yes, it was certainly the muslin Georgiana had worn that afternoon. She sank back on her chair, a much harsher and more frightening picture coming into focus in her imagination than the one Miss Darcy had painted earlier. Finally she could bear it no longer and, with the expertise that comes with years of snooping, she picked the lock on Georgiana's small personal trunk. There, concealed in a laundry bag, was the muslin gown. She shook in out to its full length on the bed and noted with panic the tears in it. An icy fear traveled down from her heart to her hands and she could barely fold the thing up again, she knew she would not sleep and pulling the eiderdown around herself she began guessing how much time must pass before Mr. Darcy would arrive.
Mr. Darcy arrived before breakfast not that Miss Bingley could have eaten even if she had wanted to. Bingley had sent him a message the previous night when the militia were through and Georgiana put to bed without further mishap. It was a wonderful act of prudence on Bingley's part, the old Bingley, the one who had never suffered over Jane Bennet, would have panicked and sent for the brother before even ascertaining the facts.
He drank coffee in Bingley's room with Bingley and a rather irritable Lieutenant until Georgiana awoke. It was clear to Bingley that Darcy had noted the same inconsistencies in the story as he had himself and it was equally clear to both of them that the Lieutenant resented a brother militia officer being so roundly accused without proof.
Georgiana adhered firmly to her story; she had been sitting quietly in her room, having excused herself from dinner, when the door flew open and Wickham burst in full of threats, she called out and immediately Captain Tilney came and removed him. Darcy listened patiently and they went over it two or three times. Georgiana was adamant and Darcy, although suspicious, was almost inclined to believe her. He left her room and descended the stairs slowly trying to persuade himself that it was his own protectiveness that made him imagine something more had occurred. On reaching the first landing he found Miss Bingley standing in the doorway of the chamber in which the event had occurred, he stopped and thanked her for her kindness to his sister in exchanging rooms with her. It was what he imagined she was waiting for but her hollow eyes and red nose belied something else; he had never thought her a pretty woman and at that moment she was a positive fright.
"There is something you must see," she stepped back into the little sitting room that adjoined the bedroom and held out the remains of Georgiana's topaz muslin.
There was no more ceremony, she indicated the broken necklace on the dresser, "I looked in her things," she said with blank honesty, "it was instinct."
Darcy did not like to admit it but her instinct had concurred with his own and he could not say that in her position he would not have done the same thing. He stretched out and took the dress from her, it was so fragile, so vulnerable, so like Georgiana herself.
"Did she seem to you in need of a physician last night?" he asked hoarsely.
"No, else I would have summoned one," replied Miss Bingley tersely, "but she did ask me for ointment, for arnica, to be exact."
Darcy smoothed his hands over his face in a gesture of despair, "Tell me what she told you."
Miss Bingley related Georgiana's story almost verbatim. It was too much for Darcy.
"There is a false note in this piece somewhere," he said, fighting back emotion, "and I will find it."
The innkeeper, the lieutenant, the porter and the boy who stabled the horses were all interviewed. They all had the same information to give; the maids concurred; the farmers and townsfolk who had been at the celebration said similar things and by the end of the morning not one of them ever wanted to see the Master of Pemberley again.
"Georgiana?" Darcy sat down on the end of her chaise-lounge, "We have a lot more talking to do."
Georgiana gazed at him wide-eyed and helpless. She was helpless, she had no-one to confide in, no-one to help her bolster her flagging story and no hope of Fitzwilliam giving up. He is as bad as Boris with a bone, she thought.
"Tell me again," he said. And she did. And again and again.
"Shall I tell you what is bothering me?" he offered at length. "I love you more than anything else in life, you are all I have, and you are not telling me the truth. Why can I not make you understand, Georgiana, there is only you and I... and if you cannot confide in me what am I to think?"
Georgiana wanted to cry. She had forgotten why she had promised not to tell... no, she had made Captain Tilney promise not to tell Fitzwilliam and if she told now she would make a liar of him.
Darcy continued, "There is no proof that Mr. Wickham was here last night..."
Georgiana started, what did that mean?
"However," he spoke slowly, "Captain Tilney was seen by several people..."
Georgiana began to feel just a little wild at the implication, "Meaning?"
Darcy shrugged, "I am not absolutely sure but tell me this, and it is the one thing that has bothered me all along, what did Tilney do with Wickham?"
"I don't know!" Georgiana felt a panic attack coming on. What had he done with Wickham?
"I find it hard to believe that a young, fit man like Tilney could fail to restrain Wickham until the militia arrived. If Captain Tilney rescued you from Wickham where is Wickham now?"
Georgiana shuddered, "I hope he's at the bottom of a ditch!" she cried.
Darcy winced, "What? What is going on here, Georgiana, what did Wickham or Tilney do to you?"
She blanched, "Tilney?"
"You heard," he said firmly, the memory of the torn dress was too vivid, he longed to order her to remove her spencer being quite sure that the reasons for her requesting Miss Bingley's arnica would be visible if she did.
"You think it was Captain Tilney who broke into my room and threatened me?" she asked.
Darcy stood up, "No, not exactly, I know no real ill of Tilney and I do not wish to invent some but the fact remains that until the militia arrived he was the only officer anyone saw here last night."