Page 19 of To Love And To Cherish
A week later at Netherfield, Georgiana concluded a Beethoven piece to polite applause from Caroline and Louisa.
"That was beautifully done," Caroline said. "You play with such feeling."
"Thank you," Georgiana said quietly.
"You must come sit with me," Caroline beckoned. "Will you play for us, Louisa?”
The woman looked up from her embroidery. “No, I will continue with my needle.”
Caroline beckoned. “Come, Miss Darcy, I should like to talk."
Georgiana joined her on the settee with some reluctance.
Caroline leaned closer. "Is your brother paying special attention to anyone in society at present?"
“He is a man of great courtesy, treating all his acquaintances with particular attentiveness.”
“Indeed. But has he written to any young lady of late? Invited her family to dine?” Caroline probed.
“It would be most improper for him to correspond with an unmarried woman. My brother is the very model of propriety.”
"How about the theatre? Has he escorted anyone of note?"
Georgiana smiled sweetly. “Yes, he’s attended the theatre with Uncle Henry and Aunt Helen."
Caroline narrowed her eyes. "You are very guarded, Miss Darcy."
"I believe discretion is a virtue," she replied. "Now, would either of you care to ride with me this afternoon?"
Louisa declined, and Caroline primly answered, "I shall remain home in case your brother should require anything."
Twenty minutes later, Georgiana rode out with her groom, seeking quiet and solitude. She did not know the name of the gentle rise that bordered Netherfield, only that a wood crowned its summit, which drew her with the promise of peace.
When they reached the edge of a broad meadow, she turned in the saddle. "Remain here with Daisy. I will walk a little further."
The groom obeyed without question, leading her docile mare toward the hedgerow. Georgiana stepped off the path and into the woods, where she spied a moss-covered log resting beneath the trees, half in shadow.
She sat, buried her face in her hands, and let the tears come.
It had been only a few weeks since Ramsgate, and the memories still overwhelmed her. She could not forget the sickening fear of climbing out a window in the dead of night, the endless hours fleeing down chalk cliffs with only Mrs. Younge for guidance and protection. Nor could she escape the sense of powerlessness, of being singled out by a man who had cared nothing for her beyond her fortune. And all of it, the confusion, the danger, had been made worse by the silence she was forced to keep.
Aunt Helen would be furious, not at Wickham, but at her brother, for employing such a reckless companion. And Fitzwilliam, though he had rescued her, though he had been kind, was unapproachable. She still did not know how to speak to him. Five years apart had left them near strangers, and nowevery word between them felt careful and weighed. She could not speak to him of her fear, of her sense of betrayal, of the way her breath caught whenever a man’s voice rose unexpectedly.
Instead, she cried.
These episodes came without warning, every few days or nights, and she could do nothing but endure them until the wave passed. Today had begun like any other, but the strain of fending off Miss Bingley’s probing questions had driven her to seek the quiet of the woods. Here, the soft whisper of the breeze through the trees had undone her. She drew a handkerchief from her sleeve and pressed it to her eyes, praying that, by the time she returned, her face would reveal nothing.
Georgianna heard no footsteps, only the soft rustle of underbrush that made her lift her head. A young woman was walking the same path, her bonnet hanging from her arm by its ribbon, her brow damp with exertion. The woman paused, her expression filled with quiet concern.
“I do not mean to intrude,” she said gently, “but if there is anything I can do, any comfort I might offer, I am at your service.”
Georgiana hesitated, wiping at her eyes. “I... I do not usually speak to strangers. I’m not clever with words.”
Elizabeth gave a light laugh. “I have five sisters. I never get a word in at home.”
Georgiana offered a faint smile. “I have only one brother.”
Something in Elizabeth’s voice, its warmth, its unstudied kindness, invited confidence. And something in her face, so open and sincere, assured Georgiana she could be trusted. The words came in a rush.
