Page 45 of Her Whole Heart
“Oh no!” exclaimed Miss Darcy, leaning forward to accept Jane’s proffered hand in both of her own. “It was not the three of you at all—you were only responding to the cruel remarks made by my own cousin and her friend. I was mortified! I fear I must apologise to all of you on their behalf.”
“I think there has already been too much apologising amongst the four of us,” Elizabeth said, ending a conversation that was threatening to turn maudlin. The two women who ought to be expressing contrition were not even here. She addressed the countess, upon whom she could count to remain dispassionate. “Is Lady Henrietta with you?”
“She did inquire after her cousin,” the countess confirmed. “I told her I would assure Miss Darcy had reached home in safety, and she left it in my hands.”
The colonel’s countenance turned stony.
“We should depart,” Lady Carlisle said. “We will be expected at home.”
Elizabeth stood. “Miss Darcy,” she said, “the invitation to tea remains open. Perhaps you might wish to discuss it with your brother and the colonel?”
Miss Darcy nodded. “Only after today, you must call me Georgiana.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I would be pleased to do so. You already know my name and should feelfree to use it.”
The girl returned Elizabeth’s smile with a tremulous one of her own. “I shall see you soon, I hope.”
They left Georgiana in the sitting room with the colonel and Mr. Darcy walked them out. The other ladies had not bothered to remove their cloaks, but Elizabeth paused to accept hers. Except that the one the footman handed her was not hers—instead, he extended a heavy woolen garment of a vibrant sapphire blue, clearly tailored for a taller woman than she. She stared at it in bewilderment for a heartbeat until realisation blossomed. She had put on the wrong cloak in her haste to reach Georgiana; her own must still be lying on the street where she had dropped it or flung it aside—she had been so distracted she did not know what she had done.
Hesitantly, she accepted the garment from the servant’s hand and held it out to have a better look. It did not belong to Jane or Amelia. She looked down at the hem that pooled on the floor and was dismayed to see a vivid slash of brown that travelled the width of the garment, ending with a jagged tear in the cloth near the hem. She stared at it until she grasped its significance.
It was the mark of a carriage wheel.
Her sharp inhalation drew the attention of her companions, and for some reason, her gaze flew first to Mr. Darcy. She witnessed the moment comprehension dawned—his expression remained almost inscrutable but for his suddenly clenched jaw.
It was as though a fog had lifted and the damp chill had gone. Elizabeth recalled the relief of being helped to her feet and then swung up into his powerful arms, the comfort of being drawn against his chest with an effortless strength. The world that had been trying to kill her, again, had righted itself. She had felt protected.
From the day her father had called Jane and her into his study to explain his plan for sending them to school to improve the family’s position,Elizabeth had never felt entirely safe. How odd that it would be Mr. Darcy who could restore that feeling to her, even if only temporarily. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to preserve it in her memory. When she opened them again, she held out the cloak and said, “This is not mine. I must have lost my own . . .”
“Mr. Yardley,” Mr. Darcy said, taking the cloak from her without hesitation, “bring Miss Elizabeth one of Miss Darcy’s cloaks from last year, before she grew so tall.”
“Right away,” the man said from behind him, and within a few minutes, Mr. Darcy himself was helping Elizabeth into a deep red cloak that was still a little long and perhaps too young for her, but warm and unblemished.
“Good day, Mr. Darcy,” she said at last, when she had fastened the button at the front and pulled the warm wool about her.
He stepped back and bowed to them all. “Good day.”
Georgiana had finally explained the events of the call and had then immediately retired upstairs. The library was draped in deepening shadows, and Darcy sank into one of a pair of wingback chairs with a weary exhalation, cradling a glass of well-aged brandy. Georgiana’s cloak, marred by a streak of brown filth, the hem rent and ragged, was tossed unceremoniously over the table before him.
Fitz dropped into the other chair with his own drink, frowning as he took in the sorry state of the garment. He grimaced. “We nearly lost Georgiana today. And it is largely Hen’s fault.”
“You will forgive me if I do not call tomorrow.” Darcy took a sip of the liquor, letting the oaky flavour slide down his throat with a familiar burn that warmed him. “It may be some time before I can speak to her with anyequanimity. She knew I trusted her to keep my sister safe and she could not be bothered with Georgiana’s care even for the length of a morning call.”
“I will speak with her.” Fitz toyed with his glass but did not drink. “As Georgie’s other guardian, it is also my place to censure her for her negligence.”
Darcy nodded. “I thank you.”
“There may be other consequences of Georgiana’s flight and Miss Elizabeth’s heroics today. We must discuss how we intend to act.”
“The entire episode, including Lady Henrietta’s role, will be dissected in detail.” Darcy was dreading the gossip, not for himself, but for Georgiana. His anxious sister would be distraught to be the subject of derision for her attempt to leave her chaperones behind and walk home alone. He would bundle her off to Derbyshire this instant if he could, but that would only make the speculation worse.
“I am not in the least displeased that my sister will at last face the repercussions of her sharp tongue, but she has dragged both Georgie and Miss Elizabeth down with her. And Miss Elizabeth, at least, does not deserve it.”
Darcy was incredulous. “You think Georgiana does?”
“No, but our sweet girl lacks the confidence even to remain in a house where other women are exchanging insults. Insults, I might add, that have nothing to do with her.” Fitz sighed. “I cannot say whether it is something we have neglected to teach her or whether it is just her nature, but she put her life at risk over a few sharp words.”
“And Miss Elizabeth’s as well,” Darcy said, resigned. “I know you are right, Fitz, but what are we to do? She has no mother, no female relation who might properly assist her.”
