Page 46 of Her Whole Heart
His cousin regarded the cloak. “Georgie did say she had been invited to tea with Miss Elizabeth and her friends at Carlisle House.”
Not many weeks ago he would have scoffed at the very idea. Last week, even. But Miss Elizabeth, her sister, and her friend all seemed so self-assured, though in differing ways. “Can we presume upon Miss Elizabeth after all she has already done?”
“Miss Elizabeth issued the invitation even after all that occurred today. I think that young woman may be Georgiana’s only chance at gaining the fortitude she requires. She does seem to possess it in abundance.”
Darcy did not disagree, but he had seen that Miss Elizabeth had been afraid. She was brave, to be sure, but it came at a cost to her own peace. Perhaps that made him feel better about trusting Georgiana to her. She was sensible enough to feel fear but courageous enough to act despite it. An uneasy silence stretched between them, broken only by the low crackle of the fire in the grate.
Fitz studied him shrewdly. “As much as it pains me, we must accept that Georgiana’s reaction will be misconstrued as delicate nerves by those who are kind and an unstable temperament by those less charitable.”
Darcy’s nod was terse. “If Lady Carlisle is willing to accept Georgiana as a guest of Miss Elizabeth’s after today, it may do much to help stem any pernicious gossip. And the young ladies of the house are most likely better suited to assisting Georgiana than we are.”
“Such as the admirably poised Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" Fitz arched one brow. "Are you ready to admit that you are rather fond of the lady?”
A muscle ticked in Darcy’s cheek.
“I do not mean to tease you, Darcy. I can see that the two of you are on good terms now.”
He shifted and crossed his legs. “I would not say we are ongoodterms.”
Fitz smirked. “You think not? After quite literally sweeping Miss Elizabeth off her feet?”
Darcy shot him a quelling look. “A situation rendered necessary by the circumstances, as you are well aware.”
“Of course, Cousin.” Fitz waved a hand. “Fear not, I will defend you against any disgruntled matrons appalled by your unseemly rescue of an innocent and heroic young lady.”
He would not rise to the bait. “Your solicitude is appreciated, I am sure.” The path before them promised to be complicated, but he was resolute. He would safeguard his sister’s reputation and prospects as well as he was able. If that meant enlisting Miss Elizabeth’s aid, he would humble himself before her, and before the earl, if it was required.
“Well then.” Fitz drained his glass and reached for Darcy’s. “It seems we must once again prevail upon the lady’s stout heart, for all our sakes.”
Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth lay curled on her side, her arms and legs tucked into a ball in an attempt to warm herself. Though she had stopped shivering long before retiring to her chambers this evening, there was a part of her that remained chilled. Tears streaked down her face, leaving damp trails behind, but it was a silent weeping, the fear and grief of the day finally finding expression.
She had projected a stalwart resolve to the others. Even Lady Carlisle had nodded her approval of Elizabeth’s steady nature. She had adopted her usual insouciance at dinner. And now, at last quiet and alone in the sanctuary of her bedchamber, she could allow the façade to crumble.
A tremulous breath escaped her, and she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, as if that would keep out the memories clawing at her. Pictures filled her mind anyway, Georgiana’s pale, shocked face, the screams of the crowd, the hooves hitting the cobblestones like the increasing beat of a drum, the hungry flickering of orange and red flames licking the ceiling . . .
Elizabeth was startled awake when smoke filled her nostrils and stung her eyes. Flames travelled up the heavy drapery, consuming the wall coverings, working their way up and around her. She tried to sit up, tried to scream,but was hampered by the cloying stench of the smoke, her lungs aching and her eyes tearing so badly that she could not see.
“Help!” a girl cried, and Elizabeth knew the voice was Georgiana’s. The girl coughed from deep in her chest. “Help me!”
Elizabeth forced her eyes open. Georgiana was in the bed now, and Elizabeth was standing beside it, shaking the girl, attempting to wake her. But she would not wake.
“We must leave!” Elizabeth cried, but it was no use. She struggled to pull Georgiana up and carry her over her shoulder, staggering to the window under the girl’s lifeless weight. But how would they escape? She could not carry Georgiana down the stairs—the fire had beaten them there. She could not carry her out of the window, for there was no trellis, and she had no rope.
They were trapped.
Elizabeth set Georgiana down under the open window and then stuck her head outside, gulping in the clean air.
“Miss Elizabeth!” a male voice cried. It sounded so familiar . . . “Where are you?”
“Here!” she shouted, though it ended in a cough. “Here!”
“Lizzy?”
That was Jane. What was Jane doing here? She was supposed to lead the other girls out of the house.
“Lizzy, wake up!”
