Page 33 of The Governess of My Heart
“Then, I believe that he is really in love with you, and we can decide your future,” Darcy said confidently, hoping his plan would work.
Georgiana left downstairs with confidence.
Fitzwilliam is wrong. I know George, and I can prove his intentions are pure.
She waited in the parlor, impatient for his return.
Darcy ensured his carriage was sent away, and Wickham was unaware of his presence in Ramsgate. In half an hour, Wickham and Mrs. Younge entered the house together.
“Dear Miss Georgiana, we have finalized all the arrangements for our travel. You seem to have found a wonderful husband in Mr. Wickham,” Mrs. Younge said, smiling.
“I am glad you are ready,” Wickham said, eyeing her packed bags.
“I am ready. But suddenly, I had a thought,” Georgiana said in an uncertain tone.
“What is that?” Wickham asked with irritation.
“What if we get married in Derbyshire instead of Gretna Green?”
Stupid girl!
“My dear, you know very well that we cannot. Your brother will never grant permission for our marriage as he does not like me. Once we are married, we can go to Pemberley.”
“But we can ask him now,” she said, biting her lips.
“What?” he asked in confusion.
“You could meet him in town and ask him for my hand. I am sure he will agree.”
“He will not. Now get up and let us leave before the servants come back,” he said impatiently.
Georgiana held his hands.
“Please, George, I know he will accept our marriage if you go to him. If we run away, we will always be held in contempt. It would be a disgrace.”
“Are you saying it is a disgrace to marry me?”
“No, but it is a disgrace if we run away.”
“Why are you so adamant all of a sudden?”
“I want to marry you because I love you, and I know you love me. Please let us try to ask my brother for his consent. If we run away now, I will lose him forever,” Georgiana pleaded.
“Miss Georgiana, listen to us. You do not have the intelligence to see what is good for you. You are too young to understand what Mr. Wickham is saying. You cannot make the right decision at this age,” Mrs. Younge said in a sweet tone, and her words hit Georgiana like lightning.
“You say I cannot make the right decision at this age?”
“Yes, of course. You are hardly fifteen,” Wickham joined in.
“Then, am I not too young to be married?” she asked with tears in her eyes.
Wickham suddenly realized that something was wrong. He looked at Mrs. Younge, and she nodded.
She immediately dragged Georgiana from her seat.
“No more talking. Let us leave,” she said firmly.
“No!” Georgiana cried and tried to free herself.
