Page 102 of Companions of Their Youth
When she heard them enter, she sat up at once, face ashen and eyes wide with panic.
“I did not mean to!” she cried. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth—I am so terribly sorry! I did not think—”
Darcy stepped forward at last, unable to hold back. “That is precisely the point, Georgiana. You did not think.”
She flinched. Good. Let it sting. He had said too little, for too long.
He looked at her squarely, voice low and steady. “You nearly struck Miss Lydia with a vase. You did injure Miss Elizabeth. What will it be next time? A candlestick? A fire iron? Will someone end up in a grave before you learn to curb your temper?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Mr. Bennet was already speaking—his voice sharp and unrelenting.
“You are sorry now, Miss Darcy. But you were not sorry when you threw a porcelain vase with the intent to strike someone. What would have happened if you had struck someone in the head? Or worse, what if a child or babe had been present?”
Georgiana began to cry anew, her mouth trembling as she covered her face.
Then Fitzwilliam took a step forward. “You are the niece of an earl. You have been taught better than this. That kind of behavior is not impetuousness—it is evidence of a spoiled child who does not care about anyone but herself.”
Georgiana gave a choked sob. “But I do care! I do! I was just—angry. I—I hated being laughed at—”
“No one laughed at you,” Mr. Bennet said sharply. “You were corrected. And you could not endure it.”
He folded his arms. “It has taken less than a week to see how little self-control you have been taught. Miss Lydia spoke out of turn—yes—but that was after you insulted her mother, herfamily, and her home. You are sixteen years old, Georgiana. That is an age where your behavior should be beyond childish fits of rage.”
She hiccupped, shoulders shaking. “I did not mean it—I swear it—please, I will do anything—anything to make it right—”
“You cannot,” Elizabeth said gently, stepping forward.
Her voice was compassionate, but firm. “Some things cannot be undone. An apology will not remove the stitches from my arm.Thisis why we learn discipline. Because when we act in anger, we lose control—and often, we hurt others, even those wedocare about.”
“I understand!” Georgiana said quickly, clutching her hands. “I swear to you, I will never do anything like that again!”
Elizabeth looked at her, long and searching. Then she gave a single, solemn nod. “I believe you.”
Georgiana let out a breath of relief—until Mr. Bennet stepped forward again.
“But an apology, even one that is accepted, does not erase the consequence. Do you remember what it was?”
Georgiana froze. Her lips parted in horror.
“You cannot mean—surely you would not—”
“No,” Mr. Bennet said evenly. “I will not.”
Her shoulders sagged, her face full of unspeakable relief.
Until Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forward and said, “But I will.”
“No—!” Her voice broke into a wail. “Please—please—Richard—do not do this!”
“I have seen men whipped for lesser offenses,” Fitzwilliam said, not unkindly. “And they became better men for it. I would rather you hate me for a week than become someone I no longer recognize.”
Georgiana turned to him, horror etched on her face. “Fitzwilliam—please—you cannot agree to this—you are my brother—”
“Iamyour brother,” he said quietly. “And I love you more than life itself. But it is for that very reason that I will not protect you from consequences of your actions any longer.”
She sobbed.
Elizabeth straightened and stepped back. Fitzwilliam gestured silently to the writing desk.
