Page 125 of Companions of Their Youth
At last, he said, “I am a fool, Richard.”
“You are,” Fitzwilliam agreed cheerfully. “But you are also a fool in love, so do something about it.”
Darcy rose from his chair. He crossed to the desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and reached for a pen.
“What are you doing?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“What I should have done before,” Darcy replied, dipping the nib into ink. “I am writing her a letter, and I am going to tell hereverything.”
∞∞∞
The morning of the ball arrived, and the gray, drizzling skies matched Elizabeth’s mood far too well. It was not the downpour of the last several days, but the sun and its warmth was still absent. She had slipped away to the back parlor for a moment’s quiet, relieved to find the room unoccupied. But as soon as she closed the door, her composure gave way.
The tears came before she could stop them—silent, aching sobs she could not name the source of, though she knew their roots ran deep: confusion, heartache, fear… and perhaps a grief for something that had never truly been hers.
She was startled when the door creaked gently open.
Georgiana stood there, clutching a book to her chest.
Her face changed at once. “Miss Elizabeth?” she asked softly. “Are you… are you unwell?”
Elizabeth turned away, brushing at her cheeks. “Forgive me. I only needed a moment.”
Georgiana entered the room and closed the door behind her. “Shall I fetch someone? One of your sisters, perhaps?”
“No,” Elizabeth said quickly, trying to summon a smile. “Truly, it is nothing. I was just… thinking.”
Georgiana stepped closer and sat on the edge of the window seat beside her. “I cry sometimes, too,” she admitted. “Especially when I first arrived. I hated everything. The rules, the plain food, the lessons… you. All of it.”
Elizabeth huffed a small laugh at the girl's honesty. “I know.”
“But now…” Georgiana swung her legs slowly. “I do not hate it anymore. Not even the mush.” She wrinkled her nose, making Elizabeth laugh through her tears. “I like knowing what each day will bring. And the rules—they make me feel safe. As if someone cares.”
“I do care,” Elizabeth said, reaching for her hand. “We all do.”
Georgiana’s fingers tightened. “I know. I know that now. And I know I cannot stay here forever.” Her voice trembled. “But I do not want to leave and forget everything. What if I go back to London and I slip again? I do not trust myself.”
Elizabeth felt a pang of protectiveness—and sorrow. She did not know how to ease such fears. But Georgiana was not finished.
“What if…” The girl’s voice turned wistful. “What if you came with me? To London. And then to Pemberley, maybe? You could help me stay good. You could be my sister.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard.
Georgiana’s eyes lit up. “Could you not marry my brother? Then we really would be sisters!”
Tears pricked again at the corners of Elizabeth’s eyes. She leaned forward and gently kissed the girl’s brow. “No, dearest.”
Georgiana blinked in surprise. “But… do you not love each other?”
Elizabeth said nothing.
The girl looked away. “I do not know what love is. I thought I did—this summer. At Ramsgate. I was so sure.”
Elizabeth stilled. “Ramsgate?”
Georgiana flushed and looked down at her lap. “Mr. Wickham made me feel special. He called me beautiful and clever and said we should run away together before my brother tried to marry me off to someone old and dull. I thought it was romantic. He was always kissing me and… touching. It felt exciting, even though I knew it was wrong.”
Elizabeth’s stomach turned cold. “Mr. Wickham?” she repeated.
