Page 45 of Companions of Their Youth
He should not be surprised. Mrs. Younge had always been practical, firm, and fair. He had chosen her because she was competent. But even she had reached her limit.
He stared down at the desk, the two letters laid out like dueling declarations.
His sister hated him.
Her companion had given up.
Richard, for all his warmth and dedication, could not remain her full-time warden forever.
And he… he had no idea what to do next.
He pressed his hands to his temples and let his elbows rest on the edge of the desk. His thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by the burden of failure. He had done everything he wassupposed to do. He had chosen a respectable school. Hired respectable companions. Intervened when disaster loomed.
And it had not been enough.
“Not enough,” he said aloud, bitterly. “Never enough.”
He pulled a clean sheet of paper toward him and reached for his pen, beginning with the easier task—his reply to Mrs. Younge.
Madam,
You have my sincere gratitude for your honesty and service. Please do not resign until you leave in a month. I will, of course, provide a raise and bonus for your loyalty. Kindly send along the names and contact details of the women you recommend.
F. Darcy
He sealed the note and set it aside before reaching for a fresh sheet of paper, this one to be sent to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Richard,
I hope this finds you well, though I fear it will not be so. I have just received letters from both Georgiana and Mrs. Younge, and I confess I scarcely know which alarms me more.
Georgiana’s words are full of grief, anger, and rebellion—directed chiefly at me, though not sparing either you or Mrs. Younge. It is painfully clear that she sees all of us as jailers keeping her in the gaol rather than guardians.
Mrs. Younge, for her part, writes with calm clarity that she can no longer serve as Georgiana’s companion and will be leaving her post within the month. She has accepted a position with a family traveling to India, and while I cannot fault herfor seeking a more pleasant future, the timing is as poor as it is unavoidable.
I must ask you, as her co-guardian and as the man who has known her almost since her birth—what is to be done? You see her more clearly than I can from afar. Has her conduct been as alarming as Mrs. Younge suggests? Did I make the wrong choice in Ramsgate? Have I made some irreparable error?
Fitzwilliam Darcy
He folded the letter to Richard and sealed it with wax, the sharp scent filling the air. That task, at least, was clear: Richard would give him the truth, blunt and unvarnished, with none of Mrs. Younge’s delicacy or Georgiana’s fury.
But the next letter...
He stared at the blank page before him, fingers curled tightly around the pen. How did one respond to a sister who claimed to hate him? Who saw betrayal in every protection? No argument would win her. No lecture would reach her. And yet silence felt like surrender.
He dipped the pen again, hesitated—then began.
Georgiana,
I have read your letter. I am ashamed of the language you chose and the sentiments you expressed. I know you are angry, but that does not excuse rudeness. You are not the only one whose life was upended by recent events. You were not thinking clearly. I hope, in time, you will recognize that what I did was to save you, not to punish you. I expect better from you than this petulance.
– F. D.
He crumpled the page before the ink had dried. Too harsh. He would lose her entirely if he sent it.
My dearest Georgiana,
I am sorry. Sorry for Ramsgate, sorry for hurting you, sorry for making you feel abandoned and trapped. I only ever wanted to protect you. I know I have failed in many ways. Please believe that I did what I thought best. I will do anything to make this right.
