Page 112 of The Difference of a Darcy
“Your cousin?” Elizabeth asked gently.
Georgiana nodded, eyes suddenly bright with tears. “I— I have not heard from Richard since before—since before I married. I thought…” She swallowed. “He must be so ashamed of me; he could not even bear to write.”
Elizabeth’s heart clenched. “Open it,” she said softly. “Read what he says.”
With trembling fingers, Georgiana broke the seal and unfolded the thick paper. Her eyes moved rapidly across the page, and after only a few lines, her hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders began to shake, and the letter dropped into her lap as tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
Elizabeth reached for her hand. “What is it?”
Georgiana could not speak for a moment, only shook her head and handed her the letter. Elizabeth took it gently and scanned the words.
My dearest Georgiana,
I scarcely know how to begin this letter. I sit here with pen in hand, surrounded by the warmth of our family home, and yet I feel as though I am writing to someone I failed most grievously.
I have only just returned to England. My last assignment took me far afield—to a place where post is unreliable, and the world even more so. I did not know. I did not know, Georgie, that you had left Matlock, that you had married, that you had been abandoned, and—God above—that you are now with child. Word of yourcondition has spread beyond Lambton to even here at Matlock.
Forgive me. Not for what I did, but for what I could not do. For not being here. For not protecting you, as I swore I always would.
I should have been at your side. I should have been there to knock Wickham’s teeth in and drag you back home myself.
Instead, I return to hear my baby cousin’s life has been turned inside out while I played soldier in some foreign field.
You are not alone, Georgiana. I know that is little comfort now—but I mean it with every part of me. You still have family. You still have me. I will come to you as soon as I am able. If you will have me, I will do whatever I can to set things right—or at least better than they are now.
I am at Matlock recovering from my wounds, so I am only a few hours’ ride away. As soon as I can comfortably make the journey, I intend to call on you. If your husband is also at Pemberley, be assured that I will be having words with him about his treatment of you.
I love you, dear girl. I always have.
Yours devotedly,
Richard
Elizabeth blinked back tears as she finished reading. When she looked up, Georgiana was quietly weeping again—but this time with relief.
“I thought he hated me,” she whispered. “I thought he was so disappointed in me, that he could not even bring himself to write. That he had washed his hands of me entirely.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He loves you. He was not silent out of judgment, Georgiana. He was silent because he did not know.”
Georgiana sniffled and clutched the letter to her chest. “I thought I had no one.”
“But you do,” Elizabeth said gently. “You have more people supporting you than you realize. You have Colonel Fitzwilliam. You have Mrs. Reynolds. You have me and my husband.”
A small, broken laugh escaped the girl. “I do not deserve any of you.”
Elizabeth gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “None of us deserve the people who love us. That is what makes it a gift.”
Georgiana looked at her, blinking rapidly through tears. “May I write him back? At once?”
“Of course, my dear! You hardly needmypermission. Remember, you are mistress of Pemberley.”
And as Georgiana rose and hurried to find pen and paper, her cheeks still streaked with tears but her posture straighter than it had been in days, Elizabeth offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
Hope, once a fragile ember, now burned a little brighter.
Chapter 22
It had been three days.
