Page 11 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 10

E lizabeth had initially reached out to Georgiana as a relief from speaking to her brother and cousin. The colonel was certainly charming enough, and she felt that under different circumstances, she could have thoroughly enjoyed his company. Within a short while, though, she had become convinced of the unnerving certainty that he had more than one ulterior motive.

The timing of his arrival was too strong of a coincidence. She suspected that he had been summoned from London after the events of yesterday morning. Elizabeth felt more than sure that he was seeking to determine an opinion of herself on behalf of the rest of Darcy’s family. She haughtily determined that she did not fear his disapproval, having not sought the connection in the first place. The more unsettling prospect was that he also seemed unusually interested in praising his cousin to her. One of His Majesty’s soldiers as an ambassador of peace; it was a strange emissary to choose.

With little expectation of pleasure, she had tried to cultivate conversation with the sister. Her initial feelings about the girl had proven ungenerous. Within a very few minutes, Elizabeth became convinced that what George Wickham had described as extreme pride was instead profound bashfulness. It was an easy enough mistake, she reasoned. A young woman possessed both of great wealth, and painful shyness could easily be called overly proud. Anyone could have thought so had they not spent enough time around the girl. Perhaps Wickham’s youthful connection to the family had occurred when Georgiana was too young to be known well to him.

Now, as they plundered toward a well-loved grove of trees, the girl’s demeanour underwent a dramatic shift. She giggled light-heartedly and had no fear of either mud puddles or brambles. There was nothing prideful about Georgiana Darcy. Instead, she seemed like a young girl desperately in need of a friend.

Talkative people love good listeners, and Georgiana was one of the best Elizabeth had ever known. She intuitively picked up on any nuances in Elizabeth’s words and discovered the more subtle humourous references which usually only her father could detect. Georgiana’s smile grew broader by the moment, and by the time they reached the trees, an easy fellowship had begun to develop between the two.

“Look here,” Elizabeth reached up to one of the lower branches to pluck a fruit.

“It is beautiful! What is it? I have never seen one like it.”

“It is called a persimmon, I believe,” replied Elizabeth. “We are just on the border of Longbourn, so this is my father’s grove. My grandfather was somewhat peculiar, my father tells me. As one of his hobbies, he imported a few exotic trees. This one came from the American continent. My grandmother was very traditional, and she thought an orchard full of such strange trees was not decent. Hence, the orchard’s location far from the house.” Elizabeth gave the odd-looking fruit into Georgiana’s hand.

“Is it sweet?” she asked dubiously. “It looks something like the tomatoes William keeps in the hothouse.”

“When they are fully ripe, as these are. It is strange that they are such a late fruit. Jane and I often sneak out here through the early winter, and they are good on the branches for a long while, even after the leaves are gone. Mrs Hill does not like using them in her kitchen, so we always eat them just like this.” Elizabeth took a large bite of a second fruit, just as if it were an apple.

Georgiana hesitantly lifted the fruit to her lips and took a timid taste. The texture was firm and smooth, but not crunchy or juicy like an apple. The flavour was mildly sweet. She smiled in pleasant surprise and eagerly took another bite.

“That tree there,” Elizabeth gestured between bites, “is a pomegranate. I do not know where Grandfather obtained it, but you have probably heard of it from the ancient tale of Persephone. Unfortunately, I believe it is too cold here for the tree to do well. We are in a warm little gulley here, protected from winter winds, but it is really a Mediterranean tree. The flowers are lovely, but the tree rarely produces much fruit. Sometimes, if we have had a good summer like we had this year and you look sharp, you can find some before the birds do.”

Georgiana dutifully looked. “Is that one? It looks something like a dark pear or a very large apple from here.”

Elizabeth’s eyes followed her hand. “Why, yes, it is! Oh, and there are two more. Shall we try to reach them?” Georgiana’s eyes were bright with agreement. They spent a highly undignified ten minutes shinnying up the trunk a short way and helping bend the branches for each other. In the end, they had proudly collected five of the curious fruits. Elizabeth taught her how to tap the fruit and listen to the tinny sound it made to make sure it was ripe.

“William will be so excited to taste these!” the girl enthused. Georgiana cupped three of them in a makeshift apron, using the front of her exotic cream coloured pelisse, which was now grown quite muddy. Her gaze flashed to Elizabeth’s face, and found it suddenly subdued. “Miss Elizabeth… is something wrong?”

Elizabeth’s eyes snapped back to her new friend’s. “No! I…” she stopped, searching for words.

Georgiana came a hesitant step closer, shifting her hands on her fruit to place one uncertainly on Elizabeth’s arm. “Miss Elizabeth, do you… do you care for my brother?”

Shocked at the girl’s uncharacteristic audacity, Elizabeth answered with breathless silence. She met Georgiana’s eyes unwillingly. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak but could not manage it.

Georgiana’s hopeful face fell. “I see.” She hung her head and sighed deeply, her lip quivering.

Seeing the girl’s acute disappointment, Elizabeth felt dreadfully guilty. “Miss Darcy, I am so sorry! I did not mean to hurt you. With Mr Darcy and myself, well, things are… complicated.” Elizabeth placed a hand over Georgiana’s, trying to soothe her.

Georgiana looked carefully into Elizabeth’s face, the fear of losing the friend and sister she had longed for plainly written across her features. “I like you, Miss Elizabeth,” she stammered. Her eyes bashfully dropped to the grass. “I was hoping that… well, you know.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

Elizabeth felt her heart twist. Colonel Fitzwilliam may have been jovially attempting to drop positive comments about his cousin, but it was Georgiana Darcy’s sincere faith in her that would likely prove her undoing. “Surely, Miss Darcy, we can be friends in any case, can we not?”

The girl blinked rapidly, raising her eyes again. “Do you think so?” Surprised pleasure fluttered in her gaze. Few had ever desired her companionship at the exclusion of her brother’s. “Would you please call me Georgiana? I would so much like that.”

Elizabeth relaxed into a smile. “Of course, and you must call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy if you prefer. It is what my sisters call me,” she explained with a light chuckle.

The wistful look returned to Georgiana’s face. “I like calling you Lizzy, if I may. Sometimes people call me Georgie, since my name is so dreadfully long. You may as well, if you like.” She looked bashfully to Elizabeth, who nodded in cheerful reassurance. Georgiana sighed. “I should have liked to have had a sister.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Perhaps you are fortunate, as I have an abundance of sisters but no brother. Had I, our family would have had considerably fewer concerns. I find myself somewhat envious,” she comforted cheerfully.

“William truly is the best and kindest brother to me. He treats me so gently and is forever doing little things just to please me. I am so lucky to have him. He is always so good!” she whispered daringly, hope trembling in her voice.

“It is no more than you deserve, I am sure,” Elizabeth smiled encouragingly.

Georgiana’s eyes widened in denial. “Oh, no, Lizzy!” she gasped. “If you only knew! I have done such terrible things, such dangerous, foolish things! If not for William, I would be…” her mouth kept moving, but it was as if she did not have the heart to put voice to her words. She shook her head ever so slightly. “I know I do not deserve William’s kindness… or even yours.” She glued her eyes to her feet, shuffling them uncomfortably.

Had the words come from anyone of whose sincerity she was less convinced, Elizabeth would have found that speech highly manipulative. The pain in Georgiana’s voice was too real, her conviction of her own shame genuine. What has happened to this poor girl?

Elizabeth wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Georgie, whatever you think you have done, you are wrong to think yourself undeserving. You are so young and innocent! There could not possibly be anything you could have done that could be so grievous that you should believe such of yourself. It is only right that your brother should take care to be kind to you. Surely you cannot believe yourself unworthy!” Georgiana’s head was still bowed, her shoulders trembling ever so gently. She was not crying, but she was very near it.

Elizabeth tried a different tactic. “Georgie, please look at me.” The girl complied slowly, her eyes misty and her mouth drawn into a quivering line. Elizabeth thought fleetingly that the sister looked today very much like the brother had yesterday, but she dismissed the notion quickly. She touched the tip of Georgiana’s chin to hold her gaze and stated her words slowly and firmly, like a mantra. “You are a remarkable girl. You are beautiful and sweet and terribly charming. I am so pleased you came here today, and I am glad to call you my friend. I should like to spend a good deal more time with you. Please believe me, Georgiana Darcy, when I say you are one of the most delightful people I have ever met.”

Georgiana’s eyelashes fluttered, her gaze darting unbelievingly around the periphery of Elizabeth’s countenance until the latter spoke of continued friendship. The craving in her soul anchored to Elizabeth’s words, and she could not hold back a grateful sob. Not caring one whit for propriety, she dropped the pomegranates and flung herself into Elizabeth’s arms. Shocked beyond reason, there was nothing for Elizabeth to do but draw the girl close and murmur comforting words to her. Georgiana was like a frightened child, quaking in her embrace.

Elizabeth held her with sincere concern until the girl’s shivers slowed. When Georgiana’s fervour had abated somewhat, Elizabeth drew back enough to look at the girl’s face and smooth her hair beneath the edges of her bonnet. “You must think me a little fool!” Georgiana dabbed her eyes with her bare fingertips.

Elizabeth’s heartfelt smile was firmly in place. “Not at all, dear Georgie. Sometimes we all need some reassurance. Tell me, have you many friends in Derbyshire or London?”

The girl shook her head mournfully. “So very few. I have a companion, Mrs Annesley. William hired her this fall, after…” her voice broke curiously again, but she forged ahead. “She is a widow with two grown children—in fact, she asked leave to visit her son in Mitcham now, while I came to be here with my brother and Richard. She is kind to me, but she is older, and she is paid to endure my company. She cannot be like a friend of my own... or a sister.”

She looked hesitantly to Elizabeth again, who nodded her encouragement to continue. Summoning a new kind of boldness, she went on. “I have had others try to make friends with me, but normally they only ask me about William and try to put themselves in his way. I used to fall for it, but not anymore.” Her shoulders drooped dejectedly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly. There was clearly more to Georgiana’s secret pain than simple loneliness, but she found herself outraged that this sweet girl would be used as a pawn in others’ matrimonial schemes. To be picked up with false intimacy and dropped on a whim—that alone would be enough to shake the confidence of a shy girl like Georgiana Darcy—and she was not even out yet! She could only imagine how this quiet, sensitive soul would suffer when subjected to the ambitions of women like Caroline Bingley.

She resolved to speak with this allegedly kind and attentive brother. If Georgiana were troubled by hopeful debutantes trying to garner the attention of her eligible brother, then Mr Darcy would simply have to keep them at bay himself. Though, she admitted to herself wryly, he already appeared to do a creditable job of rebuffing the advances of others. How anyone ever warmed to him was a wonder—rich and eligible or no.

Her thoughts froze when reality jolted her. As far as everyone else was concerned, Darcy was no longer eligible, and she was the bride-elect. Her eyes narrowed briefly as an uncomfortable thought rose. Darcy had not brought Georgiana to her notice to work through the girl in the same way... had he? No... She doubted that proud Darcy would stoop to such. When had he ever cared what her opinion might be? He was used to getting what he wanted without need for resorting to subterfuge. Georgiana, on the other hand...

Her jaw had dropped as those ideas flew through her mind, but she recovered before Georgiana noticed. The girl had clearly been hoping that she would be that constant sister and companion that she had so lacked. In her wilful dislike of Darcy and dogged determination not to bend to his will, she had nearly overlooked the fragile heart before her. Circumstances between herself and the gentleman in question were bound to become yet more complicated, but she instantly set her mind and heart to be the truest friend she could be to the man’s sister.

With a fearsome swipe at her eyes, Georgiana bent to gather her lost pomegranates. As she did so, Elizabeth added a few persimmons to her makeshift apron, offering a playful smile.

The trembling sorrow gradually dissipated from the girl’s face as Elizabeth kept adding more and more fruit. Her pelisse, stained and sagging, began to slip out of her fingers with the weight. Laughingly Georgiana begged her to stop, but Elizabeth pursed her lips and made a measured pitch, tossing the last persimmon into her lap. They both began to squeal with laughter as Georgiana nearly lost her precious cargo, and Elizabeth almost slipped in the mud trying to steady her.

The sound of slow clapping and a cheerful “Brava!” drew their attention from each other. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam waded through the tall, yellowed grass toward them, then carefully down the short bank into the hollow of the orchard. Apparently, they had grown weary of waiting for the ladies to return in safety. The former bore an expression of relieved worry, the latter one of lively amusement.

Cheered and feeling saucy, Elizabeth met them with an arch smile. “Have you gentlemen lost your way? I believe you will find nothing of interest in these parts. You ought to try farther up on the higher road. I believe there may be some worthwhile sightseeing there.”

Near her shoulder, Georgiana stifled a giggle. Elizabeth had nearly forgotten about Jane and Bingley until that moment. Her heart lifted when she considered the likelihood that her dearest sister’s happiness was on the cusp of being secured.

Darcy’s countenance warmed as he drew near. He stood an arm’s length from Elizabeth, his searching gaze taking in the joy on his sister’s face and the relaxed happiness on Elizabeth’s. “What have you there, Sweetling?”

Georgiana arched her shoulders proudly, the closest she could come to lifting her burden for his inspection. “Pomegranates, Brother! And… What did you call these others, Lizzy?”

Darcy’s eyebrows shot up, and his face split into a wide grin when he heard Georgiana’s casual use of the nickname. His wondering gaze hovered on Elizabeth. The woman was a miracle worker! Never had he seen Georgiana so enraptured and comfortable with a new acquaintance. Had he not known better, he would have taken the pair before him as the oldest and dearest of chums.

“They are called persimmons, Georgie. Here, Colonel, have you ever tried one?” Elizabeth took one from Georgiana and offered it to Fitzwilliam. He took it suspiciously, turning it over as though she were handing him a snake.

Darcy had drawn one of each type of fruit from the folds of Georgiana’s pelisse and held them up to his delighted eyes. “I have never seen a persimmon. I did order a pair of pomegranate trees planted at Pemberley last year, but it will be some years before we have any fruit of them. We are so much further north that my gardener had his doubts that they would even survive the shipping. We put them in the conservatory, and I have high hopes they will thrive. It was a great deal of trouble getting them, I can tell you, but now I see how wonderful the fruit is, and I am glad.” He turned the persimmon over in his hand, wondering how difficult it would be to start his own trees from the seeds of that very fruit. He might have better luck, he decided, in taking a cutting from the tree.

Elizabeth watched him curiously, never having witnessed Darcy in the natural elements. His fascination with the fruits was highly out of character with the man she thought she knew. “Have either of you gentlemen any sort of knife?” she ventured. Elizabeth expected a negative from both, but Darcy procured a fine silver one. She cocked her head, inquisitively.

He offered her the same bashful smile that she now recognized as belonging to his sister. “One learns to carry a pocketknife at all times when tending the estate. It has proven amazingly useful.” Removing his gloves, he drew the blade out for her and gently gave it into her hand. The way the corner of Elizabeth’s mouth tugged as she reappraised him made his heart beat a quick thud.

Elizabeth herself was slow to recover. Mr Darcy, the prim and proper, evaluating horticulture and walking around at all times with a practical tool on his person? She was more than a little surprised.

Recollecting herself, she carefully sliced through the persimmon in her hand. It would be just my luck to accidentally nick myself now. No doubt Mr Darcy has another handkerchief as well, and he would be able to play the gallant again. Despite her mind’s dire predictions, she made the cut safely and handed back the knife. Her bared fingers tingled slightly where the tips of his brushed against them. Quickly she looked back to the fruit.

“My grandfather told me this tale when I was quite young, just before he died. The native peoples in America had a legend about these trees. When the seed is shaped like a fork, as this one is, we should expect a light winter. A spoon-shaped seed means we should expect to shovel a heavy snow, and one shaped like a knife means cutting winds.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “And do you believe the legend, Miss Elizabeth?”

She surveyed him with mock gravity. “Never argue with a tree, Colonel. I daresay if you do, one of you will prove to be the fool, and it will not be the tree.”

Even Darcy laughed at this. Curiously, she regarded him closely again. She did not recall him ever laughing aloud in her presence. Shifting her eyes to Georgiana, she lifted her brow questioningly. Georgiana’s matter-of-fact expression was her only reply—as if to say, See, I told you.

A light tapping sound alerted the entire party to a turn in the weather. They all tipped their heads to observe the small drops pattering on the bare branches of the trees. “We had best turn back. Let me help you with those, Georgie.” The colonel stuffed the pockets of his overcoat until they bulged. Darcy did the same, and soon the girl’s hands were free.

With a daring little grin in Elizabeth’s direction, Georgiana deliberately stepped closer to her cousin and took his elbow. The older man smiled affectionately down at the young girl and led her carefully out of the slippery hollow, leaving the others to catch up.

Elizabeth felt her throat constrict. Darcy was nervously twitching his gloved fingers, looking between her face and the sodden earth. Politeness dictated that he should offer to escort her over the slick ground, and that she should accept. Wordlessly, he gave a short bow and proffered his arm for her to take. Gingerly, she slid her fingertips around the curve of his coat sleeve, holding herself as aloofly as she possibly could.

As they mounted the short incline together, Elizabeth’s worn shoe slipped in the mud, and she faltered, trying to catch herself. Reacting quickly, Darcy steadied her, turning and grasping her shoulders so that she could regain her footing. Her hand had instinctively clutched the lapels of his coat. Their eyes met, and both quickly looked away, shivering from the awkwardness of their posture. He held her firmly until she indicated with a curt nod that she was ready to walk ahead, then released her. Elizabeth resumed her tenuous possession of his elbow and fastened her eyes to the ground.

They walked silently together several paces in the sprinkling rain. Elizabeth’s face was pensive, her mouth resolutely closed. Darcy glanced at her uncertainly, hoping she would break the stillness. Anything would be better than this stalwart silence. She was clearly leaving it to him to speak first.

Summoning his courage, Darcy took a deep breath, hoping he had chosen a safe topic. “Miss Elizabeth, I would like to thank you most sincerely for your kindness to my sister.”

Her eyes darted to his briefly, then straight forward. “She is a delightful girl, Mr Darcy. I was very glad to make her acquaintance.”

“She was most eager to meet you,” he added warmly. At this, the lady’s eyes flashed uncertainly to him again, but she did not reply. “She has made few friends. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that she seemed so happy just now.”

“Do you choose her friends for her then, Mr Darcy? I seem to recall your tendency to make decisions for others. I cannot fathom why such a charming girl should have no friends, other than she has had no opportunities to do so for herself.”

Her words stung. He stiffened, schooling his offended feelings before making reply. It would not do to take her bait just now, when he needed to gain her good opinion. Tight-lipped, he attempted to avoid the obvious reference to their quarrel from the day before and focus on her concerns for Georgiana. “Miss Bennet, not everyone is as articulate as you are, nor as comfortable making conversation with strangers. She does not prefer a great deal of company. You must have found that Georgiana is rather shy.”

Elizabeth dropped her arm and turned to him, stopping them. “She has been left too much alone, Mr Darcy. The ability to make friends comes with practice, which one cannot gain with only a hired companion. I cannot pretend to know all on such a short acquaintance, but anyone with eyes can see the girl is desperately lonely and unsure of herself. She is barely sixteen! One might wonder why such a ‘kind and caring’ brother as she describes would choose to leave her so often to her own devices?”

Darcy bristled. “Do you mean to imply that I neglect my duties to my sister? Miss Bennet, nothing could be further from the truth! Would you prefer instead that she be allowed to run freely, largely unchaperoned, without suitable guidance and protection? Do you think it preferable that a young lady who is too young to be out should be allowed improper liberties for her age?”

Elizabeth gasped, her eyes now full of fire. He so clearly held her father’s neglect and her mother’s mismanagement of her younger sisters in contempt. The words may not have provoked her so greatly had they not exposed her own shame at her sisters’ wild behaviour. Indignant, she harshly repressed her feelings and rushed to attack the words which her sensibilities confirmed as so true.

“At least, Mr Darcy, my sisters know affection and the pleasure of one another’s company! Do you truly care enough for this dear sister of yours to make your sentiments known to her and to spend time with her? Or do you find it more convenient to shuffle your responsibilities to those in your employ?”

“Miss Bennet, you overstep your bounds!” Her narrowed eyes declared to him that she did not care for his reproof and would stand her ground. His blood boiling, he flung all caution to the wind. “How dare you accuse me of negligence and callousness with regards to my sister! Georgiana has my very heart. I care for her to the best of my abilities! She wants for nothing!”

Elizabeth tilted her chin brazenly, meeting his searing gaze without flinching. “Nothing but a friend!” she cried. “The child has only false companions who would exploit her position! There is no one in whom she can confide, no genuine attachments to brighten her existence. Why is that, Mr Darcy? Why should you keep her sequestered away from others her own age, exposing her only to the frivolous attentions of those who have more interest in yourself than in her?”

He ground his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists to control his temper. He had desperately wanted to avoid another scathing argument with Elizabeth, but it was too late, and her accusations were too much to bear. “I protect her! Miss Bennet, you have no idea of what you speak. Why do you think I did not bring her to Netherfield before? Do you think I do not wish for her company?”

“She certainly wishes for yours!” she lashed back. “Tell me, Mr Darcy, are you such a poor protector that you cannot defend her from the grasping attentions of others when you come away to stay with your own friends? You do not bring her with you, so what has she when she is alone in London? Are you so afraid for her that you would not welcome to your home other young women her own age who would be true friends?”

“Miss Bennet, I did not choose my situation!” he hissed. “I am well aware of my inadequacies as both guardian and brother to Georgiana. I have done my best, but some things have proven beyond my control. Trustworthy companions, the like of which you speak, are rarer than you can know. I had hoped that you might be the sort of companion she so desperately needs! Is it your intention, Miss Bennet, to simply lecture me regarding my failings, or will you be a friend to my sister?”

She slanted a grimace at him. “I will be her friend, but it is for her sake alone, Mr Darcy, not yours!” Elizabeth turned and marched homeward, blinking tears of frustration mixed with the stinging rain.

Darcy sagged. He stood alone, his head drooping and arms hanging uselessly at his sides. His hopes had begun to rise, only to be blasted again. Elizabeth and his sister had shown every propitious sign of the blossoming closeness he had desired to foster between the two women dearest to him. Skilfully and gently, she had drawn Georgiana out of her shell, infusing the girl with her liveliness and sparkle. She had even drawn sword to vehemently defend his precious sister—unfortunately, she imagined she was defending Georgiana from himself. Elizabeth Bennet had proven once again that she was everything he had ever dreamed she could be... except in love with him.

Slowly he trudged toward Longbourn, heedless of the now steady drizzle dripping from his hat brim and soaking through his woollen coat. They had not walked far from the house before Elizabeth had diverted them to the grove, and he found himself at the doorstep sooner than he could have wished.

Fitzwilliam was looking out for him and held the door. The colonel clapped him comfortingly on the shoulder, and in a low voice, suggested, “Better give her that letter, after all.”