Page 41 of Georgiana
Chapter Twelve
“Georgiana!”
At the sound of her brother’s voice, Georgiana dropped the quill onto her journal, leapt to her feet and began running as fast as she could down the long hall from her suite of rooms. She practically flew down the stairs and met him at the bottom. He stood, his arms wide, and she fell into them. For so many months she’d been alone, and scared. Fitzwilliam brought with him a sense of familiarity and love. Something she now realized she needed as much as food and air. She squeezed her arms tighter, not wanting to leave this cocoon of safety.
“Sister, I have need of air and if you squeeze any harder, I might collapse and then Richard will never let me forget this.”
“He’s right, Georgiana. Although I’m feeling rather lonely over here with no hug.”
Reluctantly, she stepped out of her brother’s embrace and acknowledged her cousin with a smile. In her haste to greet her brother she hadn’t seen Richard standing slightly behind him.
“I’m afraid I was so happy to see my brother I became like a horse with blinders on. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course, although there is nothing to forgive.” Richard came forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I’m a terrible hostess.” She turned and spotted Chapman, standing a few feet away. “Have Mrs. Howell prepare a few rooms for my brother and−”
“We will not need any rooms, Georgiana.” Darcy cut her off, his face darkening with anger. “We have no intention of spending the night in this house.”
“But you’ve only just arrived.”
“We’ve come to take you home, Georgie.” Richard said. “Have your maid pack a trunk.”
“Home? What do you mean, take me home?” Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around what her cousin was saying. “I’m a married woman. Max has not given me permission to leave.”
Fitz quit his angry pacing and gave her a hard look.
“Permission?” he queried. “What do you mean by permission?”
“He… I was told…” she fumbled for words, shame coursing through her body. “Before his Grace left for London, he put down precise instructions in a letter.”
A dark silence stretched between brother and sister, broken by a quiet request.
“May I see the letter, Georgiana?”
Her shame knowing no boundaries, she nodded and hurried to her room, returning with the letter in hand. Fitz thanked her and removed himself to the window to read the hated missive. Slowly, his hand crumpled the sheet of paper. Ironically, she almost cried out to stop. It was the only letter Max had ever written her and for some unknown reason she wished to keep it.
Fitz finally faced her and, with a muscle twitching in his cheek, gave Richard a telling look. His gaze cut to Chapman, who remained nearby in stoic silence.
“While my sister packs her trunk, I will have a word with you and – he glanced at the crumpled letter – Mrs. Howell. Have a man prepare a carriage for my sister and her maid.”
Chapman gave him a polite half bow and disappeared through one of the servant’s doors.
“Run along now, Georgie and gather a few things. We’ll have someone send the rest of your belongings after you are at Pemberley.”
Fitz turned to Richard and began to talk quietly.
“No.”
Both men looked at her in surprise.
“Pardon?” Fitz asked.
“You expect me to meekly scurry off to my room and pack my bags without one word of explanation?”
“Georgie… it’s complicated and now is not the time to discuss things. I’d like to reach the posting inn before it’s too dark to ride safely.”
“No.” Tired of being told one way or another what she could or could not do, she finally held her ground.
