Page 26 of The Cherry Trees of Rosings
You know what Wickham attempted to do with Georgiana. You know that the only people privy to it will never break our confidence. Not Matthew, the groom, Ellis, the footman, or Georgiana’s maid, Lucy. You know Wickham and Mrs. Younge tried to extract five hundred pounds for their silence after asking for three thousand at first. How you gave Wickham a good hiding and a broken nose when you arrived shortly after.
I do not know if Miss Bennet will keep our confidence. I hope she does. I believe she will. But I cannot think of anything else that will make you consider this odd circumstance with the seriousness it demands. Because I demand it of you.
If you believe me, come to Lady Catherine’s parson’s house in Hunsford. I shall have a letter ready for Georgiana by the time you do. I do not believe I will live long, if I am not dead already.
This miracle—for I cannot call it anything else, shall be my last words to you. I hope you will be a good guardian to Georgie andkeep her away from the wastrels of the peerage. Do not let her marry someone who only wants Pemberley. And, for God’s sake, do not let Lady Catherine meddle! Or your mother and father for that matter. Definitely do not let Lawrence Delaney near her. I stand by what I said about him.
You are a good man, Richard. I shall miss your sorry face but let us not meet on the other side anytime soon. I shall watch from above for the day your mother successfully gets you hitched and off the battlefield. God bless.
Yours faithfully &c.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Elizabeth stopped writing and clutched the pencil tightly in her hand.
She knew her face was wet from crying near-silent tears but she could not bring herself to move an inch. Or look up. Her heart raced in her chest.
“Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Forgive me,” Mr. Darcy said gently. “It was not my intention to distress you.”
“Think nothing of it, sir,” she said, at last. Then she looked at him fiercely.
“Whywould you let him spread rumours about you in Meryton?”
Mr. Darcy searched her eyes. He raised a questioning brow.
“Mr. Wickham,” she clarified.
He grimaced.
“I was not privy to what was being said about me.”
Elizabeth got up from her seat and walked to the nightstand where she stored her handkerchieves. She could not bear to look at Mr. Darcy anymore. Shame swept through her as she roughly pulled out a drawer and reached for a piece of embroidered linen.
How could she have believed everything Mr. Wickham said? On such slight acquaintance that too!
“Where should I send the finished letter?”
The handkerchief—recently wet from the tears on her face—rested in a fist. Elizabeth stared at the wood grains on the top of the nightstand, keeping her back to Mr. Darcy.
“To Matlock House in Mayfair.”
She nodded.
“I shall post it in the morning.”
When she finally had the courage to turn around, Mr. Darcy was not in the room anymore. Elizabeth felt her heart twinge painfully.
She hoped that would not be the last time she saw him. More tears trailed down her face.
Chapter 17:
Stark
The next few days were a blur for Elizabeth.
