Page 133 of The Difference of a Darcy
He turned to Elizabeth and Darcy, giving them each a curt nod. “You have done your duty well. Thank you—both of you. You may go.”
They exchanged a glance, reluctant but obedient, and began to retreat toward the door.
“Wait.” Georgiana’s voice, though weak, carried across the room. She struggled to sit upright, one hand braced behind her. “Oh no—both of you stay, please.”
The colonel’s brows lifted. “I should much prefer to speak with you privately, Georgiana.”
She shook her head. “It will be easier if Beth remains. She has been my dearest companion—my confidante—and, if it is not too improper to say, my friend.”
“Yourfriend?” the colonel repeated, half in disbelief.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “If one may be friends with servants.”
He opened his mouth to protest again, but Georgiana’s eyes met his squarely. “Am I not the mistress of my own home? I shall decide who may hear what I have to say. These two have proved themselves both caring and trustworthy. I wish them to remain.”
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed, sinking onto the couch beside the fire. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Tell me everything, Georgie-girl.”
∞∞∞
Though Darcy already knew much of what Georgiana had endured—Elizabeth had told him the worst of it—he found it nearly unbearable to hear his sister recount it in her own trembling voice. Every word seemed to carve fresh wounds upon his heart. He had thought himself prepared; he was not.
Across from him, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s expression darkened with each revelation. The fury in his eyes matched the storm within Darcy’s own breast, and in that strange mirror of emotion Darcy found a grim sort of comfort. Whatever else this world had altered, Richard’s heart remained steadfast.
He wondered, as he had so many times in his real life, how two people as cold and unfeeling as the Matlocks could have produced a son like him. Even before joining the army, Richard had possessed a warmth and sincerity that neither parent seemed capable of. Darcy had long credited their childhood at Pemberley for shaping him—that steady companionship between cousins which had drawn Richard away from the frost of Matlock Hall—but as he watched him now, Darcy realized the truth ran deeper.
Such goodness could not be taught, not with parents like that.
It was born within him.
When Georgiana’s account at last faltered to an end, she slumped back against the pillows, pale and exhausted. Elizabeth leaned forward at once. “She has not slept more than an hour since yesterday,” she said softly.
The colonel nodded. “No wonder. It sounds as though the night you spent together was much like a battlefield.”
Elizabeth gave a faint, weary laugh. “That is precisely what it felt like: trying to sleep on the hard ground, no fire, never knowing if or when the enemy might strike.”
Georgiana opened her eyes, managing a small smile. “Even so, the scullery was better than my rooms. At least I was not alone.”
Elizabeth’s expression gentled. “You have been very brave these last weeks, my dear. Braver than most women would ever be.”
“It is only because of you, Beth,” Georgiana murmured drowsily. “Before you came, I had given up. I spoke to no one, I stayed in bed for days... but you made me believe there might still be hope.”
Elizabeth smiled, brushing a stray curl from the girl’s brow. “And as much as I celebrate you leaving your chambers, I would now like to see you backinbed, if you please. You must rest if you are to keep up your strength.”
The colonel gave a short nod. “You can sleep soundly, my dear. No one will enter this house unnoticed. It may be wise for us all to take what rest we can while we wait for the scoundrel to return.”
Georgiana’s eyes were already closing before he finished speaking. Within moments she had drifted into sleep. The colonel rose quietly, gesturing for Darcy and Elizabeth to follow him into the corridor.
“It seems,” he said with a faint smile, “that I owe the Smiths more than I first thought.”
“You owe us nothing,” Darcy replied gruffly.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Indeed not, sir. We would hope another might do the same for one of our sisters in such circumstances.” Her voice softened. “But I fear that so long as Mr. Wickham continues his dissolute ways, she may again find herself in danger.”
“I concur,” the colonel said. His tone hardened. “And I have a few ideas on how to prevent it.”
“What are they?” Darcy demanded.
The colonel studied him for a moment, and Elizabeth’s heart leapt in alarm, fearing Darcy’s eagerness had betrayed him. But when the colonel’s eyes flickered to her face, his expression only softened.
