He strode toward her and pressed her hand in his. “I know, my love. But do not lose heart now. I promise you that once we are married, everything will be well. Better than well. It will be perfect. Can you not see us settled in a little country home? Perhaps we may even find a place near Pemberley, so we may visit your brother anytime you wish.”
Georgiana frowned. “Settle in Derbyshire? Will we not be moving about as you seek your promotion in the militia?”
Mr Wickham looked shocked for a moment, as if she had caught him in a lie, then quickly masked it. “Oh, of course we will. But after I have fulfilled my duty to the army, we will be free to settle anywhere we wish.” He kissed her hand and changed the subject. “Have you chosen what you will wear on our wedding day?”
Mr Wickham drew her over to the settee, and they sat there for several minutes, discussing the wedding details. In fact, Mr Wickham was the one who did all the talking and Georgiana all the listening. After some minutes, Mrs Younge joined them. Mrs Younge kept the conversation on a light footing, despite the gravity of the situation. Georgiana said very little while the two of them visited. Indeed, it was as if she and Mr Wickham were the ones who were getting married, not Georgiana and Mr Wickham. Georgiana had never thought of herself as the jealous type, but then again, she had never been in love before, either. She found herself watching Mrs Younge closely — the way she laughed at Mr Wickham’s amusing stories, how she placed her hand on his arm for the slightest moment. And the look in her eyes as she watched his every move.
Georgiana silently berated herself for her private thoughts. Mrs Younge was her friend, after all. And without her guidance, none of this would have happened. Georgiana had asked her several times if she would ever consider getting married again, and Mrs Younge had always vowed that she would never again take a husband. It made little sense to her, though. Mrs Younge was without protection and had little money to her name. A lady did not take work as a hired companion if she could afford to live as a gentlewoman.
Mrs Younge suddenly snapped her out of her reveries by calling her name in a shrill tone. “Georgiana!”
She jumped, looking between the two of them in alarm. “What is it, Mrs Younge?”
“You looked as if you were about to have a fit. Are you well, my dear?”
Georgiana felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “Yes, certainly. I am perfectly well,” she said, embarrassed to the core. It was Mrs Younge who had frightened her so badly with her piercing tone.
“She is right, my love. You look like you are about to faint. Should you not take some time to rest?” Mr Wickham asked.
Georgiana hung her head, studying the Aubusson carpet for a moment. She was starting to feel queasy, watching them talk as if nothing at all were the matter. All of their lives were about to change, and they were treating this visit as if it were just another social call. Georgiana stood hurriedly and went over to the door. “Perhaps you are right. I should like to lie down for a little while,” she said. She opened the door and gave them one last saddened look. “Call me when luncheon is served.”
∞∞∞
As soon as Georgiana was gone and the door had closed behind her, Mrs Younge turned to Mr Wickham. “It is good you’ve made arrangements to leave on the morrow. I believe our Little Miss Priss is getting cold feet.”
“Well, that is where you come in. Do not let her get cold feet. Our future depends on her going along with the plan,” Mr Wickham whispered.
Mrs Younge raised her chin. “Do not you think I know that? Why do you think I have tried to keep her busy all day? If she cannot think, she cannot change her mind.” She glanced at the door before standing and turning the key in the lock. With a furtive gesture, Mrs Younge gestured for Mr Wickham to join her near the back of the room, where she pulled the shades on the window, so no one from the neighbouring house might see them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him full on the mouth.
He did not pull away from her, but neither did he deepen the kiss. Mrs Younge pulled away after a few moments, giving him a quizzical look. “What is it, Mr Wickham? Are you getting cold feet?” she asked.
Mr Wickham smiled wickedly, raising a brow. “No. However, I think you take more risks than is wise. I thought I told you we could not be together like this until after Georgiana and I are married.”
Mrs Younge let him go, turning her back on him. “You worry too much, Mr Wickham. Tomorrow, we will be awayfrom this wretched place, and on our way to making a new life. Georgiana is too naïve to understand what goes between a man and a woman. She has not the slightest clue of what to expect. But that will be better for us in the end. She can be your wife in name only, and I can be the wife who warms your bed.”
Wickham raised his brows at her boldness. Yet he would not argue the point — not as long as he still needed her to control Georgiana. There would be time enough later to disabuse Mrs Younge of the notion that she had any say over how he wished to arrange his life. He put a smile on his face and went to her, turning her so she had to face him. Wickham lifted her chin and gave her lips a peck. It was a small compromise to make. “Yes. Only a little while longer of this charade, and then we will be free to live our lives as we please.”
This seemed to please her, and she raised herself up on her tiptoes, kissing him again. This time, he gave her what she wanted. It was a small price to pay in order to keep her in line. Once he was married to Georgiana, he could decide whether to keep her around. Soon, all of his plans would be a reality, and he would be the master of his own fate.
“You should go. It is getting late, and I am sure you have preparations of your own to make,” Mrs Younge whispered. Her hair was mussed slightly, and she stood in front of the gilded mirror and fixed it. He leaned down and kissed her neck before heading to the door.
“Keep her in line, Mrs Younge. I am counting on you,” Mr Wickham whispered before opening the door. He slipped out and hurried to the front door, exiting the house before the housekeeper had a chance to bid him good day. He hurried down the muddy lane, giving a backward glance to make sure no one had seen him leave.
Chapter 23
The afternoon was already well advanced by the time the carriage arrived at Longbourn. Though the noon meal must have been over long since, Elizabeth could not regret it. Her stomach would not have been able to handle any food at the moment. Though she had not the slightest regret for her actions, the thought of facing Mr Bennet could not be otherwise than daunting. If Elizabeth felt that all her risks had been entirely justified by the need to save Georgiana, she could not dispute that her father would be equally justified in being angry at her. “Please, stop at the gate. I would not have you delay a moment longer than is necessary.”
“I shall walk you to the door and explain things to your father,” Mr Darcy offered.
“No, please do not. I shall face him on my own.” Elizabeth climbed out of the carriage as the coachman opened the door for her. “The greatest service you can do for me now is to save Miss Darcy.”
She turned and pleaded with him, and he silently nodded. “Very well.” Mr Darcy finally agreed. “May I call on you later?” he asked.
Elizabeth’s heart did a flip-flop at his persistent gaze. “Yes,” she breathed. She stepped back and away from the carriage and allowed the coachman to close the door. “Godspeed,” she said, holding up her hand in a farewell wave.
“Goodbye, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy replied.
Elizabeth watched the carriage speed down the country lane toward town, fervently hoping that it had not all been for naught. She prayed that Mr Darcy would arrive in time. Elizabeth walked up the path toward the house and saw her father watching from his library window. He looked grim, but soon turned away, no doubt to wait for her to come to him, as she knew she must.
