“That is not my concern. I should like to attend the assembly. Therefore, we cannot return to Kent tomorrow.”
“But madam, you cannot—Icannot—the parish—your mother!”
“Miss de Bourgh, I beg you to reconsider,” Mrs Jenkinson pleaded urgently. “You cannot possibly attend a dance. It would be too much. You would surely be overcome. Just the thought of all those foul humours in one room! You must not attend, I beg you. I dread tothinkwhat might become of you.”
Such nonsense provoked Elizabeth to hiccup a tiny laugh before she could prevent herself. She bit it back instantly but too late.
Miss de Bourgh glared at her malevolently, then all but snarled at Mr Collins. “I suggest you begin to make the necessary arrangements directly, if your curate is to be prevented from leaving at noon tomorrow.” Turning to her companion, she said, “And I suggest you do whatever you must to ensure that I am notovercome,as you put it, because if I am, my mother will be seriously displeased.”
“Bravo, madam,” Mr Wickham said with an amused smirk. “May I be so bold as to secure your hand for the first two dances?”
Miss de Bourgh’s consent drew another gasp of horror from Mrs Jenkinson, who began to lament the very grave dangers of overexerting oneself, a whimper from Mr Collins as he watched his preferment teeter on the edge of an abyss before him, and a small frown from Elizabeth as she attempted not to be offended that Wickham had overlooked her for the honour of dancing the first set.
5
Darcy was interrupted by a knock at the door. He set his papers aside when Mrs Annesley answered his summons to enter. His sister’s companion had not come to his study since he first interviewed her for the post. Her presence and her expression made him disagreeably wary.
“Pray forgive the intrusion, Mr Darcy, but Miss Darcy has received a letter that has caused her a good deal of distress. I would not usually trouble you with it, except I understand the matter relates in some way to Mr Wickham, though I have not been able to discover the details, for she is too upset to speak of it.”
Darcy held himself very still—no easy feat, considering the flips his stomach was performing. “Thank you, madam. Where is she?”
Mrs Annesley directed him to Georgiana’s private saloon, whither he went with quick steps and burgeoning rage. He ought not to be surprised that Wickham had the audacity to write to his sister despite innumerable warnings to leave her alone. Nevertheless, Darcy was incensed. He would have to involve his cousin Fitzwilliam in this. Clearly, Wickham required a more tangible deterrent.
He heard his sister before he arrived. She was sobbing again.Do all young ladies cry this much?he wondered, sure that his sister had spent at least two thirds of every other day weeping since the age of about eleven. She paused briefly when he opened the door, only to redouble her efforts when she saw him, slumping over the letter in her hand and howling wretchedly. Darcy suppressed the urge to tell her to collect herself and was inordinately grateful when Mrs Annesley did it for him.
“Come now, Miss Darcy, this will not do. Your brother wishes to speak to you. Sit up and compose yourself this instant.”
Georgiana nodded and sniffed ineffectively into the handkerchief Mrs Annesley gave her. She glanced at Darcy, a doleful look that made her appear a decade younger than her fifteen years. He did not want for compassion, and angry though he was, he did not like to see her thus anguished. Yet, he had little experience of consoling young women and had no idea what manner of comfort she desired. He wondered what Elizabeth would do—no doubt make her laugh and tease her out of her misery—then he cursed himself for allowing the thought ingress.
“What has he said?” Darcy asked, more curtly than he intended but angry at his own weakness.
Georgiana swallowed a sob and looked at him in confusion. “What haswhosaid?”
“Wickham. What has he said in that letter that has upset you this much?”
She shook her head. “This is not from Mr Wickham.”
Relief forced the breath out of Darcy. It was fortunate, for it meant he had none left with which to swear an oath when Georgiana added, “It is from Anne. She says Mr Wickham is in Meryton, and she has dined with him! She is going to aballwith him this evening and has agreed to dance the first set with him.” Her breathing had grown ragged and her voice higher in pitch. “What if he tells her what happened in Ramsgate? What if he tells her and she tells my aunt? She would be furious! Oh my life! I cannot—” More gasping breaths. “I cannotbearthe thought of Lady Catherine knowing of my disgrace.”
“Calm yourself, Miss Darcy. Calm yourself this instant!” cried Mrs Annesley, taking Georgiana’s hand and rubbing it firmly as one does for sufferers of shock.
Darcy was grateful for it. He had not the capacity to administer to his sister while he battled his own agitation and dismay. He was confounded as to how this eventuality had never occurred to him.
No, that was untrue. He knew precisely why this very obvious, very feasible encounter had not struck him as likely. It was because he had been too busy convincing himself he did not care what was happening in Hertfordshire. Too busy forbidding himself from thinking about what Anne might be saying about him to Elizabeth. Too busy feigning indifference to the fact that, judging by her remarks at Bingley’s ball, Elizabeth was sympathetic to Wickham’s tales of woe.Fartoo busy refusing to contemplate the possibility that the cur might succeed in seducingElizabethto recognise the danger of him encountering Anne.
Yet, troubling though all that was, it was not Darcy’s greatest source of consternation. Nor was his sister’s prediction that her indiscretion would be discovered. He doubted thatwould happen, for there was no profit to Wickham in revealing it. Whatwaslikely—inevitable, really—was Wickham setting his sights on Anne’s fortune, which was substantially larger than Georgiana’s.
Yet, even that was not Darcy’s chief concern. Nay, the reason he could scarcely contain his vexation was that after all his endeavours to give no consideration whatsoever to anything that was occurring in Meryton, he was now obliged by honour and duty to return there. He must rescue his cousin as he had done his sister, and to do it he must put himself back in the path of the one woman he most wished, mostneededto avoid.
“Damn!”
He only realised he had said it aloud when Mrs Annesley took a sharp intake of breath and Georgiana began crying again. “Forgive me,” he murmured. Pulling a chair from the side of the room, he sat before his sister and rested his elbows on his knees. “You must not distress yourself. Wickham will not say a word about Ramsgate, of that I am convinced.”
Georgiana slowly unfurled herself and took a shuddering breath. “How can you be sure?”
“Because it will do him no favours to admit to someone with Anne’s potential that he attempted to seduce her young cousin.”
“But what if he tells someone else and Anne hears of it?”
