As she placed her son on the pavement, his ball fell from his grasp and rolled down the street.
“Oh no,” he cried, pointing.
“Shall we catch it?” Elizabeth took his hand, and they ran together toward Berkeley Square to retrieve the ball. Soon, he was giggling as she tugged him along. It slowed to a stop near to the feet of a woman close to the corner, and her son bent to scoop it up.
“Pardon us, ma’am,” she said, a little breathless. Mrs Darcy did not run about as often as Lizzy Bennet once did. “The young master had a runaway.”
“He is a handsome boy, Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth started and looked at the feeble woman. She wore awalking dress of black bombazine, and her black crepe bonnet had a lace veil that came down to her chin.
“Do I know you, madam?” she asked, taking her son’s hand in hers.
She hesitated. “I am sorry to say that I am Mrs Wickham.”
Elizabeth exclaimed her surprise. The woman was Georgiana’s height, but the veil concealed her features. She peered closer but could see little through the black lace. Still, the voice and diffident manner reminded her of the girl she had once known. “Forgive me for not recognising you. It has been a long time.”
“I did not intend to trouble you. I am now on my way.”
She moved to turn the corner, but Elizabeth stopped her. “Please, stay a moment. It has been nearly fifteen years. Would you like to come inside?”
Georgiana shook her head. “I was only in London on business and thought to catch a glimpse of a former life.”
“Mamma?” Her son scuffed his feet and pulled on her hand, giving all the hints that his patience was at an end. Elizabeth caught the eye of the footman by the carriage and pointed to her son, and he came forward.
“Go inside and I will be along shortly. Papa should be in the library now.”
He ran off, and Georgiana said fondly, “He looks very like my brother, but he seems to have your energy. Your daughter looks exactly like you.”
“Did you ever have children, Mrs Wickham?” They had exchanged few letters over the past fifteen years, only to announce the arrival of her children and a matter of family business. Otherwise, there had been no contact between the respectable Darcys of Pemberley and the wayward sister who threw herself away on a vice-prone gamester.
Georgiana took a long time to answer. “No, I was never so blessed. I thought so many times, but I could never keep them. A consequence of my illness, I suspect.”
The clouds moved away, and in the light of a sunbeam, Elizabeth had a better view of Georgiana’s face. She had a dusky-red ulcer at thecorner of her mouth, a gaping crater that looked painful. However, Georgiana spoke easily and seemed unbothered by it.
Keeping her composure at the sight, Elizabeth asked, “Would you like to come inside? Fitzwilliam is?—”
“I saw him walk home a quarter of an hour ago, and now that I have seen you and your little ones, I know you are all well and happy. I am soon returning to Scotland.”
Elizabeth held out a hand for her to stay. “Give your brother a chance to see you.”
Her lips moved into what might have been a smile. It was hard to tell through the veil and with the sore. “I have injured him, and you—my entire family, truly. He will not forgive me.”
She knew that to be far from the truth. Darcy was the most generous man she knew. “Does that sound like him?” she asked gently.
Georgiana sighed. “The truth is, I am too ashamed.”
She knew all too well what shame felt like, what it could do to your soul. “We soon go to Kent for Easter. If Fitzwilliam can forgive Lady Catherine for her insults against me, he will certainly see you.” Lady Catherine’s language toward her was so offensive that for years, all contact was at an end. “Where are you staying? Please, give him the chance to see you.”
Georgiana took a long time to answer. “He will not choose it, but I am in town until Friday. I am at Ibbetson’s, on Vere Street.” She held out a hand. “I do not expect to see you again, Mrs Darcy, but I am exceedingly sorry for my part in deceiving you, and stealing from you, and threatening your happiness with my brother.”
Elizabeth instantly took her frail hand, but before she could grant her forgiveness, Georgiana left without another word. She watched her for a while before going into the house. When she entered the library, she saw their daughter standing next to Darcy, a hand around his waist. He was in front of the bookcase with their son on his shoulders.
It warmed her heart to live in a home where the library was a family space.
“I need your help to get a book for your sister. Can you reach it?”
Their little boy strained for it. “Almost!” He stretched a bit farther and retrieved it. “I got it!”
