Far more pressing on her heart was her imprudent kiss on Darcy’s cheek. She ought not to have done that when his mind was occupied with his aunt’s indignation, his own offended feelings, and the reminder of his sister’s folly. When he hugged her close this time, it took all of her strength not to press herself against him and kiss him on the lips. He could hardly have similar thoughts about her amidst all of his distracting family concerns.
Maybe he would someday, if his cares were lessened.
Her errand this morning might help her husband with one of those concerns. The letter Darcy had asked her about was a scribbled note from Georgiana asking her to meet and to bring more money. She sighed over it, but it was another opportunity to draw her sister-in-lawfrom her scoundrel of a husband. This was how she could show Darcy how much she cared for him, by giving him what he most wanted.
It was busier in Berkeley Square than it had been last Sunday, and she finally found Georgiana in the south-west corner by the wall of Lansdowne House’s gardens.
“You are late,” Georgiana said. “I was worried you would not come.”
“I had to wait until your brother left.”
As she said the words, she knew it was wrong. He would be angry to know she was supporting Wickham through Georgiana’s hands. But surely another meeting or two would be all it would take to persuade her. She could bring her home, and it would make Darcy so happy.
Elizabeth passed a quick eye over her friend. Her walking boots needed to be brushed, and her pelisse had dirt marks along the bottom. What she could see of her hair appeared not to be styled, but carelessly shoved into her bonnet.
“Mrs Wickham,” she said cautiously, “how have you been keeping?”
A shade passed over her eyes, and then it was gone. “Very well. George says the sweetest things to me,” she answered with a faraway smile.
“But is he taking care of you? How are you living?”
Her grin faltered. “We have taken lodgings in Edward Street. I daresay it is not how you are living in Charles Street.”
Elizabeth wondered which of the many Edward Streets she was in. Whatever it was, it was likely only a few rooms. “Do you now have a servant to help you?”
A pout that reminded her of one of Lydia or Kitty’s tantrums formed on Georgiana’s lips. “How can we afford such things while my brother keeps my money from us?”
“Has Mr Wickham consulted an attorney?” she asked, curious.
“I do not know, but he is often gone.”
She blinked. He must not have found an attorney who thought he had a case. Darcy’s attorney thought it unlikely, but it would all come to nothing if Wickham did not bother to petition for it.
If Wickham would not receive any money, and if Georgianadisliked the conditions she was in, perhaps they would separate. Georgiana had none of the telltale signs of a syphilitic infection, so it might not be too late to preserve her health. “If you are unhappy where you are, your brother would support you if you and Wickham agreed to live apart.” Elizabeth reached for her hand. “It is important to me that you know Darcy would support you.”
Georgiana snatched her hand away. “My home is with my husband. Before my union, I was admired only for my accomplishments of singing, playing, drawing. Now I need not perform to find a husband.”
“But your brother never expected you to parade about, and certainly not when you are so young.”
“But he did expect me to marry, and I wanted to. Marriage has always been my object, as it is for any young lady, and I have found someone who adoresme. Now I am a wife and due all the courtesy attending to that station,” she finished proudly.
“Is social importance all that matters to you?” Elizabeth cried.
“What else is there for a woman but to be a wife? I have secured that for myself at fifteen, half the age of some women.”
“But you are destitute and cut off from those you love because all the world agrees that your husband is a scoundrel.”
“No, they hate that he is poor!”
Elizabeth sighed at how little progress she was making. “You say that Wickham tells you he adores you, but what do his actions say?”
Her gaze narrowed in a way that reminded her of Darcy’s expression when he was confused. “What do you mean?”
“His behaviour matters. Has he introduced you to his friends? Does he listen to your cares and concerns?”
“He shows me how he loves me every day,” Georgiana said in a tone that she thought Elizabeth to be rather silly. She had a good guess what “shows me he loves me” meant.
“But does he confide in you?” Elizabeth dropped her voice and leant a little closer. “Is he home with you every night?”
