I wished it was only me I had to worry about.
His dance with Kitty complete, Darcy was to be found in the corner of the room, drink in hand as he talked with Mr. Bingley and Jane. Elizabeth made straight for them, not stopping to apologise to the people she practically elbowed out of the way to get us there precious seconds sooner.
Mr. Bingley was best positioned to see our approach and must have said something to Darcy, who turned, ready to greet us. His face went from joyful to concerned with just one glance.
“Georgiana? Your face is as white as a sheet,” he said, taking a step closer and lowering his voice to avoid attracting attention. “Are you unwell?”
“Can we leave?” I begged.
Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were already looking at me with confusion that edged closer towards pity with each moment, and I didn’t want anyone else to adopt the same expression. My entire experience with evenings of merriment was that they never turned out particularly merry at all. Indeed, so far they were proving to be some of the worstevenings of my life—moments of intimacy with Kitty Bennet notwithstanding.
“What happened?” Darcy pushed.
His eyes darted around the ballroom, looking for what had unsettled me. I hoped, for Wickham’s sake, he had not come inside. I doubted Darcy would treat him kindly. It was tempting to consider not saying anything specific, but I knew Darcy was going to want an explanation, especially after the weak one I’d given at Pemberley. The quickest way to make an escape would be by telling the truth. Before I had to, Elizabeth cut in.
“George Wickham is here.”
My brother’s face immediately turned stony. He examined me carefully, as if expecting to find physical injuries. But, other than an ache in my knuckles, I was unharmed.
“Did he hurt you?” Darcy asked.
I shook my head. “Please, I just want to leave.”
“Of course.”
He took my arm and strode towards the exit with similar disregard for anyone in his way as his wife. Usually the attitude had me rolling my eyes, but I’d never been more grateful for my brother’s defensive nature. If someone had interrupted my escape from that ball, I would’ve broken down. Excepting, of course, for one person.
Kitty appeared just before we reached the doors, reaching out to touch my arm to get my attention.
“George?” she asked, the concern in her voice making it clear she knew something was wrong. “What’s happened?”
Darcy tried to ignore her and keep moving, but my feethad stopped and, short of dragging me along behind him, he had no choice but to stop, too. I twisted my spare arm to take Kitty’s hand, squeezing tight. We desperately needed to talk. She had to know what Wickham had threatened, even if he had no proof beyond a dance countless other people had witnessed and that was not, in and of itself, worthy of scandal. First, I needed to get as far away from the assembly hall as possible.
“Wickham,” I explained quickly.
It was enough. The fire in Kitty’s eyes burned bright enough to rival Darcy’s, and her grip on my fingers was almost painful.
“I’ll kill him,” she mumbled, so full of rage it tightened her jaw.
Despite everything that had happened, I couldn’t help but smile fondly at her protective instinct. Between her, Darcy, and Elizabeth, I felt almost safe, even knowing Wickham was probably still close.
“I’m fine,” I assured her, just to quell her bloodlust. “But I’m leaving.”
“Then so am I,” she declared.
I couldn’t quite interpret the look Darcy gave us, but he said nothing as, with me sandwiched between him and Kitty, we finally left the ball.
Once we were outside and Darcy had called for the carriage, he, in a way entirely devoid of subtlety, tried to look around for Wickham. A few revellers were getting some air, but there was no red coat amongst them.
“Take Georgiana home,” Darcy instructed Elizabeth. “Ibelieve I have a disagreement to settle with Wickham. I should have done it long ago.”
His implication was clear: He meant to challenge Wickham to a duel. From the way Kitty still clutched my arm, he already had an enthusiastic second, but I wasn’t willing to let anyone fight on my behalf. Duels were fought with lethal weapons, and with that came lethal consequences. Everyone had heard tales of women left widowed and children left fatherless. I was already an orphan; I would not risk losing my brother. Before I could voice my distress, someone else was voicing theirs.
“No,” Elizabeth said, her voice firm and unyielding. I’d never seen anyone order my brother around like that. “That is not what she needs.”
“No duels,” I managed. “He’s a soldier. He’ll kill you.”
Darcy laughed darkly. “He’s a terrible soldier. I’d kill him.”
