The morning, though still cool, had brightened considerably, and the air, after the closeness of the breakfast room, felt fresh and agreeable. Elizabeth led the way through the small garden, speaking lightly of its modest arrangements, though her attention was less upon the grounds than upon her companion.
“I am afraid,” she said, “that you will find very little here to compare with Pemberley.”
“I do not think so,” Georgiana replied. “It is very pleasant.”
“You are easily satisfied.”
“I hope I am reasonably so,” she said, with a small smile.
They walked on a few steps in silence.
“It is very different,” Georgiana continued, after a moment. “But, I think, I like it the more for that.”
Elizabeth glanced at her.
“Because it feels…” She hesitated. “More at ease.”
Elizabeth did not immediately answer.
“I have never stayed with strangers before. But it did not feel so. Even your parents,” Georgiana added, more softly.
Elizabeth turned toward her, touched, though she answered only with a smile.
“Actually, it is not entirely true. Fitzwilliam wrote about you. I felt I knew you a little.”
“Really?”
“Yes, twice. More the second time. The third time, he wrote that you were courting.” She paused but then continued with a smile.“I was not completely surprised. He had never written about a lady.”
“He seems to be a great correspondent.”
“When he is away, he writes often. Although I do not like to be alone, his letters help. He tries to entertain me. Mrs. Reynolds, our housekeeper, says he will be less away once he marries. She said that men like to stay at home if there is a reason. A sister is no such inducement, it seems. But I do not blame him.”
They had reached the far end of the garden path, where a narrow opening led toward a small grove beyond. Elizabeth was about to turn when a figure stepped forward from the shade.
“Miss Elizabeth. Miss Darcy.” He lingered on Georgiana. The voice, though composed, carried something in it that arrested them both at once.
Georgiana stopped. Her hand tightened slightly upon Elizabeth’s arm.
Elizabeth felt it – and understood. “Mr. Wickham,” she said, with composure.
He bowed, though without deference. “What an unexpected pleasure,” he continued.
“You are mistaken, sir,” Elizabeth replied. “There is no pleasure in it… And I doubt this is accidental.”
A flicker – brief, but unmistakable – passed across his expression. Georgiana had not spoken.
“I wished only to renew an acquaintance I had thought… interrupted.”
Elizabeth felt the tremor in her arm and moved, almost imperceptibly, a step forward. She placed herself slightly between her and Wickham.
“You should not be here, sir.”
“I will not detain you long,” he returned, though he did not withdraw. “I wished only to pay my respects.”
“I do not think so.” She put her other hand on Georgiana’s. “Come, Miss Darcy. We have been outside long, and the garden has just lost its lustre.” She tried to go past Wickham, who, on the other hand, blocked their way.
“I never thought I would see you again, Georgiana,” Wickham bowed slightly. “Are you not happy to see me? It is quite rude of Darcy to neglect to inform us both.”
