“Odd, indeed,” he returned. “Almost as if it were…fate!”
Georgiana turned to Mrs. Younge. “Might George not visit us at home tomorrow afternoon?”
“I can see no harm in it, the two of you being such old friends,” Mrs. Younge said, agreeably, and gave him their direction. “Do come for tea, Mr. Wickham; we will look forward to it.”
“Nothing could keep me away!” he declared, fervently. And then he caught up Georgiana’s hand and – kissed it! Yes, kissed it, just like in a novel.
Georgiana turned bright pink with pleasure. She could not resist peeking over her shoulder at him as she and Mrs. Younge walked away. He was staring after her.
“What an attractive young man!” Mrs. Younge cooed. “Tell me again how you know one another.”
“Oh! His father was my father’s steward.”
“You do not mean to tell me that he is the son of a servant; I shall never believe it!” Mrs. Younge declared.
Georgiana felt rather wrong-footed now. “No. Well, yes. But – we all played together as children, so I never thought of him that way.”
“He left the estate at some point?”
“Yes, though I am uncertain as to the circumstances…” Georgiana trailed off.
“But Mr. Darcy has never said anything outright about Mr. Wickham, I take it, or you could not be so friendly with him.”
“No, he never said anything. And so it must be all right, or Brother would have told me!” Georgiana’s voice was relieved now.
“Quite right, Miss Darcy,” Mrs. Younge said. “It appears there is no reason not to enjoy the young man’s company.”
***
The next day, George Wickham came to their pretty little cottage for tea. He exclaimed about the cottage, the furnishings, but most of all about how lovely Georgiana – oh, no, he must remember to call her Miss Darcy, mustn’t he! – looked in her pale blue muslin gown. “I can scarce believe that this is the little girl who begged me to carry her on my back all over the estate,” he laughed over his cup of tea.
Georgiana blushed. “I must have been a dreadful nuisance.”
“You could never be that,” he declared, gazing at her soulfully over the rim of his cup.
“I cannot wait to write to Brother and tell him that we met!” she said. “I do not doubt that he will drop everything and come to visit us!”
Was it her imagination, or did George shoot a quick glance at Mrs. Younge before replying? No, that made no sense.
George immediately said, “Oh, no, let us not pull the estimable Mr. Darcy away from his tasks. For he is the busiest man I know, what with Pemberley and the satellite estates, and who knows what all!”
“But he will want to know –“
“I think Mr. Wickham is quite right, Miss Darcy,” Mrs. Younge said, smoothly. “Your brother has a good deal on his mind just now; you recall that one of the tenant cottages burnt down and he must consider how to rebuild it.”
“Oh, yes, the cottage,” Georgiana said.
“That is why he was so willing to agree to our little holiday here at Ramsgate,” Mrs. Younge said. How fortunate you were to meet a friend here!”
***
The next day, George came again and begged Georgiana to allow him to escort her for a walk along the beach. “I do not know,” she answered. “I am not at all certain that Brother would like it.”
Mrs. Younge smiled at her. “Mr. Darcy relies on my discretion, Miss Darcy, and I can see nothing amiss. You are merely strolling with a childhood friend; what could be more innocent?”
Thus reassured, Georgiana ran upstairs for her straw hat and a parasol; returning downstairs, she accepted George’s proffered arm eagerly. Mrs. Younge waved as they departed and turned to go back inside the house. “Should we not have invited her to accompany us?” Georgiana wondered, ill at ease despite Mrs. Younge’s reassurances.
“No, indeed, for she knows that you and I have much to talk of,” he replied.
