Page 36 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

He struck the snifter from her hand. It flew across the room, and the brandy splashed over Mrs. Younge and the rug.

“I told the girl to bring me the brandy, you wench. Because I have permitted you into my bed, do not imagine you have any authority over me. Get away from me. Leave this house. If you think you shall receive any share of the dowry, you are mistaken. You have received your wages. That should suffice.”

Mrs. Younge stood silent, unable to move as he spoke. He meant to cut her off from her share? After all she had done to persuade the innocent girl to accept the addresses of such a vile man? Never had she imagined how low he would sink in his cups. Until today, she had never seen Wickham drunk. He had deceived them both.

Very well. If he intended to deny her share, she would stop at nothing to bring down his pretensions.

Her gaze settled upon the horrified girl. Georgiana's hands trembled worse than before, and she could not pour the drink. Wickham fixed an enraged stare upon her, strode across the room, shoved her aside, and snatched the bottle and glass from the sideboard. Georgiana struck the sideboard as she fell to the floor.

“Get up.”

Clarissa Younge watched as her charge rose from the floor where he had thrust her. Georgiana stood motionless, staring at the man towering over her, too stunned to speak or flee.

Clarissa crossed to the young girl. “Come, Mrs. Wickham. Let us go upstairs and tidy you. Your hair has come down, and I am certain you wish to look your best for your husband.”

Georgiana rose. “Yes, of course.”

Mrs. Younge guided her from the room by the elbow, expecting Wickham to protest or detain one or both of them, but he did neither. She shot a quick glance back. He held the bottle in one hand, a glass in the other. He slouched upon a couch, intent upon drinking himself insensible.

She hurried her charge upstairs. Once inside Georgiana's bedchamber, she shut the door, locked it, and called for Jenny.

The maid stepped from the dressing room with a needle in one hand and a petticoat in the other.

“Jenny, pack a portmanteau for your mistress and one for yourself. Pack lightly. We travel to London and shall have need of very little. Pack only the necessities. Brushes, tooth powder, and the like.”

Jenny stood motionless, confusion upon her face.

“Run along, girl. Begin.”

“Georgiana, find your bonnet and pelisse, and change into your walking boots. We leave as soon as Jenny has your things packed.”

Tears streamed down Georgiana's face, but hope stirred in her eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Younge.”

“Gather whatever money you have and bring your jewels.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Mrs. Younge left them. Clarissa entered her own room, threw a few belongings into her portmanteau, changed her shoes, put on her outerwear, and returned to Georgiana's room.

Both girls sat upon the bed, a light portmanteau beside each of them. They rose when Clarissa entered.

“Come, girls. We shall use the servants' stairs and go out through the kitchen yard behind the house. Keep out of sight and walk as quickly as you are able. We are bound for the King's Head on High Street to hire a post chaise. Georgiana, did you bring money?”

“Yes, Mrs. Younge. I brought everything Fitzwilliam gave me.”

“Good. We shall use your money to pay for the chaise. Come along. Walk faster, and keep close to the hedge so no one sees us leave the house.”

Mrs. Younge hurried ahead, her pace so brisk that Georgiana often had to run a few steps to keep up. Pain throbbed in her arm. She rubbed it and winced. A dark purple bruise spread across her upper arm where she had struck the cabinet when Wickham shoved her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. How had she been so mistaken about the man whom she had married? He had ever been so kind, so obliging. Could the monster who had shoved her with such violence truly be the same gentleman who had courted her throughout the summer? She could not understand the change, nor the man himself.

Mrs. Younge and Jenny halted at a crossroads.

“Girls, we must cross the street and may be recognized. Keep your heads down and walk as quickly as you are able. We shall cross into the narrow passage behind those houses and continue until we reach High Street. Come.”

They hurried on once more. Georgiana struggled to keep pace with the other two women, but at last they reached High Street and joined the bustle of the thoroughfare on their way to the King's Head.

The busy street eased her fears. She no longer felt so exposed as she had upon the lonely path behind the houses. When the King's Head came into view, hope stirred within her. Soon they would sit in a post chaise, leaving Ramsgate and Mr. Wickham behind.