Tears came in earnest then, her breaths in sobs. Remy stood still, ever loyal in his affection, a steady, trustworthy companion. Her only companion, when she had hoped…
And there it was. What had been a beautiful, hopeful glimmer was lost. She would never see Mr. Darcy again.
She had convinced herself that he would understand and that their friendship was as important to him as it had become to her. She had expected too much when she never should have dared to hope for anything at all.
Probably she ought to be grateful that their friendship had ended while he could still hold her in some regard. Had he learned her secret, she would have lost his esteem forever.
Elizabeth prayed her father would live many years more, and she had every intention of offering the painting to Mr. Darcy first when that sad day came, but today, she mourned the loss of the future that might have been.
Loosening her hold on Remy, she dried her eyes against her sleeve and ruffled his fur. “What are men to loyal canine companions?”
Remy licked her cheek, and Elizabethstood before he was encouraged to shower her with more slobbery affection.
People came and went, some of them unaware of the impact they made in one’s life. Mr. Darcy was such a man. She refused to allow one disagreement to cast a shadow over all the kindnesses he had shown her.
She looked at the two finished landscapes waiting to be collected by her uncle Philips, knowing now that they would be her last as Mario Rossi. She did not have to pretend anymore. There was some relief in that. She ought to hide them, to eliminate all evidence of her secret, but who would find her here, this last day? She had kept her secret safe for years. It would keep for one more day.
The change would allow her to paint as herself, andElizabeth Bennetcould paint whatever she wanted. It was an exhilarating thought, but the spark failed to light a fire in her veins.
Too heart-sore for enthusiasm, too numb for creativity, she decided to paint something Mario Rossi could not paint. Something meaningful and familiar.
She should paint Longbourn. It seemed appropriate to finish this chapter of her life with the very thing which had motivated her down this path.
Grabbing a pencil, she began sketching a soft outline of the home she had worked so hard to save. However, after several minutes, she stopped. Her heart was not in it.
Remy jumped up to his feet, barking and scratching the door with his paw. “Is it time to leave already?”Elizabeth called over her shoulder, careful not to lose her focus when she had a problem to solve. Remy barked again, and Elizabeth spun around to shush him at the same moment the door sprung open.
In bounced Archie, and behind him was Georgiana. She stumbled forward, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes wide with fear.
CHAPTER 26
“Iam so glad to see you!” Georgiana squeezed her arms around Elizabeth as though her life depended on it.
Some rebel she was! She had thought herself brave when she left Netherfield with Archie (requiringsomekind of companion?she had notcompletelylost her senses). Her boldness had lasted all of five minutes. In that time, she had wandered far enough away from the house to lose sight of it. She walked in the direction of the duck pond, searching for something or someone familiar and, with every step, feeling more foolish.
What had she thought to prove, anyway?
Fitzwilliam and Richard would be worried when they found out… because theyalwaysfound out. They would be worried, and they would be disappointed in her. Again. Would she never learn?
Elizabeth rubbed her back as Georgiana had seenher do to Jane many times. It was a comforting movement. She wished she had a sister like her.
“I am always happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Alone?” Elizabeth pulled away with her hands on Georgiana’s shoulders, concern wrinkling her forehead.
Had Georgiana kept her composure, she might have shrugged and said she had decided to take Archie for a walk. Elizabeth would have accepted such a reply, as she so often walked alone with Remy. But Georgiana had run into her friend’s arms like a scared child. She could not be flippant about it now.
Neither was she ready to disclose the true reason. She searched the room for an explanation, a piece of the truth without revealing the whole. As she was surrounded by drab gray stones, her vision stopped abruptly at the incongruous sight of two brightly colored canvases leaning against the wall. Each picture told a story in vivid tones and was bursting with such gaiety that she could not help but forget her own troubles and smile.
Georgiana drew closer, her eyes feasting on a banquet of colorful clouds reflecting off swirling water and indistinct figures living in the scene. “These are delightful! So similar to the paintings at Netherfield Park.”
She felt Elizabeth tense beside her. Georgiana finally noticed her artist’s smock and the paint on her hands. “You are an artist!” She glanced at the bottom right corner to confirm her newfound knowledge, andher heart slowed. She turned to her friend. “Who is Mario Rossi?” Elizabeth’s face blanched.
There was a great deal Georgiana did not understand, but Elizabeth’s reaction made her realize she had crossed a line. Her insecurities returned in full force. What a fool she had been to follow Archie here, trespassing where she had not been invited! Fitzwilliam would be livid, Mrs. Annesley would be disappointed to have been purposely left behind, and Richard would threaten to lock her in a tower.
Feeling like an intruder and fully regretting her minor rebellion, Georgiana took a step backward. Oh, how she wished she could disappear! “I should not be here. My apologies?—”
Elizabeth reached out to stop her, her grip firm but her expression soft. “Mario Rossi is…well,me!”
Having prepared to defend her apology, not to hear a confession, Georgiana shook her head. “I do not understand.”
