“Georgiana?” he questioned brusquely.
Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “She is well enough, only a little rattled. Miss de Bourgh and my sister Mary are attending her. Jane,” she cast a grateful look over her shoulder, “is fighting the good fight to contain my younger sisters until Mr Bingley can make arrangements for us all to travel homeward.”
Darcy heaved, the tension beginning to leave him. “But… Georgiana? And Anne?” he asked again, numbly. Elizabeth did not answer. He followed the direction of her gaze and discovered his cousin leaning against the house, his hand wearily covering his eyes. Fitzwilliam’s mouth twisted in an agonized scowl. Though still mystified at the sudden source of his cousin’s disturbance, instinctively, he started to pull away from Elizabeth to go to him. In trial and storm, Richard had always been there to comfort him, however exasperating his methods might have been. He could do no less!
Elizabeth, however, tightened a staying hand on his forearm. He looked back at her, and she shook her head. “Go to Georgiana,” she urged. It was more of a command, really. Nodding slowly, he submitted, darting one last look over his shoulder.
He found Georgiana and Anne with their arms about each other’s shoulders. He did not know which to expect to be the most overwrought, but quickly found that Anne had come through her ordeal with rather more philosophical amusement than he had expected. He and his cousin had been making inquiries about Meryton after leaving the colonel’s office. As a consequence, he had witnessed the entire episode from down the street, beginning with Anne and Elizabeth’s easy familiarity and right up to Elizabeth’s glorious verbal assault on all things George Wickham. He had anticipated that sheltered and tender Anne would have been mortified beyond words, horrified into a stupor by Wickham’s audacious attack, but she offered him a comforting smile as he approached.
Georgiana, on the other hand, had her face hidden in her handkerchief. She had never been one given to fashionable hysteria, and with a questioning look at Anne, he took his place to Georgiana’s left in a seat Mary Bennet vacated for him. Georgiana clenched his hand but would not lower her shield.
“Georgie,” he inquired softly, “are you well?”
She nodded mutely, the lace bobbing and tickling over her nose.
Anne cleared her throat. “Mrs Philips offered us some refreshments, William. I believe I will take advantage of her hospitality.”
He watched her go, then turned back. “Georgiana, will you speak to me?”
She shook her head. Dimly he became aware that she was not crying—not exactly. She seemed only distressed, perhaps ashamed and embarrassed.
He bent close to her ear to murmur low encouragement. “I never heard him say your name, Georgie, nor could anyone else have but possibly Elizabeth or Anne. Richard clubbed him pretty hard. I do not think he will be speaking anything of coherence for the rest of the day.”
She drew a shuddering breath but made no other reaction. He was thoroughly baffled. She had never, even after the escapade with Wickham, hidden her face so determinedly from him. He cast his troubled gaze about the room, and it landed on Jane Bennet, who apparently had been observing them with interest. Acknowledging his silent plea, she came to sit with Georgiana as well. By a subtle shake of her head, the sage Miss Bennet advised him not to press his sister just now.
Hanging his head, he resigned himself to his meek position as Hand Holder.
Elizabethcasuallyassumedaposture on the walkway outside her aunt’s home, about an arm’s length from the colonel. She did not speak to him, but she did smile and wave at some of the town’s passers-by. A few darted nervous glances her way, but her open friendliness and general sterling reputation in the community encouraged a wave of support that she hoped would flood over all of the innocent ladies touched by the potential scandal.
Fitzwilliam still did not move. She avoided looking directly at him. That would have been Darcy’s style, but some innate sense whispered to her to offer the colonel silent comradeship without requiring anything of him.
At last, he spoke. “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? And my cousin Anne?”
“Quite well, sir. Thank you for asking.”
He was silent once more, gazing thoughtfully across the street at no object in particular.
“How long have you been in love with Georgiana?” she at last questioned in a low voice.
He shot her a convicted glare. “It is not what you think.”
She arched a brow. “And just what do I think?”
He returned his gaze to the nothingness across the street. “You must think I would take advantage of my position as her guardian. You must be horrified that I, a man twice her age, would even think of her.”
She shrugged. “The age difference is not unheard of. My aunt and uncle Gardiner share a similar such difference, and I cannot find it within me to criticize their union. As to your guardianship, I have it on the very best authority that none could look after their charge more perfectly.”
He squinted curiously at her, pressing his lips. At last, he began to articulate his feelings. “You asked me once if war was not terrible.”
She nodded.
“I have been three tours of duty overseas. Truly, Miss Bennet, there is no more horrifying device known to mortal man. The cruelty, the blood… the brutal squandering, Miss Bennet. I could never describe to a lady what my eyes have seen, but the nightmares… they are known to every man who wears a uniform. I cannot lay down my head without seeing my brothers dying, hearing the screams of men and horses… such a bloody, senseless waste of life!”
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
Fitzwilliam swallowed and continued. “We cope as best we can because our loved ones back at home depend on our protection. I shall not venture to philosophize on the imperial dogma—I have seen the good and also the harm. Mine is to do my duty and serve my men.”
Elizabeth nodded in understanding, taking a supportive half step closer to him.
