“You could return to your own townhouse. I would prefer to see you stay here, but Darcy House is as much your home as Pemberley and is far nearer to family.”
She shook her head. “I cannot even remain in London. I need the peace of the country.”
“I would advise you against it,” he cautioned. “Pemberley will seem… it will not be the same. You should not return so soon. You must allow yourself a chance to recover before going back to-”
“To my brother’s home?” she finished. “Richard, that is precisely what I wish! Pemberley is all I truly have left of Fitzwilliam. He loved it so, and there, I shall feel as if he is still close. I may spend hours playing the pianoforte he gave me or walking the gardens he loved. I will ride that great stallion of his through the fields, and—”
“And if you should fall? Is that part of your design as well, Georgiana?” he asked softly.
She stopped breathing for a moment, blushed, and glanced down at her hands. “I….”
“There is no painless escape from your grief, Georgie. You cannot run.” He smiled brokenly, then shifted his seat a little closer to her. “Retreat is impossible, and I know this because I have tried it. There are only two choices; surrender or conquer.”
She stared, her porcelain brow wrinkling in confusion. “I am afraid I do not understand military terms. I must escape from all of the expectations upon me for a time, Richard, and I cannot do it here!”
“Ah,” he attempted a weak grin, “so you suggest a strategic withdrawal to rally the troops. Now you are beginning to speak sensibly.”
“What else am I to do? I cannot bear to face the townhouse and the steady stream of callers, and I shall certainlynevergo to Rosings!”
“For that, I cannot blame you. However, returning to Pemberley now will remove you from those who would support you when you need it the most. Here, you are among family. I shall speak to my mother about limiting her expectations of you.”
“It is onlyyourcompany that has been a comfort,” she sniffed. “No one else… no one loved him quite like I did, Richard! How can they possibly understand?”
He squeezed her shoulder kindly, then dabbed her cheek with his fingers. “We have all lost someone who is irreplaceable, Georgie. I suspect it pains them more than you know.”
“Not to hear Uncle talk. He is all for making plans about what is to be done with me. Fitzwilliam has scarcely been gone a fortnight!”
“He only wishes to see you well cared for. It is his place, both as your uncle and as the head of the family. He is seeking to protect your interests.”
“Heis not my guardian!” she lashed out with sudden heat. “And I am glad of it! At leastyouhave the decency to sincerely mourn my brother!”
“Georgiana, that is enough such talk,” he commanded. “Father bears more than you can know. Wisdom and responsibility will alter a man’s experience of grief—you will learn this for yourself one day. I expect you know as much already and are speaking more out of exhaustion than reason. Mother is right. You must retire for the evening.”
She cast her eyes sullenly to the floor. “If you insist.”
He rose, helping her to her feet. “I do. Perhaps tomorrow we will speak more of your intentions and make some arrangements. I have requested an extended leave of absence, and if it is granted, I may accompany you to Pemberley. I will not permit you to return there alone.”
“Mrs Annesley is there,” she reminded him obstinately.
“I hardly consider her to be adequate company at such a time. If you return to the estate, even in mourning, you return as the mistress. It must be done with both delicacy and authority, and advising you is not a task for your companion.”
Georgiana paled, and her rigid stance faltered. “Oh, Richard!” she breathed. “I cannot—no, it is more than I can possibly do!”
“You can, and you will, when you are ready. Dear one, do go up to your room now. You are nearly falling down where you stand. We will speak of this again when you have rested.”
Richard led her to the outer door of the sitting room, then supported her on the stair until he could consign her into the care of her lady’s maid. That task completed, he self-consciously brushed down the nap of his coat. He looked somewhat rumpled—certainly he would not have been fit to present himself at dinner, but he had missed that nightly event. His father and brother were likely gossiping through fat cigars and around glasses of scotch in the study, and to that room, he repaired.
“Richard! There you are, my boy.” The earl, indeed, brandished a long brown cigar, and he flicked it expressively as his younger son entered.
“Father, Reginald,” he greeted them wearily. He accepted a glass from his elder brother and tossed it back, savouring the fire in his throat as the large swallow of scotch burned its way to his stomach. This sort of pain was a relief, after the horrors of the last two weeks.
“Well, I see howyourday went. Another?” Reginald lifted the bottle, and Richard nodded agreeably.
“Richard, you look a fright,” the earl rumbled in his deep, gravelly voice. “Tell me you were not back at Brook Street. You are wasting your time, my boy.”
“I learned more today, Father.”
“Oh? What is that? Did Darcy drop a button between the paving stones?”
