When they arrived, the cabby said, “Want me to wait for you?”
“No,” she said, firmly, and gave him the fare.
Mounting the steps to the front door, she realised that she had no idea – at all! – if Lord Fane was present. What if all this subterfuge was for naught?
The butler recognised her at once; he bowed and ushered her into the drawing room. If he was surprised to see her alone, he was too well-trained to show it. “I will see if Lady Agatha is available,” he said.
Georgiana nodded and sat in a chair by the fire.
Lady Agatha appeared almost at once. “Georgiana? But where is Mrs. Darcy? Or Mrs. Annesley?”
“Agatha, I am here by myself, and it is your brother I must speak with.” Her voice was shaky but determined. “Please, please tell me that he is home! It was not easy for me to leave Darcy House on my own, as you may imagine.”
Ah, at last! Agatha thought. Perhaps now the mystery will be solved. “Georgiana, wait right here.”
She vanished, and Georgiana waited. It seemed her friend was gone forever; more than once, her heart failed her and she wished nothing more than to leap up and run away, but each time, she recalled her many sleepless nights and resolved that one way or another, this must come to an end.
Finally, Lord Fane walked in. “Miss Darcy! Are you really here?”
“I am, yes.”
“For a moment, I thought I must be dreaming this.”
“Can we close the doors? I must speak with you on a matter that is – well, the utmost discretion – “ And her voice failed her, and she buried her face in her hands.
Lord Fane thought rapidly. He could not be alone with her in a closed room. “Wait here, Miss Darcy.”
He left for only a minute, and returned with Agatha. In a loud and cheerful voice, Agatha said, “Come, Georgiana, the gardens are beginning to bloom most beautifully! I have longed for you to see the flowers.” She led an unprotesting Georgiana from the drawing room and into the back garden. Further back, behind the roses, Lord Fane waited. Without another word, Agatha gave her friend’s arm a squeeze and walked away.
“Sit, Miss Darcy. Just behind you.”
Georgiana turned and saw a small stone bench. She sat.
“Have you come to tell me why you have turned away from me?” Lord Fane asked, gently.
“Yes.”
“I am listening.”
Georgiana took several deep breaths and then began. “When I was fifteen years old, I did something very, very stupid, and in so doing I have put myself into the power of someone who could ruin your family.”
Lord Fane stared at her. “That sounds downright Gothic. Can this really be true?”
Bit by bit, Georgiana told him the tale of a scoundrel who traded on her childhood friendship to convince her to elope with him, and how she had been saved, by sheer happenstance, by the unexpected arrival of her brother.
“Where is the man now?”
“Oddly enough, he is married to Mrs. Darcy’s youngest sister; they live in Newcastle, where he serves in the militia.”
“You cannot possibly be blamed for this, Georgi – Miss Darcy. You were only a child!”
“Nonetheless, if he learns that I have made a good match – which he will, as it will be in all the papers – he will come to London, and he will tell all the newspapers –“ Georgiana could not finish; instead, she began to tremble.
“But – Georgiana, no, this is madness! No one would believe a word of it!” He could not bring himself to call her Miss Darcy.
“They would, he would make them believe it!” she said, passionately.
He sat beside her on the cold stone bench; there was scarce room for two, but neither minded it. “Georgiana, if such a thing were to be printed, we would simply deny it. Rumours about the aristocracy are published every day, and we ignore it all, because to do anything else is to give the story credence.”
