“Of course not, Georgiana, but that is not the future that awaits us! I promise you, Ipromiseyou that you will find love, real love, not the false words of a practiced seducer!”
She shook her head and did not reply.
Mr. Darcy ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had very much hoped that his sister would confide in him during their enforced time together as they journeyed to Meryton, and had therefore had his valet, Corbin, travel in a separate carriage and go ahead of them. Corbin traveled alone, as Georgiana had refused any feminine companionship, and had made it a point to pack only those gowns that she could get into and out of on her own.
Alas, Mr. Darcy’s hopes were not realised, as Georgiana stared out the window for the entirety of the journey. He tried to reassure her that she was still loved and any blame for the unfortunate events of Ramsgate must fall to Wickham, Mrs. Younge, and of course to Mr. Darcy himself, for not having properly scrutinized Mrs. Younge’s references. These words of consolation and comfort fell on apparently deaf ears, as nothing he could say seemed to help her.
He found himself occasionally glancing at her midsection and then quickly looking away. He thought that he could not imagine what he would do if she were with child, but despite his horror at the idea of it, his agile mind leaped ahead, picturing the sequence of events that would result in his own niece or nephew being adopted at birth by some farmer and his wife.
No, no, he thought, shaking his head. I will not think of it. But think of it he did, and it tormented him. How he wished he could ask her outright if she had surrendered her virtue to Wickham! But even his active imagination failed – quailed! – at the very idea of such a conversation. Such a conversation required a mother, not a brother.
***
When they arrived at Darcy House, they were greeted by Mrs. Hilden and Mr. Samuels, the butler. Was it Mr. Darcy’s imagination, or were the two long-time, trusted servants a bit nervous? A bit less warm than usual? He dismissed the idea as soon as it arose.
The knocker was put up on the door, and Mr. Darcy awaited the flood of cards and invitations that would normally have poured in as soon as word of his arrival in Town was put about. But there was nothing. Actually – nothing! This was unheard of.
He began to feel some alarm. But then he calmed himself. Perhaps no one knew he was there? The knocker might not have been noticed. He had a box at the theatre at Covent Garden, andMuch Ado About Nothingwas being shown just then. He thought the title perfect for their current situation.
“You cannot be serious,” Georgiana protested when she was told that they were to go to the theatre.
“I am, indeed,” her brother said. “But I will invite our aunt and uncle to attend with us. That will be a show of support thatcannot be mistaken. I shall send a footman with a message at once.”
Dear Aunt Ellen,
We are in London for a few days, on our way to visit Bingley in Hertfordshire. I think of going to see Much Ado About Nothing in Covent Garden tomorrow night, and I hope you and uncle will consent to sharing our box.
Would it not be good for Georgiana to be seen with you? Are you willing to show your support for her?
Darcy
A return message came within the hour.
Darcy,
Do not do it. This is not something you can brazen out. You and Georgiana will be shunned, and this will do her no good.
Also, I do not think I can convince your uncle to be seen with you just now. His political standing has been weakened by Georgiana’s actions, and he is not in the best of humours as a result.
But do come to dinner tonight, the two of you.
Aunt Ellen
For a moment, Mr. Darcy felt rebellious enough to attend the theatre, with or without the Matlocks, but his respect for his aunt and her opinion won out. He sought out his sister, saying, “Georgiana, we will not go to the play, but we will go to dinner at Matlock House.”
Her relief was palpable.
Then he added, “I think to go to Bond Street; will you not come with me to Hatchard’s? Doubtless you can find new music there.”
She shook her head, vehemently, and ran upstairs to her room.
Mr. Darcy watched her go. He would go on his own, then, and pick up a few small gifts for his sister; would not some new music sheets lift her spirits? He would doubtless see a number of acquaintances there, and at least a few of them would give him the benefit of the doubt.
He walked into Hatchard’s and all but bumped into Sir Hilton, a baron with a small estate in Suffolk. “Hilton,” Mr. Darcy said, nodding to the man. But Sir Hilton quickly turned away and scurried from the shop. Mr. Darcy stared after him.
Mr. Darcy made his purchase and went back out into the street. He walked past a number of shops and spotted a tearoom. He went inside and was shown to a table in the back of the room. He ordered a tea and a scone, which arrived quickly. As he sipped his tea, he looked around the room. There – was that not Lady Archer? And her good friend, Lady Foley? He nodded at them, and they immediately looked away. The two quickly gathered their belongings and left the tearoom, heads held high.
Mr. Darcy felt his face flame. It was bad, then. It was very bad, if the likes of Lord Hilton, a minor baron with no fortune, felt that he could afford to snub the nephew of the Earl and Countess of Matlock. And it was very,verybad if Lady Archer and Lady Foley, both part of the Countess of Matlock’s social circle, completely ignored him and then rushed away.
