A maid dipped a brief curtsey to the room's inhabitants. “Lady Jane, your presence is requested in the Hall.”
Jane appeared uncertain, but Elizabeth dismissed her. Lady Caroline could not do much that Elizabeth would find unbearable. Once Jane was gone, Elizabeth resumed her sewing.
“Charles must long to see Jane. He always did fancy her. He was quite heartbroken when she married that Finn fellow.” Lady Caroline’s voice was nasal.
“I was not aware they knew each other.”
“Oh, we are good friends. We have known each other for years.”
Elizabeth did not miss the implication that she was the stranger in this situation. Instead of taking the bait that Lady Caroline laid at her door, she gave a simple nod intended to show her understanding.
“My princess, may I speak candidly for a moment?”
“You may.”
“Prior to my travels north, I spoke with your George Wickham. He had heard of my and my brother's impending trip and made a point to seek me out before I left. He is still quite distraught over losing you, my princess.”
“I am sorry for him,” Elizabeth replied in a quiet voice. This was the last thing she had expected. George was nowhere near Lady Caroline's rank. Why would she have even considered an audience with him, in particular because Lady Caroline had always seemed so averse to condescension? Although her throat tightened at the revelation, Elizabeth quickly recovered. “You cannot do anything about his feelings about the past now. I have married, and he should look forward to the same for himself.”
“I am afraid, my lady, that your George is the very picture of single-minded pursuit.” With that and an expression of concern that would have been believable but for the cold glint in her eyes, Lady Caroline produced a piece of expensive pressed paper on which George's heavy hand was scrawled. She pushed the letter towards Elizabeth, causing the tightness in her throat to return and a wave of nausea overcame her. “He insisted I give this to you upon seeing you.”
She hesitated a moment before she took the note. Feelings and images began rushing back to her as her fingers made contact with the letter. It was almost as though the paper was bespelled with her and George’s entire past: his smile and giddy laugh and the way he danced found their way to her face in the form of a wistful smile. Yes, she had loved George, but it was the fresh, innocent affection of a girl who had never loved before. Now she was a woman with a husband whom she loved so much. He was like air after holding your breath under water. He was vital to her very being. How she missed William at this moment!
“You do him a great service, Lady Caroline. I wonder why.”
“I think it awful that your father sold you into a loveless marriage. I want to see things set right.”
Elizabeth stood. “I thank you for your concern, Lady Caroline. If you will excuse me.”
“Of course, my princess,” the backbiting woman said. She stood and gave Elizabeth a smirk that sent chills down her spine.
With the proud and composed deportment of the true princess she was, Elizabeth quit the room.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth held the letter in her lap and fought tears, some angry and some sad. She read through the letter for the third time and wished she had never received it.
Dearest Liza:
All has been ill since you were dragged into hell by that black-hearted monster. I have spent many nights drowning in a tankard of ale instead of sleeping with ye in my arms as it should have been, but that is over and done. I have realized that he will not return ye to thy rightful place and I must therefore fight him for thy release.
Thy father is ill and frets over his sins against us. We have made amends, and he has demonstrated the depth of his regret well beyond what would have been sufficient. He begs me to retrieve ye and bring ye home. He no longer cares for Longbourn and has stated that all that matters is thy happiness. He harbours the belief that ye no longer care for him since he has not received any words since thy departure.
I know, however, that it is the blaggard who keeps ye from us. It is his iron will that hides ye away. He forbids ye contact with those who would see ye free and happy, but not for much longer. His day of reckoning draws perilously near.
Do ye remember that day on Bishop's Hill? I wanted to build us such a very grand life. It would have been simple, but we would have woven each day with wonder and joy. I believe we can still have our dreams. Our destiny is to walk through this life together. Lord Darcy is nothing more than an unintentional obstacle. He shall see the error of his interference. I promise ye that.
I love ye, Liza. I always shall. My days are long and empty without ye and my nights, when I am not nursing my wounds with spirits, are filled with terrible visions of how ye are being abused by his lordship. He has soiled ye and convinced ye that ye are unworthy of my love still, but that shall never be. His sins are not thy sins and I shall still consider thy body untouched when our own wedding night comes to pass.
Dearest Liza, there will never be a woman to replace ye. If I cannot be with ye, then I shall not be with another.
I am coming for ye, my dearest, loveliest Liza. Until then take comfort in my unyielding love.
Your Bonny George
Surely George did not intend to come for her! He was a shepherd, not a warrior. He was not, from the information garnered, even fit to shine a sword, let alone lift it to smite another man. She sighed. She had won her husband's love and loved him in return, even if he did not yet know it, and now her former sweetheart was hell-bent on revenge. Any fight between them could only end badly, and with George fuelled by rage, Elizabeth was unsure as to whom the so-called victory would go. The thought did not ease her worries in the least.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stood, smoothed her gown, and proceeded to the Hall. It was late morning, and Elizabeth had not heard from William since they had left their chambers, which meant he was probably still in talks with Lord Bingley. Lately, he had taken to sending her short love notes he had written during breaks, but she had not received one today. They were sweet and personal; nothing like George's menacing letter.
