Page 108 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

That is not a carriage, so the rider cannot be Fitz…unless…something has happened to the carriage? Who else would come here at this time of night? It must be Fitz or Mr. Bingley. Or…or…a groom? Someone sent to fetch another carriage perhaps? I must see.

Georgiana threw back the bedclothes and yanked on her robe. She thought about tying a bonnet and had her belt tied about herself in a trice. She shoved her feet into her slippers and hurried across to the door. She opened it half-way and heard the door knocker.

It cannot be a groom, or any other servant—they would have gone to the kitchen door.

Her heart tripping in sudden anxiety, Georgiana opened the door further and moved along the corridor until she stood at the top of the stairs. Glancing about and not seeing her cousin, she wondered if she should go and wake him. Hearing footsteps crossing the tiled floor, Georgiana peered through the shadows, watching the lantern and the man it illuminated, expecting to see Brewster, the Bingley’s butler.

It is Elliot. No one will dare to force their way into the house with him guarding the door, she thought, immensely relieved.

Why Georgiana felt so much anxiety over this unexpected visitor she could not say. Sinking down onto her haunches, Georgiana grasped hold of the carved wooden balusters and hid behind them while she spied the goings-on in the entrance hall between them.

Elliot slowly opened the door. It was thrust out of his hand and it swung wide. A tall man, dressed in a red military uniform, wearing a bicorn hat, swept in.

Relief coursed through Georgiana. Oh, he has come for Cousin Douglas.

And then he spoke.

“Elliot, old man, good to see you.”

Georgiana’s eyelids fluttered, and she thought she might faint. Her grip on the balusters tightened even further.

George!

Oh, Lord, it is George!

“Mr. Wickham, sir,” Elliot was saying, though Georgiana heard his words as though he spoke at the end of a tunnel. “Yer not permitted inside. Leave.”

“I have come to speak to Georgie,” he said, sounding merry and full of himself.

“Miss Georgiana’s gone t’bed, she has,” Elliot said, his tone menacing. “You ain’t seein’ ‘er.”

“At this hour?” George demanded, removing his hat. He folded it shut and poked Elliot in the chest with one corner of it. “She will see me.”

“I ain’t wakin’ ‘er up no matter what y’says,” Elliot growled. “Iffen y’don’t leave on yer own, I’ll put y’out.”

“By yourself?” George asked, laughing. He put his head back and shouted, “Georgiana! Georgiana! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Ye must be drunk,” Elliot said, disgust in his voice.

Georgiana cringed away, hiding her face in her hands. A drunk George frightened her nearly out of her wits. Tears hovered in her eyes. She squeezed them shut and the tears rolled hot and stinging down her cheeks.

“What the devil?” her cousin cursed from behind her. “Georgie,” he said, his voice calmer. He crouched behind her and put his hands on her shaking shoulders. “What is it? What is happening?”

Unable to speak in her terror, Georgiana weakly pointed down the stairs before covering her face once more.

“Right,” he said, his voice hard. “You return to your room and lock the door.”

Georgiana could not move. She felt frozen to the spot, unmoving limbs useless and ignoring her pleas. From between her fingers, she watched Cousin Douglas, in his dressing gown, hurry down the stairs.

From below, Georgiana heard Elliot say, “That’s it. Out wi’ye.”

Georgiana watched Fitz’s huge valet take hold of the back of George’s collar, grab his arm, and march him to the open front door.

“Let go of me! Let go, I say!” George sounded outraged as he struggled in Elliot’s grasp.

“Iffen y’can’t be’ave like a gentleman, I’ll not treat y’like one.” Elliot threw George out the front door. Georgiana could not see if he fell or not.

“Hey!” he shouted.