Page 109 of Mr. Darcy Comes to Town

“And don’t y’be comin’ back, neither, George Wickham,” Elliot growled. “Iffen y’do, I’ll evict y’covered in bruises, I will.” He stepped back and swung the door to, fastened the locks, and turned away to face the interior of the entrance hall, his back to the door as though he guarded it. Georgiana felt infinitely safer.

Her cousin reached the ground floor. “Was that who I think it was?”

“Colonel,” Elliot said, nodding respectfully. “It was Wickham, sir.”

“Darcy told me he saw him in town,” her cousin said. “I am going to dress, and then we will patrol the grounds with Corporal Laman to make certain Wickham has left. Wake Brewster and have him rouse the footmen. Light the house.”

“Aye, Colonel,” Elliot said, marching toward the baize door which opened into the realm of the servants.

Georgiana waited for her cousin to reach her. He crouched and held onto her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. He put an arm around her.

“Come, my girl. Let me take you to your bedchamber. You must ring for Farley. Lock the door until she gets there. Let her in and lock it again. Will you do that for me?”

“I will,” Georgiana whispered.

“Good girl,” he praised, leading her to her open bedchamber door. He put her inside. “Lock it, now.”

Georgiana obediently turned and locked the door with fingers that trembled so badly she thought she might tug the key out of the lock. After a moment of deep breathing, she hurried over to the bell that rung in her maid’s bedchamber.

“My window,” she whispered. Forcing herself to cross to the open window she hurriedly closed and locked it. Without looking out the clear pane, she folded the shutters closed as she had seen servants do her entire life. She locked them and then tugged the drapes over the shutters as though the cloth represented another layer of defense.

Georgiana pressed her closed fist over her wildly beating heart. What can I do next? What did Douglas say? Her gaze roamed the chamber, coming to rest on the lone candle still burning on her night table.

More light. He said light the house. She examined her shaking hands and wondered if she could trust herself near a flame. Farley can light them.

If only Fitz would come home. Georgiana cast a swift glance at the clock on the mantel. It is not even eleven. He will not be here for another hour at least.

A light knock sounded at the door and the door handle turned. Georgiana flew across the room.

“Who is it?” she asked, her hand on the key.

“It’s me, miss,” Farley said.

Georgiana sobbed and turned the key. She wrenched open the door and fell into her maid’s arms.

“There now, miss. Don’t you worry none. I’m here now.”

Farley shuffled them into the bedchamber and kicked the door closed behind her. “I’ll jist lock this here door first, miss, since you felt the need fer it.”

Georgiana nodded and struggled to contain her tears. “I…I w…will sit on the bed.”

“That’s a fine idea, miss. And, I’ll light these here other candles.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Georgiana sat on her bed and watched numbly while Farley lit the branch of candles on the dressing table, the ones on the mantel beside the wooden clock, and the lamp in the middle of the small round table near the center of the room.

“There, that’s better, miss,” Farley said. She calmly walked to her mistress and helped her out of her robe. “That’s a nice bow you achieved, miss. Well done. Now, get yer legs under those covers and lay yerself against yer pillows. One of the maids is bringing you yer hot milk. That’s it, not too low. You’ve had an upset, that’s all, miss. Nothing to worry yerself about anymore. It’s all over.”

“I want Fitz,” Georgiana said in a small voice, obediently following Farley’s orders.

“‘Course you does, miss,” Farley said, tucking her covers about her legs and lap. “He’ll be home soon enough. You don’t want him seeing you in right state, do you, miss?”

“You are quite right, Farley, dear,” Georgiana said, taking another shaky breath as she struggled to find courage. “I am not a child anymore.”

“‘Course you ain’t, miss. Yer almost a woman grown. Yer too old to be afraid of a bugbear, which is all that man is, miss.”

“They told you, then…in the rooms…who it was who came to the door?” Georgiana could not make herself say his name. Saying his name made him more real, somehow, which was foolish because he was real.

“They did, miss.” Farley moved to a chest of drawers, removed a quilted white tippet, edged in soft lace, and brought it to the bed. “Let’s put this round you, miss.”