Page 124 of Regrets

Georgiana gasped. She put a hand over her mouth and then removed it. “I am so very angry!” she cried. “I am so very angry! Angry at George, of course; also angry at myself! How could I have been so stupid? How could I have abandoned all my notions of ladylike behaviour to throw myself into the arms of the first rogue I encountered?”

“You did not know he was a rogue,” Lydia said, softly.

“I should have been warned!” Georgiana raged. “I should not have been allowed to continue to see him as a childhood friend! I am so angry at Bro –“ And here she stopped.

“Yes?” Lydia asked, softly.

Georgiana stared at Lydia. “And do you not see? That is the worst of all! How can I be angry at my beloved brother, who has been like a father to me, who has given me everything? What a wicked and ungrateful girl I am!”

“I do not think you wicked at all,” Lydia said. “I think you have every right to be angry.”

“But he told me to stay away from George!”

“And did he tell you why?”

“No, but – well, George said that they had had a falling out over a woman.”

“But your brother said nothing to warn you of his character.”

“No.” Georgiana dropped her eyes.

Lydia said, “Georgiana, look at me.”

Georgiana did so.

Lydia took her hands. “I promise you, Georgiana, that you are not deficient, not stupid, not ungrateful, not any of those things. What you are is very, very angry, and it seems to me that until you do something to get this anger out of you, you will not recover.”

“But – but –“

“Think about it, Georgiana,” Lydia advised, and then she slipped off Georgiana’s bed and returned to her own room.

Georgiana did not sleep that night. She did exactly as Lydia had suggested: she thought about it. And she saw now, very clearly, that Lydia was quite right. Oh, certainly Georgiana had been foolish, of that there could be no doubt. But she was not deficient, stupid, or ungrateful. She was just – angry. She was angry at George Wickham, who had turned out to be nothing whatever like the romantic hero she had so wished him to be. And she could no longer deny that she was angry with her brother who, by withholding the truth, had left her vulnerable.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

The next morning at breakfast, Georgiana was silent. Upon being questioned, she assured Elizabeth that nothing was wrong, she was perfectly well, perhaps just a bit tired. Lydia, too, was quiet; she watched Georgiana from under her lashes.

“Where is Brother?” Georgiana asked, having crumbled her toast to pieces.

“In his study, I believe.” Elizabeth replied. “But he is to go out –“

Georgiana heard no more. She slipped from her chair and made her way, unsteadily, to her brother’s study. She opened the door and walked in without knocking.

Mr. Darcy looked up in surprise upon hearing the door open, but then smiled when he saw his sister. The smile froze, however, when he saw the expression on her face.

She turned, and very carefully, deliberately, closed the door behind her. Then she walked, slowly, softly, on cat feet, to her brother’s enormous desk. She stood before it, her eyes on him, and began to cry, soundlessly.

“Georgiana –“ he began and started to walk around the desk to go to her.

“Stop!” she said. She backed up two paces and held up a hand. “Do not come near me.”

“Whatever –“

“This is not my fault,” she whispered.

“I never said –“

She took a deep breath and screamed “This is YOUR FAULT!”