Mr. Darcy's Secret (17 page)

Georgiana was lying in bed on the following morning quite unable to rouse herself, partly because of the recollections of the previous day, which kept her dreaming, and partly because she knew as soon as she stirred out of bed she would have to face the fact that what had happened must never happen again. Resolving that she must never be alone with Mr Thomas Butler again, the acceptance of this idea threatened to completely banish the feelings of great happiness stirring within her; so Georgiana stretched before curling up again, pulling the covers over her head once more. A knock at the door alerted her to the arrival of her maid, who entered with a tray of tea things. The tray was set down whilst she drew back the curtains to let in the sunshine. Spring was in the air, the sky was blue, and the birds were singing as if glad to feel the warmth of the sun.

"Oh, Miss Darcy, look what we have here," Mary said, as she returned to the bedside fussing about her charge, pummelling pillows and straightening the bedclothes. Georgiana sat up, rubbing her eyes but smiling at the sight of Mary, who looked most excited. "There's no note with them, Miss," she began, "but I expect these beauties are from Mr Calladine."

A bunch of blue violets, their delicate heads nodding against the glossy green leaves that bound them, were wrapped in waxed paper and tied with a purple ribbon. "That's so romantic, Miss," Mary continued. "My dear old mum says there's hardly such a romantic flower for lovers. Faithfulness, I'll always be true is what a violet says, and a bunch as big as this--he must have been up for hours picking them. Ooh, Miss Darcy, smell them! Just a moment, I'll fetch a vase of water."

Georgiana held the posy to her nose and breathed in the sweetest perfume redolent of the scents of woodland in early spring. Hugh Calladine could not be responsible for such a delightful gift, she thought. The only flowers she had received from him were a bunch of hothouse blooms forced from one of his greenhouses on the day after the announcement of their engagement. The only person who really understood flowers and would be aware of their symbolism and meaning was the only man who truly empathised with Georgiana, she knew, and as she buried her nose deep into the tussie mussie, her happiness at the idea knew no bounds. To think of Tom wandering through the woods collecting the tiny flowers, to know that she must have been in his thoughts at such an early hour was to render her almost delirious with elation. But whilst the sense of euphoria was almost intoxicating, the antithesis of feelings in desolation and despondency soon took hold. Knowing that their love, however sweet, was forbidden and could never be gave rise to feelings of despair.

However, Georgiana had more to worry about than just trying to come to terms with accepting her situation. A further ordeal was yet to be faced. There was to be a reception in the evening given by Elizabeth in order that the family could say good-bye to Pemberley and all their friends and neighbours. Martha Butler and her son had been invited--and so too had Hugh Calladine.

It was Elizabeth who had come upon Georgiana and Tom in the stable, but to Miss Darcy's relief nothing on the matter had been said. Not that she thought Elizabeth had witnessed anything that had gone on, simply that to be seen with him talking together in such intimate circumstances would normally have prompted questions. There had been none, though Georgiana blushed all afternoon at every mention of Mr Butler's name and finally when all reference to him ceased, she breathed with sweet respite. Yet how she was to get through an evening having to face Tom whilst standing at the side of her fiance she did not know. Every effort to keep them apart must be made, she felt, and no acknowledgement of what had passed between her and Tom must be allowed. It must be forgotten, she told herself. In any case, such was the experience she almost wondered if she had dreamed it. But to think about that, to deny the truth was impossible. If she could but skip through time and be at the Lakes! What feelings of mortification would she escape? With a sinking heart and a sense of desperation, she finally roused herself, placing the violets in the vase that Mary produced on her return. Just looking at them made her smile. If only she could look at them as a lover might and not feel guilty at the sight of them. "I should not have behaved as I did," she scolded herself. "I almost let Tom kiss me, and if he had I know I should have kissed him back. I am engaged to Hugh Calladine; I am betrothed. What could I have been thinking?"

The sun shining through the window warmed the petals of the nodding flower heads, turning the scent of violets into a heady fragrance. One moment the posy brought her joy and in the next such feelings of shame that she hid them behind the curtain where she could not see them. Struggle and conflict each took their turn within Georgiana; the battle for her heart, the fight between true love and false commenced. But she recognised that duty or honour to her family and to herself had little to do with her disconsolation. Lying to herself about her feelings for Tom gave way to the lies about her devotion to Hugh. Before the evening party commenced, Georgiana had convinced herself that she felt nothing for Tom and everything for Hugh. Her commitment was paramount; she was engaged to Mr Calladine, Georgiana reminded herself, and in an effort to counteract all thoughts to the contrary, she convinced herself that Tom had not only taken advantage of the situation in the stable yard but also had behaved outrageously.

Georgiana believed that she was impervious to Mr Thomas Butler's charms as she entered the drawing room dressed in her finest white muslin. What harm was there in wearing just one or two of the violets in her sash at her waist or woven amongst her tresses, she thought. And the more she considered it, the more she was persuaded by Mary's insistence of their having been a present from Mr Calladine.

When she entered the drawing room, she found her fiance standing alone by the fireplace. Well dressed and with a slim figure, he had an air of distinction about him which made up for his height. With her hair dressed on top of her head, Georgiana knew he looked at a disadvantage when they stood next to one another, but she hoped that the fact that she had no heels on her slippers would make up for it. She curtsied before joining him by the fire, facing him not unlike the way she had stood before Tom on the previous day.

"Georgiana," he said, by way of a salute, and then looked her up and down in the critical way he had of observing people. "Those wild things you have in your hair are wilting, you know. Did your mother never tell you not to wear such woodland weeds about your person?"

"They're violets, don't they smell heavenly?" she asked, tilting her head toward him. This gesture was ignored and Hugh turned to stare into the fire once more. For the first time Georgiana realised how little they had conversed with one another during their short engagement. She didn't think they'd had a proper conversation about anything at all. Miss Darcy looked at the man she was to marry and discovered that she did not know him. "Don't you love the woodland at this time of year?" she asked, aiming to learn if he loved nature as she did.

"Now the shooting's coming to a close, I can't say it holds much fascination," he answered.

"I meant how lovely the woods become with all the spring flora," Georgiana went on. "I love to take some paper and paint out with me so that I can make a study. There'll be primroses and cowslips soon, butter yellow and quite beautiful."

"I daresay you ladies like that sort of thing, but all the turn of the season means to me is a halt to my beloved sport."

"I wish you were coming to the Lakes," said Georgiana, trying to convince herself that she was bereft at the thought of him staying behind.

"Do you, my dear?" he asked, looking at her in surprise. "Yes, I rather think you do!" Georgiana was looking up at him with an expression he had seen on his best pointer waiting for his master to give his command. "Don't you worry about me, old gel. I am going to London for a few weeks."

Georgiana did not know what to say next. There was an awkward silence.

"Miss Darcy, I think we shall rub along very nicely together, all things considered. We should set the wedding date rather sooner than later, don't you think? I intend to speak to Darcy this evening. When you get back from the Lakes, it must be sorted out immediately. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon we might enjoy a walk out on our own. What do you say? Would you like that, to be alone with me, my dear? A parting kiss before you leave me: might not that be the very thing to gladden your heart before we are separated?"

As he leaned in toward her she flinched at his advances. Georgiana was repulsed, utterly and completely. She was quite ready to burst into tears, but as she despaired at the prospect of his touch, never mind his caress, they were joined by Mr and Mrs Darcy who entered upon the scene as Miss Darcy was trying to conceal the shock she felt at her fiance's request and think of a suitable answer. Mr Darcy was soon taken up with Mr Calladine to Georgiana's relief, so that when Elizabeth stepped up to take her arm saying that she looked a little flushed, she allowed herself to be led away. The room was filling with guests and it was impossible to speak to Elizabeth confidentially. Before many minutes more had passed Mr Calladine claimed her again, taking her arm and whispering what he imagined to be the sort of phrases to set a young lady's heart aflame.

Martha Butler and her son soon made their appearance with several other villagers and neighbours. It had been Elizabeth's idea to ask some of the farmer's families along with the local gentry, and though Mr Darcy had raised one or two objections at first saying that the two would never mix, he had listened to Elizabeth's arguments in favour and finally acquiesced. Elizabeth seemed to be able to make her brother do anything she liked, thought Georgiana, and it struck her that she was sure she would never have the same power over her spouse. She watched her brother greet Mrs Butler with great affability and his behaviour toward Tom was equally good, she noted. Whatever Tom had accused her brother of in the past could surely not be held true now. Georgiana watched them conversing as she stood at Hugh's side, completely ignored as he rattled away to a fellow sportsman. He had her arm trapped within his own. How she wished she could let it go, especially since she knew Tom had caught her eye and was staring at her in that unnerving way he had.

Taking her chance, she excused herself, moving through the throng and stopping to greet those neighbours and friends that hailed her. Conspicuous by their absence were the Bradshaws. Not for the first time did Georgiana think about poor Eleanor, whose heart must be broken even if she had found herself a man willing to marry her. She knew Eleanor and Hugh had formerly been sweethearts, a fact that had made her feel wretched about accepting Hugh in the first place. The whole business was a disaster. Georgiana felt as if she were on the edge of a precipice that was crumbling rapidly, about to send her hurtling into an abyss of misery. Why had she accepted him? she asked herself for the hundredth time. Why had she not listened to Elizabeth instead of trying to please Fitzwilliam? All at once the room confined her, and her feelings threatened to overwhelm her. In need of fresh air, Georgiana slipped out of the drawing room and along the corridor undetected, or so she thought.

Finding her way outside, she paced the terrace, breathing in the sharp, frosty air in an effort to steady her nerves. Spring might be on its way but the night air of early March was very cool. Stars studded the black velvet sky with a million diamonds; beams of moonlight caressing every surface with a finger of mellow light, gilding the balustrades and glimmering on stone urns. It was quiet; she needed the silence in order to collect herself and think. But a noise from behind startled her and she suddenly realised that she was no longer alone.

"Georgiana," a voice called out in a hoarse whisper.

Spinning round she saw the outline of a figure she recognised standing in the shadow of the door recess.

"What are you doing out here, Mr Butler?" she whispered, hurrying toward him.

"I wanted to say good-bye; that is, I need to talk to you alone," he answered.

"I do not think you should be here with me alone," Georgiana protested. "Go back. There is nothing we have to say to one another. Please leave me be."

As Georgiana made an effort to sweep past him he caught her arm.

"You cannot marry that man, Georgiana. You know you cannot."

"I am marrying Mr Calladine as soon as I return from the Lakes."

"Think of what you are doing, Georgiana. You are throwing your life away. He can never love you as I love you, as you need to be loved. If you marry him, you will be his chattel, his possession; he will consume everything you own, all that you are. Georgiana, I refuse to believe that you can submit your life to him in this way. Do you wish to lose everything? You must know that he will expect you to forget everything you have ever learned for yourself to become just like him. I doubt you will even be allowed your own thoughts... everything, your ideas, your independence will be gone forever. He will steal your very soul and leave you with nothing. It's not too late; tell him you cannot marry him. For your own sake, tell him."

"It's no use, Tom," said Georgiana facing him, her head bowed. "I made a promise to him and my brother; it cannot be broken. You do not understand; there is nothing that can alter the fact that I am to be Hugh Calladine's wife. I must go back now, excuse me."

"Promise me something, Georgiana," said Tom urgently, catching her hand. "I know I may ask too much, but will you write to me from the Lakes, tell me all that you are doing? I have long wished to visit the area, and to see it through your eyes would be the next best thing. Of course, I realise that to ask such a thing is most improper, but if you could just send one note to tell me that all is well in your world, I would be most grateful." He paused, watching her face as the blush rose in her cheeks. "I know what happened yesterday was very wrong of me, and I beg your forgiveness. I would not have taken you in my arms if I had not thought that I might never have the chance again. Please forgive me, Georgiana, it was the hardest task I ever faced not to kiss you. And this last request is just that, I promise. Just one letter before you are lost to me forever."