A Continued Affection

Part 2

"Georgiana?"

George Wickham had spoken the name aloud almost before he was aware of thinking it, and certainly before the coach had slowed enough to allow its occupants to climb down. Abstractly, he raked a hand through his hair and replaced his hat, tugging at his clothing before straightening, determined to meet his Apollyon head-on.

"Good afternoon, Miss Darcy."

How was it that, despite the shock of their meeting, he managed to sound so at ease with their reunion? As if there could be nothing so natural as to meet the young lady you had jilted at the estate at which her brother was known to be resident. Wickham glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he had somehow merely missed Darcy's arrival, too, and fearing to be caught in between them. There was nobody behind him and he gratefully took a step back, putting a little needed distance between himself and Georgiana as she allowed their driver to help her down from the carriage.

"Miss Darcy -" A thin, spinsterish voice came from the closed carriage, but Georgiana waved the words away, along with their speaker.

"Do not fret, Bates. Mr Wickham is an old friend -" Her voice cracked, and whilst her smile remained stoically in place, Wickham fancied it was not without effort. "An old acquaintance of Fitzwilliam's." She fixed him with a look that seemed to pierce right through to his core. "Is my brother at home?"

Wickham shook his head, dumbly, too shocked to answer further. Was this Georgiana? She looked the same, but this young lady was so confident and self-assured, almost regal, that he doubted it could be the same person whose spirit he had cruelly broken months before.

"It is good to see you again, Georgie," he said, softly, falling back on the old, familiar name in hopes it might conjure up the spirit of the same young lady who had coloured and smiled and fallen so swiftly and easily in love with him.

Her glance cut away, answering plainly without the need of words. It is not good to see you again. Stung, Wickham straightened, replacing his hat and opening his arm towards the estate.

"If you are here to see Darcy, I'm afraid I must be the bearer of bad news. He is not at home!" He shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Nor is Mr Bingley. It seems they were bound for London, so perhaps -"

"Thank you," Georgiana said, coldly turning and taking a few quick steps back towards her carriage. "We shall make for London, then. At least there we may be assured of a welcome, whether my brother is at home or not."

The carriage lurched into motion once more and Wickham took a step back, allowing it to pass him easily. His eyes met Georgiana's, just for a moment, but he saw almost no hint of the young lady he had known in Ramsgate. His heart turned over. Here, again, was proof of the wrongs he had committed, the hurt for which he was responsible. Here, again, he could do nothing but let it pass, safe in the knowledge that to attempt to make amends would merely make things worse.

In what felt like a year but was surely just a few moments, the carriage was gone, even the sound of it fading on the breeze and Wickham was left alone. Fearing the housekeeper might have witnessed this exchange and come to make enquiries, he turned back towards the main road, swinging his feet as he walked and kicking a steady arc of dust and gravel as he made his way down the drive.

Surely Darcy had not been fool enough to invite Georgiana here to Hertfordshire. He smiled, grimly. He credited himself that he still knew his friend well enough to guess a little at how he might choose to act, and having worked so actively to separate Wickham and Georgiana once before Darcy would surely not have been so eager to risk reuniting them.

At the very least he would have remained here to greet her, he thought, reaching the main road and pausing a moment in indecision. His whole morning had been wasted, with not one but two errands unaccomplished. His mood sank in the wake of his non-interview with Georgiana Darcy, such that he was not sure he could face returning immediately to the barracks. His companions would be loud and high-spirited and even the promise of drinking and gambling could not entice him. No, he would go where he might be assured of welcome. One location stood out to him, and he had begun walking towards Longbourn long before he was aware of it.

The way was not far, but it offered him the chance to think as well as to walk, and he was grateful for the opportunity to come to terms with his morning, to buoy himself a little before he drew within sight of a familiar aspect. Before he reached the driveway, though, he was spotted and called to, and stopped in his tracks, turning to greet his welcoming party with a wave.

"Mr Wickham!" Lydia Bennet broke free of the party of sisters, lifting her skirts and running towards him. "Are you coming to call on us?"

"It had certainly crossed my mind to do so," Wickham replied, dipping in a theatrical bow of the kind he knew would elicit a delighted laugh from the youngest Miss Bennet, his most ardent admirer of the group.

"Indeed you must!" Kitty, not quite as beautiful nor as vivacious as her sister, but certainly her equal in enthusiasm, hurried forward, ushering him towards Longbourn. "We were gasping for tea, weren't we Lydia? You have timed it exactly right."

"So it seems." Wickham turned towards the rest of the sisters. Jane, the eldest and most beautiful, met his greeting with a warm smile, but her companions, the dark-haired Mary and canny Elizabeth - Elizabeth! - merely nodded, as if they were not quite so delighted to see him but had no cause to refuse him admission. He held out his hands to take the packages that Lydia thrust at him as she talked ten-to-the-dozen about their morning's errands.

"You have been to Meryton?"

"Yes," she sighed. "And what a waste of time that was! There is absolutely nothing worth buying!"

"And yet you were determined to shop, regardless," Mary pointed out, offering to take the packages that Wickham was left to carry into the house. "Never mind the fact that we are to be in London in less than a day!"

"London?" Wickham turned, his gaze meeting Elizabeth's. He saw in her steely glance a likeness to Georgiana Darcy he had never before noticed and, had it not been for that morning, would likely never have thought to observe. "You are going to London?"

"Yes, Mr Wickham," Elizabeth said, her voice light but not without meaning. "We are going to London."