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“William, this creature will not even introduce herself! And look at her appearance, what kind—”

William said nothing but took his sister by the arm, and none too gently dragged her from the balcony into the bedroom. Then is a low, barely controlled voice, he hissed, “Go to the drawing room and wait for me.” Just as quickly, he turned on his heel and hurried back to Elizabeth.

Raising her head in indignation at his callous treatment of her over an obvious strumpet, Georgiana marched to the door. She intended to go directly home without waiting to hear him out, but at the door, she turned to see William kneeling in front of the woman, gently stroking her hands as he talked to her in a comforting manner. She had never seen her brother look at any woman the way he was looking at this one. With a start, she realised that the woman did not seem to be paying much attention to him either.

The lump in her throat refused to be swallowed, as she recognised that perhaps there was more to the situation than first she had thought. As she quit the room and descended the stairs, it was with much more meekness than she had ascended them minutes before.

Fitzwilliam would never speak to me in that manner, unless…

A multitude of possible reasons for his actions began to rush through her mind, and she began to regret her impulsiveness. Mortified, she wondered how she could justify accosting his guest.

Entering the empty drawing room, she found a comfortable seat. She would wait for her brother, regardless of the time or inconvenience. She knew she deserved whatever chastisement she would receive.

~~~*~~~

Chapter 11

Rosewood Manor

The Master Bedroom

The minute Georgiana returned from Pemberley she had retreated to their bedroom, flinging herself on the bed and weeping. It had been almost a half-hour before she was composed enough to recount what had happened in a rational manner. There were no secrets between them, and Darcy was aware that anything he told Ana she would relate to her husband, so Evan was not worried about breaching a confidence as he sat in stunned silence while Georgiana described the events of that day.

Having been acquainted with Fitzwilliam Darcy since they were mere lads, he knew him to be an honourable man, albeit proud, reserved, aware of his station and driven by duty to uphold his heritage, but honourable nonetheless. It had been very puzzling when, two years previously, that same man had thrown caution to the wind, leaving Pemberley in his and Georgiana’s hands while he visited his estates in Scotland and Ireland. That impulsiveness, for which Darcy had never really offered an explanation that made sense, had definitely been out of character. In fact, it went against his very nature!

So, to finally learn that the Master of Pemberley had fallen in love with a penniless woman with no connections and that he had offered for her was almost hard to believe. Further, it shook him to the core to hear her recount Darcy’s story of spending the last two years trying desperately to overcome his love for this mystery lady. How had his brother managed to keep this much heartache hidden? He had had no inkling of Darcy’s torment.

There was no doubt now that Darcy had considered marriage to Cecile, not because of her wealth or connections, but because he wanted to purge the woman at Pemberley from his heart. My God, how close he had come to making a tragic mistake.

In all our conversations before he left for Scotland, Darcy never betrayed his feelings, never once sought my opinion. Perhaps I have been too selfish in my own happiness to wonder if he was content.

“And then,” Georgiana’s sob captured his attention, “William told me how devastated he was to find she was married and that her husband was such a blackguard that he left her to die in a fire.”

Once again, she dropped her head into her hands, crying as though her heart would break. “That poor girl! And to think William was deeply in love with her, and I never knew!”

“Do not blame yourself. I had no idea, and I thought we talked about everything.” He knelt in front of her, bringing her hands to his heart and waiting until she looked into his eyes. “Do you think he wants to help her because he was once in love with her, or does he love her still?”

“Oh, he definitely loves her. It is obvious in the way he touches her and how his eyes light up when he speaks of her. It is so difficult because I truly wish Miss Elizabeth to get better, and I know William can help her if anyone can—he is so gentle. But there is so much room for heartache in this situation, if not danger. It will be complicated to be supportive of her recovery without supporting what I know he truly wants—a relationship with her.”

“But it is his choice, Ana.”

She took a ragged breath, standing as big tears rolled down her checks. “I know that, Evan!” she protested, stomping over to stare out the window.

After a few moments, her shoulders slumped, and her voice broke with a sob. “In my heart I know that,” she whispered, “but he is my brother. When he is sad, I am sad, and when he hurts, I hurt. I could not bear for something—someone to hurt him that much again.”

Evan moved to her, and she turned to fall into her husband’s arms. “For so many years we had only each other. That is why I swore that I would never marry, because I could not bear to leave him alone. Can you not see that he is longing for someone to love and to love him? It pains me to see his heartache.”

He ran his hands over her back. “I know, darling, I know. You are very close.”

“And now that he is home ...” She hiccupped. “I dreamed that when he returned, he would find that person to love. I would have a new sister and a house full of nieces and nephews. Mostly, I would have the brother I love back. That dream was so real to me.”

He tipped his head to look into her teary eyes. “You have not lost him, Ana.”

“Not yet, but I fear I shall! The last two years were lost to me, and I know now that she was the reason he left—the reason I lived without him for so long. Will I now be forced to watch him die a little each day because he cannot have her? Even should she recover completely, she belongs to another man.”

“Darcy loves deeply, Ana; it is just the way he is. That will never change, and I am glad, as I admire that about him. I have known him almost my entire life, but it was only when I came back to Rosewood Manor at my father’s death that I began to fully understand the man—when I observed his devotion to you.”

She pulled back to look up at her husband and smiled wanly. “I know. I love that about him too. He is fiercely protective of those he loves.”