Sudden Awakenings (The Other Paths Collection)

Chapter 27

With the weather growing warmer, there was hardly a day when a visit did not take place between the ladies of Kenshire and Pemberley. Mrs. Wilson and Elizabeth soon became fast friends. They discovered their mutual great love of reading, and Elizabeth opened to her friend the vast tomes of Pemberley’s library.

Mrs. Wilson also became a valuable assistant in Elizabeth’s undertaking for the poor. Mrs. Wilson was a regular volunteer at a nearby convalescent home for soldiers returning from France, and soon, the ladies’ shirts were being sent not only to the poorest villagers in Lambton and Kympton, but to soldiers in need of fresh garments before returning home to their families.

At Mrs. Wilson’s suggestion, Georgiana and Elizabeth began to sit with the soldiers and read to them one day a week. At first, neither Kitty nor Lydia wanted to participate. These soldiers, maimed by war and lacking their regimental finery, did not have quite the same charm as a parade of fresh young recruits.

But in time, curious to see the men after hearing some of the stories Elizabeth and Georgiana reported, they ventured forth as well. Lydia found she liked sitting with the soldiers, who were endlessly grateful for any diversion she could provide them, and listened with rapt attention to her tales and jokes .

Visits from the rectory were equally common. Mr. Wickham called on them at least twice per week, usually accompanied by Mr. Kirby. When the weather was not overly wet, the gentlemen would often walk out with the ladies through the gardens or take one of the shorter wooded paths.

“Would you believe it is already March?” Kitty said to Mr. Kirby one morning as they strolled through the rose gardens. “Lydia and I have been at Pemberley nearly three months complete.”

“Only a few more weeks of your stay remains,” he said. “Do you find your time is well-spent?” The Darcys planned to return Kitty and Lydia to Hertfordshire when they traveled to London after Easter.

“I think so. My lessons are progressing. I have learnt much more Latin than I ever cared to before, and though I do not play the pianoforte much better than I did when I arrived, my oratory skills have improved greatly, thanks to reading to the soldiers.”

Elizabeth, having discerned Mrs. Younge was not the strictest of tutors, had begun to assist her sisters with their lessons, and seen much progression from both of them. Kitty, especially, had flourished and grown, beginning to resemble the young lady that Elizabeth and Darcy expected her to be. Lydia, less so, however, and for this reason, Darcy remained adamant they not be allowed to join them in London for the Season, much to Lydia (and Mrs. Bennet’s) disappointment.

Kitty and Mr. Kirby had allowed themselves to lag quite a ways behind the others. Elizabeth and Lydia were at the forefront of their group, while Georgiana walked alongside Mrs. Younge and Mr. Wickham.

The weather that day was particularly fair, the air cool, but not damp. Dressed in their pelisses and wraps, none of the ladies felt overly cold, and they were grateful the ground was not muddy.

Lydia turned back to face them as they neared the garden gates. “The ground is so dry, we might take the longer path through the woods today. What say you all? ”

Their party was amenable, but Elizabeth said, “I must return to the house to tend to some matters with the housekeeper, but you are all welcome to continue without me.”

In her absence, their party reorganized. Lydia continued to keep the lead with Mrs. Younge, with Mr. Kirby and Kitty following behind at a reasonable distance. Georgiana and Mr. Wickham, however, fell further and further behind, until they could no longer be seen by the others along the wooded trail.

Lydia remarked upon it. “I think perhaps Mr. Wickham and Georgiana wished for privacy, for they have gone from us completely.”

“Miss Darcy does seem quite taken by Mr. Wickham these days,” Mrs. Younge added.

“But we must consider their longstanding friendship, having grown up together on the estate,” Kitty pointed out. “Their friendship must, by nature, be more like brother and sister than anything else.”

“Perhaps it may have begun as such,” Lydia said, “but I do believe there might be something more. Georgiana does moon over him so!”

“Has she indicated her feelings for him?” Mr. Kirby asked.

“Not in so many words, no,” Lydia admitted. “But I have seen the way she looks at him whenever he is near. It is the same way you look at Kitty!”

“Lydia!” Kitty exclaimed.

Mr. Kirby’s cheeks reddened. “It is not proper to remark on the looks of others when they have not expressed their regard themselves. One might come to an incorrect conjecture, when they rely on such speculation.”

“But you do hold Kitty in regard, do you not?”

Being put on the spot, Mr. Kirby stammered, “Naturally, I hold Miss Bennet in esteem, but our acquaintance is still short. I hope, in time, our friendship will continue to grow. ”

“‘Friendship’, la!” Lydia danced. “We are all friends, indeed! But if you should yearn for something more, you have my blessing. Though I am but the youngest sister, I know I speak for my mother who would wish our Kitty to be happily married!” She teasingly skipped over to them and put Kitty’s hand into Mr. Kirby’s. Kitty bashfully pulled her hand away from him and gripped her parasol tighter.

“That is quite enough now, Miss Lydia,” Mrs. Younge reprimanded, though her tone did not have the commanding effect it should have. With a grin on her face, she said, “Let us not embarrass poor Mr. Kirby any further, and let nature take its course, lest we scare him away from us!”

Mr. Kirby, in an attempt to recover, said, “It is not for me to be driven away by embarrassment. A little lighthearted ribbing I can endure.”

S

Meanwhile, Georgiana walked in step with Mr. Wickham, enjoying the sounds of the birds and the woodland animals and the patterns of sunlight filtering through the oaks, ashes, and beeches which bordered Pemberley. Her heart palpitated slightly, finding herself alone in Mr. Wickham’s presence. The affection she had known for him as a child had only increased now that she had grown. She longed for him to see her as a woman, but the struggle against her own feelings of inadequacy and childishness made her feel it less of a possibility.

“It is amazing how much these trees have grown up, since we walked these paths in our youth,” Wickham said.

“I am sure the woods of Pemberley have been here long before you or I ever walked this earth,” Georgiana replied .

“Certainly. But not all of them predate us. I am sure this tree here was but a sapling when we were younger.” He pointed to a sturdy young ash tree near the bend that wound by the river.

“How can you be sure?”

“Long ago, I carved my initials into it. See, here.” He pointed to a part of the tree trunk where the bark had been peeled away by a knife to reveal the letters GW.

“Poor tree! You have hurt its trunk, to carve it so.”

“Sometimes pain is what strengthens us,” Mr. Wickham said casually. “The tree has grown up tall and strong, no worse for wear, despite all its hardships, great and small. Just as you have, Georgiana.”

Her heart beat even faster at the sound of her Christian name on his lips. He had not called her by that name since she was about ten years old.

“We both of us have suffered great losses in life, but we have not let these define us.”

She knew he referred to the deaths of his parents and hers.

“We ought to carve your initials into the tree too,” he suggested. Pulling a small knife from his pocket, he began to etch out the letters GD next to his own.

“There, now our names will stand together in perpetuity,” he said when he had finished.

“Or at least so long as this tree shall remain,” Georgiana added.

“Then may it endure forever!”

They continued walking.

“How long has it been since we last walked this path?” he asked.

“I am not certain. Not since before you went away to Cambridge, I am certain. You did not return to Pemberley so often in those days.”

“Yes, my studies kept me quite occupied at that time. I had no opportunity to return to my old home. It is fortunate that your dear father left me the Kympton living in his will, or else I might have had to make my way in the world somewhere far from here, and never return.”

Georgiana gulped. “That would have been a tragedy, indeed! We are so blessed to have you serving in our community, to have your return to this neighborhood after all these years. We– I– am grateful to see you again.”

“As am I.”

Mr. Wickham’s handsome countenance as he smiled at her sent more thrills of nervous delight into Georgiana’s heart. She no longer saw him merely as an older brother figure, but decidedly something more. She wondered if he viewed her differently now as well.

“Now that you have come into your living, I suppose you must be thinking of marrying soon,” she ventured, summoning her boldness and at the same time, fearing for what the answer might be. If Mr. Wickham already had a sweetheart in mind, then all her hopes were lost.

“Marriage, yes, it is something all men desire at some point or other, I suppose. In my case, although I have been given a good living, I fear it is not enough to support a family on. I suppose I could marry some tradesman’s daughter and we could live in comparative poverty on my income until such time as I am able to acquire additional livings.

“But if the lady in question had some money of her own to contribute to the marriage, we would be far better off. I am afraid growing up with a gentleman’s education and lifestyle has made me spoilt; I have become used to certain little luxuries, and I would find it difficult to revert to a diminished standard of living.”

“Your explanation makes perfect sense. Have you any suitable ladies in mind?” She waited with bated breath for his answer.

“Eh…not exactly,” he said, exhaling slowly. “There was a lady, a daughter of my friends Mr. and Mrs. Silverman in West Riding. I traveled there recently hoping to persuade her of my regard for her. Ho wever, I was too late. There was another fellow in question, whose prospects were better, and it seemed she preferred him over me.”

“How sad for you!”

“Ah, no matter!” He laughed, as if the matter were merely a triviality. “I suspect it can only mean the Lord has someone better in mind for me, someone whose personality exactly suits my own, and whom I can share my life with in a style befitting us both. In fact, I think He may have already shown me who that lady is to be, but, ah– I am speaking too rapidly! Pay no mind to my prattling, dear Georgiana.”

His use of the endearment, coupled with such a hint, made her heart beat even faster. But perhaps he felt it too soon to speak further. Or perhaps he felt her too young, still. She was not even out yet.

And then there was the matter of her brother. Fitzwilliam had formed a dislike of Mr. Wickham in recent years, but she could find no fault in Mr. Wickham’s character to explain why. He was everything good, kind, and well-mannered, and had a good position– a man of the cloth even! Next to her brother, there was no better man in the world, she felt. The only objection she could postulate was that of his low birth, the son of their late steward.

But for her brother to be a snob over such things– when their own father had loved Mr. Wickham so dearly and paid for him to be brought up as a gentleman! She wished she had a mother to guide her in such things. She loved Elizabeth, but the relationship was still new; she did not know whether she felt ready to confide such feelings in her breast as those which she held for Mr. Wickham.