Old friends and new fancies

by Sybil G. Brinton

"Indeed, indeed, I will, but may I not tell them anything more? Oh, how I wish I could help you in any way," exclaimed Georgiana, anxiety showing itself so acutely in every syllable that Fitzwilliam was forced to get up to avert his face from hers, lest his self-command should be too sorely tried.

"My dear, kind little cousin, I shall always be grateful to you, even though I fear it is not in your power to help me just now. Some day, perhaps, we may speak of it; in the meantime—I have had a great disappointment, and I think I had better go away for awhile, so as to be more fit to meet my friends when I return." He came back to her, raised her up, and spoke with resolution and cheerfulness. "Come, Georgiana, do not be sad, it is not worth while. I shall probably be at Pemberley in the autumn, and we must do something then to make up for the loss of our exploration party now. Do not think of me—at least, only think of me as catching and eating a great many salmon. I hope you will have great deal of pleasure still in London. You return to the Hursts to-day, do you not? Will you make my excuses to Mrs. Annesley?"

During this speech Georgiana had striven to recover her composure, and she managed at the conclusion of it to look up at him with a tolerably calm face and to promise to deliver his messages. She felt convinced that he had been refused by Miss Crawford, and the situation was to her so dreadful, so far beyond repair, that it was a relief to see her cousin's courage, and to know that he did not wish to hear vain and spiritless words of consolation, words which she hardly could have been able to utter, even had he been able to listen, from the very surcharge of tender feeling that burdened her heart. Nevertheless, her sympathy was reflected in her eyes, and in the gentle voice with which she bid him adieu and wished him well. Fitzwilliam was not insensible to it. It gave him the only comfort he could have received at such a time; and pressing her hand warmly, with a very earnest "God bless you!" he quitted the room.

As his footsteps died away Georgiana sank into a chair and wept bitterly. So brief had been his visit—a few ticks of the clock had seen his arrival and his departure; and in those few moments the aspect of everything had changed. Since their last meeting Georgiana had dwelt incessantly upon his prospects of happiness, and allowed herself to think of them as being in a fair way to become realized. The difficulty which Elizabeth must have referred to, and Mr. Yates had actually hinted at, could surely be cleared away now that he and Miss Crawford had met again; and Georgiana had not been able to read cruelty or harshness in that fair face. Time only—a very short time—would be necessary, and once Miss Crawford knew Fitzwilliam as he was, the rest would follow as a matter of course: for how could any woman whom he really loved be able to resist him? So reasoned Georgiana, and the collapse of her kindly hopes brought back all her old sense of personal guilt; she, too, was partly responsible for her cousin's dire fate, for was she not one of the two women who had failed to make him happy? She who had not been able to inspire him with a real love, and Miss Crawford who could not respond to it now it was fully awakened.

The luxury of grief could not be long indulged in, for tear-stained features must not be shown to her friends, nor was there leisure that day to pour out her heart in a letter to Elizabeth. Georgiana had to keep her sorrowful thoughts to herself, and fortunately it was not necessary to give any explanation of Colonel Fitzwilliam's abrupt departure from town to Mrs. Annesley; the simple statement that he had gone, leaving apologies and suitable compliments, was sufficient. With her hostesses in Grosvenor Street, however, it was a different matter, and Georgiana lacked courage to introduce the subject until a morning or two later, at breakfast, choosing the moment when the letters had just been brought in and everyone had only that remnant of attention to spare which their meal and their correspondence had not absorbed. Mr. Hurst asked a question or two, which, as his wife and sister were speaking at the same time, went so long unanswered that he quite forgot them; Louisa showed surprise and offended dignity that the Colonel had not paid a farewell call on her before leaving; while Caroline, with less pride and a great deal of curiosity, attempted at first to draw Georgiana into some admission beyond the mere mention of the fact, but remembering by happy chance to have heard the name of the friend in Ireland, and even that of his estate, she was able to her own satisfaction to convert the mysterious journey into an engagement of respectably long standing. Georgiana breathed more freely; she had dreaded Miss Bingley's cross-examination, and still so dreaded anyone guessing at her cousin's misfortune that she even deviated so far from her usual truthfulness as to say, "Yes, probably he had been intending to go all the time, as soon as the weather should be suitable."

It was the greatest comfort to feel that with Elizabeth there need be no concealment. Already a description of the meeting with Miss Crawford had travelled to Pemberley, but with none but the simplest and most obvious comment; Georgiana asked, as directed by Fitzwilliam, for more particulars connected with her new acquaintance, but until she had been openly admitted to a share in her elders' knowledge she did not like to speak of what was still mere guesswork. But now, although Elizabeth's answer had not yet been received, she felt she could write more freely; she only had been allowed a glimpse of her cousin's inmost heart, she only had witnessed his grief and had been allowed to surmise its origin; she could be the indirect means of bringing him the quick sympathy of his two best friends, and she was justified in telling her sister of all she knew and all she conjectured. "He had been refused, dear Elizabeth," ran one sentence, "it can be nothing else, and I fear it is irrevocable. Poor Cousin Robert! He feels it so terribly. Can nothing be done for him? You know her, you know them both, he is sure to tell you all. Do help him, dear Elizabeth; you always help people who are in trouble."

Her letter closed and dispatched, she experienced a feeling of relief from strain, having left her cousin's affairs in more capable hands than her own. His sad face long haunted her, but the words she had written reminded her of another person who was now probably calling upon Elizabeth for sympathy and help. Not that Kitty had been by any means forgotten, but in the silence that followed on her departure, and the new interest that had occupied the last few days, the ball and its attendant emotions had been rather pushed to one side. But Georgiana had returned to Grosvenor Street fully expecting to find a letter from Derbyshire, or intelligence of Kitty in some other form.

Her own letter to Elizabeth, concluded the morning after the ball, had contained, in addition to an account of that memorable event, a paragraph to this effect: "Kitty has something extremely interesting to tell you. I shall not spoil her pleasure by anticipating her, but only add that I believe everything is going to turn out just as happily as she would like and as we should like for her. Pray, pray, give me your opinion on this important matter as soon as you can form one. I am longing to have it." A reply to this letter was indeed awaiting her, but did not give the desired information, as Elizabeth, though anxious to hear Kitty's news, had not yet had an opportunity of seeing her, and Kitty herself had not written. She was a wretched correspondent, and the delights of the first few days with Jane and the children doubtless absorbed both head and hands. Bingley's own notes to his sisters during that week were useless. One announced his and Kitty's safe arrival, another requested the forwarding of some stockings he had left behind; was it likely that such communications would have any bearing upon an important matter like the progress of a young lady's love affair? As to Mr. Price, Georgiana knew nothing, and was prepared for anything; it was quite possible that he had been unable to wait for the shooting of Mr. Bingley's pheasants and was at that moment in Derbyshire.

Upon this point, however, elucidation was presently forthcoming. At the dinner-table that afternoon Miss Bingley suddenly inquired: "Did I tell you, Georgiana, that we had a call from Charles's friend, Mr. Price, one day last week?"

"No," replied Georgiana, startled by such an abrupt incursion into the subject. "I had not heard. Were you at home? Did you see him?"