Foiled Elopement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Read online

  Mr. Buchanan offered a friendly smile as she approached. “What can I do for you, Miss Bennet?”

  “I was wondering if I might play your pianoforte,” she said, gesturing toward the wall where the instrument stood, near the table occupied by the couple. She held up the sheet music. “I’m afraid there’s little here I know, but much of it looks simple enough to learn quickly.”

  “Of course, Miss. It would be a delight, I’m certain.”

  “Thank you, sir, and the moment you realize it is not a delight, be sure to approach me. I shouldn’t wish to drive off your customers.”

  “Oh, I hardly think you’re in danger of that.”

  Elizabeth retired to the bench to sort through the music. Selecting a simple piece, she tested the keys. She was pleased to find the instrument mostly in tune.

  The piece she’d selected, like all of the offerings that weren’t church music, was one popular in her aunt’s youth. Elizabeth played it haltingly at first, running through it once quietly. She played it again, in better time. She began a third pass in full time and gave the pianoforte its voice.

  “I want to go home,” the young woman seated at the table near the pianoforte whispered, likely thinking Elizabeth couldn’t hear her over the music.

  “Georgiana, your home is with me.” The man’s voice was a mixture of ingratiating and demanding. “As soon as I get your dowry, I’ll buy you a home. With thirty thousand pounds, I’ll buy you two if you like.”

  “I don’t want you to buy me a home. I want to go back to mine.” The girl sounded on the verge of weeping. “I should never have agreed to run off. Mr. Greyson was right about you.”

  “You’re art instructor?” The man spoke with derision. “A gentleman who would give up his place in society to instruct witless, spoiled girls? I find it difficult to believe he could be right about anything.”

  “Well, he was right about you. He said you were dangerous to me.”

  The man snorted. “And I suppose you think he was right when he said you have real talent, too? He’s no different than I am, saying what you want to hear to get his coin. Listen to me, Sweetie, for this is the truth.” His voice was low, almost menacing. “The only thing dangerous to you would be leaving me.”

  Elizabeth finished the song. Instead of playing it a fourth time, she switched to one she knew well enough that she didn’t need music or even thought. She realized she was doing precisely what she’d condemned the Muirs for, eavesdropping, but any care she had for her pride in the matter was being rapidly replaced by worry for the girl, Georgiana, seated behind her.

  “I don’t want to marry you anymore,” Georgiana whispered. “You’re unkind to me.”

  “If you don’t marry me, you are ruined.” He sounded smug.

  “I don’t care. Take me home. My brother will take care of me.” From Georgiana’s voice, Elizabeth wouldn’t be surprised if she turned to find the girl’s face streaked with tears.

  “Maybe. I’m sure he’ll see you won’t starve.” The man’s words were clipped, his voice cold. “But you know how proud he is. You know how he’ll look at you after what you’ve done. Likely as not, he’ll shut you away in some little cottage with a caretaker who will insist you spend your days in prayer. You will be a shameful secret to him for the remainder of your life.”

  In the silence that followed his words, Elizabeth thought she heard muffled sobs.

  “Or you could stay with me.” His tone was coaxing. “If you’d be a bit more accommodating, I could teach you how fun life can be, Sweetie.”

  “No. I . . . I don’t want to do that again.”

  “But you did it once.” His voice was very low. Elizabeth had to remind herself to keep playing. “And once is all it takes. You have spent your greatest gift, your virtue. Even more, you know you could be with child. Do you really want your child to be a bastard?”

  “No.” Elizabeth barely made out that whispered reply.

  “Think on it, Sweetie. I’m not going to take you home. I worked too hard to get you for that. If you have your head on right, I’m sure you’ll realize you’re better off with me.”

  “My brother won’t lock me away or be ashamed of me. He loves me.”

  “More than he loves his pride?”

  Silence met his question. Elizabeth wondered at this brother, and which of the two spoke the truth. Georgiana was obviously naive, but equally obvious was that her companion was cruel.

  “Dry your face. You’re hideous like that,” the man said abruptly. “I’m going to see if I can find some fun, somewhere away from your maudlin looks. There’s a group playing cards over there and I fancy a few extra coins. If you don’t want to start behaving like a dutiful wife, you can spend the night in the common room, for all I care. When you realize you are alone, friendless, and without money, you’ll get on the stage with me tomorrow. In fact, if you did have any money, I’d wager five pounds you’ll be in our room, in bed, waiting for me, before I’m in for the night.”

  Elizabeth heard the scrape of his chair as he got up. Behind her, Georgiana heaved quiet, muffled sobs. Elizabeth’s heart went out to this girl, hardly more than a child, who’d obviously been seduced for her dowry. She kept playing, but she turned her head half-toward Georgiana.

  “Miss Georgiana?” Elizabeth said in a soft voice. “Perhaps you would like to sit with me. I don’t know if you play, but one of the pieces I have is a duet.”

  The girl looked up, surprise clear in her red-rimmed eyes.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing. You don’t have to be friendless and alone. I may be able to help.”

  Georgiana stared at her, still looking stunned. Turning back to the pianoforte, Elizabeth found the duet and started playing the part for the high notes. She heard Georgiana push her chair back and felt a twinge of sorrow at the thought of the girl returning to her inn room to await that man.

  Chapter Two – Aid Offered

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, Georgiana settled onto the bench beside her. Now that they were seated side by side, Elizabeth could easily read how young and afraid the girl was. She was also sure Miss Georgiana was of a very similar age to Lydia, Elizabeth’s youngest sister. She could so readily imagine Lydia getting herself into a similar terrible predicament, though Lydia had little in the way of a dowry to tempt such a man, that her heart went out to Georgiana even more. Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Georgiana’s companion approach the Muirs, taking the footman’s place in the game.

  With fine-boned fingers, Georgiana picked up where Elizabeth was and kept pace with her halting attempt. Without saying anything more than words that applied to the music, they repeatedly played the piece. Each time through, Elizabeth improved and Georgiana incrementally relaxed. Her tears stopped, then dried, but she didn’t look at Elizabeth.

  “Play something else,” a man’s voice called, though not unkindly, when they finished a fifth rendition of the duet.

  Elizabeth gave an apologetic shrug of her shoulders and fished through the unfamiliar sheets of music.

  Georgiana reached out and plucked one up. She set it on top. “This one.”

  “It looks too complicated,” Elizabeth said. It also wasn’t meant for two, but she didn’t point that out. Georgiana’s obvious skill spoke of someone who would recognize that.

  “We’ll each play one hand. Which one do you want?”

  “The left, please,” Elizabeth said, for it looked easier. By now, she had no illusions about their relative abilities.

  Elizabeth stood to switch places, Georgiana hesitating only a moment before sliding over. As they settled back onto the bench, Georgiana’s companion tossed down his cards. Getting up from the Muirs’ table, he crossed to seat himself with the men playing backgammon. One wore ecclesiastical garb, the other the trappings of a gentleman. Angling her shoulders more fully away from them, Elizabeth began to play.

  By the time they played the piece through for a third time, she felt they were doing pretty well, largely
thanks to Georgiana’s skill. So as not to antagonize the other patrons, Elizabeth selected another piece. Elizabeth still playing the left hand, they kept going. It would be an exaggeration to say Georgiana was cheerful, but when Elizabeth stole glances at her playing partner, there was less a feeling of utter woe about her.

  Loud clapping sounded immediately behind them as they finished the piece. They both swiveled to find Georgiana’s companion standing there, his expression sardonic. Georgiana wilted visibly at the sight of him.

  “I’m glad you aren’t moping anymore,” he said. He cast a disgusted look about the underpopulated common room. “I’ll be in the Red Lion. I understand they have real card games there.” He turned and sauntered out.

  Georgiana dropped her gaze to her hands, resting in her lap, spirit drained once more. Her shoulders slumped. She squeezed her eyes shut. Elizabeth didn’t doubt it was in an effort to hold back tears.

  Coming to a decision, Elizabeth gathered the music into a neat pile. She closed the instrument and stood, taking up the pages. If Georgiana couldn’t help herself, Elizabeth would have to help her. “Come with me,” she said authoritatively to Georgiana.

  The girl looked up, surprised. “Where?” she whispered.

  “To that table, where my travel companions are.” Elizabeth kept her voice low. “I really didn’t mean to overhear, but I have, and I can’t leave you here with that man. If you wish to get away, to go home, here is your opportunity. My friends and I will help you.” At least, Elizabeth hoped they would.

  “Why?” Georgiana asked, looking confused.

  Elizabeth offered a sympathetic smile. “Because it’s very clear you’re in need of help.”

  Georgiana bit her lip, looking down. “What if my brother does do the things George said he will?”

  “George?” Elizabeth asked, though she felt she knew who owned the name. Georgiana and George. If that wasn’t a sure sign the union would be doomed, she didn’t know what was.

  “Mr. Wickham.” Georgiana said. “My . . . the man I was with. His name is George Wickham.”

  “Do you believe your brother will do the things Mr. Wickham said he’ll do?”

  Georgiana looked up, her gaze searching as if she could divine the answer in Elizabeth’s face. Finally, she shook her head. “No. He always takes care of me.”

  Not well enough, Elizabeth thought, but kept the words to herself. “I’m Elizabeth Bennet.” She held out her free hand to Georgiana. “Come with me.”

  Elizabeth kept her proffered hand out, waiting. Finally, Georgiana took it and stood. Elizabeth led her over to the Muirs’ table. The footman, who’d retuned when Mr. Wickham departed, got up when they arrived. Elizabeth handed Georgiana into the vacated seat. The footman carried over another chair then tactfully withdrew to stand by the wall, out of earshot but on hand if needed. The Muirs watched in silence as Elizabeth sat.

  “These are the Muirs,” Elizabeth said. She took a breath and addressed herself to Mr. and Mrs. Muir. “This is Miss Georgiana. She has a problem.”

  Georgiana stared down at her clasped hands resting on the tabletop.

  “And what is that, dear?” Mrs. Muir asked. She and her husband wore matching sympathetic looks. Miss Muir appeared more suspicious.

  “Would you like to tell them?” Elizabeth asked Georgiana.

  Georgiana didn’t look up. She shook her head vigorously, pretty curls bouncing.

  Elizabeth nodded, having expected that response. “Correct me if I have anything wrong.” She turned back to Mrs. Muir. “Miss Georgiana agreed to elope with someone but has changed her mind. She is an heiress and he deceived her into believing he loved her, but he’s only after her dowry. Is that right?” she added, turning back to Georgiana.

  Georgiana nodded.

  “Was that the man who clapped and left?” Mr. Muir said. “A Mr. Wickham, didn’t he say his name was, Mrs. Muir?”

  “Yes, that’s what he said, Mr. Muir,” Mrs. Muir agreed.

  Georgiana nodded again.

  “I didn’t care for him, if you don’t mind me saying, child,” Mrs. Muir said. “He joined our game amiably enough, but he kept badgering us to play for money. Well, we don’t you see. It’s not our way, is it Mr. Muir?”

  “That’s right.” Mr. Muir nodded sagely, jowls bunching above his cravat. “Grew quite put out with us, he did. Then he went off to badger those men playing backgammon. I gathered they didn’t care to wager either.”

  “I didn’t like him at all,” Miss Muir said. Her tone was prim. She looked down her wide nose at Georgiana, who still studied her clasped fingers.

  “Where did he get off to, then?” Mrs. Muir looked about, as if Mr. Wickham might be hiding somewhere nearby. She frowned, her gaze going to the open doorway.

  “He said he was going to the Red Lion,” came Georgiana’s whispered reply. “I suspect he’s gambling,” she added, stating what was obvious to everyone at the table.

  Miss Muir gave a disdainful sniff.

  “Did you know he was a gambler before you agreed to elope with him?” Mr. Muir asked, his look kind.

  Georgiana shook her head.

  Elizabeth reached out and placed a hand atop Georgiana’s clasped ones.

  “What did you know about him?” Miss Muir asked in an exasperated, superior sort of voice. “Clearly not enough.”

  Georgiana’s head snapped up. Her blue eyes were round and ringed in red. Tears leaked down her cheeks. “I . . . I thought I knew everything. He’s always been around, my whole life. He often spent time with me. He was my father’s godson and favorite. My father even paid for him to have a gentleman’s education.”

  “So, he is not a gentleman?” Miss Muir asked.

  “Obviously not, dear, given his behavior,” Mrs. Muir said. Her words were mild, but the look she gave her daughter held reprimand. She turned back to Georgiana. “And you had no idea Mr. Wickham wasn’t an honorable man when you ran off with him?”

  “He was my brother’s dearest friend.” She blinked several times. “That is, he used to be. They had a falling out. I thought it was something silly, because my brother can be very upright and Mr. Wickham has always been more . . . free thinking. But I didn’t realize. . . This morning we were eating a meal, and a man left his gloves on his table. Mr. Wickham picked them up. The man came back, looking like he was trying to find his gloves, but Mr. Wickham did nothing. I asked him why he hadn’t returned them, and he said, ‘They fit me.’”

  Miss Muir sniffed, and said, “So you eloped with a thief.”

  Elizabeth frowned at her. She squeezed Georgiana’s hand comfortingly.

  Georgiana turned a pleading look on Miss Muir. “You don’t understand. Mr. Wickham was our constant companion. He and my brother are much older than I am, and my brother rarely had any time for me, but Mr. Wickham always did. Then they had their disagreement and Mr. Wickham disappeared, and there was no one who had time for me.”

  Elizabeth could hear the loneliness in Georgiana’s voice. She didn’t need to ask if it was just the two of them, Georgiana and her brother. Elizabeth had caught the way Georgiana referred to her father in the past tense, and doubted the girl had any other siblings, or a mother to look after her, or she likely wouldn’t be in the predicament she was in. Elizabeth wondered again at this brother, who would neglect his sister so. Then, what man did have time for a younger sister?

  “That doesn’t explain how you ended up here, dear,” Mrs. Muir said.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, Georgiana turned to her. “I was upset Geo . . . Mr. Wickham was gone, but I knew he’d return, so I’d made my peace with his absence. My father left him a living, you see, so he was bound to come back. When the incumbent died, though, my brother gave the living to someone else. I was very upset. I missed Mr. Wickham.” She grimaced, as if unable to reconcile that recalled emotion with her present circumstance. “I asked my brother about it, but he became so closed off each time Mr. Wickham’s name came up that I gave up trying. Then, Mr.
Wickham met me when I was visiting Ramsgate.”

  Elizabeth felt Georgiana’s hands clench under hers. She squeezed them, wishing she had more comfort to offer. Across the room, the two gentlemen still played backgammon. Several other tables were occupied by those lingering over food and drink, but none near. Mr. Buchanan was behind the bar, drying glasses. Elizabeth thought, and hoped, that only she and the Muirs could hear Georgiana’s low words.

  “When we met in Ramsgate, Mr. Wickham told me my brother had denied him the living. He said Fitzwilliam, my brother, had sent him away because he wouldn’t promise not to love me. Mr. Wickham said he was denied the living for not giving up his love for me.” She sighed. “No one had ever given anything up for me before, and Mr. Wickham said my brother would never consent to our marriage. I’m fifteen. Six years seemed so long to wait when he’d already given up so much.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. For all she was meek where Elizabeth’s sister Lydia was bold, Elizabeth could see the same youth, the same naivete. Although something in Elizabeth had recoiled at the tone in Mr. Wickham’s voice from the onset, he would hardly have used that tone with Georgiana before getting her to run away with him. Even if he had, she was obviously too young to know better. Had she no governess to look after her?

  “Six years is a long time to wait, but most feel the law was made with good reason,” Mr. Muir said, looking to his wife.

  “Yes, yes, they do,” Mrs. Muir agreed. “In this case, they may be right. By not waiting six years, you could end up living thirty or more with a gambler who married you for your money.”

  Georgiana pulled her hands from Elizabeth’s to cover her face with them. “What am I going to do?” she choked out.

  “It seems to me you’ve made your choice,” Miss Muir said. “You must marry Mr. Wickham.”

  “But you don’t know the rest,” Georgiana said. “Mr. Wickham lied to me. He told me the real reason he didn’t get the living my brother promised him was he took money for it. He asked for, and got, three thousand pounds for it. Then he used the money to pay my governess to permit us to spend time together and allow us to elope.” She gave a hiccupping sob. “He bragged to me about it after . . . after--”