The knocker at Number Twelve Grosvenor Square stood restored post haste of the Wickhams' first outing to the theater. Georgiana Wickham admitted the most exalted ladies of the Ton, thinking herself the most proper social hostess in London. It was only on the third of such days that she suspected she was quickly becoming London's biggest laugh behind ornate fans in every ballroom.
“Mrs. Wickham, I do beg your pardon.” Miss Sarah Milbanke, the niece of the formidable Lady Cowper, intently gazed at the young woman in front of her.
Georgiana looked up from staring at the tiny teaspoon stirring her tea. The silver Darcy crest on the end had captured her imagination. She had wondered at the level of the craftsman who fashioned such a true likeness to the three cinquefoils clearly distinguished in the field of crosses.
“Forgive me, you were speaking of my husband?”
“Yes. I was remarking on how quiet you managed to keep your engagement, and yet here you tell me you are married almost a year come this summer!”
Georgiana focused with all of her might to not squirm as a pupil under the interrogation of a tutor. She was the married woman in the room, though Miss Milbanke’s recent engagement to Lord Strange, the eldest son of the Earl of Derby, gave her an air of superiority over Georgiana. She had to hold the line of her matrimonial rank, even if she would never hold a courtesy title from the peerage from her marriage.
“We kept it strictly a family affair and my George and I were married at the seaside. My brother Fitzwilliam stood up for George.”
It was a lie, but it was the falsehood Colonel Fitzwilliam and her brother had taught her for the day when questions of her marriage would arise. Confess to first a secret marriage, and that they had the second ceremony later for family in London.
“How is dear Fitzwilliam? I have not seen him since the Cowpers' ball to end last Season. I heard rumors he killed some poor girl in the back country with his horse.”
Georgiana took a meditated sip from her now perfectly cool tea. She frowned about his trip to Hertfordshire, an event she still felt a strong signal that her brother did not truly care in the least for her. She had eloped and he had not come after her, not like her other guardian, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana decided a change in subject was warranted.
George had said Anne's demise was nearing, and her last letter from her brother did relate even he thought the situation was dire. Surely there could be nothing wrong with finally telling the truth of her brother's coming marriage and impending widower status?
“He is in Kent attending to our ailing cousin, Anne.”
Miss Milbanke feigned a small smile at the heroics of Darcy. She had never deigned to chase the elusive Dark Man of Derbyshire, but she had plenty of unattached friends who would crow for this information. “Dear me, I hope it is not too serious.”
“On the contrary, Anne is dying.” Georgiana added another biscuit to her plate, then scolded herself because it would be her third one this morning.
“I say, shouldn't you also be there to tend to your cousin at this trying time?”
Georgiana shook her head, as her mouth was full from failing to resist the pastry. Miss Milbanke waited patiently as Georgiana washed down the remaining crumbs in her mouth with another gulp of tea.
“Brother wished for me and George to stay here. Our presence would not please my aunt, Lady Catherine, you see.” Georgiana cringed anticipating a question from the opening she just gave.
“Oh you poor dear, ordered away from your cousin that forgive me, we all knew suffered so painfully during her short life. It speaks very highly that your brother shows such family devotion.”
Georgiana inhaled a breath of relief that Sarah hadn't asked her to clarify how she and her husband wouldn't please her aunt. Without thinking, Georgiana eagerly corrected her impression of why Fitzwilliam was in Kent.
“But Fitzwilliam must be there! Anne is to be his wife, they are to marry any day now.” Finishing her biscuit, Georgiana missed the slightest signs of shock as Sarah Milbanke’s cheeks reddened and her nostrils flared.
After a few seconds of silence, Georgiana glanced at the clock to see if the hour was near to end tea. She had tired of Miss Milbanke’s company even though George was most earnest to receive an invite to a dinner party next week to be hosted by Lord Strange.
“George Wickham,” Sarah Milbanke mused. “Isn't he the heir to the Duke of Devonshire?”
On impulse, Georgiana giggled. How could this woman not know that it was the Cavendish family who fulfilled the dukedom? Even she, nearly sixteen, wasn't so base as to not study the peerage lines.
“While His Grace is an acquaintance of my family, my husband is much closer in familiarity. His father was my father's steward.” Georgiana beamed with pride that her husband had been mistaken for the heir to a dukedom. She would be sure to tell him about the funny mistaken identity.
“Pardon me, once more, but did I hear correctly? You married your steward's son?”
Georgiana's bubble of pride popped. “Er, no, Old Mr. Wickham was a steward to my father, but not our current steward. George was educated at Cambridge with my brother. He is a gentleman in all that matters!”
Sarah Milbanke snorted as she placed her cup of tea on the small consort table before her. As she donned her gloves, Georgiana noticed the clear cue that the social call was over and she knew George would be upset with her that she hadn't obtained an invitation to the Stanley family dinner party. Summoning up her courage, Georgiana made one last desperate move to please her husband.
“Miss Milbanke, I thought to host a dinner party and hoped to send you and Lord Strange an invitation.”
As Miss Milbanke rose, she tightened her lips into a most displeasing line, though her eyes showed a small amount of sympathy to the young woman before her treading water far deeper than her head. “I'm sorry, I believe we have a previous engagement that evening. You understand, with the wedding a mere two months away, my calendar is full to the brim since the Earl of Derby and his family’s connections are so vast.”
“Certainly, such a lengthy engagement must be a taxing social endeavor. I was never formally out before finding my true love, and thankfully spared your burden.” Georgiana showed sympathy back to the older woman before her, hoping her comment didn't offend.
“I shall bear my burden with the bravest face . . .” Sarah Milbanke paused to walk towards the foyer and turned around as they reached the door “and the loveliest gowns!” Both women laughed at her tease, though Georgiana’s laughter was forced politeness.
It wasn't until after Sarah Milbanke was handed into her carriage with the most scandalous intelligence of the Darcy family and Georgiana climbed the stairs to rest in her suite that she realized her invitation was spurned without a set date. Concrete she was too stupid to even notice a cut as it hit her during tea time, Mrs. Wickham collapsed onto her bed and cried.