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A Continued Affection: Romance and Reconciliation, #3
A Continued Affection: Romance and Reconciliation, #3
A Continued Affection: Romance and Reconciliation, #3
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A Continued Affection: Romance and Reconciliation, #3

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En route to London, Elizabeth Bennet has matrimony in mind – for not one but two of her sisters. She scarcely dares to dream of revisiting her own past romance.

Ftizwilliam Darcy once vowed never to revisit history, but time has changed him and now he is forced to acknowledge he has not stopped loving Elizabeth, and never shall…

Book 3 of Romance and Reconciliation, a Pride and Prejudice variation series that contemplates what might have happened if Mr Darcy met Elizabeth Bennet long before the Meryton Assembly.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMeg Osborne
Release dateAug 1, 2020
ISBN9781393133957
A Continued Affection: Romance and Reconciliation, #3
Author

Meg Osborne

Meg Osborne is an avid reader, tea drinker and unrepentant history nerd.  She writes sweet historical romance stories and Jane Austen fanfiction, and can usually be found knitting, dreaming up new stories, or adding more books to her tbr list than she'll get through in a lifetime.

Read more from Meg Osborne

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    Very enjoyable. I particularly liked Mary's arc. Certainly an entertaining scenario

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A Continued Affection - Meg Osborne

Chapter One

Some time previously ...

You do look quite charming, Georgiana, I don’t see how he could fail but to fall in love with you!

Georgiana Darcy permitted one tiny smile, although inside she rejoiced. Mrs Younge had no way of knowing that George Wickham had not only fallen in love with her but that the pair planned to marry. It was the most closely-guarded of secrets and one she nursed with great delight.

You are too kind, Mrs Younge, Georgiana said, seeking quickly to return the compliment with one of her own, to pacify her companion’s pride. But I should never have managed this new hairstyle without your expert advice. She tossed her head, admiring the feel of the curls as they bounced in the sunny Ramsgate breeze. You have such a fine sense of fashion.

Mrs Younge preened, pleased at this acknowledgement of both her assistance and her skill. Some movement up ahead caught her eye, because her grip on Georgiana’s arm tightened in a momentary squeeze, before she released her and moved away.

You must not let me detain you, Georgie. Her eyebrows lifted. Enjoy your afternoon with you beau, and remember to meet me back here in precisely one hour!

Georgiana’s smile grew stretched and thin. She so despised this need for secrecy, although she was grateful to have found such an ally in her companion, who was forever willing to cover for Georgiana’s absences and play chaperone when propriety dictated she must. How much happier I shall feel when we are married and things are finally settled, for once and for all!

Georgiana was not secretive by nature, and she despised the thought of deceiving those around her, of hiding the thing that brought her the most joy since her arrival in Ramsgate. She shook off the concern as George Wickham grew closer, offering a formal bow in acknowledgement of the two ladies.

Good morning Mrs Younge! Wickham’s voice softened as he turned his gaze on Georgiana. And Miss Darcy. What an elegant pair the two of you make. I do not suppose I may offer to join you on a walk along the coastal path? The views should be especially pretty on a day like today! His eyes sparkled with merriment as he spoke, suggesting, as Georgiana was given to understand, that he applied the term pretty to her above and beyond any view they might contrive to see. She coloured, smiling and nodding in acquiescence.

Such a pity, Mr Wickham, Mrs Younge, said, trotting out the same excuse she had agreed upon with Georgiana earlier that day. I have a prior engagement that calls me back to town. Miss Darcy was confiding in me just now that she should very much like to walk the coastal path with somebody, though, and therefore I shall entrust the task to you. She winked at Georgiana in a way that was not at all subtle and turned away. Recall, sir, I am entrusting my friend to you and shall return here to collect her in an hour...!

Georgiana cringed a little at the levity in her friend’s voice, as if this whole arrangement was some sort of game. She supposed for Mrs Younge it was: her reputation was under no threat if she were spied associating with an unknown gentleman in so out-of-the-way a place as this. Georgiana shook off the thought almost immediately it began to take root. There was no real scandal here, particularly not once the truth was known. George Wickham was no unknown gentleman. Why, Georgiana had known him almost her entire life, or known of him at least. He was her brother’s oldest friend! And they were to be married. What scandal could there be?

Miss Darcy? Wickham offered her his arm and Georgiana happily slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, allowing him to guide her towards the path that had become a favourite of theirs to walk along, where they could be certain of not being observed.

They walked in silence for a few moments, before Georgiana came to realise he was looking at her with a strange, wistful expression on his face. She tilted her head, her lips lifting in a smile.

Is something the matter, George?

Ah, no. He looked away, the expression drifting almost immediately into the more familiar half-smile he wore most often. It improved him, objectively, for he was handsome and what face, handsome or otherwise, could not be improved upon by a smile? But somehow it was not the expression she favoured. On George Wickham, it seemed almost like a mask, something he habitually slipped onto his face to obscure his true feeling. Before she could press him on this, though, he had laid his free hand over hers, nodding appreciatively at her.

You are wearing your hair a little differently today, I wager. Or perhaps, is that a new bonnet?

You are correct on both counts! Georgiana laughed, tilting her head this way and that to allow him to admire both hair and bonnet, which he did with due enthusiasm. Mrs Younge helped me. Don’t you think she has a good eye for such things?

Indeed. Wickham’s response was gruff, but he seemed to notice it at the same time as Georgiana did, softening almost immediately with the return of his smile. She has made herself quite a friend to you of late.

Do you mind it? Georgiana blinked up at him, wondering, for the first time, if she was mistaken in detecting the slightest hint of animosity between George Wickham and her companion. She always speaks so very highly of you!

In truth, her friend was rather too free in the way she spoke of Mr Wickham. She had been overt in her praise and admiration at first, of course, for it had been she who made the introductions between Georgiana and Mr Wickham before the pair realised their prior connection to Pemberley and one another. She who insisted upon the pair meeting a second time, to reacquaint one another with their shared past. Yet lately, Mrs Younge’s comments had taken on a slight bite, her tone knowing in a way that Georgiana did not entirely admire or approve of. A slight frown creased her forehead.

I thought you and Mrs Younge were friends, was her parting assessment of the situation, and was met with an off-hand shrug so swift it almost yanked her hand free of Wickham’s grasp. He sought to secure his hold on her again almost immediately, somehow succeeding in closing what little space remained in between them.

"I should not use the word friends, perhaps. His smile grew wider and warmer, slipping into an intimacy that Georgiana much preferred to see adorn his handsome features. This was not a smile he wore often, and she fancied few people had ever seen it, nor who he felt safe enough to confide in in this way. There is but one young lady I should truly count a friend in Ramsgate, Miss Darcy. I trust you do not need me to name her?"

Georgiana’s cheeks grew warm and she shook her head, burrowing closer into Mr Wickham’s shoulder and thanking Providence for the chance she had offered them to meet again after so many years apart.

It will not be long before we are married, she told herself. And then we shall no longer have any need of secrets, or of Mrs Younge! She pushed down the momentary image of her brother which swam before her eyes, as it so often did when she thought of the future. If she sought to keep her relationship with George Wickham a secret from friends in Ramsgate, she certainly had concealed it from her brother in Derbyshire. Let us surprise him! Wickham had said, when Georgiana suggested that they apply to Darcy before marrying. What a joke it will be when we pitch up at Pemberley already married. Won’t he laugh!

"Anyway, I did not come here to speak to you of Mrs Younge!" George pulled a face, and Georgiana smiled, pushing down her thoughts of her brother, her thoughts of the future, or of anything that was not George Wickham, and how much they loved one another. I came to ask whether you might be ready to embark on our journey north and if tomorrow might not be too soon for us to begin?

GEORGIANA?

George Wickham had spoken the name aloud almost before he was aware of thinking it, and certainly before the coach had slowed enough to allow its occupants to climb down. Abstractly, he raked a hand through his hair and replaced his hat, tugging at his clothing before straightening, determined to meet his Apollyon head-on.

Good afternoon, Miss Darcy.

How was it that, despite the shock of their meeting, he managed to sound so at ease with their reunion? As if there could be nothing so natural as to meet the young lady you had jilted at the estate at which her brother was known to be resident. Wickham glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he had somehow merely missed Darcy’s arrival, too, and fearing to be caught in between them. There was nobody behind him and he gratefully took a step back, putting a little needed distance between himself and Georgiana as she allowed their driver to help her down from the carriage.

Miss Darcy - A thin, spinsterish voice came from the closed carriage, but Georgiana waved the words away, along with their speaker.

Do not fret, Bates. Mr Wickham is an old friend - Her voice cracked, and whilst her smile remained stoically in place, Wickham fancied it was not without effort. An old acquaintance of Fitzwilliam’s. She fixed him with a look that seemed to pierce right through to his core. Is my brother at home?

Wickham shook his head, dumbly, too shocked to answer further. Was this Georgiana? She looked the same, but this young lady was so confident and self-assured, almost regal, that he doubted it could be the same person whose spirit he had cruelly broken months before.

It is good to see you again, Georgie, he said, softly, falling back on the old, familiar name in hopes it might conjure up the spirit of the same young lady who had coloured and smiled and fallen so swiftly and easily in love with him.

Her glance cut away, answering plainly without the need of words. It is not good to see you again. Stung, Wickham straightened, replacing his hat and opening his arm towards the estate.

If you are here to see Darcy, I’m afraid I must be the bearer of bad news. He is not at home! He shifted his weight from one foot to another. Nor is Mr Bingley. It seems they were bound for London, so perhaps -

Thank you, Georgiana said, coldly turning and taking a few quick steps back towards her carriage. We shall make for London, then. At least there we may be assured of a welcome, whether my brother is at home or not.

The carriage lurched into motion once more and Wickham took a step back, allowing it to pass him easily. His eyes met Georgiana’s, just for a moment, but he saw almost no hint of the young lady he had known in Ramsgate. His heart turned over. Here, again, was proof of the wrongs he had committed, the hurt for which he was responsible. Here, again, he could do nothing but let it pass, safe in the knowledge that to attempt to make amends would merely make things worse.

In what felt like a year but was surely just a few moments, the carriage was gone, even the sound of it fading on the breeze and Wickham was left alone. Fearing the housekeeper might have witnessed this exchange and come to make enquiries, he turned back towards the main road, swinging his feet as he walked and kicking a steady arc of dust and gravel as he made his way down the drive.

Surely Darcy had not been fool enough to invite Georgiana here to Hertfordshire. He smiled, grimly. He credited himself that he still knew his friend well enough to guess a little at how he might choose to act, and having worked so actively to separate Wickham and Georgiana once before Darcy would surely not have been so eager to risk reuniting them.

At the very least he would have remained here to greet her, he thought, reaching the main road and pausing a moment in indecision. His whole morning had been wasted, with not one but two errands unaccomplished. His mood sank in the wake of his non-interview with Georgiana Darcy, such that he was not sure he could face returning immediately to the barracks. His companions would be loud and high-spirited and even the promise of drinking and gambling could not entice him. No, he would go where he might be assured of welcome. One location stood out to him, and he had begun walking towards Longbourn long before he was aware of it.

The way was not far, but it offered him the chance to think as well as to walk, and he was grateful for the opportunity to come to terms with his morning, to buoy himself a little before he drew within sight of a familiar aspect. Before he reached the driveway, though, he was spotted and called to, and stopped in his tracks, turning to greet his welcoming party with a wave.

Mr Wickham! Lydia Bennet broke free of the party of sisters, lifting her skirts and running towards him. Are you coming to call on us?

It had certainly crossed my mind to do so, Wickham replied, dipping in a theatrical bow of the kind he knew would elicit a delighted laugh from the youngest Miss Bennet, his most ardent admirer of the group.

Indeed you must! Kitty, not quite as beautiful nor as vivacious as her sister, but certainly her equal in enthusiasm, hurried forward, ushering him towards Longbourn. We were gasping for tea, weren’t we Lydia? You have timed it exactly right.

So it seems. Wickham turned towards the rest of the sisters. Jane, the eldest and most

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