Matchmaking at Pemberley Page 15

  ~THIRTY-SIX~

  Georgiana did her best to ignore the frantic sounds of activity that drifted below to the kitchens. What was going on above that required so much attention? It was nearly time for matins before Sister Immaculata came below to release her and Sister Beatrice from the endless peeling of vegetables.

  “It is all right now. I fear that Sister Mary Maude exaggerates. One would think that Napoleon himself had arrived with the entire French Army.”

  “So, there was nothing?” Georgiana asked shyly.

  “Just a poor beggar that had been caught out in the storm. Quite out of his head with fever and suffering from exposure, but you need not worry about him. Sister Emmaline will do what she can, but cases like these are in God’s hands. I need you two to mend what remains of his clothing and see what you can find in the donation boxes that might fit a man of considerable size. We may need to bury him and it must be done properly.”

  The older nun handed Georgiana a small bundle of wet muddy clothes before returning to her own duties. Once alone, the girls took the sopping mess to the laundry. Aside from the kitchens, it was the one place of constant warmth during the winter. Georgiana removed the string that bound the clothes and began to extricate fabric from filth, wondering who the stranger could be.

  “Do you think he was some sort of peddler? Who else would be out on the roads this time of year?” she asked as Beatrice tugged a large battered trunk out of a corner. It was a charity box, meant for those who came seeking alms, but was rarely used. A cloud of dust wafted up as she opened the lid and sorted carefully, fearful that rodents had taken up residence.

  “Probably, or perhaps Prince Charming in disguise. Whomever he is, I shall say an extra prayer for his soul tonight. Sister Emmaline means well, but I have seen her version of nursing. She has been known to still use leeches.”

  To this, Georgiana smothered a giggle. It was not appropriate to laugh at the expense of another, especially if they lay dying. Taking up a soft brush, she began to scrub at the worst of the stains, frowning slightly as her fingers touched finely crafted linen. No, the stranger was not a peddler. These clothes belonged to a gentleman. Besides trousers, there was a brocaded vest and a once white shirt in addition to small clothes. If she did not know better, Georgiana would have sworn that they were oddly familiar. It was not until she felt a bulge in the vest pocket that her face drained of all color. Pulling a length of silk from its interior, her eyes went immediately to the embroidered initials R.B. that had been carefully stitched by her own hand. Robert Brackleburn was the man who lay at the mercy of Sister Emmaline. Hastily stuffing the neckcloth under her apron, Georgiana’s mind raced from one thought to the next. Why was he here? What if he died? What was she to do? Making the excuse of needing to relieve herself, Georgiana stumbled along the stone halls until she found the infirmary. It was secluded away from the main part of the Abbey to prevent contagion. As a result, it was cold and shadowy with sporadic torches dipped in fat serving as the only source of light aside from the glow of a fire from beneath the barred door. Peering through the small opening that allowed for the passage of supplies when quarantined, Georgina saw the form of Robbie Brackleburn on a narrow bed, shivering in delirium. Two nuns whose names she could not recall were bent over him with a knife and bowl as Sister Emmaline intoned prayers from a corner chair. Was this what they hoped would save him? A bleeding would only ensure certain death. Pushing open the door, she rushed into the room, giving orders for warm towels, daring defiance from the shocked faces.

  “This is no place for a novice!” snapped Sister Emmaline as she pointed a gnarled finger at the door.

  “I am no novice. I am Georgiana Darcy of Pemberley and this is my fiancé, Lord Robert Brackleburn. My place is with him! Now do as you are told.”

  The three nuns looked to one another before collecting the knife and bowl, leaving Georgiana alone. Sinking to his side, she took a cold hand in hers and pressed it to her face. She had to get him warm. Taking off her apron and habit, she crawled next to him, placing her body against his, sharing what heat she possessed and gently rubbed his arms and legs. For what seemed like an eternity, Robbie simply shivered, but eventually calmed into a restful sleep. Sleep was what he needed now, and plenty of warm blankets. Not daring to leave until the nuns returned, Georgiana remained under the thin cover warming his body with her own. However, it was only Sister Immaculata that came to the infirmary. Her arms were laden with a basket of supplies, generosity that belied the firm set of her lips.

  “So, not a novice, are you? Well, that took longer than I expected. Some of the older sisters wagered that you would not last a week.”

  “You… you knew? But how, when I did not know myself?”

  “I may choose not to live in society, but that does not make me ignorant of it… or of love. You were clearly a woman in love, and not with God. Who exactly is this man to you?”

  “He… he’s … was…supposed to be my future husband.”

  “And now?”

  “I…I…want him more than ever.”

  “Well, then I suggest we make sure he does not die on us. Get dressed, we have work to do.”

  ~Epilogue~

  It was over a week before Lord Robert Brackleburn regained his senses, and nearly another before he was able to sit and take nourishment. The entire time, he was attended with the greatest of care by Georgiana. Of this arrangement, Sister Immaculata did not give explanation, nor did anyone dare question her judgement. Eventually life at St. Columba’s went back to normal as the stranger and Miss Darcy returned to the world in which they belonged, leaving the good sisters in theirs. The journey back to Pemberley was one of far greater comfort than public coaches and not a soul dared to accost the Darcy carriage. Inside, the occupants spent the hours of travel with hands entwined, discussing their future together.

  As for Pemberley, the fortnight that passed was one of even greater blessings. In her wisdom, Sister Immaculata had written to the Darcys. She omitted the conditions under which Lord Brackleburn had arrived, only stating that Georgiana was quite healed in mind and their return would be delayed by inclement roads. Elizabeth Darcy, ever increasing in size had been relieved of her burden just days before Georgiana’s return. The babies, one boy and one girl, although small, were thriving under the care of doting parents and a small army of nannies.

  “I suppose we should choose some names. What do you think of Eglantine and Albert?” Elizabeth asked in a serious tone that hid the mischievous gleam in her eye.

  Darcy grimaced slightly, but was never one to deny his wife any desire. “If that is what you want…”

  “No… those are hideous… You choose,” Elizbeth laughed.

  “Hmm, well… what of Horatio and Henrietta?”

  Both convulsed into laughter at the idea, needing minutes to regain their composure.

  “No seriously, Elizabeth, what about Madeline and Andrew? We know of no one with those names.”

  “Indeed, it does seem that so many people have the same name. I quite like them… so be it!”

  “Perhaps now we can enjoy a bit of peace and quiet around here. So much has happened this past year that I almost feel as if we need a holiday.”

  “Well, don’t get your hopes up just yet. We still have a wedding to plan for Georgiana.”

  “Yes, I am pleased that everything turned out so well. That leaves only your younger sisters unmarried.”

  “And don’t forget your cousin Anne… that poor girl needs all the help she can get with Lady Catherine terrifying possible suitors away.”

  Darcy only rolled his eyes in agreement, sending his wife into a fit of laughter, but in reality, matchmaking was serious business. Elizabeth’s thoughts had regularly gone to Kitty and Mary, still at Longbourn and suffering her mother’s tantrums. If only they too could be as happy as those around her, but life was not always so easy. After Georgiana’s wedding she could focus on possibilities for her sisters. Right now, she just wanted to
enjoy her husband, her children and her home. Taking Darcy’s hand as they gazed down on the twin perfections they had created, Elizabeth gave her sensible opinion and let the matter drop.

  “One miracle at a time dear… one miracle at a time.”