Georgiana wasn’t sure what to think when George Wickham called on her for the first time. They had met at the local park and had taken a brief stroll together, but she never expected their acquaintance to go beyond that chance reunion. It surprised her when Mr. Wickham asked for the directions to her rented house because he wanted to call on her. She accepted but wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of entertaining the man. Fitzwilliam hosted guests more gracefully, and although she knew she was one day destined for the role, she felt too young to complete the task now. 

Their initial visit went well by her standards. She played the piano and showed him her watercolors. Wickham admired her throughout the entire performance and begged permission to call on her again. Mrs. Younge agreed and they settled on taking a shopping trip. 

This was how she found herself in her carriage in front of Madame Lenore’s dress shop. Mr. Wickham was supposed to meet them three-quarters of an hour ago but had failed to arrive. Worried about his tardiness, she turned to Mrs. Younge, who had taken up her needlepoint. 

“Do you think he’s ill? Or perhaps he experienced an accident on the road and needs help?”

Mrs. Younge let out a soft sigh and set her needlepoint to the side. She gripped Gerogiana’s hands between her own and stared straight into the young woman’s eyes. She shrank at her intense gaze. Georgiana had never felt so scrutinized by another. Mrs. Younge’s blue eyes pierced into her the way a cat watches a mouse before the lethal strike. 

“My dear, I am certain Mr. Wickham is quite well. You know how some gentlemen can be. He likely overslept. Let us wait a half hour more for him. We can always go to the tea room afterward.” Mrs. Younge released her wrists and she returned to her needlepoint. 

Georgiana’s back remained ramrod straight, and a slight tremble made its way through her body. Most of the time, her companion was a gentle woman who kept a silent watch over her. Their peaceful relationship often consisted of being in the same room absorbed in their own hobbies. Once in a while, Mrs. Younge would lash out like this, not loud, but in a cold fury. Fitzwilliam, for all his quietness, did not sound like Mrs. Younge when he was angry at Georgiana. 

A knock on the carriage door startled her out of her reverie. The top of a brown-haired man peaked over the window. Relief ran through her at the sight of Mr. Wickham. She jerked the latch open on the door to let him inside. 

“Mr. Wickham! Thank goodness you are…here.” What in heaven’s name is he wearing? 

The gentleman in front of her wore a bright blue tailcoat with a striped waistcoat underneath, His breeches were a pale yellow, similar to the ribbon trimming on her bonnet. An overall garish monstrosity. 

Mrs. Younge glared at him. He sat himself beside her and didn’t take note of her disapproval. 

“Ah!” Mr. Wickham jolted from his seat with a hiss. 

“Are you alright?” He is perspiring quite fiercely. Georgiana reached over to hand him her handkerchief. 

“Thank you, Miss Darcy. I believe a fly bit me.” His eyes darted to Mrs. Younge before they focused back on Georgiana. 

That is odd. Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Younge act very familiar with one another.

“Well, now that our entire party is here, let us make our way to Market Street.” After she said this, Mrs. Younge rapped on the roof. The carriage lurched forward and started down the cobblestone road. 

Nobody spoke as the coach jostled along. Georgiana fidgeted. She shifted her body to the left, then the right, before she perched herself closer to the window. 

“I have yet to shop in Ramsgate. Are you more familiar with the tradesmen here, Mr. Wickham?” I cannot stand another moment of this. Traveling with Fitzwilliam is infinitely more comfortable than this. I regret asking him to let me keep a house here without him. When I asked to host a house of my own, I thought it would be splendid. No school masters to watch me, no set schedule made by my brother filled with events I didn’t want to attend. Instead, I have to keep my own itinerary. The burden is mine and the responsibility of not acting proper is mine as well. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this.  

“Yes, Miss Darcy. In fact, I bought my tailcoat and pants from a tailor here. I’d be happy to show you the establishment.” 

Georgiana eyed his outfit, her eyebrows raised at the flamboyant clothing. He wasn’t anything similar to this in our past meetings. What could have inspired him to cause such a drastic change? Not me? Surely, he didn’t dress like a dandy to impress me? 

She had never had a boy or man pay attention to her. Her school friends mentioned flirtations but none of them were old enough to be courted. Is this what it’s like? A blush spread across her cheeks. Here I am thinking awful thoughts and the poor man likes me. Aware that he watched her, she subtly adjusted her bonnet and fixed a wayward curl. 

Minutes passed until the carriage came to a stop. All three members of the party stepped down onto the sidewalk in front of a row of shops. 

“Which ones have you visited, Mr. Wickham?” Georgiana asked.

”This way, ladies.”

He offered her his arm and they trotted past the storefronts before they stopped at Marley’s Tailor and Hats. When they entered the building, a hush fell over the other shoppers. Passersby gave them a wide berth, and a group of ladies giggled at Mr. Wickham. Georgiana dropped her head to hide from their judgmental gazes.

Poor Mr. Wickham! I hope this isn’t affecting him too badly. George Wickham smiled and chatted with Mrs. Younge as they examined an arrangement of top hats. He seems to be taking it rather well. With the other two off to their own devices, she wandered along on her own. She stood in the foyer and took in the store. It was an emporium with two levels connected by a central staircase. Such a grand display didn’t fit with her vision of Ramsgate, but it was a nice change to the quaint country shops she was accustomed to. Near her was a table of neck clothes and cravats. Georgiana picked up a dark blue cravat and rubbed the material. Even if Mr. Wickham doesn’t seem bothered by the judgmental stares, I can’t let him continue to dress in such a way. If he is anything like Fitzwilliam, he has no sense of color. If it wasn’t for me and his manservant, Fitzwilliam would dress like a dandy. 

Satisfied with her decision, she took the cravat to the front and bought it, along with this season’s fashion plate. While she knew it was improper to bestow a gift upon an unrelated male, since he was a childhood friend, she hoped it could be overlooked. Regardless, Georgiana pulled Mrs. Younge aside for her advice. 

“Do you think it wrong of me to give these to Mr. Wickham?” She showed her companion the items. Her lip was between her teeth, a nervous habit she acquired when younger. 

Mrs. Younge coughed and placed a hand over her mouth to muffle the laugh that escaped her. Georgiana felt her face heat from embarrassment. I must seem like a fool. At least I didn’t give it to Mr. Wickham first! 

“Please do not mistake my laughter to be directed at you, Miss Darcy. I merely find it amusing that Mr. Wickham is receiving fashion advice. By all means, give it to him. I see no harm in the small gift, although perhaps it is wise to wait until we are back in the coach, away from prying eyes.”

”Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Younge.” Maybe I was mistaken earlier. Mrs. Younge doesn’t appear frightening at all right now. She is kind, if a bit harsh at times. 

The three finished up their purchases and entered the coach. They traveled in a comfortable silence until the carriage stopped at Mr. Wickham’s lodgings. Before he got out, Georgiana held out her gifts. 

“Mr. Wickham, I have gotten you a present. Consider it a token of our renewed friendship.” He paused and took the items from her gloved hands. His eyebrows raised at the fashion plate. 

“Uh…I thought…You see I think the darker blue would suit your complexion more than the lighter colors. If you don’t care for it, I can always return it but…”

Wickham smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, Miss Darcy. I appreciate the cravat. You must think I am a simpleton who does not know how to dress myself. I apologize for embarrassing you and I will save you from having that experience again.”

”No!”

”No!”

Both Mrs. Younge and Georgiana spoke out at the same time. 

Mrs. Younge recovered first. “I don’t think it’s that necessary Mr. Wickham. Surely, Miss Darcy did not give you that to be mean. You must visit us again. Perhaps we shall see you at the assembly this Saturday?” 

Oh, dear, how I wish I were anywhere else but here! “Y-Yes! Mr. Wickham, forgive me if I offended you. I meant no such thing by giving you those gifts. I-I think you look rather handsome. It would be a pleasure to meet you at the assembly.” 

George Wickham smiled and shook his head. “Well, how can I refuse such an invitation? I’ll see you two at the end of the week.” 

Editor: Michelle Naragon