She released a cleansing giggle, lifting a hand to Kitty and pulling her onto the bench beside. “Very well, Kitty, I will tell you.” And she did. The only other person she had ever related the entire sordid tale to was Elizabeth. Even William did not know all the false words spoken by Wickham or the foolish actions of his gullible sister; Georgiana needing the comfort he abundantly offered at the time and too ashamed to ever reveal completely. Now she told Kitty, but with nary a trace of the bitterness or mortification generally felt, and none of the tears shed in Elizabeth’s arms. It was somewhat like relating a story one had read about, as if the misfortune had struck some other girl in a faraway place. Georgiana actually discovered herself laughing at some of the more ridiculous pronouncements of Wickham’s. The whole incident was a million years ago, as far as Georgiana was concerned.

But Kitty listened and was shocked. “I had no idea Mr. Wickham was such a scoundrel! Even Lydia running away with him I thought romantic and daring, an adventure that I envied. What a fool I was! I am beginning to understand the depth of my ignorance of the world.”

“And men. Oh Kitty! Are you sure Mr. Falke loves you? I could not bear to see you hurt. Losing someone you love, or even think you love, is horrible. I have seen it, experienced it. Please be sure he cares for you!”

Kitty smiled, patting Georgiana’s hand placatingly. “Do not fret so, dear Georgiana. All will be well. Ere the year is complete you shall be dancing at my wedding, I am certain of it!”

Two days later, Mr. Falke and his parents would leave Graceholm Hall and Kitty would never see him again.

Her last conversation with him, her only conversation in the days following her gushing proclamations to Georgiana of love felt and returned, took place the evening before his abrupt departure. His elusiveness in the intervening hours saddened Kitty, her heart of love desiring his presence, but she suspected nothing untoward as the surfeit of social activities frequently conspired to keep the sexes apart. It was not until dinner that she began to suspect something was amiss.

He evaded her gaze from his seat ten guests away, somberly picked at each course, dialogue with those surrounding was minimal, and his father watched him with a stern glare. After the obligatory segregated post-dining amusements, the genders came together and naturally drifted into clusters based on age. Humor was high, as always, few aware of a nervous Mr. Falke and increasingly alarmed Miss Bennet. Just when Kitty thought she would burst into frustrated tears, Mr. Falke eased to her side and with a light touch to her elbow steered her toward the shadowy balcony.

Instantaneously Kitty’s spirits lifted. Never remotely fathoming that whatever was disturbing her love could have anything to do with her, she determined to erase his gloom with a repeat performance of passionate kisses. But instead of guiding her to the dimly lit pathways beside the tree-lined edges of the river, he stayed to the wide, moon-bathed lane beyond the parlor balcony. Conscious of the need to be clear of eavesdroppers but within sight of parental eyes, Mr. Falke opened the conversation with words devastating to Kitty.

“Miss Bennet, I regret that I must inform you that I shall be departing Graceholm Hall on the morrow. My father has estate duties to attend to and requires my assistance. I know this is sudden, and pray your understanding.”

“Oh! I… that is, will you be returning soon?”

“I fear not.”

“Then… Will you visit Meryton? I will be returning home in two weeks and shall wait patiently for your presence. I know my father will adore you and be quite pleased by your attentions.”

“I cannot say I shall visit Meryton, Miss Bennet. Do forgive me.”

“Anthony, I do not understand! Why are you so formal? I have been ‘Kitty’ to you for weeks when we are alone. You are worrying me!”

“I am truly sorry, Miss Bennet, but this is for the best.”

“What is for the best? You are making no sense!”

“Lower your voice, please!” He hissed, glancing toward the empty balcony and moving further away from the house. “Please, Miss Bennet, control yourself. A scene is improper.” He glanced into her face, looking rapidly away from the bewilderment found there. “I have come to realize that our relationship is merely one of friendship. We must endeavor to accept this. It would not have worked out, Miss Bennet, trust me in this.”

“But you said you loved me,” she whispered. “You kissed me and said you wanted to be with me forever. Were these lies, Anthony? Is that the kind of man you are? Is it?”

“No, God help me, but no!” His mask of rigidity slipped and he clasped her hands, leaning close. “I am sorry, Kitty. But there is no future for us.”

“You are being ridiculous, Anthony! Of course we have a future together! We love each other and that is all that matters. Now, stop this playing and let us walk by the river. I know how to cheer you up.” She lifted to plant a kiss to his cheek, but he evaded, stepping a pace backward.

“You are mistaken, Miss Bennet. Our time together has been a pleasant diversion and no more. I regret that you assumed otherwise, but I will be leaving tomorrow and…”

“Why? Tell me why, Anthony. I deserve an explanation! I love you! Do you not realize that? You cannot just leave without talking to me!”

He was anguished. He could not tell her the truth: that her family was unacceptable, her wealth inadequate, her station inferior, and her accomplishments insufficient. Better to increase her hatred of him than wound her by insulting all she held dear.

With a monumental effort he stiffened, tightening his face, and chilling his voice. “The explanation is simple, Miss Bennet. I allowed my human desires and failings to overwhelm me. Like a foolish adolescent I indulged in the pleasures to be found in a charming, beautiful woman. I alluded to sentiments I do not feel. I pray that you can someday find it within your heart to forgive me for acting in an ungentlemanly manner, but I do not deserve it. I fear that is all I can offer you.”

“Anthony, please…” Kitty sobbed.

“I wish you well, Miss Bennet. Good-bye.” He bowed curtly and then turned, briskly striding away and feeling every inch the louse his false words evinced.

Kitty stood stunned, tears flowing down her cheeks, the moments stretching in agonizing clarity as he walked away. “Anthony,” she breathed, “please, I… I love you. I… Anthony! No! I love you!”

The stasis broke, her voice rising hysterically, sobs gushing and choking the exclamations, steps stumbling after the heartbreaker she still loved. Kitty was beyond coherent thought, emotions wild as the pain engulfed.

Firm, loving hands reached for her, grasping flailing arms and halting her forward momentum. “Kitty! Be still. Come with me, dear. People are watching.” Georgiana pulled gently toward the concealing trees, Kitty weeping and shaking.

The emotions and fate of Mr. Falke remained unknown to Kitty. Her future life would not circle anywhere near his, and she never asked of his situation. Initially, this may have been due largely to anger and pain, but in time her aborted romance with Mr. Falke would follow the identical path to Georgiana’s unfortunate liaison with Mr. Wickham. Time heals all wounds, as the old proverb suggests.