Chapter 2 #3
Darcy threatened the malevolent Mrs. Younge with ruin and possible arrest for her part in the conspiracy, and dismissed her immediately—without pay or a character.
Later, he and Colonel Fitzwilliam discovered all of Mrs. Younge’s references were forged; she was sent to them by Wickham to assist him in carrying out his planned revenge for the perceived, if unfounded, offences he felt Darcy had perpetrated against him.
Fitzwilliam Darcy—William to his family and close friends—sat alone in his study as the remembrance of that fateful day spun in his head. His time was spent berating himself for what he felt were his failures as a brother and a guardian.
His mood was as dark as it had been after the passing of his beloved parents.
First his mother had passed, and then his father seven years later.
Orphaned at two and twenty, he became master of a vast estate, a house in Town, and three smaller estates; he managed these holdings and all of the Darcy investments.
Together with his co-guardian, Richard Fitzwilliam, he had been given the responsibility for raising his then ten-year-old sister.
Darcy knew he was unfit for company now, which was why he had been keeping to himself. He sat at his desk with his elbows resting on the surface and his head in his hands, massaging his temples in an attempt to minimize the constant deafening drumbeat in his head.
The fire had burned low in the grate and his study had cooled, but he did not notice or care.
Bingley had visited that morning with the news he had at last found an estate close to Town to lease.
He had asked Darcy to join him, which Darcy had previously assured him he would.
Although he wanted to honour his word to Bingley, he could not manage residing in the same house with Caroline Bingley.
Georgiana had retired to her bedchamber after dinner, as she had every evening since their return.
Persuading her to eat with him had been a victory of sorts.
She no longer played her pianoforte; before his failure, it had been one of her favourite pastimes.
She remained depressed and burst into tears at the slightest provocation.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Upstairs in her bedchamber, Georgiana Darcy, now almost sixteen, was crying herself to sleep—as she had every night since returning from Ramsgate. Her mortification and shame felt as heavy as if a mountain had fallen on her.
Her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam had both told her the bulk of the blame was to be laid at George Wickham’s feet, and the rest at Mrs. Younge’s. However, no matter how many times William or Richard told her she was not at fault, she knew she was.
Georgiana wondered if they were contemplating returning her to the nursery, if so, she could not blame them.
She could see the look of despair in her brother’s eyes, and she knew it was disgust at her actions.
It was no less than she deserved, after all she was disgusted by what she had done; how could William and Richard not be?
She was not aware William was blaming himself, not her. That she had not recovered was causing his feelings of guilt and despair, not what she interpreted as his disgust for her actions.
Uncle Reggie, Aunt Elaine, and her cousins Andrew and Marie had also told her it was not her fault, but Georgie did not believe them; she knew it was her fault.
She had willingly broken the rules of propriety.
She had known what Mrs. Younge told her was not true.
She should have waited for a reply from her brother before agreeing to any sort of courtship.
She had been caught up in what she believed was romance and had ignored all the warning signs she now realised were there.
Yes, she knew better now; hindsight was always clear, but at the time she had willingly let the two of them lie to her and manipulate her.
She had, knowingly and wilfully, ignored many of the rules of propriety she had been taught.
She was aware of the sad truth now. All the lying, manipulating tormentor had wanted from her was to harm her honourable brother.
Wickham desired to gain his revenge for perceived slights, and in the process gain her fortune of thirty thousand pounds.
He would have gambled her dowry away, just as he had the funds her brother had given him already.
He would probably have treated her worse than he did his horse.
Even had they eloped, Wickham would have gotten nothing, since her dowry would only be released if both of her guardians approved of the match. She was sure he would then have abandoned her out of spite, or tried to ransom her to her brother.
She remembered how, after hearing about the restrictions on her dowry, her loving suitor had denigrated her and walked out of the house with a sneer on his face, slamming the door in his anger.
Georgiana was filled with guilt and more sadness than she had known anyone could feel. She had almost brought infamy and dishonour to the Darcy and Fitzwilliam names. If not for her wonderful brother arriving when he did, she would have been utterly ruined.
Georgiana Darcy did not know how she could ever face anyone in her family again, never mind people outside of her family circle.
She was sure they would see her guilt as plainly as if she were wearing a scarlet letter.
They would all see through her; they would judge her; then, they would despise her.
She was now more shy than she had ever been. She heard one of the maids whisper to her new companion that she had gone from a shy young woman to a girl with no confidence at all. How had she made such a mess of her life at just fifteen?