Chapter 3
In his study, a brooding Fitzwilliam Darcy was second guessing his decisions yet again, as he did almost hourly.
‘I should have called him out, not let him go with an admonition. Richard was correct, he should pay for what he did. Why did I intercede when Richard wanted to hunt him down and make him disappear? If I were not so worried about Georgiana’s reputation—I hold over three thousand pounds of his debts purchased over the years; why did I let that damned wastrel go?
Why did not I send him to a debtor’s prison immediately?
’ He knew the answer even as he questioned himself again and again; he had made a snap decision; one he thought would be the best way to protect his sister’s reputation.
His thoughts turned to his good friend Charles Bingley, who had visited him with a request earlier in the day. Were it Bingley alone, he would go without question. Under normal circumstances, Bingley would cheer him up, but today he had not been successful.
Although Bingley asked him what was troubling him, he had dismissed his friend’s query. ‘I dislike going back on my word, but how can I reside at his estate, where I will have to deal with the unwanted advances of Miss Caroline Bingley?’ At the best of times she was a trial, but now…
Darcy hated times when he had no occupation to take his mind from his failures. All his business had been completed for the day, and that of tomorrow and perhaps the day after. The only occupations he now had were dark thoughts and his liquor cabinet.
Although it was not in his character to over-imbibe, he had done so on a number of occasions during these last four months.
He reached for the snifter of brandy on his desk and took a long swallow.
He hated not being in control, but the drink dulled his mind and almost made him stop caring about his failures, if only for a short while.
He was aware he was not eating as he should, but his appetite was gone. He detested how Georgie had lost her hard-won confidence and constantly burst into tears, often before he so much as asked her how she was feeling.
No matter how many times he tried to convince her she was not to blame; the blame fell on a blackguard seducer almost twice her age—a man who had taken advantage of her tender heart, she refused to believe she was not the one at fault.
He failed to realise the irony; she blamed herself for things she should not, just as he did.
He knew she still suffered, and he could not help her out of the melancholy into which she had sunk. He was at fault for not being a better guardian to her. He had not yet accepted he could have done no more; he had pushed that knowledge to the recesses of his consciousness.
Darcy had been proud when Georgiana had admitted some culpability in the scheme.
She told him she had known better but had been caught up in what she believed was love.
Before she knew what Wickham was, she had believed William would be happy for her.
So deep was her belief in his approval, she had written to him—letters he never received.
He had tried to protect his sister by withholding information about George Wickham from her.
In his mind, this was his worst failure; in trying to protect her sensibility and innocence, he had left her vulnerable because she did not have the knowledge which would have enabled her to withstand the lies, manipulation, and false charm employed against her.
In his misguided attempts to protect her, Darcy believed he had robbed his sister of the ability to recognise the signs of falsehood.
In the depths of his despair, he failed to consider had Georgiana resisted, Wickham would have ruined her by force, kidnapped her, or both.
The bastard might have done even worse to her.
Uncle Reggie and Aunt Elaine, the Earl and Countess of Matlock; cousins Andrew and Marie Fitzwilliam, Viscount and Viscountess Hilldale; and his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had tried to tell him he was taking too much on himself.
They attempted to convince him the fault lay squarely at the feet of Mrs. Younge and Wickham, and only on them.
They acknowledged Georgie had exercised poor judgement but given her age and the skill of the manipulator, they understood why she reacted as she had. Although he appreciated their kindness and attempted to see things as they did, he could not agree with them; neither could his sister.
Thank goodness everyone had agreed Lady Catherine de Bourgh was not to be told anything of the matter, under any circumstances.
They knew she would attempt to use the information to bolster the myth she perpetuated that Darcy’s mother, Lady Anne, had agreed Darcy was to marry his cousin Anne De Bourgh in order to unite the great estates of Pemberly in Derbyshire and Rosings Park in Kent.
Such an agreement had never been mentioned before his mother’s death. Everyone in the family knew this was a lie, a fantasy created by Lady Catherine to control Rosings Park and to access Pemberley’s coffers.
Darcy feared, should Lady Catherine learn what had happened, she would attempt to bring his sister under her control. However, his parents had made sure that would never happen. George Darcy not only vociferously refused Lady Catherine; he had ordered her out of his house.
Both of William’s parents had placed stipulations in their wills refuting Lady Catherine’s claims. Further, Lady Anne had expressed her wishes in a letter to her brother Reggie, the Earl of Matlock and head of the family.
In it, she made it clear neither she nor her husband had ever agreed to a match between their son and Catherine’s daughter, and no one could claim they had.
They would never force their children to marry without love or against their inclination; neither favoured arranged marriages.
Both their son and their daughter would have the freedom to find life partners they would respect and love.
Lady Anne had told Darcy before she died that he was to marry for love, and only for love.
Her only restriction was his choice should be, at least, the daughter of a gentleman.
This was re-stated by his late father before he passed.
Although Rosings Park had belonged to Anne since her five and twentieth birthday, in order to justify retaining control of Anne’s estate, Lady Catherine convinced the family Anne was too ill to manage her inheritance.
When Anne reached the age when she might consider marriage, she insisted she had no interest whatsoever in marrying Darcy—but that never deterred Lady Catherine.
After her numerous requests to George and Lady Anne Darcy for a marriage contract had been rejected out of hand, Lady Catherine was displeased.
She had always coveted Pemberley’s vast wealth and believe the match she proposed would give her access to the Darcy fortune she lusted after.
Her wish for Darcy to marry her daughter grew into an obsession, fuelled only by her greed.
The family was aware she was jealous of her sister, who had made a love match with George Darcy—and thereby gained a husband with one of the largest fortunes in the Kingdom.
Lady Catherine’s avarice now knew no bounds; however, she learned to remain silent about the match she desired while Fitzwilliam Darcy’s parents were alive.
After her sister’s untimely passing, she once again had the temerity to demand a marriage contract from her grieving husband, claiming Lady Anne had agreed to it—dismissing the fact both parents had rejected all of her previous requests.
Only days after George Darcy’s funeral, Lady Catherine arrived at Pemberley for the purpose of assuming control of the house she wanted her daughter Anne to be mistress of.
She was again seriously displeased when she was unceremoniously shown out and told everyone knew her claims of an agreement were false. She returned to Rosings Park forthwith.
After her return, she began parroting her delusion to anyone who would listen, thinking to force the issue.
However, all who knew her were aware Lady Catherine was a fortune hunter disguised as an overbearing mother.
Her current interest was in maintaining control over the fortune that now belonged to her daughter, not herself.
Everyone knew one day there would be a war of wills when the time came to remove Lady Catherine from her throne. Any who had seen her guilt-edged raised chair, the one she sat in when company was present, the one from which she dispensed unwanted advice, had dubbed it the throne.
She claimed absolute knowledge of any subject. She would have been horrified had she known nearly everyone knew she was usually wrong. Lady Catherine had little education and even fewer accomplishments. Her family never confided in her.
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In lucid moments, Fitzwilliam Darcy knew he was unhappy with the trajectory his life had taken, but he did not know how to change course. Ever since Ramsgate he needed more and more liquor to relax, to dull his senses, and to quiet his mind. He had begun to hate himself for it.
Darcy was haunted continually by the realisation of his failures.
He was unable to sleep; when he tried, there were nightmares.
He had difficulty eating; food tasted like dirt in his mouth.
He no longer took pleasure in the things that had previously given him enjoyment, not even in performing his duties.
Although he had failed to ensure his sister’s wellbeing, he had kept the promise he had sworn to his parents—to remain celibate until marriage.
This meant he did not have the physical outlets most men in his social circle did.
He never smiled—unless he occasionally forced a smile for his sister—he was too angry with himself.