Chapter VI #2
Nearly a week had passed since William had proposed spending more time together, and Georgiana wanted answers.
William was a man who guarded his concerns, holding them close.
If he did not wish to share his troubles with Georgiana, she would not press, but she hoped he would see her as a confidante, someone he could trust without fear of judgment.
Georgiana meant to discover the truth if she could.
“William,” said she that morning as they sat in each other’s company, “is aught amiss?”
William, who had been staring at something only he could see, started and turned to her. It appeared he had forgotten she was present, though they had been speaking only a few minutes before. It did not surprise Georgiana when his expression grew guarded, and he attempted to put her off.
“Nothing is amiss, Georgiana. Shall we go out today?”
As a deflection, it was transparent. Georgiana was not about to stand for it.
“William,” said she, a chiding note in her voice, “please do not patronize me. Your behavior these past days has been no less than obvious. If you do not wish to share your troubles, I understand and will not press, but I hope you trust me enough to listen and offer comfort even if I cannot assist.”
The way William regarded her, he almost appeared to be seeing her for the first time. “It occurs to me that you are not a girl anymore—you are a young woman coming into your own.”
“I should hope so,” retorted Georgiana playfully. “I am sixteen.”
The way William shook his head suggested a man trying to reconcile the child he remembered with the young lady before him. “That you are, Georgiana. Still, the matter consuming my thoughts is one I would not share with you, for it may bring you distress.”
At once, Georgiana’s thoughts flew again to the events of the previous summer, the devastation she had felt when William arrived and revealed the truth.
What George Wickham might have to do with her brother’s recent distraction she could not say, but Georgiana was not about to allow the bounder to influence her life again.
“Then it is Mr. Wickham.”
William turned, appearing to inspect her. Though the mention of Mr. Wickham was never agreeable, Georgiana returned his look with one she kept unemotional. At length, William sighed and agreed that it was.
“When I stayed at Bingley’s leased estate in the autumn, Wickham turned up most unexpectedly and he is there now.”
Uncertain what he was saying, Georgiana asked: “Did he follow you?”
“No, it was by chance. He joined a militia regiment quartered in the same town near Netherfield Park.”
“Brother, I think it is time you told me all. Do not concern yourself with my feelings—Mr. Wickham has no more power to injure me.”
Though it was clear he did not know if it was advisable, William relented. He spoke of meeting Mr. Wickham on the streets of the town and his actions in riding away from the confrontation. As Georgiana listened, a name appeared on William’s tongue, one with which she was already acquainted.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” asked she. “As I recall, you mentioned her in your letters from Netherfield, something about accomplishments.”
“Among other things,” agreed William.
The ensuing quiet was telling, for William again turned introspective, though it was not the impatience he had displayed before. Rather, he appeared to be caught in the grip of pleasant memories, though his occasional grimaces told Georgiana that not all his reflections were pleasing.
“There must be more to this, Brother,” said Georgiana, interrupting his reverie. “If Mr. Wickham has become a problem, why do you not go to Meryton? You have sufficient evidence and motivation to move against him.”
William sighed. “It is not quite that easy, Georgiana.”
What followed was a hesitant explanation of the events of last autumn, Mr. Bingley’s interest in a young lady—the elder sister of Miss Elizabeth—his return to town, and William’s efforts in concert with Miss Bingley to prevent his return.
The most surprising part of it all was how William’s perspective had changed enough to prompt him to confess error to Mr. Bingley, the reason for his continued presence in London.
“If you will pardon me,” said Georgiana, choosing her words with care, “why do you place such faith in Miss Bennet’s account of her sister’s feelings? Could she not be speaking of the lost opportunity for her sister and her family?”
William paused as if he had never considered it before, then shook his head. “I have the highest confidence in Miss Elizabeth’s honesty, Georgiana. While I do not approve of some elements of her family, she and her sister have always been above reproach.”
“Then I trust your judgment,” replied Georgiana. “From what you wrote in your letters, I already have a good opinion of her. My question is, why is it necessary to tell Mr. Bingley of your new understanding before going to Meryton? Is not dealing with Mr. Wickham the more pressing matter?”
A frown settled over his features. “I had not thought of it that way. My resolve to wait for Bingley arose from the notion that he may wish to return to Netherfield at once.”
“Surely that could wait until we return from Hertfordshire.”
“‘We?’” asked William, bemused.
“Of course,” replied Georgiana. “Not only would it please me to witness Mr. Wickham’s downfall, but I should like to meet this lady of whom you have spoken so highly.”
“Whether that is advisable, I cannot say,” replied William.
Georgiana shrugged, understanding it would be best not to press him. “Either way, I believe it is best to expose Mr. Wickham at once—Mr. Wickham will have more opportunity to cause further havoc the longer you delay.”
Though William considered this, he nodded before long. “I agree, Georgiana, but we must be cautious. Are you certain of the wisdom of putting yourself in Wickham’s path again?”
“He has no power over me, Brother. And if he should choose to speak of Ramsgate, who would believe him?”
“If he does, I shall bury him in the deepest hole I can find,” muttered William.
“Just so,” agreed Georgiana. “Then let us go before he can cause more damage.”
GEORGIANA’S ADVICE was, Darcy supposed, excellent.
The desire to make amends to his friend had guided Darcy’s decision to wait, but now that he considered it, his reasoning was flawed.
Georgiana was correct—to delay too long was to compound his error in not exposing Wickham for the degenerate he was.
With his new determination in hand, Darcy prepared for their departure on the morrow. It was possible to go to Hertfordshire, deal with Wickham, and return to London in a single day, but Darcy thought it likely they would spend the night at the inn, so he planned accordingly.
“Do not worry, William,” said Georgiana when Darcy informed her of their destination for the following evening. “Even if the inn proves as insufficient as you suppose, we shall not stay long. I can withstand it well enough.”
Darcy agreed and allowed the subject to rest, knowing there was nothing else to be done. Before they could depart, however, they received two unexpected visitors. The first was his cousin Fitzwilliam.
“Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam in his jovial tone, “this is precipitous even for you. Are you leaving London again so soon after returning from Kent?”
“I am, but I do not mean to go far. Tomorrow, Georgiana and I will go to Hertfordshire, but we will not stay more than a day or two.”
Fitzwilliam regarded him evenly, aware that Darcy was not telling him everything. “Can I suppose there is a particular reason for your sudden determination to return to a neighborhood you have not visited since November? Or am I mistaken in assuming you intend to return to Bingley’s leased estate?”
“You are not incorrect,” replied Darcy. “What you do not know is that Wickham is in the area.”
Now Fitzwilliam’s eyes burned with a slow fire. “Tell me all, Darcy.”
When he did, Fitzwilliam shook his head. “That was poorly done. You should have warned Bingley’s neighbors of the danger Wickham presented.”
“Well do I know it,” replied Darcy. “That is why I mean to go now. As I did not warn them, I will take responsibility for Wickham’s debts, but the price I extract will come from his hide.”
“Thank you for seeing the necessity, Darcy,” replied Fitzwilliam. For a long moment, he eyed Darcy before observing: “Am I to suppose that you have come to this decision because of a young lady who also resides in the neighborhood? I commented on the subject the day we left Rosings.”
“You did,” said Darcy, reflecting that he had not told Fitzwilliam about his failed proposal. He had not even betrayed it to Georgiana.
“It is well that you did not deny it. Now, what do you mean to do about our dear Wicky?”
Darcy shrugged. “I will go to Meryton, speak to his commanding officer, and speak to the local merchants. If Wickham has behaved as he usually does, I will use what I find to see him in the Marshalsea.”
“Remember that the militia will have the first claim upon him, Darcy,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Discipline in the militia is not as high as the army, but they will not appreciate his actions any more than we do.”
“Then I shall speak with Colonel Forster. He struck me as a good man—between us, I am certain we can plan a suitable fate for Wickham. I may even involve your father to have him transported—then we need not worry about him escaping from prison. If he is on the other side of the world, he will be unable to return.”
“Very well, Darcy,” replied Fitzwilliam. “I shall speak to my father when I return home and alert him to the matter. My purpose for visiting today was to inform you of my departure.”
Fitzwilliam bared his teeth. “Were I at liberty, I would go to Hertfordshire with you, for I would not say no to the prospect of witnessing Wickham’s downfall. As it is, my general is sending me on an errand to the north that cannot wait.”