Chapter 7 #2
“Those are merely fashionable vices—if a gentleman were to engage in them,” Wickham said.
“I pass no judgment on those that do. Mr Darcy seems to know a great deal about such sordidness.” He made a condescending sound of disapproval.
“But your brother lies, hoping to turn you from me. That is how badly he wants to keep you in the nursery.”
Georgiana gave Wickham a hesitant look, and Darcy’s heart soared with hope. “But, but have you ever done those things?” she whispered to Wickham.
“Will you judge me harshly for youthful mistakes?” he asked, as though wounded.
“Those days are behind me, and I need a woman like you to settle me in domestic life.” He stroked her cheek.
“Yes, a woman, not a little girl. Your brother will hate me forever for indiscretions every young man has done, but I am ready to dedicate myself to you and your happiness—if you will have me as I am.”
He was a charming liar, contradicting Darcy without insulting him, always encouraging his sister’s affection.
“Of course I will.” She threw her arms around him.
Wickham grinned over her shoulder and muttered to him, “What is even wrong with such ladies’ company? You might be satisfied by some sport you find alone, but not I.”
Elizabeth turned wide-eyed and then looked at the ground in mortification.
His sister, thankfully, did not understand Wickham’s innuendo.
Darcy stepped nearer and had the satisfaction of watching Wickham flinch.
“I determined to have nothing to do with prostitutes as my health and the health of my future wife are of great consequence to me. Can you say the same?”
Georgiana turned from Wickham’s arms to look at him. “I do not understand, George.”
“If you marry him,” Darcy continued, “he will disgrace and destroy your body; you might not have children.”
Wickham pretended to laugh. “He thinks some wasp has stung me! I knew he would lie to keep us apart, but I did not know he would be vulgar.”
His sister still looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
He and Wickham exchanged a look, and for a moment they shared the silent question of who would explain it.
“Georgiana,” Elizabeth said to catch her attention, “it is not only his history with prostitutes, he…” She huffed a sigh and went to his sister to whisper in her ear. She may have thought they could have a private conversation, but Darcy heard her say, “A Haymarket ware gave him the pox.”
“Lies!” Georgiana shrieked at Elizabeth, who started and drew back. “You are just angry over Lydia’s silly disappointment.” His sister collected herself and looked apologetic. “I am sorry for her sake that Wickham chose me instead, but that is no reason to be vile.”
“I assure you,” Darcy said as Elizabeth stepped away with a sad look in her eyes, “your chosen husband has run after women for years, and he will not stop because he has a bride. Do you not see the fading rash on his skin?”
“That could be from many illnesses,” she insisted, “and he is perfectly healthy otherwise.”
“He caught a secret disease. He asked me to pay for his mercury treatment earlier this year.”
“I am sorry that you had to hear such talk,” Wickham said to Georgiana. “It is coarse and certainly not true. Have I spent unwisely? Yes. I have not been a perfect man, my dear, but will a moment or two of weakness cost me your love?”
Darcy saw the answer in her eyes and realised there was no reaching Georgiana. She had a stalwart lover, and a brother who thought she was a little girl. His last chance to recover her would be if Wickham gave her up.
“Georgiana, come home with us,” Elizabeth pleaded.
She shook her head. “He wrote me such romantic letters. I will never have to parade about for a husband now and—”
“I have never threatened to do that,” Darcy interrupted. “You can take as long as you need and marry for affection.”
“You deserve better than Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth added.
She ignored him and looked at Elizabeth. “Be happy for me, Lizzy. I will be a married woman.”
“Happy? If you respect yourself or wish to be respected as a married woman, you cannot marry a dissipated man who spends his hours either at a tavern, a gaming house, or a brothel.”
“You don’t know him!” Georgiana stomped her foot. “You are repeating Fitzwilliam’s lies. I thought you were my friend.”
“Oh, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said with tears in her eyes. “I am. I will always be your friend, which is why I want you to come home. And the social consequences of marrying such a man will cost you most of your friends. You will regret this marriage, I promise you.”
They would make no progress this way. “Wickham, you will not get her thirty thousand pounds.”
His self-assured manner collapsed as Georgiana cried, “You cannot do that, Fitzwilliam! It is in my mother’s marriage articles.”
“Which state that her thirty thousand pounds was to be divided amongst her children upon her and my father’s deaths once they turn twenty-one or marry.”
“So you cannot keep it from me.”
“It said ‘children,’” he emphasised. “And no subsequent will or codicil changed it. You are not named, and one could argue that half of those thirty thousand pounds is mine. My father’s intention—and mine—was for you to have all of my mother’s money because I inherited the Pemberley properties.
But if you marry without my approval, I will take the matter to the courts. ”
“If you were to claim a portion, it ought to have been done when your father died and you inherited,” Wickham bit out. “It is too late now.”
“Is it?” Darcy asked lightly. “You are the one who studied the law these past three years. Is it too late?”
Wickham blanched and clearly did not know the answer.
“We need that money,” said his sister. “I scarcely have enough to get us home.” She began to sob, and Wickham dropped his arm from her shoulder. Elizabeth came near and pulled her into a hug. The man could not even comfort Georgiana if he thought he would not be paid for it.
“You can sue me for it,” Darcy said, staring hard into Wickham’s eyes.
“You might win and get thirty thousand, or you might only get half. But I think since you ran off with her and I do not approve, the courts could say I have full discretion over how those thirty thousand pounds are divided. If the court allows it, I will give her nothing.”
He hated denying his sister her money, but he would do it to keep her safe from a scoundrel like Wickham.
“No windfall will soon come your way,” he went on. “It will be months, if not years, before it is resolved.” He tilted his head as though a thought had just come to him. “I hope you have made good connexions in all your years of ‘studying the law.’”
Wickham tensed, and Darcy braced himself to dodge a blow. Rather than hit him, Wickham swore. “You have a scarecrow of a case!”
“I have enough of one to keep the money from you for now,” Darcy said.
“You will not get thirty thousand today if you marry her, and you may only get fifteen in the future.” They stared at one another with a loathing Darcy never knew he could feel for another person.
“If you marry her, there is a significant chance you will get nothing.”
A muscle twitched in Wickham’s jaw. “You keep her money from me,” he murmured, “and you will regret it.”
Darcy shook his head. “No, I will rejoice.”
Wickham exhaled slowly and took a long look at Georgiana, who was sniffling in Elizabeth’s arms. “You might lose in court, Darcy. They could say it is too late to make your claim, and she gets it all.”
“Do you want to bet on that?”
Wickham hesitated for a few moments, then smirked. “I am always ready to roll the dice.” In a louder voice, he said, “Yes, Mr Darcy, I still want her.”
Georgiana looked up from Elizabeth’s shoulder and wiped her eyes, staring at Wickham as though the sun shone from his smile. “Truly?”
“I am ready to fight for you to the last drop of my blood.”
Georgiana ran toward Wickham and crossed in front of Darcy, who stopped her with a hand. Exhaling slowly, he said, “This is the end of our relationship if you choose him.”
She looked at him in complete disbelief. “What? Why? You will grow to love him in time, I know you will.”
He shook his head, his heart breaking over it. “I cannot admit to his society in town. He cannot come to Pemberley. That is how deeply I do not approve of his actions and choices. Not even for your peace of mind would I acknowledge him or help him.”
“That shows how little he loves you,” Wickham called out behind him.
“I love her dearly,” he bit back, still looking at Georgiana, “and even if you tell all the world you ran off with her and spent nights alone with her, I would take her home now if she would come.”
“You would damn your sister’s reputation?” Wickham said, walking near to stand next to her. “My dear, thank goodness I am here. It shows how little he truly cares.”
“No, it shows how deeply I care, and how deeply I oppose her marrying you.”
“Wickham loves me,” she pressed. “I know my father would be happy for us. I don’t care that he is poor.”
“My dear, this is not about rank or fortune.
It is about character, and who is welcome in my life, who is welcome around my family.
I lose all integrity if I welcome a man who engages prostitutes, who mercilessly seduces women and spreads disease, who has no profession, who gambles away all he has, who will compromise your health.
“Once he runs through your money—whatever he ends up with—he will have no need of you. All his professions of love will sink to indifference at best, but I fear he will mistreat you because he knows that would hurt me.”
She shook her head. “He is none of those things. You are just trying to control me.”
Did all young ladies feel that way and revolt against their parents, or had Wickham manipulated her to believe that? “No, I am trying to persuade you not to throw your life away on a deceitful, pox-ridden gamester.”
“You are lying about him!”
“Never. I would not lie to you, and your friend Miss Bennet did not come three hundred miles to lie to you.” What would his mother say to see her daughter about to be wed to such a scoundrel? What would she say to know he could not protect her? “Come home,” he begged, his voice cracking.
“No,” she cried, her hands balled into fists. “You see me as a child. He sees me as a woman.”
He had no hope left.
Darcy clasped his arms around her. “I forgive you for defying me,” he said into her ear.
He held her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“But from this day forward, you are not welcome in my home. I cannot have a man that corrupt, so lacking in character, in my life. If I admit you, he will always be after me for money, for connexions, for help. He will use you, harm you, to gain things from me.” He looked over his shoulder at Wickham.
“I will not help you in any way,” he insisted.
Wickham gave him a look of pure loathing, and he was certain that if Georgiana was not present, Wickham would have struck him.
His sister had tears running down her cheek, which only emphasised how young she truly was. “But we will need help if you keep my fortune from us. George only has the thousand pounds my father left him. We cannot live on forty pounds.”
Darcy touched her cheek. “If you ever realise what you have done and leave him, you may come home, reputation be damned. But so long as you look up to and respect that man as your husband, so long as you want to live alongside him and tie your fate to his, I will have nothing to do with you.”
She hesitated, searching his face, but then she destroyed the lingering hope in his heart and reached a hand toward Wickham. Wickham clasped it, but before he led her away, she said to Elizabeth, “Lizzy, please stay and watch me be married.”
Elizabeth winced and pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “I cannot condone such imprudence. Go home with your brother, or you will regret it forever.”
“Come along, my dear,” Wickham said. “Our future happiness will show them how much they will regret their actions this day.” He led her into the inn, but not before throwing him another hateful glare before he crossed the threshold.
Darcy turned from the doorway with a long exhale and steadied himself.
Grief and anger oppressed his heart, but he knew what had to happen now.
He had to act with a coolness of mind and calmness of countenance that had been lacking when he learnt the dreadful news in London.
A situation was once again rising out of his control, beyond what he had planned, but he could not fall to pieces as he had before.
Elizabeth stared after Georgiana, but he wondered if she even saw anything.
She had a similar dazed expression when she begged him for help in Ramsgate.
He wished it had been Lydia who had run away rather than Georgiana.
And then he hated himself for his selfish thoughts.
No one deserved to be tied to a man like Wickham.
The thought of what was happening in that inn and what would follow in a private chamber made him sick.
“We must leave, Miss Bennet,” he said, turning on his heel and gesturing to the postilions in the yard that he intended to hire them.
Elizabeth followed, tears on her cheeks and a stunned look on her face. “I cannot believe we could not convince her. There are so many reasons to run screaming from that man.”
He had their bags put on the post-chaise, and they were soon off. It was not until they were out of the yard that she blinked and asked, “Where are we going? Back to Carlisle?”
Darcy scoffed. “No, I dare not return to England with a single woman. Springfield is half a mile beyond Gretna Green. That will do. I just could not stand to be in the same inn as them.” Wickham had probably already taken full advantage of his sister’s willingness on their drive north, but he needed distance between himself and their bedchamber.
“Do?” she asked with a little more alertness. “Do for what?”
She was in shock that Georgiana chose Wickham after all, even with the dire consequences that would follow. Elizabeth was so distraught, felt so much disbelief, that she had not yet reflected on her own situation.
“Miss Bennet, we have to get married.”