Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
A FOILED ELOPEMENT
Dear Cousin,
Oh, how wrong I was. How very, very wrong. Will she ever forgive me? I hardly have the words to set down what I have done, and how very badly it ended. But even so, I dread to think how much worse it might have been! Oh, my poor sister!
But let me return to the beginning, for you will start to think me touched.
By all accounts, Mrs Younge was the very best companion for my sister.
She was sociable and gregarious, and seemed to know all the best people, and for a time, Georgiana was flourishing under her care.
She attended concerts and began to meet other young ladies of her age, and even formed some tentative friendships.
I was delighted at her progress. Then came the suggestion to remove to Ramsgate for the summer, which seemed a capital idea.
There, Georgie could be easy and enjoy the best of the season, whilst partaking of the good society that frequents the town in the warm weather.
But Mrs Younge was not what she seemed! No, she and our old nemesis Wickham have some sort of prior acquaintance, and there Mrs Younge contrived to reacquaint Georgie with the scoundrel.
He recommended himself to her, whose tender heart recalled him from her youth, and he quickly convinced her that he was in love with her.
Worse still, he convinced her to agree to an elopement!
Richard, you cannot imagine how horrified I was to learn this, for she is only fifteen!
Whatever foolishness led her to believe him, I will never know, but fate, for once, was on our side, and not all was lost. Perhaps it was the advice from your friend Miss Barrow, that a poor choice of companion could prove disastrous; perhaps I was ever on the alert. But I discovered them in time!
I am relieved to state that I owe much of the knowledge of the affair to Georgie herself, for her letters betrayed something unusual in them, which along with Miss Barrow’s warning gave me disquiet, and I decided to hasten to Ramsgate to confirm that she was happy.
I arrived there unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement.
Georgie was unable to support the idea of deceiving me and acknowledged the whole to me.
You may imagine what I felt and how I acted.
Of course, I could not call Wickham out publicly for concern for my sister’s name, but I ensured that he leave the place immediately, and of course, I discharged Mrs Younge at once.
An elopement! How could she even think it?
I can only imagine Wickham’s object was Georgie’s fortune, although revenge upon me for imagined crimes against him surely played strongly as well.
I dread to think how close he came to completing his revenge.
September 2, 1811
Richard,
Forgive me for not committing my previous letter to the mail.
I shall enclose it here, for your perusal.
Georgie and Mrs Annesley arrived at the very moment I was sealing it, with poor Georgiana in a most dreadful state.
The last several weeks have been fully engaged in soothing her wounded heart and setting up a new establishment for her.
Your letter, I am afraid, lay forgotten on my writing desk.
I believe Georgiana is, at last, settled.
Mrs Annesley, you may recall, was Mother’s friend from her youth.
The lady fell upon difficult times after her husband died, and I feel some sense of relief that I can offer her a good position, whilst providing the very best of companions for my sister.
Never fear, Richard: I followed up diligently on every one of her references, and I am certain that I have not repeated my dreadful mistake.
Georgiana seems much improved under her careful attention, and I have hopes that she will laugh again before long.
For now, she wishes for the solitude of Pemberley, and Mrs Annesley agrees. Even I have been cast out of my own house, so my poor sister can regain her spirits without myself being an ever-present reminder of her embarrassment. Fear not, cousin, for other tasks are demanding my attention.
Now begins the next of my commissions for the autumn.
Bingley, as I made mention some months past, is seeking an estate and has decided to let at first rather than buy.
To that end, we have recommenced our search, although Netherfield, the property in Hertfordshire, remains one we shall see.
Next Tuesday, if the weather holds, is the day we shall ride out to examine the place.
His land agent is all excitement about it, and I must admit that I am pleased with the dossiers.
The proximity to London is to its benefit as well, for one may rusticate quite completely there, and still be to and from Town in a day.
If Bingley approves, and here he has sworn to listen to my advice, for good or for ill, then he shall likely take it.
I know not when he plans to move in. It might well take several weeks still for the papers to be set in order.
I shall remain with him for an extended time, to help him learn the fundamentals of estate management.
I do not expect to see Pemberley again until Christmas, or even after.
I hope he will invite you to visit when next you grace England’s green and pleasant shores.
Your cousin,
FD
Richard reread the letters in reverse order, taking in the news about Georgiana at the last. His hand tensed into a fist, and he all but crumpled his cousin’s written words.
“That cad! That blackguard! That bastard!” He refrained only with the greatest effort from throwing the paper into the fire that burned in the hearth. His rants were interrupted by a knock at his door.
“I was walking past towards the stairwell and heard some ungentlemanly language.” Emily spoke through the closed door. “Is there bad news from home? Perhaps talking about it will help make the burden easier.”
In two steps, Richard crossed the floor and flung open his door.
Emily could not step inside, but he could join her in one of the common areas below.
He reached for his coat, shoved the letters into a pocket, and followed her in silence until they reached their destination.
This room was quiet and warm, if somewhat Spartan as befit a band of warriors, and the two set themselves on the low chairs near the fireplace.
At the far end, a small group were gathered by a window at some friendly game of cards, and two others sat by the door with a mug of ale in each man’s hand, but Richard and Emily’s seats were far enough removed that they could, with low voices, speak in some privacy.
Without a word, Richard handed over the first letter, which Emily read over once, and then again before exclaiming, “I would echo your initial sentiments. The man does indeed sound a bastard and a cad! And do not look at me like that! I grew up around worse language than you and your blue blood can imagine. Tell me more of this Wickham.”
Richard pushed a hand through his hair, making the untamed tresses stand upright on his head.
“He was the son of Darcy’s father’s steward.
His father was a good man, and as boys, they were close enough in age to be playmates.
I spent a great deal of my youth at Pemberley and thus was included in this terrible trio.
But Wickham did not grow up well and learned to expect the privileges of the upper classes, rather than being thankful for what he, the son of a steward, did receive.
He was destined for the church, for Pemberley has a living he might have taken, but he eschewed that in favour of the law.
Then he threw away the great deal of money which Darcy gave him on drink and gambling.
He would fit well with the group of troublemakers this fort has assembled!
Heaven forbid he and Weekes ever meet.” He shuddered at the thought.
“They are far too similar in too many ways. This attempt to marry my cousin for her fortune does indeed seem like his last attempt at revenge for a crime that was never committed.”
Emily placed a hand on his arm, a gesture that was at once what he craved, and far too intimate for his peace of mind. He stared at it with such intensity that he almost missed her answering words.
“Much like your own situation. This man is not the only one out for revenge against a non-existent wrong. I am greatly relieved that the plot was foiled and am gratified that my concerns were of assistance in your cousin’s rescue.
But oh, the poor child. I am sorely sorry for her distress. Was she unharmed in the ordeal?”
“Darcy writes nothing of harm to her body, but her heart must be rent, and her spirit with it. Georgie has always been of a quiet disposition, and this can hardly help her emerge as a butterfly from a cocoon. It is more likely to send her back to being a small caterpillar.”
Now Emily laughed, garnering the attention of the others in the common room.
“I should hardly use that image to describe a favourite cousin, for I’m certain Georgiana is no caterpillar, but I appreciate the sentiment.
” She lowered her voice. “Do you believe Mr Wickham has played his last hand? Or are your cousins still in some sort of peril from him?”
To this Richard had no answer. “I have wondered the same thing. I cannot believe that Wickham will give up so easily. Perhaps for now, there is no cause for concern, but in a year or two, when whatever money he has runs dry, I dread to think what he will try.”
Once again, a shuffling noise drew their attention from each other.
“Major Weekes.” Richard greeted the newcomer with as civil a nod as he could manage.
“Lieutenant Colonel, Miss Barrow. Taking all the warmth from the fireplace, are you?” He attempted a laugh at his feeble joke. “I was hoping to sit here a while to take off the chill. These skies threaten rain, and today was cool.”