Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Ramsgate was situated in a valley, commanding a delightful prospect of the sea.
It was a fashionable resort, and had several good hotels and lodging houses suited to every sort of respectable company.
Therefore, Darcy was in Cliffs End, a mile and a half southwest of Ramsgate, where he was unlikely to encounter any person who might recognise him.
“This is not the time of year for a man in hiding to be on the Kentish coast,” a familiar voice called through the din of the disgusting tavern.
Darcy turned to see his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, give him a wink and take a seat at his table.
He was the younger son of his uncle, Lord Fitzwilliam, and the only human being to know where Darcy truly was, and why.
“That is why I am in this poor excuse for a lodging house rather than the London Hotel or King’s Head at Ramsgate.”
His cousin cast a look about the room. “I can get drunk for a penny and dead-drunk for two pence in a place like this.”
“Only if you can choke down the gin.”
Fitzwilliam gave a mock shudder of revulsion before his eyes turned soft. “Darcy, the words I can express in person will hardly be any better than the sympathy I wrote to you upon learning that Georgi—”
“She is not a desperate case. Fresh air, exercise, keep her cheerful, and I daresay she will live years.”
“The apothecary’s constant attendance—”
“Mr Jones’s advice is required, his presence is expected, his superintendence necessary, but it is all for the removal of her complaint.”
“Removal?” His cousin shook his head. “Darcy . . .”
“Her comfort, then, for however long it is required.”
The colonel glanced around the room and leant closer.
“My friend in the garrison on Madeira and his brother in town can continue disguising your letters. Yet, my father and Lady Catherine wonder why you do not return home. No one expected you to remain with your consumptive sister this long. You were only to ‘escort her to Madeira,’ not live there with her.”
“You know why I could not leave her!”
“Of course I do!” His cousin lowered his voice. “I know, but they do not, and you cannot hide in that Hertfordshire village forever. Could you bring Georgiana home now?”
“And say I risked a dangerous ocean voyage—in wartime—with my consumptive sister to remove her from a warmer climate so she could die in England?”
His cousin shifted his shoulders and sighed. “It is not that implausible.”
Darcy laid his elbows on the table, realising too late he would have to replace his coat.
“Fitzwilliam, two days’ journey on even the best of roads would be too painful for her.
” Could he say the words aloud? He had been lying to himself for so long it had begun to feel natural.
He was not in denial; he just felt crushing despair.
“My sister is wasting away before my eyes. Georgiana will die. No one can say whether she will last for two months or two years, but she is in constant pain, she will never recover, and any attempt to move her will hasten her death.”
“You intend to stay away from your friends, your life, until the end? Months? A year?”
Darcy nodded. After what he had horribly, secretly wished would happen to her child, how could he ever leave his sister? Georgiana had been in his care, and she was dying. The guilt and grief weighed heavily on his heart. The very least he could do was stay by her side.
Fitzwilliam, who entered into conversations with readiness and ease, and who talked pleasantly and with humour, sat still and quiet and pensive for a long while. After Darcy discreetly passed a hand over his eyes, and the colonel cleared his throat, he spoke again.
“I have done as you asked, and without mentioning your name, but the results will not be as you wished.”
“I cannot believe George Wickham left no debts behind when he fled Ramsgate.”
“Oh, he did. I went into every shop in the High Street, but the amount is less than seventy-five pounds. It would not be worth it for you to get a writ, let alone hire a bailiff to find him.”
“You cannot think that this is about money.”
“Is it about revenge?”
“Justice. It is about morality and justice.” It was not vengeance that drove him; it was retribution, which was closer to justice.
“I need you to learn what debts of honour Mr Wickham has paid and what he still has outstanding, and I need you to liaise with a man on my behalf who can do the same in Bath.”
His cousin made a sound that showed he believed Darcy was not half so clever as he thought he was. “Debts of honour are not enforceable by law.”
“If Mr Wickham borrowed from moneylenders or bankers in order to pay on those debts or if he borrowed money to gamble in private clubs, or on horse races, or on a dice game, and he has not repaid them . . .”
Colonel Fitzwilliam gave a thoughtful nod. “It will take time.”
Darcy barked a dry laugh. “Time? I am isolated in a tiny village with only Georgiana. I have nothing but time!”
“What to heaven do you do all day in that place, detached from all employment and society?”
“I write daily to my steward, knowing everything will take four times as long since letters are directed through the brother of your friend serving in Madeira. I have three times in six months been to an evening party, and I attend church. The most interesting dialogue I have heard—not had, heard—was where I spent an evening attending a woman’s conversations about London dress and new music. ”
Fitzwilliam shook his head. “Eavesdropping on ladies? That is unsocial and pathetic, even for you.”
“Georgiana longed for some variety, and this young woman spends considerable time in town. She was the one I told you of who sent the libretto and books.” Miss Bennet was of no significance, and there was no need for Fitzwilliam to look at him with such a smile.
“She is hardly pretty, and she overvalues her own importance if she thinks she can show charity to my sister.”
“You only look at a woman to find a fault.”
“Miss Bennet enjoys an uncommon degree of popularity in the neighbourhood for a woman neither handsome, nor rich, nor married.” He thought of her arch manner, even despite her ailment, the night of the party at Lucas Lodge.
“I suppose she could boast some cleverness, some liveliness. Or perhaps that is just in comparison to the inferiority of my neighbours who live only to spread news.”
“What a bleak prospect. I should perish if it were me. I shall come when I am able, but do not expect me to bring you any news of gaming debts or moneylenders for some time. Are you certain you wish to do this? Mr Wickham may not have borrowed from anyone but his friends. He does not know any more of what happened after Ramsgate than this Miss Bennet does, so he is unlikely to do you any harm. Besides, we may never find him.”
A sick fear churned in his stomach that Wickham, that anyone could learn the truth about Georgiana. “Find any debts first. Then we may see about what could follow.”
The melancholy mood surrounding them darkened further.
Darcy was content to let it settle and linger, but Colonel Fitzwilliam was of a different temperament.
“You know, my father is cross with you?” Darcy raised an eyebrow.
“You have been in Madeira for months, and you have not sent him any wine. He can get nothing from France, and he has had not one bottle from his favourite nephew.”
“I am his only nephew.”
“And I am cross with you, also.”
Darcy knew what he was trying to do, and allowed himself to go along. “Pray, what have I done to distress you, beyond funding your week at Ramsgate in return for very little effort on your part?”
“I had to go to Rosings at Easter and suffer Lady Catherine and Anne for a fortnight all alone! Please, just marry Anne, bring your mother-in-law home with you, and ensure I need never visit those two on my own again.”
Their cousin Anne was an irritable, irrational slave to stimulants without accomplishments or conversation, and the daughter of a rude, overbearing woman. The hope that Darcy and Anne would unite their families’ fortunes through marriage had long been the wish of everyone in his family but himself.
“You know I wish to oblige you in all things, but in this instance, I must refuse for the sake of my own happiness. And sanity.”
“You are a selfish man,” Fitzwilliam teased as he rose. “I will keep you apprised on the matter at hand.”
Elizabeth felt like she was eleven and had been summoned to the library to provide a recitation on the kings of England and the dates of their ascension to her father.
Instead, Mr Collins sat behind her father’s desk, and Mary stood next to him with a severe frown.
It was maddening and insulting to be called before this desk, by these people.
“You cannot deny that you have been there. Their maid, Hannah, talked to Mrs Baker’s lady, and she told their footman, who told my maid—”
“Mary, I do not deny calling on Miss Darcy. She is a genteel, educated young lady who has had only her brother for company. I wished to provide her with an essential service, to be a friend to a fellow creature.” A fellow lonely and dependent sister.
The missing sheet music had been noticed, and although Lydia refused to admit any knowledge of it, neighbourhood gossip had supplied the deficiency.
“My dear cousin, you were in town when Mr Darcy first let the house, so I can forgive your ignorance so long as you now acknowledge that such a connexion is beneath our dignity.”
“You played whist with Mr Darcy last week at Lucas Lodge!”
“Do not raise your voice to Mr Collins.” Mary pierced her with a glare. “You must remember your lower place.”
Elizabeth bit back the retort that she could never forget it since Mary happily reminded her of it at every opportunity. “In any event, I have yet to see Mr Darcy. I visit only his sister.”