Chapter 26 Wickham
“Darcy, do not be rash. What would your father say if he knew of this? He must be turning in his grave.”
“Wickham, you placed yourself far beyond the reach of mercy when you sought to abduct my sister. I have forgiven all else. I have covered your debts, and I found husbands for the two servants by whom you have fathered bastard children. But in this, you have crossed a line that I cannot forgive. Georgiana suffers night terrors because of your attempt. You will pay for all your debts, both monetary and emotional, through your service in Australia.”
Impeccably dressed, Darcy stood straight and tall as he addressed the disheveled man whom he had once called friend.
“I came only to inform you that I have arranged for your transport, and I have paid for your meals and your laundry until you board the ship. Miller will be by later with your trunk. He is packing your clothing now. The Surry will sail on the twenty-second of February, with two hundred other convicts. She is scheduled to arrive at Port Jackson, New South Wales, on the twenty-eighth of July.”
Darcy paced away from the cell door, then turned back again.
“This is the last time we shall ever see one another, Wickham. Know only that it is your own actions which have brought you to this extremity. Perhaps you may begin again in a new land, under the strict regulation of those whom you will serve there.”
“Darcy, this is too cruel of you. You expect me to languish in this prison for months? I shall die before I ever set foot upon that ship. Come, Darcy, we can settle this as we always have.”
George Wickham continued to plead, but Fitzwilliam Darcy had reached the limit of what he could tolerate from so vile a man. He did not look back, nor did he offer him an answer.
That evening, Darcy sat in his drawing room, listening to Georgiana play a beloved piece by Handel. His thoughts were in disorder. He had left Hadden Hall scarcely a week before, yet he wondered continually how Richard and Phillip fared, and he had not received a single line from his aunt.
His mind raced from Derbyshire to Hertfordshire with unsettling speed. He drew a letter from his pocket and traced his finger over the farewell. It was the first letter Elizabeth had written to Georgiana, and he had read it again and again, wondering how she went on now, having lost her mother.
He remembered how broken he had been when he lost his own mother.
He had sat beside her, his hand clasped in hers, as she lay dying of childbed fever.
He watched as her breathing grew more labored, and he resisted every attempt his father made to draw him away, until at last his father pulled a chair for himself on the other side of the bed and took her free hand in his own.
He remembered his father’s sudden cry, and then the way he buried his face in her hair and wept.
It was in that moment that Fitzwilliam knew she had passed.
The sight shook the foundations of his being, for he had never imagined that his father, always so calm and composed, could break down so completely.
Neither of them left her side through the night and into the following day. He remembered his father at last rousing him and drawing him away from her bedside, guiding him to his chamber. Fitzwilliam was so overcome with exhaustion that he lay down upon his bed fully dressed and slept the day away.
Neither of them ever wept for her again. Nor did he ever truly see his father laugh again. Wickham’s antics had, on occasion, drawn the faintest smile from his lips, but the elder Mr. Darcy had lost his joy in life when he lost his wife.
The thought made Darcy falter. What must such love feel like, in its joy and in its suffering? His father had never remarried, and ten years later, he too had passed, taken by a seizure of the heart.
He was recalled to the present when he realized that his sister had stopped playing. Georgiana rose from the pianoforte, crossed the room, and sat beside him.
“Brother, are you much affected by George Wickham?”
Darcy turned to her, placed an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into an embrace.
“Sweetling, George Wickham is only receiving his just desserts. I do not grieve over him. I am discomposed because I entrusted you to an unworthy woman, and I might have lost my greatest treasure. Yet you and Miss Elizabeth took matters into your own hands, and here you sit, safe and sound beside me.” He released her, and his eyes searched her face.
“Tell me, Georgiana, how do you go on? Do you still suffer from night terrors?”
She sat upright to answer him.
“I was terribly shaken by the attack. I remember feeling such anger when he seized Lizzy by the ankle, and I did not stop to think. I brought the shovel down upon his arm, and he screamed and released her. That was when we saw that it was broken. Lizzy took my hand, and we ran to find Higgins. That night I asked her to sleep with me, and she did. I slept through until morning, and the next day she suggested we go out shopping. We spent four hours in a single shop, and we had a lovely time together. That was the day I bought my sweet lovebirds. But when she left me, the night terrors began.”
Darcy’s expression tightened.
“What is it that you dream of, my dear?”
Georgiana’s voice lowered.
“I see Lizzy standing against the wall with the poker raised. I see the door opening, so slowly, and Wickham walking in. He cannot see me, for I am well hidden behind the drapes, but when Lizzy strikes him, I come running out, and then I wake up screaming.”
He pressed her hand.
“Is it at that point that you struck his arm?”
She considered it, her brow drawn.
“Yes. When he seized her ankle, I struck his arm so that he would release her. It was horrible, Fitzwilliam. It felt monstrous to strike another person, and then to see his arm disfigured, and to hear him crying out in pain, writhing upon the floor.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “It was horrible.”
Darcy’s voice lowered.
“What was the worst of it, sweetling?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
“It was the sound,” she whispered. “The dreadful sound of bone breaking, and the feeling of flesh and bone giving way. I shall never forget it.”
She buried her face against his shoulder and wept. He held her close, listening without interruption until her sobs subsided.
“I am very angry with him, Fitzwilliam. He destroyed my relationship with Mrs. Younge, whom I had come to care for, and he terrorized Lizzy and me.”
“It is only natural that you should feel anger,” he answered. “He has caused you distress and pain beyond measure.”
She lifted her head.
“Brother, what occurred between him and Mrs. Younge?”
Darcy inhaled sharply, then rested his cheek against her curls.
“Kendall investigated. He found her in a boarding house, by Wickham’s direction.
Her parents keep the house, and it was there she first met him, scarcely two months ago.
He was on leave from his militia post. His charm won her over.
He filled her mind with lies, lamenting that I had denied him the living he believed my father meant for him.
He turned her against us, Georgiana, and he has used her as he has used other women. ”
He coughed to tamp down his discomfort as he related the facts. “Mercifully, she did not fall with child.”
He pressed her hand again, his expression grave.
“And because Wickham has so often frequented brothels, he is most likely diseased, and she may be as well. The worst of such afflictions is known as syphilis. She may yet pay a steep price for having consorted with George Wickham.”
Georgiana’s eyes filled.
“So, she was loyal to me for two years, save these last two months, and only because he deceived her?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “He is a skilled deceiver, my dear. Even our father was taken in by his pretenses. He is the only man I have ever known who can lie while his handsome face wears nothing but innocence.”
His voice hardened.
“Men like him are dangerous, and we ought not to judge Mrs. Younge too harshly for her betrayal. She was not wicked, only deceived.”
“What will become of her?” Georgiana asked.
“She will remain in her parents’ home and assist with their business. I warned her that if she ever hires herself out again as a companion, or tries to extort me, I shall call in the order I obtained and see her sent to prison.”
Georgiana nodded. “That is only right. She has proved herself unworthy of caring for innocent children.”
Her voice faltered.
“But for Lizzy, I might be lost to good society now, used and abandoned by Mr. Wickham.”
A shudder ran through her, and Darcy drew her closer.
“We shall not dwell upon it, Georgie. Providence watched over you, and you are safe. You are not lost.”