Vol 1, Chapter 2
Fitzwilliam Darcy, called William by those close to him, master of the great estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire and scion of earls, would have begged off if not for his promise to his best friend, Charles Bingley.
He had saved his sister, Georgiana, who everyone called Gigi, from ruin when purely by chance, he had arrived in Ramsgate two days earlier that his original plan.
When Mrs. Younge, his sister’s companion, opened the door she had lost all colour in her face, which had immediately raised Darcy’s suspicions.
Then, he heard his sister’s voice from behind the closed drawing room door, followed by that of the worst libertine he had the unfortunate experience to know, George Wickham.
Darcy had burst into the room, and in two strides reached the man holding his baby sister’s hand.
He had grabbed the blackguard by his lapels and lifted him clear of the floor.
As the man spluttered and fought for breath, he heard his sister crying from the shock of seeing her brother’s unbridled fury.
He had lowered Wickham back to the floor only to see one of the man’s trademark smirks.
Without thinking, Darcy landed a facer with all of his might.
The sound of the miscreant’s nose breaking had given him some measure of satisfaction.
Darcy had instructed his sister to stay where she was after summoning her maid to sit with her.
Before dragging Wickham into his study, he asked the maid why his sister was unchaperoned.
What he had heard was of the utmost concern; the maid reported that Mrs. Younge had encouraged her young mistress to spend time with Mr. Wickham and had facilitated their time alone.
He dismissed Mrs. Younge on the spot. When she asked about back pay, he had told her she was lucky that he had not summoned the magistrate.
The woman left without further complaint.
Darcy could remember the conversation with Wickham as if it were yesterday.
“What is the meaning of this behaviour towards my sister, Wickham?” Darcy demanded.
He surmised that the libertine thought he had a bargaining chip from his speech, “We are to be brothers, Darcy; I am engaged to your sister. Will you not congratulate me?” Wickham again sported his trademark smirk, or as much of one as he could manage with his nose bleeding and one front tooth missing.
“How will you live, Wickham? Do you have a profession to support my sister?” Darcy took a measure of comfort in seeing the miscreant looking unsure of himself.
“I know you did not study the law as you claimed when you signed away all claim to the living at Kympton. From what I hear, you lost your four thousand pounds at the tables, which led you to try and renege on the signed document that I have. So tell me, how will you live?”
“She has thirty thousand pounds. That should keep us for a little while,” Wickham tried to bluster.
“You will not see one penny of her dowry, Wickham!” Darcy relayed with pleasure, and he watched the avaricious man blanch.
“You would never deny your sister her dowry!” Wickham was starting to panic, his eyes flaring.
“No, I would not, but you would. Did you think my father, who must be turning in his grave at the thought that you would attempt this with his daughter, did not protect Miss Darcy against those of your ilk? ONLY if both Richard and I approve beforehand will her dowry be released. As you have not sought either of her guardians’ permission, you will get not one farthing!
” Darcy watched while his erstwhile friend tried to come up with a way out.
“If you do not pay me the value of her dowry, I will tell one and all that she is ruined!” Darcy could see that he believed those words would be a trump card.
“First, who do you think will believe the word of a steward’s son over mine?
” Darcy growled. “You had better let your accomplice know that if either of you breathe a word of this, or approach ANY that I care for again, you will have Richard to deal with.” Darcy enjoyed the abject fear that Wickham displayed.
Darcy’s cousin, more like a brother, was a Colonel in the Royal Dragoons, and he knew that Wickham was well aware Richard disliked him, would take true pleasure in gutting him, and would make sure that none would ever find the body.
“Adding to that, if I hear you blackening my name again, I will call in your debts! I own well over two thousand in vowels you signed and then ran with your tail between your legs like the cur that you are, leaving your debts unpaid. That will be more than enough to make sure you will not leave Marshalsea for the rest of your life! So what will it be, Wickham?”
“I will do as you say.” The coward resigned himself to the knowledge that another in his long line of ‘get rich off another’s money’ schemes had failed.
“There is one more thing; you will tell my sister the truth. I will not have her believing you cared for her when we both know you care for none but yourself! It is non-negotiable!” Darcy had demanded.
Darcy frogmarched Wickham back into the drawing room to stand before his sister.
He first laid out Wickham true history, acknowledging his failure to inform her of these truths in a mistaken attempt to protect her delicate sensibilities.
He then gave Wickham a curt nod, and the rake told Miss Darcy the truth—that he was only interested in her dowry and on revenging himself on her brother.
To Darcy’s relief, his sister stood and followed his example by slapping Wickham with all of her might.
Once Wickham left, she had burst into tears, begging Darcy’s forgiveness.
As Darcy returned to the present from his vivid memories of Ramsgate, he thought of his beloved sister Gigi at Matlock House with their aunt and uncle, Lady Elaine and Lord Reginald Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock and his Countess.
When they returned from Ramsgate, Darcy had been open with the four Fitzwilliams, telling them all that happened.
But no matter how many times he had told his sister that he had forgiven her, her spirits were still exceptionally low.
His older cousin by about one year, Lord Andrew Fitzwilliam, Viscount Hilldale, and his brother Richard, the Colonel, who was a year younger than Darcy, had wanted to hunt Wickham down.
The combined influence of their parents and Darcy had calmed the Fitzwilliam brothers somewhat, although Richard vowed to himself that if Wickham ever crossed his path, he would deal with him with the intent of it being the final time anyone would have to do so.
Gigi had been inconsolable for the first few weeks after their return from Ramsgate.
She understood that a practiced deceiver and seducer had plied his trade with her, but she was not so sanguine about the fact that she had agreed to an elopement knowing that it would hurt her family and cause a scandal.
A month after the near disaster and after serious and exhaustive vetting, Mrs. Helena Annesley was hired as Miss Darcy’s new companion.
Darcy had wanted to cancel his promised visit to his friend’s leased estate as almost three months after the fact his sister was still upset, but his aunt and the companion had told him that the slow improvement in his sister would be aided by less of his constant hovering.
All of these events had left Darcy much more unsociable and taciturn than normal, and he did not like social situations even in the best of situations.
He constantly berated himself that at the age of six and twenty he had failed his parents, his father especially, in protecting his sister from a libertine.
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Priscilla and Thomas Bennet smiled indulgently as their three daughters spoke excitedly about the assembly that would be held in Meryton that night.
Jane and Elizabeth had both come out in Meryton at the age of seventeen and made their curtsies before the Queen at eighteen, sponsored by their grandmother.
Given the Bennets’ distaste for London society, neither had had a coming out ball nor a London season—by their own choice.
If they had desired such, their parents would not have denied them.
Normally, they were blasé about the monthly assembly, but Esther turned seventeen last month, and it was her first public dance.
Her sisters were excited for her. The two older Bennet girls never lacked for partners but would not dance every dance due to the abundance of young ladies and dearth of men locally.
The sisters would sit out at least two dances, sometimes more, to allow others a chance at being asked to dance.
Charlotte Lucas, who was a good friend to both of the older Bennet sisters, and one of the few outside of the inner circle who knew the truth of the Bennets’ wealth and connections, respected her friends more than they would ever know for being so considerate of others at the assemblies.
As the three girls were discussing their dresses, Charlotte Lucas was announced by Mr. Hill.
“Welcome Charlotte! We were just discussing our dresses for tonight,” Elizabeth rose to welcome her friend.
“Esther, please tell me you do not intend to take a book with you tonight,” Charlotte teased, knowing that the youngest Bennet sister preferred reading Shakespeare to dancing.
“My sisters have already admonished me, Charlotte,” Esther harrumphed. “I will leave my book of sonnets at home!”
“Have you met the tenants at Netherfield yet, Charlotte?” Priscilla Bennet asked.
“I have not, Mrs. Bennet, but my father has. His assessment of Mr. Bingley closely aligns with Mr. Bennet’s.
My father, who likes everyone he meets and, as you are well aware, has nothing negative to say about anyone, has done otherwise with regards to Mr. Bingley’s supercilious sisters, as he had dubbed them.
” Charlotte smiled at remembrance of her father’s descriptions about the airs and graces of the sisters.