Chapter 8 #2
Elizabeth took a steadying breath before she plunged ahead. “I was in the library with Mr Darcy today and, well, I found a book that was signed to him from Georgiana Darcy. He did not wish to discuss it at the time, but I believe I must know. Who is Georgiana Darcy?”
The housekeeper’s face fell. “Ah, Miss Georgiana,” she said sadly. “Mrs Wickham, I should say now. It was only a matter of time before you heard of her.”
“She is Mr Darcy’s sister? Am I right in assuming she is younger than he?”
“Indeed, you are,” Mrs Reynolds replied. “I am hesitant to relay the story to you, Mrs Darcy. However, it is important for you to know, I suppose, as you are the lady of this house now.”
“Perhaps you might order some tea for us,” Elizabeth suggested. “There is very little that cannot be fixed by a good cup of tea.”
Reynolds obliged, obviously grateful for the short reprieve before tea arrived.
Elizabeth could sense that the subject would be a difficult one for her to discuss.
Family breaks were never easy to navigate, not only for the people who suffered them directly, but also for the people closest to them.
It was not difficult to see that Reynolds and most of the staff were deeply devoted to Mr Darcy and his family.
“I only wish a good cup of tea would fix this, but I am afraid it will take much more time and forgiveness. Mrs Darcy, I hope I am not speaking out of turn, but I believe you are correct. You should know about Mr Darcy’s sister.
Perhaps you can even help somehow, although I do not see how.
” Any hint of a smile had vanished from Mrs Reynold’s gentle face as she prepared to plunge into the story.
Elizabeth held her breath, waiting for something that must be dreadful.
Mrs Reynolds steeled herself and went on.
“Miss Georgiana was the sweetest young lady. She played the pianoforte like an angel and sang all day long. Eight years ago, the late master passed away, and ever since, Mr Darcy was not just a brother to her, but the nearest thing to a father as well. How proud he was of dear Miss Georgiana!”
Mrs Reynolds hesitated as the tea tray was brought in, and she poured them each a cup of tea.
She took a moment to collect her thoughts, staring into the steam rising from her cup.
“There was a gentleman who was connected with the family before the late Mr Darcy passed away. Mr Wickham was the son of his late steward, and had been treated as one of the family for many years. He had promised him a very generous living. However, upon his death, he made it very clear to your Mr Darcy that he would not take orders.”
Elizabeth swallowed when Mrs Reynolds called him “her Mr Darcy.” She was unsure if their relationship would ever reach the point of feeling as if they belonged to each other.
As it stood, she would be content, if not happy, if they could come to a reasonable understanding and friendship with one another.
Keeping her thoughts to herself, she gestured to Mrs Reynolds to go on.
“This gentleman — though he does not deserve the title, mind you — went away, claiming that he meant to study the law. Perhaps Mr Darcy believed him, but I tell you, ma’am, that I never did.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied faintly. “And then?”
“It was last summer. Miss Georgiana was in Ramsgate with her companion, in a house Mr Darcy rented for them. Miss Georgiana said she wanted to be by the sea. Well! I thought she ought not to be so far from family, but of course it was not my place to object. And all seemed well enough, until Mr Darcy got a letter from Scotland. It was from Mr Wickham. He had taken Miss Georgiana there and married her, and her only sixteen.”
“My heavens,” Elizabeth breathed.
Mrs Reynolds shook her head sadly. “Yes, ma’am. And it was no grand romance. He wanted her dowry, Mrs Darcy — a dowry of thirty thousand pounds.”
“So much?” Elizabeth exclaimed with astonishment.
“Yes, Mrs Darcy. That was what he wanted, and poor Miss Georgiana was too innocent to see it. Though Mr Darcy gave him a monthly allowance instead, as no settlements had been made, and I am glad he did. Oh, the poor, dear girl! Even yet, I cannot believe she is now his wife.”
It was worse than Elizabeth could have imagined. “How awful,” she breathed.
“Indeed, it was awful. Mr Darcy has not written to her or spoken of her since. And of course no one here would be so forward as to speak of her, when the master will not. It is as if she has already departed this life, while the ghost of her hangs about the house still.”
“Mrs Wickham has not come home since the elopement?” Elizabeth asked.
“Heavens, no,” Mrs Reynolds said. “Mrs Wickham would not step foot on Pemberley soil again until her brother reached out to her.”
“Well, perhaps she should,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “The present state of affairs is untenable. Certainly for Mr Darcy, and I suspect for Mrs Wickham as well, if they were once so close. Ignoring it will not make it any better.”
“I would not gainsay you, ma’am. This is not what Mr Darcy would have wished for her, but there is no going back now,” Mrs Reynolds replied. “I would be overjoyed to welcome Mrs Wickham back into the house, but I am afraid Mr Darcy would forbid it.”
Elizabeth nodded, her mind a swirl of activity. “Thank you for telling me what transpired between them, Mrs Reynolds. I know it was not an easy story to relate.”
Their conference concluded, Elizabeth went out to walk about the gardens.
Mrs Reynolds’ story explained much of why Mr Darcy had married her so quickly after the compromise, and why he had been so upset.
He had married her out of honour, not wishing to be like the scoundrel who had run off with his sister.
And Mrs Reynolds was certain that Georgiana’s dowry had everything to do with why Mr Wickham had lured her away from her brother’s protective gaze and affection.
Perhaps that was not surprising. Thirty thousand pounds!
Even after seeing the brilliance and quiet elegance of Pemberley, it was an almost unbelievable sum.
And now this Mr Wickham did have Georgiana, but did not have his thirty thousand pounds.
It must be hoped that Mrs Reynolds was mistaken, and he did have some real affection for her, or her position would be pitiable indeed.
“Poor Georgiana,” Elizabeth mumbled as she walked along the hedgerows, whose leaves were turning and falling in small heaps around them, like little children hanging about the skirts of their mother.
It was difficult not to worry for Georgiana Wickham.
When they had married under such circumstances, how could her husband possibly be an honourable man?
It was a dreadful pity. And it was a pity, too, that the close relationship between brother and sister had been broken.
Perhaps she should persuade Mr Darcy to write to his sister again.
She raked her teeth over her lower lip. Would Mr Darcy even listen to her?
She might have the title of his wife and mistress of Pemberley, but they most certainly did not share the confidence and closeness that a married couple should.
Elizabeth continued to walk even as clouds blew over the sun and the air grew cool, wandering aimlessly through the hedgerows and over the winding paths.
She thought about what she would feel if one of her sisters had run away, trying to place herself in Mr Darcy’s position.
Elizabeth would undoubtedly have been afraid for her sister, but she would also have been overwhelmed with anger and betrayal.
It would have taken a considerable time for those feelings to ease, not only for the sake of the deceit that would undoubtedly have taken place, but also for the ruin that would have cast a pall over the family name.
Mr Darcy had nothing to worry about on this point, or at least not as much as she would have if one of her sisters had been so rash.
For her and the rest of her sisters, they would be left to deal with the aftermath of the decision.
Their reputations would have been ruined, making it difficult to find husbands.
Who would want to marry into a family embroiled in such scandal?
Indeed, it was why she had been grateful to Mr Darcy for marrying her so quickly, if only to protect her sisters’ chances.
However, if one of her sisters had run away and eloped, after an appropriate length of time, she would have wanted to heal the breach between them. Would Mr Darcy really want to keep his sister away for the rest of their lives?
Elizabeth bit her lip, thinking.