Chapter Twenty-Seven
Netherfield Park
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam clattered up to Netherfield’s front door, dismounted in one swift motion, threw the reins to the stableboy who ran out to meet him, issued terse instructions for the care of the horse, and then strode up to the front door.
Thurston had been alerted to the expected arrival, and immediately opened the door and bowed. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he said. “You are expected.” He ushered the Colonel into the drawing room and announced him.
Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy rose to their feet. Mr. Darcy performed the introductions, which the Colonel acknowledged politely.
“Your room is ready for you, Colonel,” Mrs. Hurst said. “And refreshments have been prepared. Would you prefer to wash first? I imagine there was a good deal of road dust between here and London.”
“I thank you for opening your home to me, Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley,” the Colonel said. “In truth, I would like to speak with my cousins as soon as may be.” His tone was polite enough but he spoke quickly, sharply. “Where is Georgiana?” he asked Mr. Darcy.
“In her room; she knows you will want to speak with her as soon as –”
The Colonel interrupted. “I will wash off the road dust before I visit with her. Darcy, will you accompany me?” It was phrased as a question, but it sounded a good deal like a command.
Mrs. Hurst rose to show the Colonel to his room; the Colonel bowed to Mr. Bingley and followed her, Mr. Darcy accompanied them.
As soon as the guest room door closed behind them, the Colonel spun around and had Mr. Darcy pinned against a wall in a moment. “I promised my mother that I would give you a chance to explain yourself, but I admit that it is a struggle just now.”
Mr. Darcy replied, softly, “There is nothing you can do to me that I do not entirely deserve.”
“I already know that,” the Colonel spat out.
The two men stood, motionless, staring at one another, until the Colonel finally dropped his hands and sighed. “How did Wickham even find her?”
“Georgiana’s companion planned the whole thing with him, as near as I can tell,” Mr. Darcy said. “They vanished together.”
“Mother says the companion’s references were fake.”
“Yes, and I did not bother to check them. My fault entirely.” Mr. Darcy sighed deeply.
“Richard, there is nothing you can say to me that I have not already said to myself a thousand times. There is no harm you can do to me that I do not deserve. I only ask that you inflict your anger upon me, not Georgiana.”
“I have not yet heard Georgiana’s part of the tale. I will reserve judgment until I do. I suspect she is not entirely without blame.”
“You are right; but you must recall that she is but fifteen years of age, with little experience of life.”
“Which is why the choice of a companion was considered necessary, if you will recall.” The Colonel’s voice was bitter. “And, if you will further recall, my mother offered to choose one, and you refused her offer.”
Mr. Darcy winced. “I do recall.”
“What has Georgiana told you about Ramsgate?”
“Very little.”
“And you have not pressed her?”
“If you could have seen her at that time, you would not have pressed her either.”
“And now?”
Mr. Darcy considered this. “She seems stronger now. She has…well, I suppose you could say that she has made some friends.”
“Ah, yes; you wrote my mother about them. Five daughters, I recall?”
“Yes. She plays the piano with them, plays dress-up, has her hair fixed and I do not even know what else. Things that young ladies do together, I suppose.”
“Darcy…”
“Yes?”
“About the particular concern you mentioned to my mother…
Mr. Darcy dropped his head into his hands. “I do not know, Richard, and that fear eats at my soul.”
“Can you not ask her?”
“How? Tell me what words to use, and I will ask her directly.”
The Colonel considered this and finally shook his head. “Can some woman not ask her?”
“I suppose so, but that woman would have to be made privy to our situation.”
“What about this family that has befriended her? Is there not a mother?”
“There is.” Mr. Darcy thought of Mrs. Bennet, and the kindness she had shown Georgiana. “Possibly. We are to dine there tomorrow night; perhaps you would join us and give me your opinion.”
The Colonel nodded. “Very well. I am certainly making no progress in London, so I may as well stay here another day.”
“Progress?”
“I am trying to find Wickham.” The Colonel’s tone was even.
“In London?” Mr. Darcy sounded disbelieving.
“I have a number of men working on it, Darcy; you need not sound so doubtful.”
“And if you find him, you will – what? Kill him? And then go to prison?”
The Colonel stared at Mr. Darcy for a minute before replying. “Darcy, do you truly doubt my ability to kill a man and not be found out?”
“I suppose not. I forget that you have doubtless killed a good many men.”
“A good many. Yes. And maybe more than that,” the Colonel said, wryly. “You said Georgiana is in her room; is she hiding from me?”
“She is hiding from everyone just now.” Mr. Darcy recounted what had occurred at the breakfast table.
The Colonel blanched when he heard what Miss Bingley had said. “Of all the unkind, callous, heartless – ”
“Caroline is now confined to her room, by Bingley’s orders,”
“Good; then I will not have to see her. I would like to see Georgiana now.”
“So you have decided to let me live?” Mr. Darcy tried to be flippant, but the undercurrent of concern was evident.
“For now, but I advise you not to press me on the matter.”