Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
An unusually warm spell in February brought with it a desire to stir abroad, and Georgiana Darcy took advantage of one fine day to shop on Bond Street with her new companion, Mrs Younge.
The lady had been in their employ only a few weeks yet already appeared to have a bit more wit than those who came before her.
Mrs Younge was strict and quick to step in when she saw Georgiana flirting with a gentleman, even if only by glances and shy smiles.
“We shall get along to the extent you allow it, Miss Darcy,” Mrs Younge informed her. “I can be your disciplinarian, or I can be your friend. Your actions and behaviour will decide it.”
Thus, did Georgiana soon come to find that her life was made more pleasant if she behaved herself. She began to see that there might be at least some enjoyment in doing that which was expected of her.
Given Mrs Younge’s strictness as a companion, her approval of Georgiana’s friendship with Mr Wickham carried much weight. Georgiana knew Mrs Younge never would allow it if it was the least bit improper.
“Should we tell my brother he calls on me?”
Mrs Younge’s attention was on her needlework. “Your brother hired me to have charge over such concerns. Let us not trouble him; after all, you did not mention that Miss Latymer called today, did you?”
“No…”
“Your brother has far weightier concerns than the fact that an old friend of the family called. Was not Mr Wickham raised at Pemberley?”
“He was.”
“Indeed he was!” cried Mrs Younge with cheerful assuredness. “A friend of the family, almost a brother! Who could refuse him? I should as soon deny Colonel Fitzwilliam entry.”
Georgiana laughed. “Quite true. As intimate as Mr Wickham and my brother are, it is likely Fitzwilliam is already aware he has called.”
Unknown to the Darcys, Mrs Younge was a long-standing associate of Mr Wickham, dating from her first position as a companion.
Their relationship had begun when she was in the employ of Miss Edith Williams. Miss Williams’s previous companion had been dismissed because her charge had been caught in a liaison with the young Mr Wickham, then only a boy of eighteen.
The Williams family had paid him a pretty sum to silently depart from Miss Williams’s life with additional payment promised on her marriage.
In that situation, Mrs Younge saw her opportunity.
They did not enact their scheme often. Judiciousness was required to avoid suspicion falling on Mrs Younge, but as she rapidly gained a reputation for success with “spirited” young ladies, the rest came easily.
Every so often, she would introduce her charge to Mr Wickham.
He would do what he did best, Mrs Younge would “catch” them, and the payment would be shared.
The families never suspected a thing. Mrs Younge was known for her ability to take a headstrong miss and bring her to heel, and Mr Wickham wisely prevented their association from becoming known.
Miss Darcy was almost too good to be true. The Darcys were an old family with a good name and connexions to the peerage. Few families were more concerned with honour and reputation or so willing to do whatever was needful to protect its dignity.
Mr Wickham was eager for this one; he was desperate for money and equally desperate to settle his grudge against Darcy.
Mrs Younge was uncertain of the details, but she knew he needed funds to escape the country.
He spoke longingly of the Indies or America but desired enough money to situate himself well once he arrived.
Payment for silence would not suffice. It would need to be an elopement and Miss Darcy’s fortune, split two ways.
“Seduce her,” Mrs Younge told him at their last meeting. “She reads these romance novels like a horse drinks water. She’s ripe for the plucking.”
“Persuade Darcy to let her go to Bath. I cannot seduce her in the house. Darcy’s servants know me.”
“I shall see what I can do. Perhaps when he is out some night?”
“That will give me very little time.”
“How long do you need?” Mrs Younge laughed, a bit coldly. “I am not asking you to prove yourself the world’s greatest lover. Take what you need; she will understand afterwards that marriage is necessary.”
“I shall try to make her fall in love with me first. This cannot be distressing for her—I must honour old Mr Darcy at least that much.”
Mrs Younge rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, you are the paragon of honour.”
Elizabeth saw little of Darcy in the remaining days of February: only once at the theatre and another time at a card party.
As in Hertfordshire, when they were in company together, she often found his gaze upon her.
Given his most recent declaration of affection, it hardly seemed that he was looking at her to find fault, but she would not entertain other ideas.
Elizabeth’s obligations to society exhausted her. She was inundated by callers and the necessity to return calls, she had a relentless need for new clothing and fittings, and there were endless rounds of amusements in the evenings.
On February 28, Elizabeth marked the third anniversary of her wedding to Henry.
The occasion, and the weeks leading up to it, deepened her usual bouts of melancholy, and she found herself unable to sleep or eat.
Jane, who had been invited to spend the day with the Bingleys, was loath to leave her, but Elizabeth urged her to go.
Once her sister was gone, however, she wished she had company.
Therefore, later that day, she was gratified to receive a call from a friend of her late husband, Mr James Hanley, and his sister Mrs Newland. “This is an unlooked-for pleasure, Mr Hanley. It has been far too long since we have met.”
Mr Hanley and his sister both smiled at her kindly. “Do not think me ignorant of your trials, Lady Courtenay. Henry would be proud of you for having managed with such grace and composure and for protecting his heir as you have done. I wonder whether I might meet the boy.”
Elizabeth agreed with much surprise, and young Henry was brought into the room by his nurse. After the requisite period of cooing over him, Mr Hanley pronounced him a fine young gentleman, certain to have been the pride of his father.
The rest of the visit was pleasant enough although Elizabeth privately thought Mr Hanley and Mrs Newland were kind but dull. Mrs Newland did little more than gaze placidly about the room with a demure countenance.
She was relieved when Lady Matlock was shown into the drawing room, prompting both Mr Hanley and his sister to rise and end their visit.
As they departed, Mr Hanley said in a low voice, “Lady Courtenay, Henry was one of my oldest and dearest friends. If there is anything you need that I have the power to give, please ask. It would honour me to be of use.” His speech brought a tear to her eyes as the door closed behind him.
Lady Matlock immediately noted her low spirits. “You seem rather melancholy today, my dear.”
“Do I?” Elizabeth forced a small smile to her lips. “I am only a little tired.”
“I hope you will not be too fatigued to dine with us this evening. It is a family dinner, and my nephew will join us.” The housekeeper entered with fresh tea for the ladies, and the two were silent for a moment, awaiting her departure.
Elizabeth smiled again faintly as she poured the tea. “You are not yet ready to allow that I shall never be Mrs Darcy, I think.”
“Perhaps not,” Lady Matlock replied with a slight smile of her own.
Carefully, Elizabeth said, “Mr Darcy and I are becoming friends after a fashion, but please relinquish any idea you have of a match. It simply will not do.”
“Even if he is in love with you?”
“He is not in love with me.”
“What makes you so certain of that?”
“What makes you so certain that he is?” Elizabeth retorted.
“He told both my sons before he knew you as Lady Courtenay and his uncle afterwards. Darcy is not a man to speak lightly of such things. If he said it, I assure you, he meant it.”
Elizabeth stood and went to a nearby arrangement of flowers, plucking absently at dead leaves and imperfect petals. “Perhaps he merely thinks he is in love with me.”
Lady Matlock rose and followed Elizabeth, laying her hand gently on her arm. “Do not be immovable in your decision not to love him. He has made many mistakes, it is true, but I am certain he will learn from them.”
There was silence as Elizabeth continued her pruning and plucking.
“He has had a great weight on his shoulders since the death of his father,” Lady Matlock continued.
“So many depend on him, and he has risen to it with nary a complaint. He is good to his servants and his tenants, and he has done his best by Georgiana. There are many ladies who could decorate his arm, care for his homes, and give him an heir—but only you can fill the needs of his heart.”
Elizabeth still did not speak.
“The advantage would be yours as well. Darcy is unequalled in his care of those he loves. He would be an excellent husband; I would never forward him to you if I thought otherwise. As highly as I regard him, so too do I wish for your happiness.”
Elizabeth stopped her attack on the flowers and stepped back, dusting her hands together briskly. “I shall never marry him, but I shall try to like him. Will that do?”
Lady Matlock smiled. “For now.”