Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I am having an apoplexy , Darcy thought as he listened to Lady Catherine assure him she had meant every word of her letter. Wickham had called at Rosings several days after Georgiana’s arrival, claiming to be visiting a friend nearby, and, over a week ago, had left with her and her companion, ostensibly bound for Derbyshire.
“How could you allow him to call?” he asked. It was not the question utmost in his thoughts, but it had slipped out.
His aunt regarded him as though he were as mad as he was beginning to feel. “He is lowborn, but you do not mind such company, and your father thought highly of him. He said you were the one who informed him Georgiana was here. If you did not object to him seeing her, why should I?”
“You mean he flattered you, so you allowed it, despite believing he was not good enough to be my friend. You like to say you understand people, that you can discern their character and understand their motivations, good and evil, yet you did not see through his charm, which—I assure you—is no deeper than his skin!” In stark terms he would usually hesitate to use in front of ladies, he told his aunt of Wickham’s true nature, of his gambling and abusing women. “You permitted a cur to take my sister away. Pray to God I find her unharmed.”
He turned and strode from the room, heedless of her demands that he return. It was already late afternoon, and he did not know where to go next, but he would not remain at Rosings. Before he was at the front door, Anne stopped him, pulling him into a small parlour.
“I had no idea you did not send for her, neither did Mama. You must believe that, Darcy! I did think it strange, but…” She shrugged. “I do not know where Georgiana has gone if it was not Pemberley or why she would leave as she did. Is Mr Wickham really as bad?—”
“Yes,” he interjected. “Tell me whatever you think I ought to know. Quickly. I cannot abide being here.”
Tears began to fall down her thin, pale cheeks. “Georgiana believed she was in love with him and that he returned her affection. She was certain they would marry. I spoke to Mrs Younge of it, and she told me she had seen nothing improper, it was only an infatuation on Georgiana’s part, and she thought it likely Mr Wickham viewed her as a younger sister. She assured me she would keep a close watch on them. Before they left, Mrs Younge informed me they would go directly to Pemberley, and she would discuss their connexion with you.”
“Did you tell your mother of your concerns?” Darcy demanded.
His cousin averted her eyes, and her complexion lost what little colour it had held, giving him the answer she was reluctant to voice.
“When exactly did they leave?” he asked.
“About a fortnight ago. ”
Dread once again threatened to overwhelm him. “Why did you not write to me or the countess if you were anxious about Georgiana’s behaviour? I could almost— almost —understand not confiding in Lady Catherine, but why not inform someone else? How could neither you nor your mother see how wrong the situation was?”
Anne bit her lower lip and shook her head. “He seemed so kind, and Georgiana was happy to see him. I did not know you no longer considered him a friend.”
Questions raced through his mind. Had Georgiana voluntarily left with Wickham? Did she believe they were going to Pemberley, or was Wickham’s intention to go directly to Scotland and force her to marry him? And what was Mrs Younge’s role in the disaster?
After a night at a nearby inn, Darcy returned to Hertfordshire. He had considered going to London, but he needed Elizabeth’s comfort and felt he must speak to both her and Bingley. If the earl or his uncle Darcy were in town, it would be another matter; he would consult with them on what to do next, but in their absence, he had no reason to go. Once he arrived at Netherfield, he sent a note to Longbourn, asking that Elizabeth meet him the next morning along their usual walk.
He explained what he had learnt to Bingley, adding, “I fear the worst, but I hope we can keep it to ourselves until we know for certain what has happened. I would go after them directly, attempt to follow their path, but after so long, I am not sure I would discover anything of use. Likely, I would only draw attention to Georgiana. ”
“Whatever you need, whatever you want me to say or not say to others, I shall do it.” Bingley squeezed his shoulder, and Darcy felt tears burning the back of his eyes in appreciation for his friendship; the heavy weight of anxiety made his emotions acute and speech impossible, thus he only nodded.
The evening was spent writing letters. There was a brief note to his steward, whose discretion he trusted, asking that he be alerted if he saw Georgiana or Wickham. He acknowledged the importance of informing Lord Romsley, who was at his country estate, as well. Bramwell was in town and could watch for Georgiana there and be in Hertfordshire quickly, should the need arise. The longest letter was to Fitzwilliam. Darcy regretted that his cousin was presently in Dorset; he would be distressed knowing he could not immediately go to London or join Darcy in Hertfordshire to discover what had happened to their ward, but he could not abandon his duties as an officer.
Darcy was waiting for Elizabeth in the spot where they had sat and talked just a few days previously. He paced and pulled leaves from the trees and tore them to pieces until he saw her.
After a long embrace, she said, “Tell me everything.”
Sitting on the log, he did, and impressed on her the need for silence. “I admit, I am at a loss as to what to do. I think I ought to go to London. They are sure to go there sooner rather than later. Yet, Georgiana might come here, expecting I would be with you.”
Elizabeth’s arms were wrapped around one of his, her body pressed to his side. “Stay with me for now, even if just for a day. Tomorrow, you and I and Mr Bingley can together devise a course of action. It might be easier to decide what to do once a little more time has passed. I think…” He encouraged he r to continue, and she did, speaking tentatively. “I think we share a strong suspicion of what happened, where they have gone, and why.”
He closed his eyes tightly as if that could help him avoid the truth. “I do not know whether or not to hope they have married. If they have, Georgiana’s reputation will only suffer from her eloping and making a horribly imprudent marriage. Yet, it would also mean she is tied to that scoundrel for life. If they have not, her reputation is completely ruined, and I cannot begin to think of the consequences to our family. There would be no keeping it quiet, not given my uncle’s position in life. There are no good outcomes.”
She kissed his shoulder. “Tell me more about Mr Wickham.”
He hesitated, gathering his thoughts, then said, “We were good friends, very nearly like brothers. I believed we always would be. He and Fitzwilliam were close too. Wickham looked up to me, I thought, followed after me and asked me to help him learn this or that, always sought my approval. I suppose it was because I am a year his senior, which makes a difference when one is young. But then he began to change when we went to Cambridge. He made new friends, found new men to emulate, ones I could not approve of. He said horrible things of me and gave himself over to dissipation and vice. I had hoped, prayed, that he would remember himself, settle and become the man I and my father had expected he would be, one resembling his own father, who was an excellent man. But he never did. He grew even more disparaging of me after my father died. Jealousy or envy—at the moment, I care not for the distinction between them—might be the reason. In his will, my father left Wickham one thousand pounds and requested I present him with a valuable living, should he take orders. But he had no interest in the church, and so I gave him another three thousand in recompense. He was going to study the law, he said, but from what I have heard, he has not.”
“You have not spoken to him since?”
Darcy shook his head. “It has been years. When I see him, I might run him through.”
“Do not say that!” There was urgency in her voice. “You must consider how you act towards your sister and him when you meet. If you are prepared, perhaps you will avoid arguing and causing a breach that cannot be repaired.”
“How can I not argue with him?” he retorted and would have stood if she were not clutching his arm.
She took a moment to respond. “I suppose it is how you argue with him. What is most important is Georgiana’s well-being. Do you agree?” He gave a single curt nod. “Then, as difficult as it will be, you must not give into your impulse to fight Mr Wickham. She will not forgive you, and if she separates from you—if you give him reason to keep you from seeing her—there will be nothing you can do to protect her.”
Darcy acknowledged the sense of her words—not that it made the situation any easier. If anything, the prospect of treating Wickham with any degree of civility was exceedingly revolting. Rather than speak, he sought comfort in his beloved Elizabeth’s arms.