Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
D arcy paced restlessly, checking his pocket watch repeatedly. How long would it take for Elizabeth to learn the truth? What she must ask his sister was both simple and, he admitted, difficult—especially if Georgiana lacked any awareness of marital relations. Fitzwilliam stood by a window, his back to the room, appearing lost in thought.
At last, the door opened, and Elizabeth entered. He and his cousin both approached her, neither of them speaking.
“It is true,” she said, sounding breathless. “From what she told me, they have never consummated their union. He spoke of not wanting her to have a child—which I am glad about—but we all know there is another reason he has left her alone. But what it is, I do not know.”
Darcy’s mind raced. Wickham had often enjoyed the company of women, even seduced innocent girls. Would it not suit his purposes to get Georgiana pregnant as soon as possible as a way to obtain money from Darcy? He must know Darcy would not deny her or her child whatever they needed.
Fitzwilliam swore then apologised to Elizabeth. He took up Darcy’s recent occupation of pacing, a hand angrily slapping his leg rhythmically. Elizabeth watched him until Darcy spoke; her gaze then turned to him.
“What did she say?”
“Enough to know that she does not understand how a woman becomes with child. I asked many questions before I felt I had a clear picture of their relationship, so many that I fear she suspects there is something amiss. I should return to her and-and…”
Darcy was not used to seeing her uncertain, but it was apparent she did not know what to do next. “I do not know the best course of action,” he admitted.
“I do,” Fitzwilliam said. “Beat the cur until he explains himself then throw his body into the nearest river.”
“Bingley should be back soon,” Darcy said. “I shall confront Wickham at once. They are married, yet they are not. I do not know that it alters anything, but… No, it does change everything, though I am not sure exactly how. He has been playing a game, as we have known all along, but it ends today.” He shook his head. “Can you remain with Georgiana without speaking of him further? You should not be burdened with telling her the truth.”
“Wickham should,” Fitzwilliam insisted. He came to a stop by Darcy. “There are some things we could not tell Georgiana, such as why he did this. We could guess, to be sure.”
Darcy was quick to agree. “As I—we—have said all along, money and to make me miserable.”
“Unfortunately, the person who will be left most injured is Georgiana,” Elizabeth said. “But, yes, I shall engage her on other subjects. You are correct that he must be the one to tell her that their marriage is not a true one. I do not know if she will be able to ask him to explain himself fully, but she must be given the opportunity.”
Darcy kissed her hand, Fitzwilliam thanked her, and she left without another word. The colonel suggested they go into a room facing the courtyard so that they would see Bingley and Wickham returning. Less than half an hour later, the men were seen approaching on horseback.
“Once they enter the house, we can take Wickham to the library. Bingley will know enough to keep the servants from lingering nearby, hoping to hear gossip,” Darcy said.
Fitzwilliam gave a curt nod. “I shall let you question him. He is more likely to give us the answers we want if you do. You were better friends than he and I were.”
They hastened to intercept Wickham before he went to his apartment—or, worse, to find Georgiana. Darcy caught Bingley’s eye and gave a slight nod; in response, he arched his brow.
“Wickham, my cousin and I would like a word. In the library,” Fitzwilliam announced.
“I have no interest—” Wickham said.
“It is important,” Darcy interjected, his voice strangely calm despite the conflicting emotions doing battle in his body.
“I shall change and be in the drawing room.” Bingley spoke softly, nodded to him and Fitzwilliam, and headed towards the stairs.
“What is this about?” Wickham demanded.
Rather than answer, even when the enquiry was repeated, Darcy led the way to the library, leaving the other two to follow. Once there, they stood, forming the three points of a triangle .
Wickham looked between him and Fitzwilliam. “Well? My wife?—”
“Do not call her that,” Darcy hissed. “You ought not. Admit it.”
“You are speaking nonsense, Darcy. I do not understand you.”
“Elizabeth has spoken to Georgiana. You may have repeated the vows, but you never consummated the marriage, did you?”
Wickham’s complexion was ashen, and his shoulders slumped. There was a long pause during which he appeared to consider his response. “Something has gone seriously wrong in her education. Are all young ladies of quality so ignorant? Do you understand what danger that places her in? I should not care. It has been to my advantage. I had no notion how I would”—he gestured wildly with his hands—“do this otherwise, but once I understood that she believes couples have children simply because they were married and kissed a little, it was much easier.”
A noise came from Fitzwilliam’s direction. Looking at him, Darcy noticed that he leant against a bookcase, his mouth hanging open. As much as it was what they suspected after Elizabeth’s conversations with Georgiana, it was still a shock.
Doing an admirable job of keeping his temper, he asked, “To be clear, you have not bedded my sister?”
Wickham recoiled. “Of course not! How could I? It is Georgiana of whom we speak. I held her when she was a baby! She is the closest I shall ever have to a little sister. I could not…I never intended… This whole thing got out of hand!”
“What exactly was your intention?” Darcy asked Wickham .
Wickham scratched his forehead. “I thought Lady Catherine or Miss de Bourgh would write to say I was there, and you would come charging to Georgiana’s rescue. You would pay me handsomely to go away. But when you did not come, Mrs Younge encouraged me to elope. We would get more money from you that way. Not that I am blaming her, and, obviously, I did, so…” He shrugged; his manner of speech and how he stood reminded Darcy forcibly of when he was an adolescent and just beginning to become a disappointment. Wickham continued, “I thought that after we showed up here, married, you would be only too happy to give me an even higher sum than I had originally anticipated, maybe all of her dowry, and I would go away, promising never to contact either of you again.”
“Until you needed more money,” Fitzwilliam muttered; Wickham either did not hear or pretended not to.
“You were so angry and determined not to give me a single farthing,” Wickham said to Darcy. “But I knew you would eventually be sick of me, and there were worse places to spend a few months, if it took that long. Once you paid me, I would have left. Really, I would have gone away! Then you could have had the marriage annulled?—”
“One cannot simply get an annulment and pretend the marriage never happened, and a divorce would be impossible!” Darcy interjected. “You idiot. You have married her, and you will both remain married until one of you dies!”
Fitzwilliam added, “Unless you intend to be extremely cruel to her and provide us with sufficient proof that you are unfaithful, at which point my father might— might— be able to obtain a divorce for her. Of course, I would kill you before I permitted you to even slap her lightly. ”
Wickham looked between them, eyes round; he spoke slowly. “Oh. I did not realise that.”
“Of course you did not, because you never think through your actions to their natural consequences!” Darcy roared, remembering the many times his statement had been true during their youth and in the years since. “Since I refused to bribe you to leave, how long did you plan to maintain your mockery of a union with her? Did you not consider that she would eventually realise it was not a true marriage?”
Wickham ran his hands through his hair. “I had not exactly given up hope that you would pay me. You would grow tired of having me about.” In a quieter voice, he added, “Especially if I made Georgiana hate you and Eliz—Miss Elizabeth doubt you, maybe even end your betrothal. Once we agreed on a sum, I thought I might tell you, or, when she was a little older, Georgiana would realise and inform you that we had not…you know.”
Darcy shook his head. “You are an imbecile.”
Wickham pressed his eyes closed, looking like a lad being severely reprimanded.
During the ensuing silence, Darcy managed to calm himself. “To be very, very clear, your marriage to my sister was never consummated, not even once. I need not worry that she might have your child?”
Looking anywhere but at Darcy or his cousin, Wickham shook his head.
Darcy felt a burning at the back of his eyes. “What the devil happened to you? You were like a brother to me. Do you not recall how happy we were when my father spoke of keeping the living at Kympton for you?”
A small but genuine smile briefly graced Wickham’s lips. “ That was a good night. We must have stayed up until three in the morning dreaming of the future. You and me and our families, always living near each other. Our sons would be friends, just as we were.” Wickham sighed and admitted, “I do not know. That is the answer to your question. I could say your father gave me too much and it left me dissatisfied, but that makes me sound ungrateful. I am not, but going to school with you, being surrounded by people who would always have more than I did, and all the freedom of wealth and privilege, I suppose I grew envious. And…and I developed some bad habits.”
“I hated seeing you become someone I could never like, watching as you rejected every advantage my father gave you—in deed if not in word—as you chose gaming and drink instead of working to improve your future. When I gave you the money after my father died, I prayed you would use it to study the law. I would have done everything I could to support you, just as my father would have.” Darcy ran his hands over his face, briefly pressing his fingers into his temples, struggling to control his emotions long enough to finish their conversation.
“What now?” Wickham asked hesitantly.
From the side, Fitzwilliam made an inarticulate noise of frustration and rage.
Darcy stared at Wickham, contemplating him for a long moment. “You created this situation. What do you think we should do?”
Wickham had the audacity to shrug. “I have no notion.”
Darcy clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “First, you must explain everything to Georgiana.”
Wide-eyed and holding his palms up, Wickham said, “No, no! Maybe Elizab?— ”
“Absolutely not,” Darcy stated. “ You must tell my sister that you are leaving her, you were never in love with her, never wanted to marry her, and it was all a scheme to secure her fortune. It is your responsibility, and I will not risk her believing Fitzwilliam, I, Elizabeth, or any of my family are the reason you are departing. Then, you will go away and never intrude on our lives again. I shall give you five thousand pounds. Use it to establish a life far from us. Very far.”
Wickham nodded and kept his eyes downcast. “I was thinking I might go to America, or maybe Canada.”
“Speak to Georgiana at once, go to London, and, in one week, call at my house. I shall have your money and a letter of agreement for you to sign—stating that you have no further claim on anyone in my family.” To Fitzwilliam, Darcy said, “Is there anything you wish to add?”
“Never contact any of us again, especially my cousins. Not even from your deathbed,” the colonel said.
Wickham nodded but did not speak.
After a long moment spent regarding Wickham, Darcy said, “This is the end for us. I will not see you when you go to my townhouse. You will be met by my solicitor.”
“Was any of it true, Darcy?” he asked hesitantly. “What you have said these last few weeks when you almost acted like you hoped we would be friends again.”
“Partly. Elizabeth told me she was convinced we could revive some dormant part of you that was the friend I remember, that you had it in you to become someone resembling the man I once expected you to be. I have never considered it particularly probable that I would forgive you enough to think of you as a friend, especially after what you have done to Georgiana.”
“I understand.” Wickham met his eye. “I am sorry, Darcy. ”
Darcy regarded him for a long, silent moment, the past weighing heavily on his shoulders. “As am I.”
Darcy strode from the room, Fitzwilliam on his heels.