Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
It was half past ten but not yet fully dark when Darcy reached the house he had leased for his sister.
He heard voices and laughter of both men and women in the drawing room as he removed his hat and gloves, but by the time he reached the room a few minutes later, only Mrs. Younge, Georgiana, and a footman were present, calmly drinking tea.
He looked about suspiciously and saw a door ajar on the opposite end of the room, a dirty teacup and plate on a sideboard. His sister sat alone on a settee with a crushed pillow beside her. When she saw him, she jumped up and approached him.
“Brother! What a surprise to see you so late. Would you care for some tea?”
“Not now, Georgiana. Who was here a moment ago?”
His sister flushed and smiled bashfully. Mrs. Younge, sitting behind where his sister now stood, looked decidedly more embarrassed and less joyful.
“George had to leave, but he will return tomorrow to speak with you.”
“George?” On his long ride here, Darcy had not allowed himself to dwell long on the possibility that George Wickham could have sunk so low as to seduce his godfather’s daughter. Please let it be another George!
“You know, your friend George Wickham.”
Darcy’s heart sank. Was this retribution for rescuing Elizabeth from his claws?
“He said you would be so happy with our engagement that we should surprise you after we married. I am so excited you have come, though. We were to travel to Scotland on Monday, but it will be better to have you with us to help us celebrate.”
He closed his eyes to gain control of his temper. When he opened them, he saw Mrs. Younge attempting to slink out of the room.
“Mrs. Younge! You will be seated until you are dismissed.”
The woman cowered in the nearest chair.
“Georgiana, where is your maid, Alice?”
“Upstairs. She is always upstairs when George comes, as Mrs. Younge is generally with us.”
“Generally with…You there.” Darcy indicated the footman, who still stood dumbly in the room. “Go get Alice.”
“Yes, sir.”
Darcy was fuming but did not know how far his anger should reach.
“Mrs. Younge. Did Wickham propose marriage to my sister in your hearing, and did they intend to elope on Monday?”
The woman, who suddenly looked ten years older than her thirty-six years, nodded.
“Did you at any time leave my sister alone with that man?”
Again, she nodded.
“It was only for a few minutes in this room, Brother. She had to use the necessary, you know, or retrieve an item from her bedchamber. We were never alone for long.” Her red face perhaps told another story.
Alice walked in then and gasped, causing Darcy to turn toward her. He was surprised to see her beaming.
“Alice?”
“I’m so pleased to see you’ve come, Mr. Darcy. Right pleased. I been right worried, sir.”
He nodded his appreciation of her loyalty.
“Alice, go pack Mrs. Younge’s belongings. She will remain here. If you need help carrying her valise down, I will bring it.” He did not trust anyone in this household aside from his sister’s personal maid. A footman might help the former governess pilfer additional items from the house.
Alice curtsied and obeyed.
“Mrs. Younge, I will pay for one night’s lodgings for you. Are you aware of a place?”
“Yes, sir. May I retrieve some items from my room?”
“No. Alice can manage. You will answer my questions until I have sent you away.”
Once he had dispensed with the despicable woman a quarter of an hour later, he wrote a letter to Wickham, addressing it with the direction Mrs. Younge had given him.
He then turned to his sister, who was now alone in the room with him.
“You must be tired, Georgiana. Why do you not retire? We shall go to London as soon as my carriage arrives tomorrow.”
“What did you write to George? Have you invited him to Pemberley for the wedding?”
“That man will never be invited to Pemberley. Do you not understand what kind of…” Darcy took a deep breath and exhaled, then another.
“We are to be married. I will not return to London without him.”
Darcy sat beside her and put his arm around her. “Georgie, I am so sorry he deceived you.”
“Deceived me? No, only wait until tomorrow. He will come speak to you in the morning.”
Darcy sighed. “Did he tell you that when he discovered I was here? Before he escaped through the back door?”
“He was not escaping. He only knew I wished to greet you myself and tell you of our news.”
Darcy held his sister more tightly in his arms and kissed the top of her head.
“Would you like to remain here another day? The horses will need to rest, but we should leave Saturday morning.”
“George will come tomorrow, and I will show you my favorite places here. But let us stay until Monday, Brother. I wish to attend services together on Sunday.”
“Very well.” He had hoped to get back to Elizabeth immediately, but he could do this for his sister.
“Thank you, Brother.”
Darcy had no more strength that night to explain to his sister the kind of man Wickham was. Tomorrow would be soon enough to shatter her childish belief in people.
Rather than sleeping once he had retired, he pulled out his sister’s letters and read them all again.
He had worried that he had been too focused on Elizabeth lately to have noticed his sister’s plight, but he found nothing in the letters that would have alerted him to a man’s presence in her life.
Was he so blind, or was his sister deliberately deceiving him?
She had made no mention of any friends in Ramsgate.
Her letters were full of Mrs. Younge keeping up her French conversation and discussing literature and of shopping and walks along the beach.
Her letters had appeared entirely innocent.
After sleeping not more than two or three hours, the early sunrise prompted Darcy to leave his bedchamber.
He wandered about the house, wondering whether Wickham had entered any rooms besides the drawing room and dining room and feeling sick at the thought.
He reached the bedchamber that had been Mrs. Younge’s and walked inside.
It was a comfortable room. He had paid Mrs. Younge well.
Why would she betray her employer and her charge?
Having no answers, he turned to leave the now-empty room when he saw the rug was curled up on one side, as though someone had kicked it up or tripped while crossing there.
Yet the curled edge was near a wall, on the side of the room away from the bed, closet, and window.
Why would it be lifted on that edge. He kicked it down easily, so the rug was not malformed but had been moved on purpose.
He bent to lift the rug in the same location and saw a plank of the wood floor with a knothole.
He put his thumb in the hole and lifted the board up.
The small space inside contained a red silk reticule.
Darcy removed it and replaced the board and rug.
He took the bag to the table by the bed and dumped out the contents.
Two old letters and three loose diamonds.
Neither letter was addressed to Minny Younge, however.
Could this reticule have been here for far longer than this summer?
Grasping at anything to take his mind off his present troubles, Darcy thought of Gardiner and sat on the edge of the bed to take a closer look at the letters.
Would they tell him something of the diamonds?
It was far-fetched to suppose any connection with Mr. Green’s diamonds of so long ago, but Ramsgate was only about twenty miles from Dover, and that old story had him curious.
The first letter was well-worn, and he handled it carefully. It was addressed to Guillemine Baudains in Rouen, France. It was dated March 1792 and appeared to be a love letter. He tried to make out the signature. Amice Coutanche.
“Amice!” Was that not the name in Georgiana’s letter to Anne?
Amice was the man Mrs. Younge had been engaged to when she was only fourteen.
What had his sister’s letter said? They had been separated.
He checked the cover page again. The letter had been sent from Amice in London to Guillemine in Rouen.
“Guillemine is Minny,” he whispered. Mrs. Younge was French! He had been sure her application had stated Devonshire as her birthplace. Not that he should be surprised she had lied about this, too.
Darcy quickly looked at the second letter. It was addressed to G. Bowden Jeune and was from Pierre Jeune. This one was sent in 1802 from London to Bath. Like the first letter, it was in French. He soon realized Monsieur Jeune was Minny’s husband. Of course! Jeune meant youthful or young.
This Guillemine Baudains Jeune had long been trying to deceive. By the time of this letter from her husband, she was already using a partially anglicized name. He wondered when she had taken on the fully English Minny Bowden Younge. And why?
Darcy shook away his suspicions. Changing her name did not mean she was hiding anything.
The wars had made the French unwelcome in many parts of England, and perhaps it had been difficult for her to be accepted when she first arrived.
Many French immigrants tried to hide their foreign heritage once reaching England.
The letters said nothing about the diamonds, of course, and he packed everything back into the reticule and returned to his own rooms. He had more important issues at hand than pondering his disgraced servant.
Darcy dropped the reticule unceremoniously on the table beside his bed, knowing his valet would pack it when he arrived later that day.
Wickham would not return for his sister, so he needed to prepare to comfort her.
Monday afternoon, Georgiana still refused to believe Wickham would not come for her.
It had been a trying few days. His sister had refused to leave the house, despite her claims of wanting him to see Ramsgate.
She was afraid she would miss Wickham’s call if she stepped out even for a quarter of an hour.