Chapter Fifteen #2
It cannot be a coincidence, my friend. I know not what drove you from Kent, but I am no dullard. I suspect your sister has been playing some nefarious game and that she is the cause of your abrupt departure.
Please, write to me as soon as may be so that my tumultuous feelings might be settled.
Ever your friend,
G. Wickham.
George dropped his pen and sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face. He would post the letter first thing in the morning. Hopefully Darcy would reply quickly.
29 April 1812
London
Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in his favorite chair in the library, a glass of French brandy in his hand.
His residence at Darcy House had been only a matter of hours and would not last long.
Colonel Fitzwilliam sat across from him, staring blankly into the empty fireplace, his hair tousled and his face unshaven.
He had joined his cousin about an hour earlier and had not freshened up before seeking Darcy out.
“Nothing,” he said for what seemed the millionth time. “No trace of them anywhere. The port, the London Road, or any of the less traveled paths to the border. It is as if they have vanished.”
“There is no use in continuing the search,” Darcy said quietly. “If they are not married, she is well and truly ruined by now. And if she is bound to that cad, she is beyond our reach anyway. She will come to me when she is ready.”
“And what will you do when she does?” Fitzwilliam asked curiously.
“I shall hear her request for her dowry and promptly deny it,” Darcy said shortly.
“I cannot go against the legal terms surrounding her thirty thousand pounds. If this Jones fellow truly loves her, it will make no difference to him, and they shall live happily until Georgiana turns twenty-five. If, as we suspect, he is a fortune hunter, I expect his true colors will be revealed.”
“Will we attempt to rescue her?” Fitzwilliam asked. “If she is in need of funds, can we not provide something?”
“And here I thought you a battle-hardened colonel,” Darcy chuckled grimly. “Instead, I find you as soft and tender hearted as a lamb.”
“She is very nearly a sister to me,” Fitzwilliam argued. “She is a sister to you.”
“And she has likely destroyed my best chance at happiness,” Darcy snapped. “I find I am in no humor to give consequence to her.”
“Then Mr. Bennet has not replied to your letter?” Fitzwilliam probed.
“No,” Darcy said shortly. “I do not imagine that he will. I know little of the man other than the fact that Elizabeth is his favorite and that he is of a studious, scholarly bent. While I did have a few debates with him during my time in Meryton, I do not believe I could reliably sketch his character. If she has told him of the hurt I inflicted on her, as I expect she has, he will likely refuse my suit. It is hopeless. Elizabeth will not forgive me for my prior sentiments about her sister, nor for abandoning her in Kent as I did.”
“If she cannot, then she is not worthy of you,” Fitzwilliam said firmly. “Why do you not journey to Kent? She was to be a guest at the parsonage for another four days or so. It is only a half day’s journey from here.”
“I cannot go to her until this mess is resolved. Georgiana’s disgrace will be widespread,” Darcy said sadly. “It is likely that my name shall be ruined. It is I who will no longer be worthy of her.”
“Do not give up hope,” Fitzwilliam said. “Perhaps it is a great misunderstanding.”
“Perhaps,” Darcy said doubtfully.
“What now?” the colonel asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“I shall remain in town just one more day,” Darcy said. “If Georgiana appears, then I shall proceed as we have discussed. I will not wait around for her, putting my life and duties on hold. I have business with my steward that cannot be delayed and must away.”
“I am to return to my regiment,” Fitzwilliam said. “My leave has expired, and my commanding officer needs me to train the new recruits.”
“I wish you best of luck, then,” Darcy said.
“And when, might I ask, shall we inform my parents of this tragedy?” the colonel asked after a moment of silence. “I do not imagine Mother and Father will take this lightly.”
“Your mother will be livid,” Darcy said. “She has been planning Georgiana’s come out for three years. With no daughter of her own, she was looking forward to it with much enthusiasm.”
“And we both know that Father will not readily welcome Mr. Jones into the family fold,” Fitzwilliam said. “He might be the son of a man with a respectable profession, but Mr. Jones is a lowly solicitor. Hardly a profession worthy of Miss Darcy of Pemberley.”
“Indeed, not,” Darcy said. “Though had he gone about it the right way, I imagine his path to acceptance would have been much smoother. I do not understand where we went wrong. She was given good principles…”
“But we left her to follow them in pride and conceit. It is all said and done now.” Darcy’s cousin sighed. “Perhaps we ought to go to Matlock House now and have done with it.”
Darcy agreed, and after making themselves somewhat more presentable, they departed, choosing to walk the short distance to Lord Matlock’s London residence. The ensuing conversation when more or less as expected.
“She did what?” Lord Matlock boomed.
Lady Matlock sat in shock, hands in her lap and mouth hanging open. Darcy’s aunt and uncle looked at him in dismay.
“She left Kent on the ninth of April,” Fitzwilliam said. “We had not the time to notify anyone, nor did we wish to put such sensitive information into a letter that might fall into the wrong hands.”
“And you found no trace of her?” Lady Matlock said anxiously.
“None,” Darcy replied. “I have now to wait for her to approach me. Regardless of whether she has married, she is well and truly ruined.”
“I shall never accept the blackguard in my home,” Lady Matlock promised.
Darcy’s uncle nodded in agreement. “Georgiana has made her bed; now she must lie in it,” he said soberly.
“I depart for Pemberley the day after tomorrow,” Darcy said. “There are things I must see to. I shall keep you apprised of any news that comes.”
“We shall withstand this trial,” Darcy’s aunt said. “The ton will forget it all within a year or so.”
“Perhaps an announcement to the paper would do much to curb the wagging tongues,” Lord Matlock suggested. “No one knows of the elopement outside of this room, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “I had considered that. Though I do not doubt they are married, I wish to know for sure before I announce anything.”
“I believe it is too late to escape the gossip,” Lady Matlock said suddenly. “I read about an elopement in the paper this morning. I did not think it referred to Georgiana, but now it is so clear.”
She rose and left the room, returning with that morning’s paper. She opened to the gossip column and read aloud.
Miss D of Derbyshire is said to have eloped with an unknown man.
Lady F overheard the gentleman referred to as ‘Mr. J.,’ and saw the pair traveling south from the border together with no maid or chaperone.
This writer can only conclude that the pair have married or engaged in some highly improper activity.
What the former Miss D’s guardians think of the match can only be speculated upon.
Darcy groaned. “There is enough there to condemn her,” he said. “I do not think any other Miss Ds of Derbyshire hold enough importance to have made their way into that gossip rag.”
“We shall have callers inquiring,” Lady Matlock grimaced. “What shall we do?”
“My business in Parliament is not concluded,” Lord Matlock replied. “Let us simply remove the knocker from the door for the remainder of our time in London. That will deter all but the most determined of people.”
“I will depart for Pemberley first thing tomorrow,” Darcy said. “There is no use putting it off now.”
“Yes,” Lord Matlock said. “It is for the best, I think. We shall follow you to Derbyshire at the end of the season.”
Darcy nodded and rose from his seat. “I shall leave you now,” he said. “There is much to be done.”
He excused himself and hurried out of his uncle’s house. He prayed no one would stop him as he made his way back to Darcy House and was relieved when his plea heavenward was answered.
Giving hasty instructions to his valet and butler, Darcy made for his study to gather any legal papers that might be necessary in the coming months, for he did not anticipate leaving Pemberley for some time.
A stack of letters sat on his desk, having accumulated in his absence. One stood out as he recognized Wickham’s handwriting on the direction. In need of some distraction, he sat in a chair and tore open the seal.
As he read, his temper rose again. Georgiana’s perfidy, it seemed, was greater than he had anticipated.
She had not only told Elizabeth of his words, as he had suspected, but she had set out to deliberately meddle in other ways.
When had his little sister become so abominably devious?
There would be much for her to answer for when next he saw her.
Darcy left London before dawn the next morning, still angry and unsettled about the contents of George’s letter.
The long journey to Pemberley was torturous as his mind repeatedly went over the events of the last year.
He looked for a pattern, or evidence at least, of Georgiana’s growing resentment.
Little snippets came forward as he searched his memories and small clues became apparent here and there.
A look, quickly masked by a complacent or retiring expression.
A sharp word to a maid, or a retort directed at him.
The standoffishness, the unwillingness to confide in anyone, even Mrs. Annesley…
Georgiana’s companion had been notified by letter that her services were no longer necessary. Darcy had provided her with generous compensation and a letter of recommendation in exchange for the inconvenience.