Chapter Fifty

I t was agreed that Georgiana should stay at Matlock House. There was, as the Countess had pointed out, no sense in having her condition seen by a whole new set of servants, regardless of their loyalty. Mr. Darcy, not wanting to spend any more time with his sister than necessary, readily agreed. The Colonel would also stay at Matlock House, leaving Mr. Darcy to go to Darcy House alone.

There, he locked himself in his study, asking that he not be disturbed. His housekeeper and butler had looked at him with sympathetic and knowing eyes. It was absurd; he, Master of Pemberley, was now reduced to being the recipient of sympathy from the servants!

He needed to spend some time alone with his thoughts, so that he might think clearly on how to proceed. Equally importantly, he needed time to calm his roiling emotions. Miss Elizabeth had been quite right; he was in no fit state to marry.

It had been bad enough that Georgiana had eloped with Wickham. Now it seemed that the marriage was not legal – she was unwed! And pregnant! Just when he thought things could not get worse, they promptly did so.

But getting rid of Wickham was the obvious next step. He could not bring the man into a court of law and have him strung up for seducing Georgiana. What he could do – what he would do – was what he should have done long ago: put the man in debtor's prison.

***

Mr. Darcy rose early the next morning. He told his housekeeper, "I am riding to Pemberley. You may expect me back in four days."

He then sent a message to Matlock House.

Richard, I am off to Pemberley to collect Wickham's IOUs. I will return as soon as I am able.

? Darcy

Being on horseback, rather than in a carriage, allowed him to arrive home in just two days. The exertion had calmed him, so he was able to be gracious to Mrs. Reynolds when she met him at the front entrance.

"Mr. Darcy! We did not expect you, sir! Is she – is she –"

"Let us go to my study, Mrs. Reynolds."

He motioned to her to precede him through the hallways that led to his study. "I know I need not tell you to keep this to yourself."

She just looked at him, eyebrows raised.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. It appears that Wickham was already married."

"Oh! Really? But – well, that is good news, is it not? The marriage is not valid!"

"It would indeed be good news if…" He trailed off.

"If?"

"If the newspapers had not already printed a snippet about her having run off with the steward's son and if she were not – not with child."

Mrs. Reynolds' eyes filled with tears and she felt behind her for a chair. Sitting, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Mr. Darcy was beside her in an instant. He put an arm around her shoulder and she leant against him. It was a liberty no other servant would have dared to take, but Mrs. Reynolds was the closest thing Georgiana had ever had to a mother. He wished he could just break down and cry himself, but he had been trained from childhood not to do so.

"What is to be done?" Mrs. Reynolds whispered.

"To start, I will put that devil in debtor's prison."

"I wish you had done so years ago." Her voice was ragged.

"As do I, Mrs. Reynolds." He rose and went to the safe, where he kept the many written debts he had accumulated over the years.

"When will you return to London, sir?" Mrs. Reynolds was drying her eyes on a handkerchief. He noted it was one of the many handkerchiefs that Georgiana had made for her over the years, with her initials – RLR – in blue.

"Tomorrow morning. I would leave now, but I am exhausted."

"Of course you are! I will have a bath prepared for you immediately. Dinner at six?"

"Perfect. I thank you, Mrs. Reynolds."

She made a pish-posh sound, which was her way of saying that no thanks were required.

***

Three days later, Mr. Darcy was back at Darcy House, with a stack of IOUs in his saddlebags. His aunt had the address of Mrs. Younge's boarding house, and there was nothing to stop Darcy from having his childhood friend arrested for debt.

He had put this off for years, paying George's debts for him all over the country, hoping against all rhyme or reason that George would change his profligate ways.

Mr. Darcy dropped his head into his hands. His head hurt, his heart hurt, his eyes burned. He had hoped to never have to put George in prison, but it seemed now that there was nothing else to do.