Chapter Fourteen

Darcy

G eorgie watched Elizabeth retreat to the house, the lingering sensation of her touch on his hand slowly dissipating in the cold night air. He chided himself for making her uncomfortable, uncertain why he had spoken so openly. It was true—he felt an immense sense of comfort around her. It was always a delight to be near her, and she was undoubtedly very beautiful. His thoughts often wandered to her throughout the day, and he found himself instinctively searching for her when he entered the house, feeling a sense of relief and happiness when he saw her.

But he hadn’t allowed himself to truly examine these feelings before. There was no denying it now—he cared for her deeply. However, he knew he couldn’t let his heart lead him astray. She was correct, he might be married. The blonde woman in his fleeting memories could easily be a wife rather than a sister.

“No,” he told himself firmly. “I must forget these silly feelings.”

Yet, as he slipped his coat back on, the lingering scent of Elizabeth enveloped him. It was a delicate blend of lavender and something sweet, like fresh honeysuckle. The scent was intoxicating, and it stirred a deep yearning within him. He couldn’t help but wish he could hold her, feel her warmth against him, and breathe in her scent more fully. The conflict within him grew sharper as he tried to push aside his feelings, but the sweet, familiar fragrance kept pulling him back to thoughts of her.

***

The next day, Georgie found himself in the study with Mr Bennet. They were deep in discussion about a matter involving the allocation of funds for the autumn harvest, whilst it was not even early spring, these matters had to be taken into consideration even before the crops were sown—Mr Bennet was concerned about the costs of hiring additional workers versus the potential increase in yield—when Georgie spotted Elizabeth walking past the window. Immediately, his lips curled into a smile which she returned. He let out a sigh of relief because the truth was, he had worried that their intimate conversation the previous night might have caused strain between them. However, his fears appeared to have been unfounded.

For a moment, Georgie was lost in thought, wondering what Elizabeth was doing and if he might find a reason to speak with her later. Perhaps he could suggest another walk, they had enjoyed several pleasant strolls together recently. The idea filled him with a quiet anticipation.

“Mr Cook suggested we might divert some of the funds from the livestock budget to cover the extra labour costs,” Mr Bennet said, pulling Georgie back to the present.

“Yes, that could work,” Georgie replied, forcing his focus back on the ledger. “We could offset the decrease in the livestock budget by selling off some of the older cattle. They aren’t as productive, and this would help balance the books.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Mr Bennet said, nodding approvingly. “You’ve a keen eye for these matters, Georgie.”

Georgie tried to suppress the swell of pride he felt. “Thank you, sir.”

Yet, as Mr Bennet continued talking about crop rotation and soil fertility, Georgie’s mind drifted back to Elizabeth. He reminded himself firmly that he needed to stop thinking of her like this. His feelings were misplaced, given his uncertain past and the potential ramifications of any relationship between them. The memory of last night’s conversation and the lingering memory of their brief touch haunted him, but he steeled himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

He managed to focus for the rest of the morning, though found himself in Elizabeth’s presence sooner than expected when he stepped outside to enjoy a cup of tea on the bench outside the house. The weather was milder than it had been, and he wished to enjoy the warmth of the sun while he could.

Fate, it appeared, had other plans. Georgie stepped outside to find Elizabeth standing with a letter in her hand. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she read, and he kept his distance so as not to startle her, though he didn’t need to wait too long before she sensed his presence and looked up.

“Oh, I did not see you. I was engrossed in my letter from Jane.”

“Is she well?” he asked. He’d missed the older Miss Bennet’s presence. She had a calming air about her, and Elizabeth appeared much more relaxed when her older sister was nearby.

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes, she is. But something is troubling her.”

He tilted his head in concern. “What is it?”

She looked towards the house before walking closer to him and dropping her voice. “Jane has found out that Mr Bingley is still in London,” she said.

Georgie frowned. “I thought he would have gone back to Sheffield by now.”

Elizabeth paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “How did you know Mr Bingley was from Sheffield? Or that he was going there?”

Georgie hesitated, a flicker of panic crossing his mind. How did he know that? He didn’t know this Bingley, nor that he was from Sheffield. So how? Determined not to let her see his confusion, he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant despite these unsettling thoughts. “You must have mentioned it.”

“I must have. The truth is, I also thought he would have returned north by now.” Elizabeth seemed to accept this explanation and continued. “In any case, this news has greatly upset Jane. She wishes to leave London, but at the same time does not want to return here yet. I have a mind to join her in Town to make her more comfortable.”

Georgie was taken aback, his heart sinking at the thought of Elizabeth leaving. “Oh, no!”

Elizabeth smiled at him, a knowing look in her eyes as a brief silence stretched between them.

Realising how his words could be interpreted, he quickly corrected himself. “I meant, it’s sad that Jane is so upset.”

Elizabeth chuckled softly. “For a moment, I thought you were upset that I might be going to London.”

He smiled, aware of the truth behind her jest. “I won’t deny that I enjoy your company and would feel deprived without it.”

Internally, Georgie felt a pang of guilt. He had grown so fond of Elizabeth, perhaps more than he should have allowed himself. Every moment spent with her felt like a gift, and the mere thought of her absence was intolerable. But he knew he couldn’t let his feelings show. Not with the uncertainty of his own past.

“Well, I have not yet decided. I cannot leave anytime soon because my father also received a letter—from Mr Collins. You may remember him.”

“Your cousin, the heir to Longbourn,” he said, recalling a mention of this man.

“Indeed, he and his wife Charlotte are coming to Longbourn in a fortnight. I was due to call on them but since I did not, they’ve decided to come here instead. Not just to see me, of course, but to visit her family, the Lucases. Though I suspect he wishes to keep an eye on the estate to see how well it is doing, seeing how it will be in his grip one day.” He heard the bitterness in her tone and felt dreadful for her. It had to be awful to know that one’s home would be taken away one day.

“Mr Wickham? Mr George Wickham?” somebody called and it took him a moment to remember they were looking for him. He spun and raised a hand.

“I am he,” he said, though it sounded just as wrong as it had when he’d first been referred to as such.

“Mr Wickham,” he said, nodding politely. “Mr Foxworthy, the constable, sent me. Would you come with me to the constabulary? There’s a woman there who says she might know you.”

Georgie saw Elizabeth pale beside him, her hand instinctively gripping the letter tighter. The ground appeared to shift beneath him as he gulped down air.

“Who is she?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man replied, “She thinks she’s your wife.”

Georgie’s stomach dropped. His heart pounded, and his thoughts immediately went to Elizabeth. She smiled, but she was pale and her eyes looked glassy, as if she might cry.

As for him, the idea of having a wife out there, someone who might claim him, was unsettling, even though he knew he should be happy that somebody recognised him.

“How wonderful,” Elizabeth said, but the thickness in her tone betrayed her true feelings. “You should go. I hope everything turns out well for you, Georgie.” She turned and made for the house.

“Elizabeth, wait—” he called after her, but she was already near the front door, her back turned to him.

Georgie watched her retreating figure, feeling a knot of confusion and sorrow tighten in his chest. He didn’t want to follow the man to the constabulary, didn’t want to face the potential truth waiting for him. But he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to the man and followed, his mind a whirlwind.

He was married.

The thought was like a dagger to his heart. That in turn, made him feel rotten inside. This woman, this wife, had to have worried for weeks now over his wellbeing. He’d been with the Bennets for three weeks now, three weeks this woman had fretted over him. And here he was, upset that she had come for him. What if he had children? They’d have been missing their father. How awful a human was he to begrudge this poor woman coming for him, when she was where he belonged.

By Jove, he had to have loved her if he’d married her, surely!

Although, how could he, when he felt such romantic affections for another? It was as if the moment he opened his eyes and saw Elizabeth, he had begun the inevitable process of falling for her. Had he betrayed a beloved wife with these feelings? It was sickening. All of it. Sickening.

***

The constabulary was a few miles away, and the journey felt both too short and unbearably long. The previous clear weather had gone as if echoing his mood, and now the skies were leaden grey, the landscape was bleak, the bare trees standing like silent sentinels along the road. His thoughts churned as he neared the small brick building of the constabulary.

He stopped right outside the door, taking a deep breath while the messenger headed in to announce his arrival. Through the window, he saw flickers from the candles and the fireplace. A figure moved—the constable? Or his wife?

For a moment, he considered turning back. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to face whatever awaited him inside. Steeling himself, he stepped forward and knocked to announce his entry.

“Hello? Foxworthy?”

The interior of the constabulary was warm and smelled of wood and tallow candles. A large desk dominated the room, with a few chairs scattered about for visitors. The messenger pushed past Georgie on his way out, while Mr Foxworthy headed his way.

“Ah, Mr Wickham—or so we’ve called you thus far,” the constable said, standing up. “Thank you for coming so swiftly. We’ve had a woman come from Barnet. She saw the notice in the Hertfordshire Mercury about a man found near Meryton and thought you might be her husband.”

Georgie’s heart pounded in his chest. “Her husband? Right. I see.” The words stuck in his throat like gruel that hadn’t gone down right.

“Yes,” Foxworthy replied. “The woman is quite desperate. Her husband went missing about two months ago after a night of drinking at a tavern.”

Drinking in a tavern. He wondered if that was something he’d be doing. He hadn’t a taste for spirits other than the occasional brandy he shared with Mr Bennet after a long day.

Georgie swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “What was the man’s name? It’s not Wickham, I take it,” he asked, bracing himself. He expected that once he knew his real name, memories would flood back. The name Wickham had never felt right to him.

The constable chuckled. “Nah, it wasn’t Wickham. It seems your name is Brandon, Alexander Brandon.”

“Alexander Brandon,” he said, trying out the name. It felt as foreign as Wickham, although it didn’t have the same bitter aftertaste as his current moniker did.

“Sound familiar?” Foxworthy asked expectantly but Georgie shook his head.

“No, not at all.” Indeed, there was no recognition, no flicker of memory. “And the woman?” he asked.

“Her name is Annabelle,” Foxworthy said. “Still nothing?”

Georgie shook his head. “No, nothing.”

Constable Foxworthy’s expression was one of disappointment, but he led Georgie further inside, confident that seeing the woman might trigger his memory. The narrow hallway was dimly lit, the smell of the pigsty outside seeping through the walls, mingling with the scent of musty paper and tallow.

As they approached a small room at the back, Georgie’s steps grew heavier. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, he saw a woman sitting inside. She was facing away from him, her posture tense and anxious.

Constable Foxworthy pushed the door open and announced, “Mrs Brandon, I’ve brought you your husband, or so I hope.”

The woman stood up and turned to face them. Georgie’s breath caught in his throat. She was blonde, just like the woman in his fragmented memory, though not as tall he thought. Not as slender. But then he noticed her rounded belly. She was pregnant.

The room spun, and Georgie felt as if the floor might give way beneath him. This woman, who might be his wife, was carrying a child. His child. His heart raced, and a wave of nausea washed over him as he struggled to make sense of the emotions and confusion swirling within him.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at Georgie, but he felt nothing but a deep, unsettling void. Georgie stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as the blonde woman’s eyes filled with tears. Constable Foxworthy spoke first, his tone gentle but firm.

“Mrs Brandon, your husband’s memory is entirely wiped out, but perhaps if you—”

The woman shook her head, her tears spilling over. “No,” she said. “This isn’t my husband.”

Constable Foxworthy was taken aback. “Please, look again. Maybe he looks different. He might have lost weight—”

“No,” she interrupted, despite the tears. “My husband is much shorter and rounder. His hair is lighter. I know what my husband looks like, Constable.” Her voice broke, and she sobbed, “I hoped so much he was the one, because… because I’ve been told my husband ran away with another woman. He left me, our four children, and I have another on the way. I’d rather believe he’d lost his memory than face the truth that he abandoned us. It seems now I must.”

Georgie felt a deep pang of guilt and sorrow. “I- I wish I could help, madam,” he stammered, his words feeling hollow.

The woman shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No, I knew it might not be him. I just… I hoped…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, turning and leaving the room in tears.

Georgie was shaken to his core as he faced Mr Foxworthy. “Thank you for trying.”

Constable Foxworthy nodded, his expression sympathetic. “We’ll keep looking. I’ll do what I can. We have notices in the Hertfordshire newspapers, I’ve been in touch with the constabularies of Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire, but thus far, no one has reported a missing person who matches your description.”

Georgie left the constabulary, the weight of the encounter pressing heavily on his shoulders. As he walked back to Longbourn, he saw Mrs Brandon board a carriage and drive away, her face buried in her hands. He was deeply sorry for the woman and her plight, but he couldn’t deny the surge of relief that coursed through him. He wasn’t married. At least not to this woman. Perhaps to no woman. Even if he was, he might never be found. With each passing day, it seemed that he was doomed to be a man without a past.

Although the longer he lived in this void, the more he had begun to consider it a blessing. Maybe he could start over. He could be the man he wanted to be, make himself into the man he wished to be—with the woman he adored at his side. He wasn’t sure how a courtship could work between them—given he did not know his status, he could be a prince or a pauper. However, Elizabeth’s father was a good man, one who seemed disinclined to care little of what society thought of him, so perhaps Mr Bennet would allow him to court his daughter.

Determination welled up within him as he neared Longbourn. He knew now what he had to do. He had to tell Elizabeth how he really felt. The uncertainty of his past and future no longer mattered. Living through these last few minutes with the thought of having what he had with Elizabeth snatched away had woken him up from his uncertainty. It didn’t matter who he had been. What mattered was the present, and in the present, he had fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet.