Chapter Twenty-Four

Darcy

G eorgie and Charles Bingley sat in the elegantly appointed drawing room, some hours later, the quiet hum of the city beyond the windows serving as a backdrop to their conversation. Bingley leaned forward in his chair, his brow was furrowed and he wore a look of deep concern.

“Do you remember nothing at all about Grosvenor Street, the house, the family?” Bingley asked, hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

Georgie shook his head. “No, I don’t. All I can recall is being found by a family in Hertfordshire several weeks ago. They took care of me when I had no recollection of who I was. I stayed with them, hoping someone would come looking for me, but no one did.”

Bingley frowned. “And how did you come to believe your name is Wickham again?”

Georgie took a deep breath. He’d told the physician about this and had given a shorter report to Bingley earlier, but he understood the young man needed to hear it again to wrap his mind around it. “The coat I was wearing had the name George Wickham stitched into it. It was the only clue I had. But what about Darcy? Can you tell me about him? Me?”

Bingley nodded slowly, “No one has heard from you for a month and a half. You were heading north on business, then supposed to go to Netherfield Park, which is the estate that I had rented in Hertfordshire, to conclude some business on my behalf, but you never arrived. I wrote letters to Rosings and Pemberley but I was informed that you were not at either place. You had been in a rather odd state of mind before you left, so I just assumed that for whatever reason, you wished to be alone. Either that, or the business you had to attend to, was personal.”

“I recall Netherfield Park, it was near the family’s home where I stayed,” he said, not sure why he had not named the family yet. He had a feeling that once he revealed the family’s connection to Jane Bennet, the conversation would lead elsewhere, and he needed to try and gather as much knowledge about himself as he could.

“A grand place. I was a fool to leave it,” Bingley said with a certain sorrow in his voice.

Eager to change the subject back to himself, Georgie cleared his throat. “What’s Pemberley? Your sister referred to me as Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley or some such thing,” Georgie asked, confusion evident.

Bingley’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Pemberley is your home, Darcy. It’s the estate you inherited from your father. It is located near Lambton in Derbyshire. I am from Sheffield myself, which is very near there.”

“I understand the geography of the realm, Bingley,” Georgie said and waved a hand, but then paused. He’d noted the changed tone in his voice when he spoke, and the way Bingley looked at him, told him that he had noticed it too.

“You sounded like yourself just now,” he said. “That slightly condescending tone you fall into sometimes.”

Condescending. That was not good.

“I did not mean to offend,” he said.

“You did not. I never take it the wrong way, you do not mean to sound that way. It is just your way. You get a little testy when you feel your intelligence is in question,” Bingley said with a smile.

Georgie raised an eyebrow. It was true. He hadn’t liked being given tasks that made him feel stupid. Perhaps that part of him had always been there.

“Anyhow, you live there. At Pemberley. You have a house here in Town also, in Mayfair. It is called Darcy House,” Bingley continued.

A house in Derbyshire and one in London. Just how rich was he? Georgie struggled to grasp the concept. “I don’t remember anything about it. Houses, lands. It means nothing. But pray… is there a blonde woman with whom I am connected in some way?”

Bingley smiled, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “You must mean Georgiana, your sister.”

“Sister,” Georgie repeated, feeling a wave of relief. “I was worried she might be my wife.”

Bingley laughed softly. “No, no wife. You are not yet married, nor courting anyone. You have been far too busy with Pemberley’s affairs since your parents died.”

His parents were dead. This information was like a punch in the stomach to him and he lurched forwards.

“Darcy,” Bingley said and stood to place a hand on his back. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. It is just that I didn’t know my parents had died. I didn’t know if I had parents but I’d hoped. It was silly, really,” he said and shook his head before gulping down some of his whisky. “Can you tell me about them? The Darcys.” He asked and looked up before correcting himself. “About my parents.”

“Of course. You’re the son of Lady Anne and Mr George Darcy. Your sister was named after your father. Your mother was a lady, born to an earl. Her sister is Lady Catherine, whom you have heard of. Your uncle, the Earl of Matlock, is her brother. Your father had sisters, but no brothers. I can tell you about them as well, if you like” Bingley sat for a while and told him stories about his parents, whom he had got to know quite well over the years. They were lovely stories that spoke of a genuinely kind mother, and an intelligent yet compassionate father. How had such lovely people produced a son like him who’d think nothing of ruining his best friend’s happiness? And why was Bingley so kind to him now?

“You are to be married to your cousin, Miss Anne—at least according to your aunt,” Bingley said with a chuckle. Highly alarmed, Darcy spun around.

“Excuse me?”

“Do not fret,” he said and laughed. “It is not anything that will come to pass. Your cousin, Miss Anne, is in love with your other cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, your uncle’s second son. He is moon-eyed over her as well.”

“How do you know this?” he asked.

“You told me last time you were here. You were going to help arrange a clandestine meeting for them at Pemberley in the winter, so they could get away from the prying eyes of their parents and plot their future,” he said. “You are quite the Eros.”

Eros? The god of love? Hardly. Had Bingley forgotten what he’d done to him?

Georgie’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Lady Catherine. “You spoke of Lady Catherine, she is the one who confirmed I was Wickham. Do you know why she would have done so?”

Bingley looked even more perplexed. “That makes no sense. Lady Catherine should know you well. And she knows him. I do not know how she could lay eyes on you and say you are Wickham. It is ludicrous.”

“She did not. She was told of my presence at the family home by a man connected to the family. Her vicar. A Mr Collins. He wrote to her and she wrote back, telling him that I had to be exposed as the horrid man I am so that I would not ruin Elizabeth and the Bennet family’s lives and—”

“Elizabeth? Elizabeth Bennet?” Bingley exclaimed and stood ramrod straight. “The family you stayed with in Hertfordshire—they were called Bennet?”

Georgie gulped and nodded. “Yes. And I… I should have told you immediately but I wanted to find out who I was first. Forgive me. It was indeed the Bennet family I resided with. Miss Elizabeth and I grew very close. So close in fact I wished to marry her and—”

“Marry Jane’s sister? You? I… I do not know what to say. Does this mean you met Jane? How is she? Is she well?”

Georgie hesitated, recalling everything he had been told about Jane and his own supposed actions. “I met Jane Bennet. She is a lovely woman, very kind and gentle. You should know that I was told of your connection to her—of course I did not know who you were. I still hardly know who you are.”

“What were you told,” he asked and sat in his chair, his elbows propped on his knees. “What did she say? Does she hate me? Is she engaged? Or married?” he asked, his tone betraying his true feelings. He was worried he might have lost her.

“She is not engaged to anyone. In fact, she pines over you.”

Bingley’s face lit up with hope and a smile spread across his features. “She pines over me?”

“Yes,” Georgie said, growing serious. “She cares for you deeply. But, Bingley, there’s something I need to understand. What have I done to her? And to you? Elizabeth told me that I split you and Jane up in a vicious manner. That I bestowed cruelty on you both. Why would I ever have spoken so badly about her?” He looked at Bingley, his face a mask of confusion and regret. “Did I really play a part in separating you and Jane? Elizabeth hates me for it. Or I should say, she hates Darcy. She blames Darcy for everything.”

Bingley frowned, his confusion deepening. “Elizabeth Bennet? But she never met you, at least not when you were yourself, Darcy.”

Georgie sighed. “I know, but Elizabeth feels that it was Mr Darcy’s influence that tore you and Jane apart. She learned about it from this cousin you mentioned—the colonel. He was at Rosings Park and spoke of the actions Darcy undertook to part you and Miss Jane Bennet.”

“You’re talking about yourself in the third person, Darcy. You are Darcy, but you speak of him as though he were a stranger.”

Georgie looked down. He’d made an effort to think of himself as Darcy and speak as such, but he’d slipped back into being Georgie the moment he found himself getting upset. It felt safer being Georgie, the man Elizabeth loved rather than the one she despised. “I feel like a stranger. I always knew the name Wickham didn’t sit right with me, but I don’t feel like Darcy either. From what I’ve been told, Darcy is a terrible man.”

Bingley moved to sit beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You are not a terrible man, Darcy. I have known you for years, and I can vouch for your character. You are a man of great integrity and loyalty. Last year you helped the tenants on your estate during the harsh winter, ensuring they had enough firewood and food. You also funded the schooling of several underprivileged children in the area. You have always been generous and charitable.”

As Georgie listened to the words his friend had to say, his heart felt heavy with doubt. “But what about Elizabeth and Jane? I caused them so much pain. And you. You did not answer my question yet.”

Bingley shook his head. “Yes, it’s true you influenced me, but in the end, the responsibility is mine. I should have been stronger and trusted my own feelings for Jane. I allowed myself to be swayed by you, my sisters, and my brother-in-law. That was my weakness, not your wrongdoing.”

He felt a flicker of hope at Bingley’s words. “You really think I’m not a bad person?”

Bingley smiled. “I know you’re not. You did what you did because you cared about me. You were wrong, everyone who judged Jane was wrong, but it was my responsibility in the end. You’ve lost your way, but that doesn’t change the man you are at your core. We’ll figure this out together. We’ll make things right with Jane and Elizabeth. And perhaps, in doing so, you’ll start to remember who you truly are.”

Georgie let out a sigh of relief, a sense of resolve beginning to form. “Thank you, Bingley. I don’t know what I’d do without your friendship.”

“You’re not alone, Darcy,” Bingley said as he squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, one step at a time. But pray, do tell me, are you certain Jane misses me? Do you think she’d want me back if I presented myself to her?”

Georgie nodded slowly. “Yes, Jane clearly loved you. And I take it you still love her?”

Bingley sighed. “I did love her then and I love her more now that I have been without her. Perhaps I should go to Longbourn and speak to her?”

Georgie shook his head. “She’s not in Longbourn; she’s in London. She is visiting her aunt and uncle. I am to take the horse I borrowed from Mr Bennet to them.”

Bingley’s eyes lit up with excitement. “The Gardiners! I must go at once! Will you come with me? Perhaps if you’re with me, Jane will agree to speak to me—since she likes you now.”

Georgie hesitated. “I can’t. The Bennets think the worst of me. They thought I was Wickham, a horrible man who lied and deceived them.”

“But you’re not Wickham, you’re Darcy—a good man,” Bingley protested, appearing puzzled.

Georgie looked away. “Not in Elizabeth’s eyes. She hates me. I can never face her again.”

“You must show her she is wrong to think badly of you. I will speak to her myself. I will vouch for you. Darcy, you are my dearest friend. You say you love her, do you mean it?”

Georgie nodded. “I do. I asked her to marry me.”

“And then you left because of what Lady Catherine said?”

“When a letter came from Rosings with news that Mr Wickham was a horrible man, that he mistreated Darcy’s, I mean my sister. She could not marry me under those circumstances, and so I set out to prove that I wasn’t Wickham, or at least that I wasn’t as bad as people said. But now, I might have proved I’m not Wickham—but instead I’m the man Elizabeth abhors and blames for her sister’s unhappiness.”

Bingley shook his head, his expression one of determination. “We need to untangle this. If Jane is in London, I must see her. And if you care for Elizabeth, you must try to make amends. We can’t let misunderstandings and mistaken identities ruin everything.”

Georgie looked at Bingley, hope flickering in his eyes. “You really think we can fix this?”

Bingley smiled encouragingly. “I believe we can. Let’s go to Gracechurch Street in the morning. If I can win back Jane, I know she will help you win Elizabeth.”

“Very well,” Georgie said. “But let us not go right away. Let me have a few days to come to terms with who I am. Perhaps by hearing stories, and being with you and your sisters I might recall who I am.”

Bingley wetted his lips and shifted, his haste clear in the way his foot bounced up and down. “I suppose a couple more days won’t make any difference. Let us wait until after the weekend and on Monday, we shall go. I will make enquiries with my contacts in Cheapside to ensure Jane is still there, and then we will go.”

With that decided, the two friends settled in—and Georgie allowed Bingley to take him on a journey into their shared past.