Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“ T he blackguard!” Colonel Fitzwilliam shouted, wishing very much that he had been with Darcy at Wickham’s capture, instead of cooling his heels in this insipid countryside with its vulgar inhabitants. “I would have seen him depart to the Continent missing all his teeth!” Whatever Darcy had said or done in retribution, it was not enough. And how was it that Georgiana had been so stupid? He had explained to her that the man only wanted her fortune! Why had she been foolish enough to be deceived by him, twice?

Too, there were the words Darcy did not say. Recovery , he called it. Was there a possibility the girl might now be with child— Wickham’s child? She had been alone with the scoundrel for what—three, four days? Knowing Wickham, there was no possibility he had failed to avail himself of her bed. Even if she had not offered it freely, he would still take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Fitzwilliam felt sick to his stomach.

How the devil was Darcy going to explain this to his bride? Surely, not the truth?

No, no, no, no. He would not freely hand over such delicate information to these people. Georgiana could be ruined forever, with no chance of any ‘recovery’; the earl of Matlock’s own niece would become one of Mrs Bennet’s ribald parlour tales!

It was a juicy titbit any paper in the country would pay dearly to hear.

The letter for Elizabeth was sealed, but Fitzwilliam did not hesitate, ripping it in his haste to open the missive.

My Dearest Elizabeth,

You cannot know how difficult it is for me to pen these words, which I pray arrive before November 28, the date we had hoped to join our lives together in holy matrimony. Unhappily, I shall be unable to reach you for a marriage ceremony so soon as that.

I told you once of my enemy, George Wickham—the schoolmate who treated young Bingley so dreadfully. I believe I also revealed that my sister, Georgiana, had experienced an inappropriate entanglement. I omitted the added insult; it was Wickham who attempted, last summer, to elope with her. I discovered the plot in time to prevent it last June. Unfortunately, he has tried it again, and was more successful upon his second attempt. When I returned to London to inform Georgiana of our impending nuptials, it was to discover that she had gone away with him. Due to my unexpected appearance in town, and thus learning of the situation so quickly, I was able to thwart his plot to marry her ‘over the anvil’—but not, I am afraid, in time to prevent his ill usage of my sister. He is gone, but I do not know if a child will result from her misadventure.

We are at Pemberley now, and I will close by adding that I intend to come to you at the earliest possible date, if you will still have me. Please say that you will forgive me the delay, and even, if possible, my poor, foolish, heartbroken sister.

I know you will have to share some part of this information with your parents, but I pray you will be as kind as you can be in its expression, and as discreet as can be possible in such a situation as this.

All my love,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

“He cannot be serious!” Fitzwilliam cried aloud. “To share such sensitive information with that household of ill-mannered females! Our entire family’s name might be damaged, even ruined, never mind Georgiana’s! To expose her like this, via letter, is unconscionable! He cannot have been in his right mind. He has not had a sensible thought, I daresay, since he met Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”

He cursed, he paced, enraged at Wickham, ashamed of Georgiana, affronted by Darcy, appalled with the Bennets, trying to decide what to do and feeling very alone in the decision. What reason could he possibly convey to the bride? Handing over Darcy’s letter to his betrothed was absolutely out of the question .

He tossed it into the fire.

“There is no part of this tale that I wish to explain,” he spat at the flames, as they licked the paper into black ash. “If I could toss Wickham into a fiery pit as well, I would do so. This subject ought never to be mentioned again!”

Is that not the answer, then?

What would be the consequences of saying nothing at all?

At first thought, he shied away from the idea. To leave a bride at the church without explanation was a breach of manners so severe, he almost could not believe he was considering it. It was positively shameful, and Darcy would be furious. Darcy in a rage was not a pleasant notion, never mind his own conscience.

But Darcy was not in his right mind. With all his heart, Fitzwilliam believed this marriage to be a mistake.

It would be some time before Darcy knew anything of it. Time was exactly what Darcy needed. Time to reconsider, away from whatever tentacles of desire bound him to the country wench.

He might write to her, it was true.

But by then, I shall be at Pemberley, and able to talk some sense into him. I can bear with his initial anger, as long as he sees reason eventually. After a few weeks away from her influence, he will surely thank me for having had the presence of mind he does not now possess.

Yes, it will cause some embarrassment to the lady—but as repayment for whatever arts and allurements she cast in order that she might ensnare Darcy in the first place, it is probably a just outcome. Darcy will undoubtedly furnish Bennet with a hefty sum in exchange for the trouble, which is more than any of them deserve.

By the time the colonel called for a servant to help him pack, and had Darcy’s phaeton brought round, he was feeling almost virtuous. At worst, it would certainly delay the stupid marriage proceedings. At best, it might render a return to this heaven-forsaken country entirely unnecessary—for the balance of both his and Darcy’s natural lives. Chances were very good that once Darcy’s reason was again in working order, with his infatuation out of sight, he would barely remember the girl’s name.

Colonel Fitzwilliam liked those odds.