Chapter 25

Georgiana's Sitting Room

Netherfield

That Evening

11 th November, 1811

"Do you wish to return to London?" Darcy asked his sister, regarding her with tender concern.

Georgiana, who had escaped to her bedchamber as soon as she arrived back at Netherfield and eaten dinner on a tray in her sitting room, moaned and leaned against the solid, welcome bulk of her brother.

"I do not know," she confessed. "I am still in such shock that Wickham is here. Do you think he … that he is … do you think he knows that I am here?"

Darcy, who had thought long and hard about this in the last hours, shook his head. "I find it unlikely, Georgiana. The truth is that Wickham has reasons to be afraid of me. I hold many of his debt receipts from London and Lambton, and I could throw him in debtors' prison."

Georgiana straightened and looked intently into her brother's grave countenance. "But you have chosen not to do so?"

Darcy returned the gaze and was confused by his sister's expression. Was that a look of reproach in her eyes?

"I have not, because he was our father's godson, and Father genuinely loved him. I feel guilty at the mere mention of throwing him into Marshalsea. We were friends, once, when we were boys running the halls and paths of Pemberley. Now he is a gambler and a debtor and a philanderer, but I still feel guilty at the thought of condemning him to prison. Moreover, your reputation would be tainted if he spoke of Ramsgate. "

Georgiana wrinkled her nose and protested, "But he is very ungodly now, is he not? Surely we have some responsibility to stop him from preying on merchants and young women!"

Darcy regarded her in amazement and then turned toward the door at the sound of a knock.

"Come in," both Darcys chorused, and the door opened to reveal Anne de Bourgh, who, at the sight of both her cousins, looked startled and said, "My apologies. I did not mean to disturb you."

Darcy was quite prepared to send her courteously on her way, but Georgiana sat up and said, "Come in, Anne, please."

Miss de Bourgh did so, looking uncertain, and when she had taken her seat on a chair next to the fire, Georgiana said, "Is something wrong?"

"I was going to ask that of you," Anne said, looking from female to male cousin, and then back again. "Something obviously happened while you were away today, and I am worried about you, Georgiana."

"It is nothing," Darcy began, only to be interrupted by a strangely ferocious Georgiana.

"No, Brother, there is something wrong. Anne deserves to know the truth about that man who has arrived at Meryton. She is a great heiress too, after all, and Wickham is very charming. She should be aware that he is dangerous."

"Wickham?" Anne asked, very much at sea.

"Georgiana," Darcy began anxiously and then lapsed into silence at his sister's determined expression.

"I wish to speak to Anne of the matter. She can be trusted, and we could, I think, use another view of the situation."

Darcy opened his mouth to protest and then closed it. "Very well."

Georgiana sat up straighter and turned to Anne.

"This is what happened," she began.

She spoke simply and clearly of her childhood at Pemberley, herself a very young girl running the halls in the wake of her brother and his friend George Wickham. She told of the kindness of the steward's son, how he would spend hours playing with her, and her lingering fondness for him when he departed to Cambridge, where he had been entirely supported by the elder Mr. Darcy. And she shared how his character degenerated in his absence.

Her recitation moved on to Ramsgate, and a faithless companion in league with a scoundrel. She told of a meeting by apparent chance with an old childhood friend, grown handsome and charming and suave. He had paid her most flattering attentions, and she had been convinced that she was in love. Wickham had proposed marriage but been apparently stymied by logistics. Mrs. Younge had suggested a marriage across the anvil in Gretna Green. Georgiana, saddened by the obstacles outlined by her lover, had eagerly agreed.

Mere days before they were to set out, Darcy had arrived. Georgiana, overjoyed, had told him everything, only to be shocked by first his rage and then the realization of her narrow escape. He had whisked her away to safety and kept her close, and Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Younge had vanished.

And yet, today, Mr. Wickham had reappeared, standing in a knot of officers and sporting a grand red coat, right in the heart of nearby Meryton.

Anne looked more and more appalled through the recitation of events, and at the end, she sat silently for a full minute, with both Darcys watching her anxiously.

"And I disliked Mrs. Jenkinson," she finally said with a wry smile. "She was annoying and spied on me on behalf of my mother, but at least she did not introduce disreputable men to my notice. I am so sorry, Georgiana. What a dreadful experience!"

"I was quite stupid," Georgiana said, her eyes downcast. Now that she had recited the sad story of her near elopement, she seemed to be feeling significant embarrassment.

"No, you were not," Anne said promptly. "If anyone was stupid, it was Darcy."

Darcy jolted at these blunt words, but he understood what his cousin meant. "You are quite correct, of course. I made an enormous mistake in hiring Mrs. Younge."

"You did," Anne declared severely and then smiled slightly. "But in the end, there was no great harm. By God's grace, your brother arrived in time to save you, Georgiana, and I have no doubt that you learned some substantial lessons along the way. I do think that something ought to be done about Wickham, though. He seems a dangerous fellow."

Darcy blinked in amazement, while Georgiana gave a cry of satisfaction.

"That is what I believe!" the younger lady said. "Fitzwilliam is worried that Wickham will speak of our near elopement if we take any steps against him."

"Oh," Anne said, her brow now furrowed. "I suppose that is a concern. Your reputation is vitally important."

"Exactly," Darcy agreed in relief.

"All the same," Anne continued, "We must act in some fashion. The man is, you say, charming and elegant and very well spoken. It dismays me to think that he might convince an innocent heiress to wed him. Moreover, some men take advantage of the lower classes. I do not know whether that is a concern?"

Darcy grimaced and said, "Most definitely. Pemberley is supporting three women who were flattered by Wickham into giving up their … well, they all bore his children, and…"

He trailed off at the look of wide-eyed horror on his sister's face.

"Wickham has ruined women?" she demanded.

"He has," Darcy said uncomfortably. This really was an inappropriate conversation with two maidens.

The two ladies shook their heads simultaneously, and Anne said, "Something must be done!"

"Georgiana, and her well-being, and her reputation, are my primary concerns," Darcy said sternly.

Anne smiled, a little sadly. "Georgiana is very blessed to have you, Darcy. My own mother had no hesitation in sacrificing me on the altar of matrimony to further her own ambitions. I do believe, however, that Wickham can be safely managed without harming Georgiana."

"Fitzwilliam holds hundreds of pounds of receipts for Wickham's debts," Georgiana piped up.

"Does he?" Anne replied with a rather feral grin. "How lovely. I am certain we can work with that."

Darcy regarded his former fiancée with awe. Anne had always been so quiet, a cipher under the thumb of her formidable mother. But now, away and safe from Lady Catherine, it seemed that Anne's true character was emerging. Darcy liked the changes, but they also unsettled him.

"Let me ponder the situation tonight, and perhaps we can discuss the matter in more depth tomorrow," Anne suggested.

"Very well," Darcy replied a trifle feebly, and Georgiana smiled.

/

Meryton

The Next Morning

12 th November, 1811

The Bennet carriage came to a halt, and the Bennet ladies felt the vehicle shake slightly as a servant jumped from the back and hurried over to open the door. Mrs. Bennet waited until Mary, Kitty, Lydia, and Mrs. Montgomery had stepped down and then said, "We will meet you at Aunt Phillips' house when we return from Netherfield, probably by noon."

"I will make certain that the young ladies do not linger in the shops too long, Mrs. Bennet," Mrs. Montgomery said with an affectionate glance at her charges.

"Thank you."

The servant shut the door and hopped back on, and the carriage lurched into motion again.

"Are you entirely sure this is necessary?" Jane asked, her usually smooth brow wrinkled in worry.

Mrs. Bennet sighed deeply and said, "I do not like it any more than you do, Jane, but I think it wise to inform Mr. Darcy of the situation. Your father can be very stubborn, and I would not wish for Mr. Darcy to be accosted without warning."

"Mr. Darcy is the nephew of an earl, so obviously well connected," Jane stated. "Surely Father would not dare to brazenly approach such a man!"

"When Father is inebriated, I fear we can have no such certainty," Elizabeth said unhappily.

This was so undeniably true that there seemed little point in speaking further. The rest of the journey was carried out in silence, except for the last minute before the carriage came to a halt in front of Netherfield Hall.

"I will ask Mr. Cates to inform Mr. Bingley that I wish to converse with him privately about a concern in the neighborhood," Mrs. Bennet said. "If you could keep the ladies well entertained while I speak with the gentlemen, that would be most helpful."

"Of course, Mamma," Elizabeth agreed.

/

Study

Netherfield

"I am disappointed, certainly," Bingley said, "but I understand entirely. You must protect your sister and your name."

Darcy, not for the first time, was thankful for his friend's generosity and ductility of temper.

"I am sorry I cannot tell you the specifics of what Mr. Wickham has done," Darcy continued uncomfortably, "but it pertains to the Darcy reputation and…"

"Think nothing of it," Bingley said with a wave of his hand. "I do not need to learn details and please know that you are always welcome at Netherfield."

"Once Wickham has been appropriately dealt with, I believe we will return," Darcy declared. "Anne is far happier and healthier here in the country, and Georgiana and I both prefer Netherfield to Town."

"Excellent. When will you leave?"

"This afternoon, I expect."

The door opened at this juncture, and Cates, Bingley's butler, appeared with a most surprising visitor at his heels.

"Mrs. Bennet, sir."

Bingley stared in surprise and then hopped to his feet, with Darcy standing in a more leisurely manner.

"Mrs. Bennet, do come in! This is a surprise."

"I daresay it is," the lady said composedly, and then turned her attention on Darcy. "I am glad to see you here with your friend. I must speak to you, sir."

Darcy felt a strange prickle of unease in his chest, which strengthened at the sight of Mrs. Bennet's solemn expression. She had doubtless been a truly handsome girl and was still good-looking, even if she was in her forties, but there was grave concern in her blue eyes.

"Shall we sit down?" Bingley suggested, "and shall I call for tea?"

"No, please do not," Mrs. Bennet said, taking a seat, with the gentlemen sitting down a moment later.

Silence fell for ten seconds before the lady lifted her gaze to look at Darcy. "Sir, I apologize for coming here so hurriedly, but I fear that Mr. Bennet heard yesterday of your request for two sets with Jane at the ball. He is most eager to have our girls wed and suggested that he might call on you and insist that you have paid Jane sufficient attention in public that you must, by honor, offer for her."

Darcy felt a peculiar sensation of outrage and guilt. Outrage because how could this country gentleman demand anything of a Darcy? Guilt because he had been stupid, no doubt about it, in singling out Miss Bennet in a public place.

"Of course, you have no obligation towards Jane, nor any interest," Mrs. Bennet said. "Indeed, I am aware that Jane and Mr. Bingley are engaged in an informal courtship."

"I would marry your eldest daughter tomorrow if she would have me," Bingley said fervently.

"Thank you, sir. I know that Jane is fond of you, but … well, I think it is obvious my marriage has not been an entirely happy one, and Jane and Elizabeth are each eager to be well acquainted before marrying a man."

Bingley made a distressed sound, and Darcy said, "Mr. Bennet had a terrible fall, I believe, which caused the limp and scar on his face?"

"Yes, fifteen years ago. He directed his horse to jump a fence and fell, breaking his leg in several places and scarring both his body and his mind. It ruined his looks and his health, and he has been in substantial pain ever since, mitigated only by alcohol and laudanum."

"I am sorry," Darcy said gravely.

The lady nodded and said, "We are all sorry, certainly. In any case, I wished to warn you that Mr. Bennet might, most unwisely, call upon you. I beg you to ignore him, and if possible, to keep anyone from knowing of the matter. Our reputations would be damaged if it were to escape into the general populace."

Darcy winced and said, "I understand. In truth, we will be leaving this very afternoon for Town, as some important family business calls us away from Hertfordshire."

Mrs. Bennet relaxed and smiled, displaying pearly white teeth. "While I am sure that your friend will miss you very much, it will make the situation with Mr. Bennet easier. I daresay he will forget about it in a week or two, but for now, well, I cannot be certain of anything."

"Might he call this morning?" Bingley asked worriedly.

"He drank much more than usual yesterday, so no," the lady replied drily, standing up. "He will not be awake until noon."

Bingley, who had stood up as well, asked, "Did you come here alone, Mrs. Bennet?"

"I did not. Elizabeth and Jane are visiting the ladies in the drawing room."

Bingley's eyes brightened, and his face flushed with obvious excitement. "Shall we join them, then?"

"Certainly," Mrs. Bennet agreed with an amused smile, accepting her host's arm and walking briskly out of the study.

Darcy, following the pair, found himself thinking hard. Once again, he was surprised by the Bennet matriarch and her daughters. In a world where ladies were expected to find an advantageous match by any means possible, Mrs. Bennet had successfully raised daughters who were eager to wed based on respect, admiration, and yes, love. Miss Mary's engagement was, perhaps, more practical than loving, but every woman was different, and at least the third Bennet daughter wished to serve the people of the Hunsford parish.

As for Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, the more he knew about them, the more he admired them.

Especially Miss Elizabeth.

Intelligent, kindly, beautiful, arch, clever…

Tantalizing.

It was likely a mere infatuation, and no doubt it would fade when he returned to London.

Or would it?