Chapter Three

Summer 1811

Ramsgate

Darcy

Darcy told Georgiana about his decision to grant her request before they departed for Ramsgate. She was thrilled and promised him she would perform her duties admirably and bring honor to the Darcy name. He believed her; when a Darcy set out to accomplish something, they were always successful!

They left for Ramsgate in the first week of May. The weather had warmed considerably, and the roads were dry and mostly free of ruts. While they journeyed, Georgiana perused her list of things to do, occasionally asking her brother if they might purchase certain items upon their arrival. After the third request, Darcy laughed good-naturedly and begged his sister to wait until they had assessed their lodgings before making a list of necessary purchases.

Mrs. Younge spent many hours discussing with her charge what the young lady's responsibilities would be upon their arrival. Georgiana listened intently, and Darcy was pleased to see his sister taking this task so seriously. It was no easy feat to manage a household, especially at the tender age of fifteen.

Thus, it was with considerable pleasure that Georgiana set up and began to manage the house Darcy had let in Ramsgate. Mrs. Younge assisted her, and it thrilled him to see his little sister coming into her own. He spent a pleasant month strolling about with her on his arm and listening to her chatter about how excited she was to manage everything. He thought the experience would help raise her confidence, for his dear sister constantly worried about not being good enough.

Darcy departed at the end of May and traveled to Surrey to visit his friend, Charles Bingley. Bingley was an amiable sort of man, always ready and willing to see the best in everyone he met. His older sister, Louisa, to whom Darcy had yet to be introduced, had lately married Mr. Reginald Hurst, a gentleman from that shire. Mr. Hurst had graciously extended Darcy an invitation to join Bingley when visiting Hurst's father's estate.

The Bingley family's background in trade made Louisa Hurst's elevation into the gentry an accomplishment. Bingley's younger sister, Caroline, was twenty years of age. Darcy had not made her acquaintance in Town during the Season, as the Bingleys moved in very different social circles. However, his friend informed him she and her elder sister had attended a ladies' seminary in London. Darcy's friendship with Charles would benefit the family and open more doors for them in the coming years, just as Mrs. Hurst's marriage to Mr. Hurst had done.

The journey from Ramsgate to Surrey was pleasant and held no unexpected delays. The weather was fair, and the roads were tolerable. Darcy spent much of his time reading or perusing letters of business. Travel-weary, he was very relieved when the coach drew up to the front of the Hurst estate. Bingley greeted him with genuine enthusiasm upon his arrival.

"How do you do, my friend?" he asked, bowing and then pumping Darcy's hand energetically.

"It was a pleasant trip," Darcy said cheerfully. "How have you been, Bingley? It has been an age since we last met." He glanced around in puzzlement. Where were his hosts? Propriety dictated that they be present to greet their guests, particularly those placed higher in society, such as he.

"Life is as it always has been," Bingley said, leading Darcy to a cloakroom to remove his outerwear. The room was empty of a maid or footman, lending further insult to his arrival. Darcy suspected that his lack of greeting was not merely an oversight. "Caroline wishes to marry me off to a society miss, but I resist her at every turn. I thought she would be pleased to hear of your visit; I know she has wanted to meet you. She felt perturbed, though, and begged me to rescind the invitation."

Darcy grimaced. "The rumors still abound, then," he said bitterly. That explains the lack of civility.

"Whatever do you mean?" Bingley asked.

Darcy glanced around. "Is there a secluded place we might speak?" Bingley nodded and led him to a private sitting room, listening as Darcy told his friend about the previous autumn and the tales circulating the drawing rooms of London. Almost a year had passed, yet the rumors persisted. That Miss Bingley had heard of them implied they had spread beyond the parlors of the first circles and to the lower ranks. Their persistent nature dashed any hope of his returning to Town for the Little Season in search of a bride.

"That explains much," Bingley mused. "My sister spoke of you enthusiastically until six months ago. Suddenly, she would change the subject every time I spoke your name. You see, Caroline wishes not only to join the first circles. She wants to be actively involved in society at that level. She will not be content to marry a pariah who peers and members of the ton do not welcome . No offense meant, my friend."

"None taken," Darcy sighed. "No disparagement on Miss Bingley, but my desperation has not reached the point where I would search beyond the landed gentry for a wife. Of course, I have yet to meet your sister, and she is surely as fine a lady as any. I do hope you understand…"

"Oh, unlike my sisters, I do not choose to ignore my roots," Bingley said cheerfully. "My father provided for us by the sweat of his brow, and I refuse to think poorly of him for it. I am also cognizant of the duties of a man of your standing to marry well, and I believe Louisa's fortuitous match has given Caroline delusions of grandeur. She will reach higher than she ought, I think."

"I am glad we understand each other," Darcy said gratefully. "Until recently, I have never had to be the hunter for seeking a bride. Considering this a boon, I can take a reprieve and hopefully find myself a bride of my choosing. If any will have me."

"You may have to rusticate in the country to do so," Bingley mused, echoing what Richard had said months ago. "I am in search of an estate to let. Mayhap when I find one, you can come and stay for a while. You might have better luck finding a wife amongst the less wealthy gentry. Many of them will not care whether you are ‘cursed'."

"They will probably be among the most mercenary of ladies," Darcy pointed out. "Ladies of the minor gentry are always seeking a way to improve their social standing."

"That is hardly a change from the matrons and their daughters from the first circles who have chased you for years," Bingley countered.

Bingley has a point. "Quite right," Darcy replied. "Mayhap, it would behoove me to give these hypothetical ladies a chance to prove themselves before condemning them all."

"Indeed!" Bingley laughed. "Come, I shall show you to your room. Hurst is out shooting, and my sisters are hiding somewhere. Caroline was quite cross when I asked her to be present when you arrived. Naturally, I did not force the issue."

~

Darcy's accommodations were comfortable, though not of the finest quality; he rested for some time before dressing for dinner and making his way to the drawing room. Bingley was already there, along with several people he did not recognize. He knew Hurst, having met him in passing a few times in Town, but the ladies were unknown to him. There was also an older man and woman that Darcy assumed were Hurst's parents. Where they had been when he arrived, he did not know. The insult still stung, but he was determined to forgive the matter.

"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Seymore Hurst, Mr. Reginald Hurst, and his wife, Louisa, who is my sister, and my younger sister, Miss Caroline Bingley?" Bingley asked, presenting each person to him.

Darcy examined the group of people before him. Mr. and Mrs. Seymore Hurst were an oddly matched couple. The lady was tall and thin—almost skeletal, in fact. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and she granted him a shallow nod of greeting. The gentleman matched his wife in height but was stocky and broad-shouldered. Both regarded him impassively, turning away after being introduced.

Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Hurst were also a mismatched pair. Mr. Hurst favored his father but was rather portly about his middle. His face was florid, and Darcy had the impression he had already imbibed too much. Mrs. Hurst was short, with reddish brown hair and a round face. Darcy could see her brother in her features. Caroline Bingley was of middling height, slender, and handsome. Her hair was darker than her sister's but still had traces of red in it. Had she smiled at Darcy, he imagined she would look lovelier.

The entire meeting was very awkward. Miss Bingley sniffed haughtily, and Mr. and Mrs. Seymore Hurst were barely polite. The younger Mr. and Mrs. Hurst were cordial, but nothing more. It was a cold greeting, considering he was the highest-ranked person in the room, leaving Darcy to wonder why they had deigned to invite him to their estate in the first place. The conversation dwindled before the call to dinner, and the party moved to the dining room.

Darcy felt relieved to see that the elder Mrs. Hurst had not disregarded all the good manners she possessed, for she seated him next to her on the right. He took his place and spread his serviette across his lap as the servants brought out the first course. Unfortunately, his hostess wasted no time bringing up what he would rather forget.

"I understand some unfortunate rumors have driven you from London," Mrs. Seymore Hurst said to him over the course of the meal. Her manner was calm, but Darcy noted the sneer she struggled to suppress as she spoke.

Why can I not escape those confounded tales? "Indeed," Darcy said crisply. "I assure you, they are unfounded, but the ton will have their gossip." He struggled to maintain a casual and unaffected air, but that matron would not drop the matter.

"It is a shame," she sighed. "Society vaunts the Darcy name for its respectability and honor." She dipped her spoon into her soup and took a dainty sip, regarding him with narrow eyes that belied her innocent tone.

How dare she! Darcy fumed internally, struggling to keep his ire buried. It would not do to offend his hostess. "And it will always be so," he said, allowing a hint of warning to creep into his tone. "I have done nothing wrong and am the victim of these vicious rumors."

She took another sip of her soup and patted her lips with her serviette. "I am sure you believe so," Mrs. Hurst said with false politeness.

Something inside him snapped. The implications, the insult, the treatment… it was all too much! "Madam, if you wish me to leave, simply say so and have done with it," Darcy said, for once not caring if he was impolite.

She sniffed daintily and spooned more soup out of her bowl. Her response was insincere. "I said nothing of the sort, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy clenched his spoon tightly, wishing he was strong enough to bend the silver in half. "I shall be gone in the morning, then," Darcy said bitterly.

"As you wish," came Mrs. Hurst's reply. She nodded sharply at him and turned away, leaving him to his own company for the rest of the meal. He partook in silence, fuming at the callous treatment. Whoever had spread those rumors and ruined his name would rue the day he crossed Fitzwilliam Darcy. He would never welcome those who believed the tales in his homes again.

In time, the ladies stood and departed for the drawing room, and Mr. Seymore Hurst brought out a bottle of port for the gentlemen. Darcy swirled his beverage in his glass, glowering at the center of the table as the others conversed.

"I say, Darcy, you are rather a black study over there," Bingley said at length.

"Forgive me, my friend, for my mood," he muttered. "I am not the best company this evening."

"Never say so!" Bingley cried. "I have known you for long enough to realize that something has caused your fierce scowl. Come, now, out with it. What has you in a dither?"

"I believe it would be in everyone's best interest if I were to depart on the morrow," he said.

Bingley's cry of protest was immediate, and Darcy was somewhat gratified when Mr. Reginald Hurst joined his brother-in-law. "You cannot mean that!" Bingley said. "You have only just arrived!"

"I have looked forward to your visit, Darcy," the younger Mr. Hurst said. "Bingley says your hunter is one of the best in England, and I have been eager to take your mount's measure. My own is very well-bred, and I have never seen the horse that can best him."

Darcy shook his head. "Mrs. Hurst does not desire my presence, and I have no wish to feel unwelcome for the duration of my visit."

"Ignore my wife," Mr. Seymore Hurst said, joining the conversation.

Darcy could not hide his surprise and raised his eyebrows at his host. The man had the decency to look embarrassed.

"I know I received you a bit coolly," Mr. Seymore Hurst said politely. "I do apologize. My wife is overly conscious of appearances, and our son married down. She worries that her place in town is teetering on the brink of disaster." He shrugged and took a drink from his glass.

Darcy shook his head. "I assure you, the rumors are entirely baseless," he insisted. "I have done nothing to warrant such treatment and hoped that by leaving London, the talk would diminish. It appears it is still being fed, however, and is spreading. It is doubtful that I shall return to Town until I am safely married."

"A state that will dispel the rumors of you being cursed," his friend piped up.

Darcy turned to his friend. "What can you mean, Bingley?"

Bingley grinned. "The claims are that you are unmarriageable because you are cursed; that any lady to whom you pay any attention ends up in less-than-ideal circumstances. When you marry, and the lady does not go the way of all the others, you will be exonerated."

His logic made a modicum of sense. "One can hope, Bingley," Darcy said tiredly. "And as you said earlier, perhaps a country miss would be the best way to go. No one in the first circles will risk attempting to snare me now. No one worth marrying that is."

"Are you certain Caroline would not take him, Charles?" Reginald Hurst asked loudly. "It has been scarcely two months since I wed Louisa, and I already wish for your other sister to be married and gone. No offense meant, of course." His father raised his glass in agreement.

"None taken, I assure you. Caroline can certainly be a trial," Bingley confirmed. "Unfortunately, she will not have Darcy, for she believes that to marry a man tainted with scandal will ensure she does not have the society she craves."

"Pity, that," Hurst muttered, drinking deeply from his glass. Darcy watched in amazement. That was Hurst's third tumbler full!

"My solicitor has been searching for an estate that I might let for a year or so," Bingley said to Darcy, changing the subject. "I wish to know if I have the mettle to be a landowner. Having not been raised as a gentleman, I have no idea whether I possess the temperament to manage an estate."

"Estate management is not for the lazy or faint of heart," Mr. Hurst Senior said. "It speaks well of you that you do not attempt it simply because others expect it."

"I shall look forward to an invitation," Hurst said, belching loudly.

"I meant for Darcy to visit," Bingley quipped merrily.

"And so, he will," Hurst replied. "You will need a hostess, too. Louisa could do it, but I wager Caroline will insist on having the honor. It would not be proper for two bachelors to be alone in a house with a single woman. Thus, Louisa and I need to be there."

"Fair point," Bingley conceded. "I hope to have word soon."

Darcy and the other gentlemen rejoined the ladies soon thereafter. Darcy kept to his internal vow to consider the lack of feminine attention as a boon, at least for now. He had a pleasant conversation with the other gentlemen and retired in a cheerful mood.

~

Despite Mrs. Seymore Hurst's disappointment that Darcy decided not to depart the next morning, his stay in Surrey improved after that disappointing first day. The days were filled with much sport and entertainment. Given time, the elder Mrs. Hurst marginally thawed to him, though she still made her disapprobation apparent. Mrs. Reginald Hurst displayed much warmer behavior; her husband had assured her that being friendly would not alienate her in society, and she readily believed him. Miss Bingley remained cold and distant, often quitting a room soon after Darcy entered it.

The notion that she considered herself to be such a fine catch, and thus needed to escape his evil clutches, was rather humorous. Her dowry was impressive, but not impressive enough to dispel the stench of trade that hung about her. Pedigree was everything to a Darcy, yet, at present, he acknowledged his incapacity to realize the lofty expectations his parents might have held for him. That did not mean he needed to look among tradesmen's daughters just yet, and so Miss Bingley's pretentious behavior was even more humorous to behold.

Besides, Miss Bingley was too cold and caustic for Darcy, even if he had been interested. He knew her type far too well; they simpered and preened, agreeing with everything a gentleman said, no matter how ridiculous, while disparaging and putting down those they saw as beneath them. They had no original thought in their head, and their fawning manner quickly became tiresome.

No, Darcy wished for a lady of substance, the exact opposite of Miss Bingley and her ilk. He chuckled to himself. The lady could keep her cold manners and distant civility. He was better off without her.

Further evidence of Darcy's fall from grace came when Mrs. Seymore Hurst hosted a soiree for the local gentry. It was a grand affair, with dinner, cards, and parlor games planned to fill the evening. Designed to present her new daughter-in-law to the community, the event followed her son's recent marriage. After a wedding trip to the coast, the younger Hursts had recently returned to Surrey.

The evening began well for Darcy. He kept to Bingley's side, where he was sure to have a conversation partner, and spoke with several gentlemen who approached his friend without incident. But as dinner approached, a subtle change came about the room, and as Darcy moved around with Bingley, gentlemen would excuse themselves or move away. Ladies did the same thing, and soon, no one would speak to either gentleman.

"They have likely learned that I am from trade," Bingley chuckled. "How beneath them it must be to speak to a lowly man."

"I doubt very much that it is you to whom they have an objection," Darcy muttered.

"You believe them to be avoiding you?" Bingley asked incredulously.

"Have you not heard a word I said since arriving? I am a pariah!"

"But this is Surrey," his friend protested. "The rumors cannot have come so far!"

"Yet the Hursts knew of them, and I do not believe they have been to Town since April." Darcy sighed. "Let us try an experiment, then, shall we? I will remain here behind this large potted plant and observe while you attempt to mingle. If they receive you, then it will be clear who the others wish to avoid."

Bingley agreed and moved off toward a group of gentlemen with whom he had spoken earlier. Darcy could clearly hear the conversation and listened eagerly and without guilt.

"Bingley! I see you have finally shaken that reprobate, Darcy!" Mr. Archer Morris said.

Bingley cleared his throat, but before he could answer, another spoke.

"Do not let him attach himself to you, boy!" Mr. Mattias Jones boomed. "You are making your way in society and cannot afford the likes of him dragging you down."

"I have heard the most horrid tales," Mr. Morris cut in again. "He is ruining ladies and then paying the families for their silence. Those who have come to harm by him are too frightened to speak of it. None will condemn him and even claim Darcy is not at fault!"

"His reach is long and his hold secure," Mr. Jones replied, nodding. "You are better off mingling with others, lad. You seem to be a splendid chap with much potential. Do not destroy your future."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Bingley finally said.

Darcy would have laughed at his friend's expression if he found any humor in it. Bingley looked rather dazed and confused, and Darcy imagined that his friend now understood the existence and the condemning nature of the rumors.

Bingley came back to his side ten minutes later. "I did not believe you," he confessed. "I thought you were overstating things, even given the Hursts' reactions to your presence."

"And now you know just how far your friend has fallen," Darcy said grimly. "My presence is not wanted. If you would be so kind as to explain my absence, if I am missed, I would be grateful."

"If?"

"Yes, Bingley, if. I can request a tray in my room, and I am certain the evening will be more comfortable for the other guests if I am not present." Darcy felt despondent at the prospect of an evening alone, but knew his choice was best for all involved. He gripped Bingley's shoulder, nodded, and then went to his room.

Twenty minutes later, Darcy was in his dressing gown, sitting in a comfortable chair. Jasper had gone for a tray and would return momentarily. He stared into the empty fireplace, bitterness filling his heart at the callous and unjust treatment he had been subjected to.

A knock came to his door, and in Jasper's absence, he reluctantly rose to answer it. Bingley stood there on the other side, a bottle of brandy in his hand and a grin on his face.

"Mind if I join you?" he said cheerfully. Darcy stepped aside automatically, still in shock at his friend's appearance.

"What are you doing here?"

"I should think that quite obvious," Bingley laughed. "I never thought you were a dullard, Darcy, but you are remarkably unperceptive this evening."

Darcy spluttered, even as gratitude and hope filled his chest. "The party… the guests! Your sister is the guest of honor!"

"They shall get along fine without me," Bingley assured him. "I told Mrs. Hurst I was feeling under the weather. The good lady was kind enough to order a tray sent to my room. I redirected the servant here, of course. You and I do not need the peacocks downstairs. We can have an enjoyable evening here. With a couple of supper trays and a bottle of fine French brandy, I think we can manage to pass a pleasurable evening."

"Thank you," Darcy said fervently. Though the words felt insufficient to express his genuine sentiment, he expressed them, nonetheless. "You are a true friend, Bingley, and I am fortunate to have you."

Bingley smiled and gestured toward the chair Darcy had vacated. There was another beside it, with a table between the two. "Shall we?"

Jasper and another servant returned with the dinner trays ten minutes later. By then, Darcy and Bingley had already consumed a glass of brandy each, and Darcy's mood had improved.

They passed the night in cordial discourse, exchanging stories and anecdotes over their meal and their drinks. In the early hours of the next morning, Bingley stumbled off to his bed, and Darcy found his own, eager for sleep.

His absence of the prior evening did not go unnoticed by Mr. Reginald Hurst, and he remarked upon it at luncheon the next day.

"Were you ill last evening, Darcy?" he asked, sawing away at the food on his plate. Hurst was a prolific eater and enjoyed his drink, too, or so Darcy had surmised over the last few weeks.

"I found myself unequal to company and so retired," Darcy replied neutrally. He noted the knowing looks Miss Bingley exchanged with her sister and sighed internally. He was not fooling anyone.

"Your company was missed," Mr. Hurst's father said. "I was forced to speak for half an hour with Mr. Morris. Dreadfully tedious man. I was bored to tears."

"Mr. Morris is a respectable gentleman," the man's wife said sharply.

"Respectable does not equate to a gifted conversationalist," Mr. Seymore Hurst grumbled. "I would rather read Greek."

"It was a great pleasure to make Mr. Morris's acquaintance," Miss Bingley said smoothly. "Such a handsome, honorable man is well worth the knowing."

"Oh, yes," the lady's sister said, nodding in agreement. "His wife is a dear, too. Their daughter is to come out next season, you know."

"His son is quite the catch," Mrs. Seymore Hurst said shrewdly. "I understand the young Mr. Morris is in search of a wife. As an upstanding and honorable gentleman, I am certain that he will have his choice among the ladies next season."

Caroline preened a little, and Darcy mentally rolled his eyes. The ladies lacked subtlety, but the pain he felt at his dismissal the previous evening had numbed him to their insults.

"I am of a mind for some sport today," Hurst said, cutting off the conversation. "What say you, Darcy? Bingley? You are welcome, too, Father, if you wish."

"The estate has me occupied until supper, I am afraid," Mr. Hurst Senior replied.

Bingley and Darcy were quick to agree to the scheme. Darcy did not wish to spend more time than necessary around the females of the party, since their desire to insult him was so evident.

The time was determined when the gentlemen would ride out, and Darcy resolved to see to his correspondence while he waited. He was pleased to find a letter from Georgiana waiting. He received regular missives from his sister, savoring each one. She eagerly shared her adventures in Ramsgate, and Darcy realized he missed her.

My Dear Brother,

My, how the weeks have flown by! I find myself much occupied with my duties around the house. Planning meals, overseeing the housekeeper, and arranging tea have been such an education. I make time for leisure, though, and have spent many hours walking the beach or browsing the shops. With your leave, I will try sea bathing next!

There is a charming little shop on the pier where one can go for pastries and tea. Mrs. Younge and I frequent the establishment often, and it has become a favorite place to secure sweets. It is a shame you and I did not discover it before you left; we shall have to visit the shop when you return so that you might try the lemon tarts. They are divine and rival our cook's confections. Do not tell Cook I said so, though!

I must go now, for we are off to the haberdashery this afternoon. I understand the proprietor was to receive a new shipment, and I wish to be the first to peruse her wares!

Your sister,

Georgiana Darcy

Darcy closed the letter and set it aside, ringing for his valet. Jasper appeared and helped his master into his riding clothes, and Darcy hastened down to meet the other gentlemen. Oh, how he missed his sister!

July crept by at a snail's pace. Darcy parried unsubtle barbs from the ladies and tried to enjoy the time he spent with the gentlemen. One morning, he decided he could not wait another day to see Georgiana. She expected him to join her when his visit with his friends concluded, and that date was not so far distant, but once he made the decision, he resolved to act immediately. His early arrival would certainly surprise her. Darcy instructed his valet to pack and went downstairs to tell Bingley of his news. His friend was sad to lose him so soon, but promised to inform him the moment he found an estate.

"You will view it with me, will you not?" Bingley asked.

"If you wish," Darcy confirmed. Bingley smiled broadly and promised to write as soon as he had word.

Darcy farewelled the rest of the party and noted with little surprise that two of the ladies seemed particularly relieved at his departure. He was in his carriage and on his way to Ramsgate before noon.

During a pause in the journey, while changing horses, Darcy noticed a jeweler's shop. He took a moment to browse and eventually purchased a lovely sapphire pendant for Georgiana. Her birthday was coming soon, and it would be a nice addition to the surprise of his early arrival. The trip to Ramsgate took several days, and he was quite relieved when the house he had let for their use came into view. His relief instantly turned to confusion when he noticed an unfamiliar carriage standing outside with a footman loading trunks onto it. Darcy frowned. Who was leaving? Surely, Mrs. Younge would have informed him if Georgiana had visitors staying with her. His sister had not mentioned anything in her letters either.

He disembarked from his carriage and strolled up to the house. The footman halted, holding the trunk, which Darcy immediately identified as belonging to Georgiana.

"What goes on here?" he barked, causing the footman to stammer incoherently. "Unload those trunks immediately!" The sudden desire to ascertain the welfare of his sister filled his heart as Darcy ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, sir!" The footman hurried to obey, reversing direction, immediately climbing the steps, and entering the house. Darcy followed close behind him, searching for Georgiana.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Younge's voice came from the stairs. "Did I not tell you that trunk was ready to load?"

"Yes, ma'am, but—" the footman sputtered.

"Do not argue with me!" Mrs. Younge said sharply. "Take it back." She sounded so shrewish. Gone was the docile and polite companion Darcy had welcomed into his house.

Indignation filled him, and Darcy stepped into view. "You will do nothing of the kind! Return it to Miss Darcy's chambers immediately!"

Mrs. Younge stood on the stairs, gaping at him like a fish. "Mr. Darcy, sir!" she stammered. "We did not expect you! We were just going on a brief journey to…"

"Brother!" cried Georgiana, effectively cutting off Mrs. Younge. "I knew you would come! Now, I shall be able to walk down the aisle on your arm." She pushed past her companion and threw her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly.

Darcy returned the embrace and then held his sister away from him, staring incredulously at her. He fought to swallow his anger, his gaze darting back and forth between Mrs. Younge and Georgiana. Mrs. Younge would not meet his gaze, and his sister seemed far too gleeful.

"Georgiana, my love, are you ready?" came another voice from behind him. Cold seeped over Darcy. He knew that voice. He whirled around and came face to face with George Wickham.

George's cheerful countenance changed to panic as soon as he recognized Darcy. He tried to flee, but Darcy grabbed his coat and held firm.

"Mrs. Younge, if you depart this house before I have a full accounting, you shall not see a penny of your wages, am I clear?" Darcy snapped. "Wait in your chamber. I shall have the housekeeper summon you when I am done with this scoundrel."

"Brother!" Georgiana cried in dismay, grabbing his arm and tugging lightly. "George has done nothing wrong. We are to be married!"

"By whose authority do you have permission to wed?" Darcy snapped. "Not mine, and certainly not Richard's. We would never grant this miscreant your hand."

"As I told you, Georgiana," Wickham said with false sorrow. "Your brother will not let us marry, even though the likelihood of another match is slim."

What the devil? "Slim?" Darcy roared. "She is Miss Darcy of Pemberley."

"Sister to the cursed Mr. Darcy of Pemberley," Wickham sneered. "I have heard the whispers, and dear Georgiana will be tainted by her connection to you. I thought to spare her the humiliation of an unsuccessful season in Town where the cats of the ton would shun and abuse her so viciously. She has already felt their claws, you know."

"She is fifteen!" Darcy cried. "The rumors will not last. When she comes out in a few years, society will have long forgotten them." They had better be, for Darcy had had his fill of them.

"Her thirty thousand pounds will draw only the most desperate of men," Wickham said caustically, as if Darcy had not spoken. "No one will want her. I am doing her a favor by settling the matter so easily. You cannot guarantee she will not be a pariah!"

"George!" Georgiana said in shock. "How can you be so cruel to my poor brother? He has much to bear, unable as he is to secure a bride. Did you not say we must do our duty to supply an heir, since Fitzwilliam cannot?"

Wickham ignored her. "Come now, Darcy, admit it," he jeered. "This is a wonderful solution, is it not? You cannot expect to marry with the horrid ‘curse' hanging about. I will marry your sister; our eldest son can be your heir. She is such a plain and dowdy thing, anyway. No one will want her with so much scandal surrounding her."

Georgiana gasped, and Darcy felt his heart crack at the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks. She whirled and ran to her chamber, her sobs fading as the sound of the door shutting echoed.

Furious, Darcy pushed Wickham into the nearby study and closed the door. He faced his enemy, rage coursing through him.

"You meant to elope with my sister?" he hissed angrily. How could this have happened? Georgiana knows better!

"Yes," Wickham said simply. "She has a healthy dowry, and I find myself in need of funds. You denied me the Kympton living, and so I thought, in exchange, I should deny you your sister. It was easy, you know, convincing her of the scheme. A few pretty words and news of the horrible things being said about you in Town sealed everything up nicely. She was certain you had too many worries and that a marriage was for the best. Really, Darcy, you ought to have taught her better." Wickham sighed dramatically. "Had you arrived as planned, we would have been married and beyond your reach. As usual, you have ruined everything."

Darcy swung his fist without realizing he had done it, only aware when it connected with Wickham's face. The blackguard stumbled back, and Darcy felt gratified to see the momentary shock in his eyes.

"If you say one word against Georgiana, I shall ruin you," he seethed. "I hold enough markers to see you in debtor's prison for the rest of your life. Do not test me again."

"What, is that all?" Wickham mocked, straightening up and touching his eye gingerly. "Very well, I shall speak nothing of this encounter with Miss Darcy. Her reputation will remain unstained. Now, if you have nothing further to say…"

Wickham pulled open the door and sauntered out. Darcy watched him go; hatred and rage were coursing through him. Struggling to gather whatever shreds of his equanimity remained, he went next to the chambers of his sister's traitorous companion.

The lady regarded him with trepidation as he entered her sitting room. Darcy did not bother knocking. Jasper accompanied him and stood in the corner, arms crossed and scowling. Darcy faced the woman in his employ and began to interrogate her.

"Explain yourself," he barked.

"I do not owe you anything," Mrs. Younge protested.

Darcy drew himself up to his full height. "Very well. Leave. I shall hold your salary in lieu of a full accounting."

The lady sucked in a breath and sat dejectedly on her bed, her half-packed trunk at her feet. "George—Mr. Wickham—helped me secure the position in exchange for my aid in convincing Miss Darcy to elope."

Darcy's eyes narrowed as he comprehended their depths of deception. "Your letters of recommendation?"

"Forged and cleverly done," Mrs. Younge supplied. "George knew how desperate you were to find a companion and made certain no one could investigate the letters in a timely fashion. The supposed writers resided at far distances: Belgium, Spain, and Ireland."

Darcy ran a hand over his eyes. "What was the promised price for your betrayal?"

"Wickham promised me five thousand pounds. That would have been enough to see me into retirement." Her gaze dropped to the left, and she bit her lip. Darcy wondered for a moment if she was being entirely honest with him. He shook off his suspicions and refocused on Mrs. Younge.

"I ought to have you tried for fraud," Darcy hissed. "How dare you present yourself as a respectable lady, worming your way into my household and my sister's heart, only to throw her to that wolf! Have you no sense of honor and decency? Georgiana would have been miserable tied to that libertine for the rest of her life." He clenched his fists, the enormity of what had almost occurred crashing over him. He threw a handful of banknotes into her lap and turned away. "Get out," he said flatly, wishing only for the horrid woman to be out of his sight.

Darcy dispatched Mrs. Younge soon thereafter, seeing her to the door with the same warning he had issued to Wickham: to speak nothing of Georgiana and this incident or he would ruin her. After she left, he collapsed in a chair and pressed his fingers over his eyes. He still needed to secure the silence of the servants, but for now, he must speak to his sister.