Chapter Four

July 1811

Ramsgate

Darcy

Georgiana told Darcy the sorry tale amidst tears and many soiled handkerchiefs. "Wickham first came to my notice when you departed at the end of May. He recognized me as I strolled along the beach with Mrs. Younge. He expressed his great pleasure at seeing me again and exclaimed his great fortune at encountering me at Ramsgate. George—Mr. Wickham—was so kind and spoke so fondly of our time together at Pemberley," she sniffled, wiping her nose again. "Mrs. Younge encouraged me to invite him to tea, insisting that because we had a prior acquaintance, it was completely acceptable. I knew she was wrong, but I wanted him to come, so I chose to ignore those thoughts."

"He spent many hours a day with me," she continued. "We shopped, we talked, and we played cards together. He listened to me play the pianoforte, and once, he bought me a red rose from a woman selling them on the street."

She paused to compose herself, clutching a fresh handkerchief tightly in her hand. "The first time he asked me to marry him was early in July," she confessed. "I told him I could give no answer without speaking to you. He asked twice more before telling me of the troubles you were having in London."

"What did he say?" Darcy asked, struggling to keep his tone soft.

"He said that you were the subject of much gossip," Georgiana whispered. "That any lady to whom you paid particular attention had some disaster or another befall her. He told me that the rumors and gossip had grown so much that the matrons in town have vowed that you will have none of their daughters despite your great wealth. He convinced me that since you would never marry, we ought to wed to ensure the future of Pemberley. And then…"

Georgiana took a deep breath and her eyes filled with tears again. "And then," she sobbed, "he told me that with your tattered honor, no one would want me, and he wished to spare me the horror of discovering such a thing when I had my season in Town."

The despicable blackguard! How could he speak such drivel? "And that was when you accepted him?" Darcy asked gently.

"Yes," Georgiana sobbed again. "According to Mr. Wickham, you are in denial and will refuse to give your consent. That was why he suggested an elopement. He was aware of your impending arrival and wished to be away before you returned. He reassured me that we would be wed, emphasizing that at fifteen, I was practically grown and not too young."

"Georgiana," Darcy said, "you know what you did was very wrong. Despite what Wickham said, you are far too young to be married. And all that other nonsense? False. You are a handsome young woman with great potential. Some man will count himself fortunate to have you for his bride someday."

"I can see that," Georgiana replied. "But his words hurt. They still do. They have ignited in me a fear I did not know before. What if he is right? What if I have no success when I come out and end up a spinster?"

"Have you not other far more important things to think of?" Darcy asked teasingly. His jest fell flat, and Georgiana burst into a fresh wave of tears.

Darcy was at a loss. He was entirely incapable of handling a young, hysterical girl, and so he kissed her head and departed, promising to have trays sent up so they could dine together. Georgie said nothing, and he left her room, unsettled and unhappy.

Securing the silence of the servants for a few crowns was no monumental challenge, and once the sorry business concluded, Darcy arranged their departure for the next day. With no concern whether he would lose the funds paid to secure the place, he canceled the lease early. He never wanted to see Ramsgate again.

Georgiana was silent during the entire ride to London. Darcy, too, did not speak, so involved he was in his own ruminations. He had not told Georgiana that Mrs. Younge had disclosed a prior relationship with Wickham, that she had forged her references and arranged with her accomplice to acquire the companion position to Miss Darcy. Such would only devastate his fragile sister further. He would certainly pay Lady Matlock a visit to inform her of the near disaster Mrs. Younge had helped to perpetuate. Aunt Tilda should have thoroughly vetted the companion's references before granting her access to Miss Darcy. How could she have been so careless?

No, how could he have been so careless as to leave the care of a most beloved sister to anyone but himself? Darcy was usually quite thorough, and he acknowledged that his flight from London had likely caused his lapse in judgment. Rather than solely trusting his aunt, he ought to have remained and hired a companion. Lady Matlock could not be responsible for his own failure to fulfill the responsibilities his father had entrusted to him. He would never make the same mistake again.

They were exhausted when the coach arrived in London. Darcy had considered traveling straight to Pemberley, but the distance was too great, and he desperately needed his aunt's advice. Even better, Richard would be in Town now, as his last letter had informed him. His cousin reported he had been returned to England in one piece; for that, Darcy was grateful.

Normally, Lord and Lady Matlock would have retired to their estate at the end of July, but this year, several events had kept them in London, one being the marriage of Lord Matlock's goddaughter to a viscount. They would depart instead during the first half of August and remain at their estate until the next season. Darcy was grateful they would still be at their townhouse and called upon them directly the morning after his arrival.

"Nephew!" his uncle cried enthusiastically. "So, you have decided to try your hand in Town again. Well done."

"I shall not be here long," Darcy said. "I came to speak of an urgent matter with you and my aunt."

"Let us go find her, then," Uncle Hugh said. "She is in the parlor. It is not a calling day, thankfully."

For that, Darcy could only be relieved.

"Have you any word on the source of the rumors?" Darcy asked as they walked down the hall.

"No, nothing new," his uncle grumbled. "Someone is doing a fine job at keeping them alive, though. Every time they start to die, some new, salacious detail comes up, and the whole thing begins again. It is vexing in the extreme."

"Indeed," Darcy said crisply. "I am aware that the stories have spread to the lower circles of society; they do not seem likely to fade away."

They entered the parlor, and Lady Matlock greeted him warmly.

"I had expected you to remain in Ramsgate for another fortnight before venturing to Town," she said. "I ought to scold you for surprising me. Come, sit! I shall ring for tea."

She made to ring the bell, but Darcy stopped her.

"I have a delicate matter to discuss with you," he uttered in a low voice. "I would prefer the conversation remain private."

His aunt frowned, her expression puzzled, but dismissed the maid and the footman and instructed them to close the door. She settled herself in her favorite chair—a comfortable, over-filled thing that perfectly suited her warm personality.

"Now, what is this all about?" she asked.

Darcy spent half an hour relating the entire dismal story. Thankfully, neither his aunt nor uncle spoke, allowing him to tell all without interruption.

"Goodness!" Lady Matlock cried. "How dreadful. What can I say? I am so sorry that my lapse in judgment—"

"No," Darcy said, holding up his hand to silence her. "The fault is mine for foisting off a responsibility that ought to have been my own. We will not dither over that. What I need now is counsel. What am I to do? Georgiana is a watering pot, and I know she will remain so upon my return to Darcy House. I must also inform Richard. It is probable he awaits me there."

"She will need time to grieve," Lady Matlock said kindly. "Have you considered taking her home to Pemberley?"

"Aye, but I have pressing matters in Town that demand my attention. Originally, my intention was to attend to them in two weeks, coinciding with our planned arrival. Yet, under the circumstances, it appears more prudent to address them now and then proceed to Derbyshire. Georgiana is in a state, and I wish to see to her comfort beyond all else."

"Has she told you everything," his uncle said slowly, "as far as you know? Have you asked her… have you inquired about any… liberties that Wickham might have claimed?"

Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. "I will kill him," he said coldly. He had not even considered that the libertine might have stolen more than a few kisses.

"Calm yourself," Lady Matlock urged. "I shall accompany you and speak with her. We do not yet know if he has claimed her virtue."

Darcy ran a hand through his hair, clenching at the locks until the roots pulled tight. "I have failed her in the worst possible way," he muttered miserably. How shall I ever forgive myself? He groaned.

"You prevented a scandal," Lord Matlock protested. "She will suffer a broken heart, and hopefully nothing more lasting than that."

"And if she is with child?" he whispered. Heaven forbid. Had he failed her so thoroughly?

"Then we shall take her to our estate in Scotland until she has the babe," Uncle resolved. "We might pass it off as Morton's."

The honorable Henry Fitzwilliam, Viscount Morton, was heir to the Matlock earldom. He and his wife had been married for three years and had yet to conceive a child. The viscountess was quite despondent about that.

"And if it is a boy?" Darcy challenged. "What if you name him the heir, and then Morton's wife has a son?"

"We shall have to discuss such matters another time," his aunt said crisply. "For now, we need to speak with Georgiana. These speculations are pointless until we know more."

Darcy and his uncle agreed, and in short order, the three boarded his carriage and traveled to Darcy House. He fretted the entire way, unable to sit still as the dread of the coming discussion filled him anew with anger and sadness.

~

Lady Matlock made her way directly to Georgiana's room, and the two gentlemen found Richard in Darcy's study. The entire tale was told again, and Darcy thought it was fortunate Richard had not been at Ramsgate. His cousin looked ready to murder Wickham and anyone who stood in the way of his retribution.

"Where is he now?" Richard asked.

"I do not know where he went when he left," Darcy admitted. "I was too out of my senses with anger and worry for Georgiana's welfare to care."

"Such a man ought to be locked away in a cell, with the key thrown into the Thames," Richard replied darkly. "We cannot keep allowing him to go about destroying lives as he has these many years!"

"What would you have me do?" Darcy demanded, his anger flaring again. "The information he now holds would ruin Georgiana, making his poisonous words true. She already doubts me when I say she will not suffer when she comes out. What would it do to her if we pursued justice, only to have her thoroughly ruined in the process?"

"She may already be so," Lord Matlock remarked gravely. Darcy groaned.

"Such speculation is hardly conducive to Darcy's health, Father," Richard pointed out. "His color has changed so many times in the last half an hour that I grow concerned he will suffer an apoplexy."

Lord Matlock brushed off his son's concerns but poured his nephew a glass of port to steady his nerves.

Lady Matlock returned with good news, thankfully. Darcy got to his feet as she entered the room, examining her countenance for signs of what she had learned.

"Georgiana says he did nothing more than kiss her a few times," she said, with relief evident in her voice. "I am inclined to believe her. She was rather embarrassed and seemed to have no notion of what I was referring to when I mentioned other liberties reserved solely for marriage. I could not get much more out of her, for she descended into tears soon after I gained that information."

Darcy sagged in his chair. "That is a relief, Aunt Tilda," he muttered. "Now, what must be done?"

"You need a new companion for the girl," Lord Matlock replied. "She will need close supervision. And there will certainly be no more discussion about her setting up her own household."

"I hardly think I wish to entrust my sister's care to another so soon, not after…" Darcy trailed off. "But you are likely correct."

"She wishes to return to Matlock with us," Lady Matlock said softly.

"What?" Darcy cried, his voice rising. "No! She belongs with me." He stood up from his chair again and began pacing. Oh, how he had failed her! Georgiana must despise me!

"I shall not betray your sister's confidence," his aunt scolded, "but she feels enormous guilt and says she cannot bear to speak to you or to see you every day, not while she is still hurting."

"Guilt for what? She is not at fault for that profligate's actions! No, she will remain with me."

"Even to her detriment?" his aunt asked gently.

"She will remain with me," Darcy insisted again.

His cousin approached Darcy and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I suggest we put this decision aside until we select a new companion," Richard said reasonably. "It will take many weeks before we can check the references of each suitable candidate we receive. By then, we should better understand Georgie's needs."

"That is a capital idea," Uncle Hugh agreed. "Let us compose some inquiries now. There is no time like the present."

The four spent the rest of the afternoon drafting letters to various acquaintances and reputable agencies, seeking to hire a suitable companion for the fifteen-year-old girl. They sanded and sealed the letters and sent them off directly. With the waiting game now underway, they could do nothing more until they received any replies.

Richard resolved to stay at Darcy House until they found and hired a companion, and Darcy was quite pleased to have him. His presence was a comfort, and he was glad he had someone so trustworthy in whom to confide.

~

While they awaited replies to their inquiries, Darcy remained sequestered in his house, sending letters of business and meeting with his solicitors in his study. The memory of his last foray in London was foremost in his mind, and he had no desire to encounter the misplaced scorn he had received then. It took a sennight before they received the first responses to their inquiries. Another two weeks passed before they interviewed the first candidates who arrived.

The applicants varied in their attributes, some making a more favorable impression than others. Certain applicants quietly slipped away upon learning that Miss Darcy's guardians would thoroughly examine and vet letters of reference before tendering any offer of employment. Darcy suspected that some could not afford to wait, while others likely had recommendations as dubious as those presented by Mrs. Younge. At the end of August, Darcy and Richard selected two ladies out of the many applicants, reminding them they would scrutinize their references before making a final decision.

During that harrowing month, Darcy could barely get two or three words out of Georgiana. His happy, amiable sister had turned into a silent wraith, pale and unresponsive. She would listlessly perch on a chair or aimlessly linger on a window seat and stare at nothing for hours. She ate, but only a little. Any time Darcy entered the room, she would flinch and find a reason to leave a few minutes later. No attempts to draw her out of her doldrums were successful, and he grew ever more frustrated as the days went by.

Richard had little more success, and Darcy admitted defeat. He could do nothing for her now. Both cousins agreed that once they hired a companion, Georgiana would go to Matlock House and then on to Derbyshire with her aunt and uncle. It was a bitter realization for Darcy that his sister was beyond his aid, and he felt he had failed her once more.

By the end of the first week in September, Darcy and Richard had received all the expected replies after investigating and confirming the references of their two favored choices. They selected Mrs. Harriet Annesley as his sister's companion. She was a kindly widow, and her gentle manner impressed Georgiana's guardians. Surely, such a calm demeanor would be naught but good for their charge. Once she had accepted the position, they informed her of Miss Darcy's misadventure and their failed attempts to cheer her. Mrs. Annesley promised to keep them diligently updated on her charge's welfare, and Darcy hoped that, eventually, his sister would recover her spirits.

Georgiana left Darcy House the next day, escorted by Richard. Darcy bid her a fond farewell, promising to write often. After the carriage rolled away, he retired to his study. Richard was to return to his regiment for a few months now that the trouble with his ward had passed, and Darcy dreaded losing his company. Darcy House, and later Pemberley, would be lonely without Georgiana. The silence enveloped him almost immediately, and his morose spirits threatened to overwhelm him.

His salvation was Charles Bingley. Upon being shown into Darcy's study, and, with nary a greeting, he declared, "I have found an estate!"

Darcy listened as his eager friend told him of Netherfield Park, a desirable piece of property just four hours from London.

"It is nothing to Pemberley, of course, but the land manager says it clears four thousand a year and is the principal house in the area." Bingley grinned. "It has been unoccupied for some time; the heir to the estate already has a larger, more profitable property in Wiltshire. You will come with me to see it, will you not?"

"It sounds like a promising prospect, and I have no fixed engagements," Darcy said slowly. Indeed, engagements were thin on the ground these days. "When do you wish to go?"

"Today, if you can manage it," Bingley cried in delight, slapping his hand on the arm of his chair. "We can be there and back before dinner, I wager."

Ah, Bingley, ever the impulsive one, Darcy thought in amusement. "Very well," he said aloud. "Let us go to it."

It took only half an hour for Darcy to ready his mount. He packed a change of clothes in his saddlebags; one could never predict Bingley's decision making. He was just as likely to decide to spend the night as he was to say they could be back in London before dinner. Darcy was quite the opposite and wished to be prepared for all possibilities. It mattered not if the clothing went unused, for it was far better to have them than to be without.

Bingley spoke energetically the entire distance, providing Darcy with details he had yet to impart. "I understand the grounds are not a disaster but need improvement," he explained. "The estate manager assures me that the house is sound, though. I mean to set about improving the place immediately, should I decide to take it. Caroline will stand for nothing less than perfection, you know."

"If you mean to make changes, do it to suit yourself," Darcy advised. "It will be your house, and your sisters will only be there as a guest or as your hostess."

Bingley nodded. "Very true. Caroline would likely seek to bankrupt me as she applies her idea of fashion to the place. She would dismantle and redecorate every room if she had her way."

Darcy shook his head. "Any changes will typically be after the approval of the estate manager and landowner. As someone who is only leasing the estate, you should carefully weigh any permanent changes before attempting them. Unless you mean to purchase, such expenditures are a frivolous waste of funds."

"Quite right! I shall have to ensure that Caroline understands the situation and comprehends that I will dismiss any of her outlandish requests immediately." Bingley turned to his friend and grinned. "Care for a race? This pace is interminably slow; surely a short gallop will not overtire our mounts."

Darcy agreed, and the two spurred their horses into a run. Bingley is a good man and a staunch friend, he thought as he leaned over his horse's neck. Yes, I am fortunate to have him on my side.