Well, what had been done could not be undone, so he would make his way to London. Once at home, his beloved sister would put him in a better humor.

Chapter 9

Darcy’s first opportunity to visit with his sister was in the early afternoon when she had finished her lessons with her German tutor. It was not too long ago that she would have run across the room and thrown her arms around him, but within the last year, he had noticed that she walked in the measured steps of a lady before throwing her arms around him. These changes were inevitable, but he missed the complete lack of inhibition of her younger years.

Georgiana was a talker, and although the intrigues of young ladies who had not yet come out into society were of little interest to him, Darcy listened to her as if she were discussing the debates in Parliament.

“Will, must I continue with German? I hate it. I always feel as if I am spitting at someone. The only reason I have to study German is because the old king speaks it, and I very much doubt I shall ever have an occasion to address him in English or German. I have been declared to be proficient in Italian and French. May I please stop my German lessons?”

“Yes, when you return to seminary after Twelfth Night, you do not have to study German.” He was entirely sympathetic on this point. He had never liked German lessons and did not do well at them despite his parents having employed a tutor from Saxony.

Georgiana had been expecting her brother to insist that she continue and was thinking of additional arguments when he had given in. This was not like Will. A lot of discussion was required before any decision was made regarding her education. Looking at her brother, she wondered if something had happened at Rosings Park. She knew that a visit with Aunt Catherine was unpleasant because her constant negativity wore on everyone, but Will was very good at paying only enough attention so that he could answer a question if asked. He never engaged, as that only served to prolong the pain. Putting her hand on her brother’s arm, she said, “What is the matter, Will? You look so tired.”

“I am tired. The journey from Kent took longer than usual because of the rain, but as I wrote in my letters, Aunt Catherine and Anne are well and send their love, as does Richard.”

“Are you sure there is nothing wrong? You look sad.”

“Georgiana, I need a good night’s sleep, and then all will be well.”

“But all is not well. I can see it in your eyes. You have had a sadness about you ever since Wickham…”

“You are mistaken,” he said, interrupting her, “and we shall not speak of him or anything to do with that matter.”

“But what if I wish to speak of it?”

“Georgiana, this is not subject to discussion,” and he got up to pour a glass of Madeira.

“Will, that is unfair. You have determined in your own mind what happened, and a good deal of it is wrong. And, yet, I cannot tell you the truth as you will not hear it. So I have to bear this burden of you thinking I would have eloped with Wickham, but I never would have. Never.”

Will sunk back into the chair. Were the stars aligned against him? Is that why he was unable to say or do the right thing as far as the female of the species was concerned?

“I know it pains you, but you will have a different understanding if only you will listen.”

Darcy shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “I will hear you, and then we will not speak of it again. Is that agreed?”

“Yes, of course, and you will be glad when I am done.”

Just the mention of George Wickham’s name infuriated him. Darcy knew little about Wickham’s early background, except that, as a young child, he had been placed in the care of Pemberley’s steward and his wife, who were childless and who loved their adopted son dearly. Darcy’s father also grew fond of Wickham, who had a most pleasing manner, one that hid a deceitful and conniving character, and had agreed to support him at Cambridge. In an act of generosity, Darcy’s father informed Wickham that once he had completed his studies, some money would become available so that he might purchase a living in the church, a commission in the army, or study the law. From that one conversation and because of old Darcy’s interest in his welfare and education, Wickham had decided that he was the natural son of his uncle, George Ashton, who was known to have fathered several children and had scattered them about the country. Because of Ashton’s association with the Darcy family, in Wickham’s mind, he was entitled to much more than the purchase of a living.

After the elder Darcy had died, Wickham left Cambridge and came to Darcy to ask for the value of the living and had disregarded all of Darcy’s arguments against such a scheme. At Wickham’s insistence, he had provided him with a draft on a London bank for the full amount. Within six months, Wickham was back at Pemberley asking for additional sums, but was refused. An angry George Wickham had declared that he knew who his father was and would expose Ashton if his demands were not met. The conversation and his response were still lodged in his memory.

“I do not know who your father is, but I know who he is not. And he is not George Ashton. My father agreed to manage a sum of money on your behalf as long as you pursued your studies or a career. It is obvious that your intention is to do neither. You made a mistake by coming to me today with your demands. You will get nothing from me, and you are to leave Pemberley immediately.”

In a rage, Wickham had told him, “You will come to regret your decision. I will see to it.” And he had come very near to succeeding.

A year earlier, on the spur of the moment, Darcy had decided to visit his sister in Ramsgate. Instead of enjoying the sea air with her companion, Georgiana had been receiving, in her rooms, George Wickham. The scoundrel had followed his sister to Ramsgate and had convinced her that he was in love with her, so much so that they should marry immediately. Because Darcy had thought it improper to discuss the man’s appetite for gaming and loose women and his spendthrift ways with a girl who knew nothing of how the world really worked, Georgiana had been unaware of Wickham’s true nature. As far as Darcy was concerned, Wickham had ceased to exist when he had accepted a cash payment in lieu of a living.

Although Georgiana insisted she would never have married without his consent, Darcy believed he had prevented their elopement, and now she was asking that he listen to the details of Wickham’s plan. And he signaled for his sister to begin.

“At my brother’s insistence,” Georgiana said, smiling weakly, “before being allowed to go to Ramsgate, I had to promise to study my German and practice my pieces on the pianoforte for at least two hours every morning. Mrs. Younge would sit with me in the parlor, but I thought it was unfair as there was nothing for her to do. So we agreed that during that time she could go to the shops or down to the pier and enjoy the sea air. Somehow, Mr. Wickham discovered I was in Ramsgate, and after learning that Mrs. Younge was my companion, befriended her. At this point, she was completely innocent.”

“If you wish for me to listen to you,” Darcy said, preventing his sister from continuing, “please do not refer to Mrs. Younge as being innocent. If she is to be believed, she talked to a man not of her acquaintance, and if for no other reason, she failed in her primary duty to protect you.”

“I understand,” his sister said. “But before I go on, I must step back. While you were at Cambridge and I remained at Pemberley, I would often go out onto the lawn and sketch with Mrs. Bridges. One day, Mr. Wickham came by and admired my sketch, and he asked for one of my chalks and drew a very funny picture of Mrs. Bridges. And we laughed because it was very funny. The next day, he brought me a sketch of himself, which was also funny. There was no third day because Mrs. Bridges insisted I remain in the classroom and draw, saying that Mr. Wickham was neglecting his duties. Other than seeing him about the property, we had no further contact.

“And now to the heart of the story,” and taking a deep breath, Georgiana plunged in. “One morning, Mrs. Younge encountered Mr. Wickham on her walk, and it was then he revealed that he had grown up at Pemberley and asked if he might call on me. She asked, and I agreed. Well, it was a very pleasant hour, and he suggested that I join him for a walk around the harbor the next day, which I did, and continued to do for another three days. I must confess I was flattered by the attention, especially when he bought me a jewelry box decorated with seashells. After that day, the weather turned against us, and he now called at the house, and much to my surprise, he professed his love for me. Not having been introduced to society, I did not realize that this was a common ploy used by men who were in search of women who would inherit a fortune.

“Finally, he asked if we might go for a carriage ride without Mrs. Younge. I agreed, but as soon as I did, I knew that I would not. I realized that I should have written to you to ask for your permission before I had ever agreed to receive him. It was my intention to do so, but it was not necessary. That morning, while Mrs. Younge was doing my hair, she repeated stories Wickham had told her about providing endless hours of amusement for me while we were at Pemberley, including walks in the garden and our reading poetry together, neither of which had ever happened. And I realized what a fool I had been, and without saying anything to Mrs. Younge, I waited for Wickham in the parlor for the purpose of telling him he must never come again. That is when you arrived, and you know the rest.”