Page 94 of A Life Diverted
His Royal Highness Prince Frederick, Duke of York and Albany, Earl of Ulster, marvelled at his daughter’s beauty.
In the last three years, she had matured into a refined young gentlewoman.
She had always looked like her mother—the holder of his heart—but never more so than now that she was almost fully grown.
In the last year, he had been bestowed with an additional honour from his father, the King.
As he looked at his daughter, the Prince offered thanks to on high for being able to be part of her life.
He was concerned that in two years when the truth was revealed to her she could be very angry at all of those who had withheld the information from her.
Elizabeth prized honesty above all else, but he was willing to risk her possible ire to protect her for two more years.
He was at least sure about what the King would do if Elizabeth agreed to meet her royal grandparents. One day he had been visiting Buckingham House and he posited a hypothetical to his father, asking what he would have done had the dead boy lived, as far as succession went.
The King had given his son’s question consideration and then had replied although the child would have been recognised as a legitimate son, and a Prince of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the King would not have angered the spiritual leaders of the Church of England by having a child born after divorce so close in succession to the throne.
He would have the prime minister bring an act to the commons to remove the boy from the line of succession.
It was one of the few times in Frederick’s life his father had expressed remorse for forcing the divorce. It did not repair the heartbreak that had been caused, but Frederick treasured the fact his father was willing to acknowledge such to him.
What the King did not admit to was that he knew he had made two women unhappy along with his son.
Princess Frederica Charlotte lived in seclusion at his son’s estate of Oatlands Park near Weybridge in Surrey.
Although he acknowledged the pain his actions had caused to three, the King knew what he had done had been done for good reason, as now Prussia was an ally in the fight against the little tyrant and his wars in Europe.
The prince was returned to the present as he watched his daughter and some of her sisters talking quietly in the drawing room. Priscilla had left him the most special of gifts in the form of Elizabeth.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
At one and twenty, George Wickham was an unhappy and resentful man.
He was living in Seven Dials, the bowels of London.
The money his father had given him was all but gone.
He had lost most of it at the tables but had the good sense to keep a very little for living expenses.
None of his schemes to make his fortune in the last three years had ever panned out as planned, instead costing him rather than producing the result he needed.
Since the day his father had given him the funds, George had not tried to contact the man.
He was determined to make his fortune the way he saw fit, to show his father how wrong his estimation of his son was.
To George’s chagrin, so far the only thing he had proven was that his father's warnings had been true.
Almost three years in the past, in a little town in Staffordshire, he had claimed to be a Darcy—the one and only time he dared—and gained credit after he charmed the merchants into believing his claim.
The problem was the village was close to Holder Heights, and when Lord Holder had heard of this mysterious George Darcy, he had a good idea who the man was.
Lord Holder sent an express to Robert Darcy, informing him what his steward’s son was up to, sullying of the Darcy name. Unluckily for George Wickham, the Bennets were still with the Darcys as it was not quite three months after the death of Lady Anne.
Biggs and Johns were dispatched to give the wastrel a gentle warning.
On the same day the two footmen arrived, Lord Holder had his steward canvass the business owners to get a list of the debts Wickham had run up.
All of the vowels—a little more than fifty pounds worth—were purchased for his friend to be held until needed and the merchants were told it was the last time someone would cover them if they chose to extend credit to one unknown without an effort being made to verify his tale.
Meanwhile, the two huge men found Wickham in the local inn, drinking and spreading lies about the grand estate he would inherit. “An ‘ow would the son of a steward in’erit Mr. Darcy’s estate, Wickham ?” Biggs growled.
George Wickham slowly turned and saw the two mountainous men with scowls behind him, all colour drained from his face. “‘Ey,” one of the locals who had been conned into buying drinks for the libertine spoke up. “Ya sayin’ ‘e’s not a Darcy?”
“No, ‘e be a liar, thief, an’ a cheat. ‘Is name be George Wickham, the son of the steward of Pemberley, not the master !” Biggs informed the now angry group of men.
Before the crowd turned too ugly, Biggs and Johns each took an arm of the petrified liar, lifted him as if he were nothing, and walked out of the inn with George Wickham dangling between them.
When they reached a dark alley behind the establishment, the one-time warning was delivered, leaving Wickham with a broken nose and a missing tooth.
Before they left, Biggs turned to the snivelling coward.
“Mr. Darcy wants you t’ know,” Biggs stated menacingly, “if ya’ ever use ‘is name agin, there will be no mercy. ‘E ‘as bought your debts ‘ere and you will go to gaol—if you are still alive—there will be no second chance.”
In the moon’s light, it was then George recognised them as two of the men who he had seen protecting the blonde after whom he still lusted.
Up close they were much scarier than from a distance.
He admitted then and there he could never use the Darcy name, or the names of any of their friends, ever again.
From Staffordshire he made his way to London, where he begged, borrowed, and stole whatever it was he needed to live, which is how he found himself in a tiny, rat-infested room in the worst part of Town.
The next day, he was in a neighbourhood that was somewhat better than where he lived—any neighbourhood in London was better—walking down Edward Street.
He saw a boarding house with a sign over the door that identified it as ‘Younge’s Boarding House. ’”
There was a notice next to the door: “ Seeking a man of all work. ” Taking a chance it might get him out of the squalor he was living in, George Wickham knocked on the door, and told the woman who opened it he wanted to apply for the position.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Robert Darcy kept his word to his beloved wife.
In July, a year after her passing, the master of Pemberley ended his year of mourning.
He was thankful beyond words for the support and friendship of his extended family, for they had never allowed him to sink into the depths of despair he would have otherwise allowed himself to drown in.
At the end of the three months of his children’s deep mourning period, he had accompanied William to Cambridge to take up his studies, and then his daughter to Netherfield Park to be with the Bennets.
His wife’s wisdom was proved once again as Gigi had thrived with the Bennets.
She had been surrounded by love and sisterhood, and a slightly younger adopted brother.
When Darcy had joined William for Christmas at Netherfield the year Anne died, neither he nor his son recognised the self-confident girl who threw her arms around them in welcome.
After her mother passed, Gigi had begun to withdraw into herself and exhibited a level of shyness not seen before regardless of her friends’ attempts to draw her out.
After a few months with the Bennets, the renewed shyness had all but evaporated.
Georgiana Darcy still missed her mother each and every day, but the love extended to her by the Bennets had done much to ameliorate her sorrow.
She looked upon Aunt Fanny and Uncle Thomas almost as surrogate parents rather than merely adopted aunt and uncle.
In addition, she had become very close with Mariah Lucas and the Long sisters.
It also helped that Cassie—even though she was five years older—spent a few months at a time at Netherfield Park as well.
Her mother was always with her, Georgiana could feel her presence in her heart and when ever she was in doubt, she believed she could hear her late mother in her head giving her the advice she needed.
William was enjoying Cambridge. Yes, he was sad much of the time when he was not busy, and his mother’s death had left a hole in his heart, but he loved the intellectual stimulation. In addition to cricket, the Darcy heir excelled at fencing and was a force on the chess and debating teams.
The latter he joined to sharpen his skills for the epic debates he and Elizabeth tended to have when in company together, the former because he had been thought by his father to be one of the best chess players in their extended family.
He needed every edge he could attain, and the debate team would help with bolstering his defences against a certain highly intelligent and strikingly beautiful young lady.
Georgiana had remained with the Bennets until her father’s year of mourning was complete. As his late wife and friends suggested, Robert Darcy visited his daughter almost every month she was at Netherfield, so she never felt abandoned.