Page 71 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
“I do not think you did anything horrible , considering Mr Wickham was a friend of your family for a lifetime. I understand your affection for him. But carrying on a correspondence with anyone behind your brother’s back when he disapproved of that person could do more harm than you think, even if your intentions were admirable.
And things are much worse since we speak of a man who proposed that you elope with him when you were fifteen.
I do not wish to pain you, but I agree with William in this.
If a man of twenty-seven proposed an illicit elopement to my sister of fifteen, I would surely break his legs! ”
“I know it sounds bad when you say it, so…I shall stop any contact with George, but I cannot stop caring for him. I cannot command my heart even if I wish to. And I cannot forget that he was willing to put himself in danger to marry me.”
Elizabeth embraced her more forcibly with the same love and worry she used to embrace Jane. Could Jane command her heart not to care for Mr Bingley who—although by far more honourable than Mr Wickham—was still not worthy of her love and loyalty?
Georgiana was genuinely in love with all her innocent heart, falling for the powerful charms of a man who almost enchanted Elizabeth too, even if she was much older.
“Elizabeth, I will speak to William immediately. He has no reason to be upset with you.”
“William left a little earlier. I thank you for your trust in sharing this painful story with me. But there is nothing you should say to William tonight. Let us delay until we are all more calm and rested. I do not want him to misplace his anger from me to you. Besides, he is more upset with me, anyway. He already told me as much.”
“But why would he be upset with you because he saw me speaking to Mr Wickham?”
“I do not want to discuss it further. It is a subject that might distress you even more.”
“If it is related to George, please tell me. Nothing could be more distressing than not knowing the truth.”
“Very well, if you insist. Perhaps it is for the best. I met Mr Wickham in Hertfordshire about two months ago, and from the beginning, I was pleasantly surprised by his amiable behaviour. On the other hand, I confess that I was rather displeased with the way your brother used to treat me and all our acquaintances in Meryton.”
“Oh…”
“One day I was with my sisters in Meryton, and I noticed the cold greeting between Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham.”
“Yes, I can imagine. That was because of me…because of my attempt to elope and…”
“Mr Wickham noticed that I observed the incident and masterfully asked for my opinion about Mr Darcy. I did not hesitate to declare him a cold, unfriendly man and to criticise his haughty manners. And that was enough for Mr Wickham to inform me in detail that Mr Darcy refused to give him the inheritance bequeathed by your father and left him in poverty with no compensation at all. Which now we both know to be untrue, but back then it led me to think very poorly of Mr Darcy.”
“But he was the one who asked William to give him the compensation to study the law!”
“Now I know that! But back then, I considered Mr Wickham my friend, and I trusted him. And I was wrong! Mr Wickham is a handsome, pleasant gentleman, but his words and intentions cannot be trusted. I am sorry to pain you, but that is the plain truth! He has done many bad things and little good. He has all the appearance of goodness but nothing more! He would do anything to gain monetary advantages for himself.”
As Elizabeth spoke, Georgiana’s eyes darkened and tears shadowed their clear blue.
“But my father loved George…”
“And what did George do with that love? Just think: William finished his studies, and then he was left with all the burden of such a fortune on his shoulders. He had to take care of everything by himself. If George Wickham were a man with honourable intentions, even if he had no inclination to study, he would have gone to William and said, ‘Let me work and prove to you what kind of man I am. I shall learn to improve myself and show that I am worthy of your trust.’ Instead, he chose an easy life, spent the money, and indulged himself in activities that are not likely to bring success to a gentleman.”
Georgiana narrowed her eyes to fight the tears. Elizabeth sensed her suffering, and her heart ached for the girl, but it was too late to stop.
“I believe you feel I am right, my dear. There is no excuse for a man of twenty-seven to ask a girl of fifteen to elope with him! If you were both very young and fell in love, that would be understandable. But a mature, experienced man cannot do such a thing with good intentions. Am I wrong in this?”
“So you believe George never loved me…that I allowed myself to be fooled by him and exposed my family to public censure for nothing…”
Elizabeth struggled for the proper words to answer gently but truthfully.
“I am sure he loved you. You are beautiful and bright and so talented—any man would be happy and proud to marry you! But not when you were fifteen! Such haste can only be explained by his intention to benefit from your dowry as soon as possible. And no, you did not expose your family to public censure because you were wise enough to avoid that.”
Georgiana wiped her tears then said she wished to rest. Elizabeth gently caressed her hair.
“My dearest, it is hard for me to imagine the pain you feel now, but I promise it will all go away soon. As Papa said”—Elizabeth spoke with a voice that attempted to imitate her father—“‘next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.’”
Miss Darcy forced a tearful smile. “I thank you for your patience, Elizabeth. I know how troubled you must be, and yet you spent more than an hour with me. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“There is nothing that anyone can do to solve the present situation besides William and me. I shall leave now and send Mrs Annesley to you. I will return to see you later.”
Outside the girl’s room, Elizabeth leant against the wall, exhausted, her eyes burning and a heavy weight pressing her chest, thinking of the difficult discussion with Georgiana and the pain she had caused her—although it was necessary.
Her own turmoil was put aside, but now she felt the urge to continue the discussion with her husband.
She planned not to tell him about Georgiana’s involvement until their argument was resolved and he saw how unfairly he had treated her.
No matter who had called Mr Wickham there and what gentleman might meet with her at the modiste, he had no right to accuse her in such a way or to treat her so disrespectfully.
No matter what the rules might say about a wife and a husband, she would not tolerate such behaviour.
With every thought, her anger increased again, and she knocked on the door of his apartment then entered. There was only Stevens, arranging his master’s clothes.
“Stevens. I need to speak to Mr Darcy immediately. ”
“The master is not at home.”
“I am aware of that, which is why I need your help, otherwise I would speak to him myself. Are you toying with me?”
“Indeed I am not, Mrs Darcy. I beg your forgiveness if I upset you…Mr Darcy is not home, and I am not aware when he will return.”
“But you know where he is?”
“I do,” the servant said after a brief hesitation.
“Then you shall take me there.”
“I cannot do that, ma’am. The master gave me specific orders, and I cannot disobey.”
After a short pause, Stevens spoke hesitantly. “However, if there is something urgent, I can provide him a note.”
“Very well, I shall give you a note directly.”
It took her more than half an hour to write two full pages, fold them, and hand them to Stevens, mentioning that she awaited a prompt answer. Then she returned to her room and threw herself into the armchair in frustration.
That was truly ridiculous! Hateful man, indeed!
***
Darcy entered the main hall without invitation.
“Martin, I would like to speak to James at once.”
“Of course, sir. The master is sleeping. Shall I wake him up?”
“I don’t know. Can I speak to him in his sleep?” he inquired sharply. “I am sorry. I am very tired. Please tell James I will wait for him in the library.”
He poured himself a glass of brandy and began pacing the room. James’s library was in perfect order as only rarely was anyone there. A few minutes later, his younger cousin arrived, dressed only in his robe, his surprise obvious.
“You returned so soon? Is anything wrong?”
“I need to know where Wickham stays in London. I need to speak to him without delay. ”
“Wickham? He stayed here for three days, but he left for Hertfordshire this morning.”
“He did not. I saw him earlier, and I am tired of seeing Wickham so often. I do not want to see him anywhere near my family ever again. In fact, I do not want to see any of your friends near my family. Do I make myself clear?”
“I do not know why you are addressing me in such a way in my own house. And I am not certain which of my friends you speak of and what you consider to be your ‘family.’”
“James, I have had enough of this. You befriended people like Wickham, Annabelle, Clayton—and refuse to see the harm you suffer from them. I have told you for five years now what you are doing wrong. I tried to sustain your requests, but I am no longer willing to do that. Please do not lie to me. If I discover that Wickham is still in Town, I shall—”