Page 45 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn
Darcy House
London
Georgiana Darcy and Mrs. Annesley sat in silence, both too anxious to engage themselves with their usual pursuits.
Even the cheery yellow of the small, cozy sitting room could not lift their spirits, despite its loveliness.
It had been decorated to Georgiana’s tastes, with pale yellow curtains at the windows, a light-drenched still life on one wall, and ruffled cushions on the couch and love seat.
A warm fire leapt in a fireplace carved all over with climbing rose vines.
Both looked up as the door opened and the butler entered. “Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he announced ponderously and retreated.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed with concern as she entered. Mrs. Annesley’s pleasantly plump face was puckered with a most unusual worry. Georgiana herself appeared to be on the verge of tears, her eyes distressed and dark-circled.
“My dear Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said, sinking into the seat across from her young hostess, “I do hope you are not unwell? If so, please tell us so, and Jane and I can depart and leave you in peace.”
Georgiana shook her head, gulped noisily, and said, “No, no, that is not it at all. It is merely – oh, I am terribly upset about … well, you know…”
Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Annesley, who said, “Mr. Darcy informed us of Mr. Wickham’s attempt to destroy Miss Darcy’s reputation. It is a most troubling situation.”
Jane sat down by Elizabeth and said, “My dear Miss Darcy, we both understand your distress, but I do encourage you not to give way to despair. My Aunt Charlotte and her mother are managing the gossip in Hertfordshire, and I am confident that your brother and Richard will find Wickham and punish him for his lies.”
Georgiana looked at Mrs. Annesley, who looked back with sympathy, and then the girl stared down at her own folded hands.
“But it was not all lies,” she whispered.
Elizabeth and Jane froze in amazement and then the former said, very gently, “What do you mean?”
Now tears were forming the girl’s eyes and dripping down her pale cheeks. “I did nearly run away,” she confessed, and her head drooped still more, “with Mr. Wickham. ”
“What?” Jane gasped.
“It was … it was this last summer,” Georgiana murmured, so quietly that her guests strained to hear her.
“My companion at the time, Mrs. Younge, and I went to Ramsgate on the sea for several weeks, and Mr. Wickham encountered us in the street the second day of our holiday. I had such fond memories of him from my childhood, as he spent hours entertaining me, and he is so very handsome, and he visited me often, and I was such a fool! I thought we were in love, and he convinced me to run away with him to Gretna Green.”
“Where was Mrs. Younge during this time?” Elizabeth demanded, her eyes glinting in outrage. “How could she have permitted such a thing to happen while she was supposed to be watching over you?”
“She knew Mr. Wickham,” Georgiana explained, and then began sobbing.
“She knew him, and they had planned it all – for him to come to Ramsgate, to befriend me, to trick me into thinking that he would be the perfect husband. But I knew better, I did! How could I have even considered...? But I agreed to wed, and only my brother’s unexpected arrival at Ramsgate saved me.
I told him, of course, and he … he was so angry, which I understand!
I am so very ashamed, and if you … if you do not wish to be my friend anymore, I… ”
She broke off as Elizabeth, disdaining convention, lurched off her chair, kneeled on the floor, and flung her arms around the younger girl.
“My dear Miss Darcy,” she said, as the girl rocked and sobbed. “Please, please listen to me. You are not, in any way, at fault in this matter. It is all Mr. Wickham’s fault, along with your treacherous companion.”
“I knew better,” Georgiana cried out, the tears flowing freely and dripping down her pale cheeks. “I knew better than to agree to an elopement.”
“And you were under the care of a duplicitous woman,” Jane said, and her own blue eyes were sparking with fury. “I assure you that neither Elizabeth nor I blames you in the least!”
“Are you certain?” the girl whispered, lifting a tear-stained face.
“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth began, but Georgiana interrupted and said, “Please, will you both not call me Georgiana? You know my greatest secret now.”
“Georgiana then, and of course, you must call me Elizabeth.”
“And I am Jane.”
“Please listen to me carefully,” Elizabeth implored. “Mr. Wickham is a man over five and twenty years of age, and you are only sixteen. He plotted against you, using your fond memories of him from childhood. He is the criminal. You are the victim in this!”
“Furthermore,” Jane continued, and her face was flushed with indignation, “please do think about what Wickham has done. He plotted with Mrs. Younge to run away with you, and then when he failed, he tried to destroy your reputation by spreading rumors about the very elopement that he tried to facilitate! What a horrible man!”
“Jane is right,” Elizabeth said, sitting back on her heels, though she kept the girl’s hands in her own firm, comforting grip.
“None of this is your fault, Georgiana. Moreover, as devastating as it was, he did fail, and he will end up in prison for his crimes. You did the right thing when your brother arrived in Ramsgate. You saved yourself from a most regrettable marriage. I promise you that we do not disdain you in the least. I shudder to think how badly I would have done in similar circumstances!”
“Truly?” Georgiana asked timidly, releasing Elizabeth’s hands in order to root around for a handkerchief.
“Truly,” Elizabeth replied and rose to her feet. “Now please do allow me to call for some water so you can wash up a little.”
“Thank you.”
/
Boarding House
London
“Darcy?!” Wickham croaked, climbing to his feet and retreating toward his bed. “What are you doing here? How can you be here?”
“Mrs. Younge gave me your direction, after a considerable bribe, of course. As for what I am doing here, it is obvious enough. Did you truly think you could slander Miss Darcy’s name in Meryton and walk away unscathed?”
Wickham’s eyes darted around in a panic, to the unmade bed, to the simple wooden dresser holding his few clothes, to the small pile of coins on the table, to Colonel Fitzwilliam, standing to one side, his face set with disapproval, and finally to the door, which was thoroughly blocked by Darcy’s tall, strong form.
“I ... really, Darcy, I really do not know what you are talking about,” he said feebly .
“Wickham, I have no intention of discussing this. I warned you that if you gossiped about my sister, I would have you sent to Marshalsea. I am now going to carry out that promise.”
“No!” Wickham cried out. “You cannot! Have mercy, Darcy, have mercy! Your esteemed father would not want this for me, his godson! You know that!”
“My uncle is dead,” Richard said coldly, “and thus, his desires are no longer a consideration. Moreover, he never knew what you really are, Wickham. Now come along.”
Wickham bowed his head with becoming meekness and allowed himself to be shepherded down the stairs, through the front door, and into the street.
At this point, he made a valiant attempt at running away, but the former military colonel was no fool and had kept a firm grip on his arm.
The additional presence of two stout manservants from Darcy House made an escape entirely impossible.
Wickham found himself being pushed, protesting loudly, into a carriage, and Darcy ordered his coachman to drive to Marshalsea prison.
/
Darcy House
That Evening
Darcy paused at the foot of the steps to his own front door, looking up the marble stairs.
He was struck anew by the wealth and comfort to which he was so accustomed.
Walking through Marshalsea prison had been a painful experience; seeing firsthand the squalor and misery of its inmates, the vermin scampering across the floor and crawling up the walls, the filth and refuse mucked ankle-deep.
Wickham had been almost catatonic with shock when he was finally thrown into his new cell.
Darcy swallowed at the thought of Wickham’s miserable face.
It was very hard leaving his former friend in a foul prison.
But Wickham, however pleasant a playmate he had been as a boy, was an evil man.
Darcy could not in good conscience continue to let the man roam the land at will, seducing women and stealing from hapless merchants.
Moreover, he had a responsibility to Georgiana to ensure that she would never look on the face of the scoundrel again.
Darcy heaved a deep sigh, relishing the cleaner air, and started up the steps to his own door. He had, at least, provided extra funds to the warden for Wickham’s care. His enemy would not be comfortable, but neither would the man starve to death amidst disease-ridden rodents .
One of the footmen beside the door straightened further and opened the door smartly. Darcy passed inside, grateful for the warmth of the house.
“Brother!”
“Georgiana,” Darcy replied and forced himself to smile. He was exhausted, but he needed to speak to his sister about Wickham, and given the girl’s guilt over the matter of Ramsgate, he feared it would be a challenging conversation.
“Shall we go into my sitting room for some tea?” Georgiana asked, stepping forward and linking her arm in his.
Darcy was not much in the mood for tea, but he welcomed a private place for discussion. “Certainly.”
The twosome began climbing the great steps which led to the upper floor, and Georgiana asked, “Where is Richard?”
“He is visiting Lord and Lady Matlock.”
“Do they know about Jane?”
Darcy lifted an eyebrow at his sister’s use of Miss Bennet’s Christian name, but merely said, “He is telling them about her tonight.”
The girl nodded but held her silence as the pair walked down the polished hall to her sitting room, whereupon she asked her maid to send up tea and macaroons, and sat down on the couch, with her brother taking a position opposite her.
“Did you find Mr. Wickham?” Georgiana asked immediately.
“We did,” Darcy said. “He was in a boarding house in a disreputable part of the city. Richard and I escorted him to Marshalsea, and he is now imprisoned there.”
He was watching her carefully, and was both relieved and surprised at her calm demeanor.
“I am glad he is imprisoned now,” she said, just as the door opened and a servant entered with tea service.
Georgiana bustled about pouring tea for her brother, who found himself strangely thirsty, and when she retook her seat, she continued, “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth came to visit me this afternoon.”
Darcy eyed her warily. “Yes?”
“I told them about Mr. Wickham and Ramsgate.”
His heart clenched as he stared at her in horror.
Not for fear of the information spreading – no, not that.
There were few people on whose secrecy he could more confidently depend than Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her sister; but at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister’s frailty could mortify him more .
“They were absolutely wonderful, Brother,” his sister declared, and her eyes grew shiny with tears. “They were so angry on my behalf and did not blame me a jot. They truly did not! They assured me that it was not my fault in the least! Now, I know it was actually somewhat my fault...”
“It was not,” he interrupted, managing to speak through the tightness in his throat. “I have told you that many times.”
“I know,” she said, and she smiled faintly, “but you are my brother and are thus naturally inclined to take my part. Jane and Elizabeth are not connected to us, not yet at any rate, and they were furious on my behalf that first Wickham tried to seduce me into running away with him, and then used that terrible event to blacken my name.”
“They are correct,” Darcy agreed, regarding Georgiana with amazement.
He had told her many, many times that she was not at fault for the events of Ramsgate, but it was obvious that the Bennets’ assurances carried additional weight.
Perhaps it was because they were, as she said, not close relations.
Or perhaps it was because they were women who lived and learned and loved in a society where brothers and husbands and fathers ruled over them.
He had never said this aloud to Georgiana.
He had hardly allowed himself to think such a thing – but the truth was that it was, perhaps, fortunate that Georgiana had agreed to elope with Wickham.
If she had not, if his dear sister had been trapped with a treacherous companion and a man desperate for money, what terrible thing might have happened?
Because if Georgiana had proved unwilling, there were other ways for Wickham to gain her as a bride.
Darcy had sent her unprotected to Ramsgate, and while his old enemy had, as far as he knew, never been violent, with the riches of Pemberley in his grasp, Wickham might have overcome any repulsion and forced himself upon. ..
He cut off these thoughts. By the grace of God, Georgiana had been saved. He would not dwell on it.
“I really do like Jane and Elizabeth very much,” Georgiana commented casually, heedless of his thoughts.
Darcy suppressed a grin at these obvious words, but he could hardly argue.
“I like them very much too, Georgiana,” he said.