Seven Days With Mr Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  “I wonder how you heard of our little adventure, and so quickly, but I believe I can guess,” Wickham said with a grin.

  Darcy balled up his fist and punched him square in the nose. Still tipsy from his drink, Wickham fell to the ground, collapsing bonelessly. Kitty shrieked.

  “Good God, Darcy!” Wickham cried. “You broke my nose!” he said, or so Darcy guessed from the muffled syllables.

  Darcy adjusted his coat sleeves as Wickham cleaned himself. “You have ten minutes before I leave and any chance of money does as well,” he said as Wickham seemed to move slower than necessary. As suspected, the threat quickened his movements.

  “I am surprised you had that in you,” Wickham said. “I suppose you really do love her then?” He laughed.

  Darcy growled in frustration and approached Mrs. Gardiner and Kitty. “Miss Kitty, are you well?”

  She nodded, and he looked at her aunt for confirmation.

  “I come as an emissary for your father.”

  “He is here?”

  “He waits for you in the carriage. You must know how this has grieved your family.”

  “I know,” she burst into tears. “I wish there were another way, but Wicky said we had no other options. You did not have to beat him! Will the others?”

  “Others?”

  Kitty looked nervously at the door. “He says there are men after him who want to cheat him out of money. He promised me a wedding as soon as he could arrange everything.” She stared at her feet. “He said you would help.”

  “Did he?” Darcy paused a minute. It had not been discussed what he should say to Kitty. Some would say it would be kinder for her to believe Wickham loved her, but he thought she should hear the truth. “I am here to help you come to your senses. He had absolutely no intention of marrying you unless I pay for it and his entire existence.”

  “Is that not the least you owe him?” She asked with her bottom lip trembling.

  “Kitty,” Mrs. Gardiner said, “Mr. Wickham is a terrible liar who has imposed on all of us. Darcy is blameless in matters between them.”

  “No, I do not believe it,” she shook her head. “He would not lie to me, he loves me!”

  “Do you know,” Darcy said coldly, “that is precisely what your sister Lydia claimed but three days ago?”

  “No, he never loved Lydia,” and Darcy saw evidence that the girl before him was just as caught between adulthood and childhood as Georgiana and Lydia.

  “I would agree,” Darcy said. “The trouble is that he made her think it was so, just as he did with you. As he has with many others, and then abandoned them.”

  “What are you saying to her?” Wickham said from the settee where he poured more wine. “Kitty, where are the cigars?” He demanded sharply, causing her to jump.

  “You can leave with us and never see him again, or live a life of squalid poverty at his beck and call until he tires of you. Is this what you desire for life?”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “He is anxious due to our problems, and we have no servants. If we had money, he would treat me better.”

  “Kitty!” Mrs. Gardiner hissed sharply. “Think of your mother. She would die seeing you in this place. You are a gentleman’s daughter; you deserve much more than this.”

  “And what? Marry without love?” Kitty shook her head. “Did Mama ever ask if Jane loved Bingley? If Lizzy loved Collins? She certainly can’t love you,” she motioned at Darcy.

  “The cigars!” Wickham yelled, and Kitty dashed away to find them.

  She picked up laundry and papers strewn about the cramped apartment, searching, finally finding the case on the floor. She meekly brought them to her lover. Darcy shook his head. It was hopeless.

  “It is pointless,” Wickham said as he pulled her onto his lap and she yelped before he gave her a passionate kiss. “You cannot tear us apart. We are devoted to one another.”

  Darcy looked at Mrs. Gardiner, who exhaled and nodded.

  “Kitty,” she said, “let us gather your things. You will come back to the house while we plan your wedding.”

  Kitty looked as though she was going to argue against the separation, but she clearly did not have the stomach to stay any longer in such conditions. She showed Mrs. Gardiner into the other room, which housed the bed. A minute or two later, she was dressed simply and clutching a bag as she followed her aunt downstairs.

  “Congratulate me, Darcy. I daresay I got the most biddable of the lovely Bennet sisters.” He sipped his wine. “Ah! We are to be brothers after all!”

  “Wickham,” Darcy growled. “I have your debts.”

  Finally, Wickham sobered, and fear filled his eyes. “Would you put me in debtor’s prison?”

  “I am willing to assist the marriage, should her father agree, since the girl is too stupid for her own good.”

  “We will need something to live on. Wouldn’t want Mrs. Darcy’s sister to starve.” He ran his finger around the rim of his glass affecting a casual tone. “Do you still have the estate in Cheshire?”

  “An ensign in the Regulars,” Darcy replied.

  “The army?” The fear redoubled. “Allow me to stay in the militia then. A captain’s post and a few hundred pounds a year from Kitty.”

  “One hundred pounds a year.”

  Wickham stared at Darcy for some time before grinning and sitting back on the settee, looping his hands behind his head. “You cannot refuse me,” he laughed.

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “If I do not marry Kitty, the Bennet reputation is ruined.”

  “I think not,” Darcy said. “She left from her home.”

  “Mayhap I will find another sister. I was Eliza’s favourite.”

  Darcy resisted the bait. Any conversation regarding his relationship with Elizabeth would only serve Wickham’s purposes. He pulled out his watch. “Not if you are in Marshalsea, or transported for desertion. You have two minutes left.”

  “I wonder what the world would say of a lady with two ruined sisters.”

  Darcy remained mute, watching seconds tick away.

  “Do you hear me? I have already seduced Lydia. I assume her going to London was your doing. Kitty was even easier to convince to elope than Lydia had been. It was no difference to me.”

  After another thirty seconds of silence from Darcy, Wickham attempted again. “Eliza, now, she was well worth the risk. But I do not mind that you will have her more than me. I had her first.”

  Darcy commanded his muscles to not tense. He knew it was a lie intended to enrage him.

  “I like having things before you, Darcy. Did your cousin ever tell you her deep, dark secret?”

  “Thirty seconds,” Darcy said.

  “Five hundred pounds,” Wickham countered.

  “Two hundred.”

  “Three hundred,” Wickham’s voice sounded nearly panicked.

  “Two hundred fifty and you have five seconds left.”

  Wickham said nothing at first as precious time slipped away. At the top of the minute, Darcy closed his watch and returned it to his pocket. Turning on his heel, he had almost reached the door when Wickham called out.

  “Yes! Yes! We have a deal.”

  Darcy repressed a shudder at the way he talked about the matter as though marriage, the love and protection of a woman, were nothing more than a business transaction. Darcy stalked back to Wickham and held out his hand, gripping it tight enough to make the man blanch when they shook. Pulling out the contract in his pocket, he went over the terms. Wickham would remove to a lodging paid for by Darcy. After his residency was established, he and Kitty would marry. Wickham was expected to court Kitty daily at Gracechurch Street. He was no longer permitted to gamble or drink to excess. Darcy would have informants watching. Kitty’s income was her own and Wickham could not touch it without her permission. If she wished to separate at any time, she could, and Wickham would bring no suit.

  “What is this?” Wickham asked angrily at the final point.

  “Rep
arations,” Darcy said.

  “Reparations? For whom?”

  “One week’s volunteering at the Lock Hospital and Foundling Hospital before you marry to remind you of the ladies you have used so callously.”

  “I have not spread venereal disease or got anyone with child!” He cried, but the tone gave away the fact that he was not entirely certain.

  “You never worried about the fate of the women you took for your pleasure, and ran before the consequences could become apparent.”

  “Darcy, please.”

  “There is always debtor’s prison,” he reminded. “Or there’s deserting your unit…” Darcy said.

  Wickham gulped and signed his name.

  “My man of affairs is arranging rooms for you. He will settle your bill here and convey you there.” Darcy picked up the signed contract. “You are excused from calling tomorrow, by the way.”

  “Why is that?” Wickham asked as he kicked something across the room.

  Darcy made no reply but merely left with a smile on his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  To my dearest niece on her wedding day,

  We have always been friends and as close as an aunt and niece could be. Knowing that today, after such a history, you will marry, at last, to an upstanding gentleman who is entirely deserving of you, provides me with more joy than I can contain. May your marriage be as happy as mine — and five times longer! I will miss being second in your affections (as I know A always came before me) but I will bear it since I know you truly love him.

  We became friends when I married your uncle, and you were already eight or nine years old, and so we are still friends even as the earldom has passed to your father and then your brother. A married lady may expect many changes, but we will always remain friends.

  Your aunt, always,

  A.F.

  Darcy returned the Gardiners and Bennets to Gracechurch Street before continuing to his house. His aunt — as he still thought of Lady Catherine — enjoyed arriving early and commanding all his attention. He had sent a letter to the Baroness’ house so they would not permit her ladyship’s entry. The last thing Lady Darcy needed was an irate Catherine de Bourgh. As he locked Wickham’s contracts away and heard a ruckus at the front door, he had assumed it was her arrival. Instead, an angry Charles Bingley was shown into his library.

  “Bingley, how are you?” He asked his old friend. Only so much had changed since they last met.

  “Ruined, thanks to you!”

  “I do not take your meaning.”

  “And that is not even pointing out that what in the hell are you doing marrying Elizabeth Bennet after telling me I should not wed Jane?”

  Darcy held up his hands. “I apologise for that. I have been trying to contact you.” He may have misjudged Jane all those months ago, but neither was he to blame for Bingley’s actions since. “Do you want to explain why you are trying to court my sister?”

  Bingley poured himself a glass of scotch. “Come off it! Like you have not been grooming me to wed her for years.”

  “I will not deny that I used to believe you would be the ideal match for her. However, she is too young, and I have it on good authority that mere weeks ago you first gave Jane Bennet the cut direct and then proposed to her. I would not wish my sister to be courted by a man who cannot decide what he wants.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what I want then,” Bingley sneered. “You are always so good at that. Besides, I had little time with your cousin sniffing around her.”

  “Refrain from talking about my sister as though she were a dog,” Darcy growled.

  “I apologise. That was uncalled for.” Bingley rubbed his temples. “I have never seen Caroline in such a rage.”

  “Yes, you claimed I had ruined you.”

  “She ran into your Miss Bennet and Miss Darcy speaking with the Dowager Duchess of Dorset. I dare not trust her version of facts, but the result was Her Grace cut Caroline in front of a crowd.”

  Darcy raised his brows. He had underestimated the Duchess.

  “She has been irate since her visit here when she learned of your engagement.”

  “We have discussed this,” Darcy said. “I never considered her.”

  “But did she not fit your new requirements? I have seen you dance and talk with her. Do not tell me you feel nothing.”

  Darcy stared at the man he had thought was his best friend. How had he missed this failing in Bingley’s character? “When did you begin to think that, Bingley? You did not believe that in Hertfordshire or when we first arrived in London. Was it after learning I was to inherit a barony?”

  Bingley flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “What kind of brother would I be? You are the best man I know. Should I not wish for that for my sister?”

  “Ah, and a title and wealth were just too much to resist?”

  “All I did was inform her you were looking for a bluestocking. I did not tell her what to say or make you ask her to dance.”

  “Neither of which gives rise to an expectation of marriage!” Bingley stared at him unapologetically. “What happened with Jane Bennet?”

  Bingley shrugged his shoulders. “I panicked in the shop. I had no idea she was in London. By the time I had squeezed the information out of Caroline where she was, it seems Jane had made up her mind about me. She turned me on my heel without letting me explain a thing.”

  “Did you propose to her without so much as speaking to her in months?”

  Bingley slumped in his seat. “I thought it was the best way to demonstrate my love.”

  “Charles,” Darcy said firmly, and the man gave him a sheepish look. “You did that to ease your guilt. You did not consider her feelings at all. That was not love.”

  “Was not love?” Bingley parroted without comprehension as though Darcy had just spoken Turkish. “And you suddenly know so much about it?”

  “I am learning,” Darcy could not help the small smile from forming. “Elizabeth is teaching me.”

  “Have her talk to Jane for me,” Bingley pleaded. “Caroline told me that Dorset was paying court.”

  “A moment ago, you were upset because Richard might have been courting Georgiana!”

  “Well…” Bingley rubbed the back of his neck again. “Miss Darcy is a lovely, talented lady. She would make a very appropriate wife. If I cannot have my first choice.”

  “Do you think this helps your case? What brother would I be if I gave my blessing to a man who did not desperately love her? Either my sister by blood or marriage?”

  “If Elizabeth had refused you then you would have gone to the most convenient thing, your cousin.”

  “No, I never would have married Anne. I courted Elizabeth. I worked hard to earn her trust and esteem. I will never take that for granted or think it is due me simply for having the sense to pay attention to her.”

  Bingley seemed sufficiently cowed into silence, and the clock struck the half hour. “I have guests arriving shortly. I will call on you soon,” Darcy said as he escorted Bingley to the door, knowing all the while that their friendship had forever altered and likely had been given an irreversible blow.

  Darcy retired to his chambers to dress for dinner then waited in his study for the arrival of his guests. The Earl and Countess had been civil but surprised at his letter relaying his invitation and the news of his betrothal. He restlessly paced the library, hoping Lady Catherine would arrive before the others and hopefully get most of her anger over. As if conjured by thought, a loud knock sounded at the front door.

  “Darcy!” she screeched then shouted directions at his servants on how to care for Anne and the requirements for their rooms.

  Darcy was halfway down the hall, but she boomed again. “Darcy! Explain this!” She held up his letter and waved it in his face.

  “Madam,” he said uncertain how to address her. “Let us speak in the library.” He ushered her down the hall.

  As soon as the door shut, she began again and shook a now crumpled p
iece of paper in her fist. “What cruel joke do you play?”

  “I play no joke,” he said softly, hoping if he lowered his voice she might match it. “I am as shocked as you.”

  “It is impossible!” She exclaimed. “She would have been—”

  “Fifteen. The same age as Anne. The same age as Georgiana. And the same age as Elizabeth Bennet’s sister.”

  “Georgiana? What — what do you mean? What happened with Georgiana?”

  “Last summer she nearly eloped with George Wickham,” Lady Catherine sneered at the name. “I see you recall who he is. I foiled the plan by chance. I arrived to pay her a surprise visit a day before their intended departure. She could not grieve me and soon related the whole.”

  “And Miss Bennet’s sister?”

  Darcy sighed and related the tale. “So, you see, fifteen is quite the age to consider yourself in love and ready to make such a decision.”

  “But did he ruin Georgiana?”

  “No, she was saved that. Thank, God.”

  Lady Catherine sighed in relief.

  Darcy sighed as well, then added, “He did significant emotional damage, though, and she is only now recovering.”

  “Yes…that man can harm a woman’s soul,” she said darkly, and no doubt recalled Anne’s depression. “So, is it really true?”

  “It makes a certain amount of sense,” Darcy said. “Mother married late even for a bluestocking. You and I look very similar, more than most aunts and nephews.” Darcy shrugged. “Besides this, you know her hand. Lady Darcy would not copy it and does not benefit from hiring a forgery. Consider the interest my mother took in you when most siblings separated by years and distance are not as close.”

  Tears pricked Lady Catherine’s eyes and then smiled. “She charged me so strongly to look after you and Georgiana. I had often felt as though I failed her, but I had wondered why she had said it was my right by birth.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “All this time, you were my brother.”