“Engaged to Mr Wickham!” Mr Bennet expostulated when Mrs Bennet reached the point in the story at which Georgiana had made that little revelation.
“I assure you, sir, my sister is not engaged to that scoundrel,” Darcy grated. Fitzwilliam put a steadying hand on his arm.
“I have to say, Mr Darcy, that I did not believe it for a moment,” Mrs Bennet said. “Not considering…” she trailed off, rather to Darcy’s surprise, and looked at her husband.
“Considering that there seems to be some clear antipathy between the two of you that has had Mr Wickham blackening your name to all and sundry since your departure from the county,” Mr Bennet said dryly.
“Blackening my name?” Darcy gaped at him.
Mrs Bennet nodded, as though he was confirming a suspicion of hers, and leaned forward confidingly. “I did not believe what he was saying for a moment, of course,” she said.
Which meant that she’d believed every word and had probably discussed all the juicy gossip with her little clique of neighbours, Darcy thought grimly. “I pray you, please tell me exactly what falsehoods he has been spreading, so that I may refute them,” he said. “I would not for a moment have you fooled as to the true nature of his character and his dealings with my family.” Not now that Georgiana’s reputation rests upon your silence.
“I believe there has been some mention of a living promised to him in your father’s will, which you denied him,” Mrs Bennet said, her tone tentative. Darcy supposed that his expression was probably not exactly encouraging in that moment, but he could not suppress his rage.
“Of course,” Fitzwilliam said when Darcy was too angry to speak. “It is the one complaint Wickham has against you that has some small basis in truth. Mr Darcy senior expressed a desire for Mr Wickham to take up a family living in the village of Kympton,” he explained to the Bennets. “When Wickham, ah, decided not to take up a career as a churchman, he approached Darcy to explain and received monies instead, supposedly to benefit him in his study of law.”
“He was amply compensated for the loss of the living,” Darcy ground out. “To the tune of three thousand pounds!”
“Three thousand pounds!” Both the Bennets gaped at him incredulously.
“This, in addition to the one thousand my father bequeathed him upon his death six years ago. Around two years ago, Wickham approached me to state that he was once again in need of funds, a request which I denied.”
“Wait, you are saying that he managed to spend four thousand pounds in four years? How is that even possible?” Mr Bennet exclaimed.
“It is the easiest thing imaginable if you have a taste for the gaming tables,” Fitzwilliam said grimly.
“Good lord,” Mrs Bennet plucked a lace handkerchief from her sleeve, fluttered it in front of her face anxiously. “I never had the slightest idea! He is quite dreadful at cards, Edward, I can quite believe he went through the money now that I think on it. Why, he lost five pounds to Captain Carter just the other evening at the Gouldings, and wrote him a chit to cover the loss.”
“I am sure he did,” Fitzwilliam said, and for the first time that whole day, he smiled. “I am quite sure, in fact, that Mr Wickham has already accumulated quite a number of gaming debts to his fellow officers, and run up accounts with any of the local shopkeepers who could be persuaded to extend him credit, too.”
“Debts!” Mrs Bennet cried, the handkerchief fluttering faster. “Oh, my dear Mr Bennet! What a good thing that he did not continue to court Elizabeth, but turned his attention to Miss King!”
Mr Bennet gave her an incredulous look. “Yet, poor Miss King,” he said, his tone dust-dry.
Darcy had fastened on one fact. “He was courting Elizabeth? Miss Elizabeth, I mean?” He covered the slip hastily, hoped that her parents would not notice, though he saw Fitzwilliam’s smirk from the corner of his eye and shot his cousin a glare.
“Oh yes, we quite expected an offer to be forthcoming,” Mrs Bennet declared, “but once Miss King arrived in Meryton, he seemed to lose interest… her dowry is the appeal, I suppose, she is a freckle-faced little thing who cannot hold a candle to our Lizzy.”
“Undoubtedly,” Fitzwilliam said, and Darcy could hear the laughter in his voice. “I think there are few young ladies who might hold a candle to Miss Elizabeth.”
Mrs Bennet beamed at him for that praise.
“Still, Miss King is to be pitied… and to be rescued before her reputation is ruined by association. Wickham is not what he has led the good people of Hertfordshire to believe, madam. I have a plan to ensure that he can cause no further harm. Accumulating debts when one has no means to repay them is a habit frowned on in a King’s officer. If I were to buy up the majority of the debts and then demand payment, Wickham will have nowhere to go but debtor’s prison. I’ll escort him to the Fleet myself.”
“Prison!” Mrs Bennet squeaked, covering her mouth with her kerchief, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh, my dear Mr Bennet!”
Darcy sat back, considering his cousin’s plan as Mrs Bennet carried on and her husband tried unsuccessfully to calm her. “It’s risky, Fitz,” he said at last, keeping his voice low. “What if he talks before you get him out of Hertfordshire?”
“That’s why I have to move quickly. I’ll go out at first light, send an express to London for some of my own men to come and guard him. By the time they get here, I’ll have enough debt notes in hand to make it quite evident that Wickham has no possibility of repaying them.”
“Unless he marries the King girl.”
“I’m quite sure that a few judicious words in the right ear will have her running for the hills rather than shackling herself to Wickham.” Fitzwilliam inclined his head towards Mrs Bennet.
Darcy smothered a grin. They’d have to be the right words, and he still needed to somehow explain away Georgiana’s claims of engagement, but yes, Mrs Bennet could indeed be very useful here, he thought. Colonel Forster had promised to put Wickham into isolation for the night and permit nobody to talk to him, and had ordered his officers to say nothing of the new arrivals. With any luck Wickham would have no idea that Darcy was behind his troubles until it was too late for him to blacken Georgiana’s reputation to anyone who would believe him.
That is, if Wickham hadn’t already. And to find that out, he would need to ask some more questions - and reveal some more truths. Darcy licked his lips.
“George Wickham has ever been quick to blacken my name, but I must ask you, Mrs Bennet, if he has spoken ill of my sister to anyone?”
“Not that I know of, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet shook her head. “I should have to ask the girls, for they are more often in conversation with him than I. Elizabeth was the one to whom he first told his tale of woe regarding the living he was denied, I believe.”
And Elizabeth had believed it, Darcy realised with sudden fury, enough to repeat it to her mother at the least. Mrs Bennet was looking at him expectantly; he had to say something but there was a sudden lump in his throat choking him.
“There is no smoke without fire, as I am sure you are aware,” Fitzwilliam came to his rescue. “Even as Wickham’s lie about the living has some small basis in truth… Georgiana’s claim to be engaged to Wickham is not entirely a fabrication.”
Recovering his composure and realising he really had no option but to throw himself on Mrs Bennet’s mercy, Darcy said “Last summer, I engaged a companion for Georgiana by the name of Mrs Younge, in whose character I regret to say I was sadly deceived…”
Confessing the awful truth about Ramsgate felt somehow cathartic. Mr Bennet’s sharp gaze was understanding, and even Mrs Bennet’s little shrieks of distress did not upset him. Perhaps the woman would be more careful of her own daughters’ reputations with such a cautionary tale as warning.
“Of course, I must ask you not to tell another soul of this,” Darcy said at last. “Even before I told you, though, you knew enough to destroy Georgiana’s reputation, if you so chose. Your silence is the only thing standi
ng between her and utter ruin.”
“I know how to keep a secret, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Bennet said with great dignity. “You may rest assured that nobody will hear of this from my lips, and I will ensure that Lizzy and Mary keep their silence on the matter as well.”
“Miss Darcy is very young, and goodness knows that girls of that age do silly, reckless things without thought to the possible ramifications,” Mr Bennet spoke for the first time in several minutes. “No real harm has been done, I think, but society would not see it that way if the truth came out. Your reticence is quite understandable, Mr Darcy.”
Thankful for their understanding, Darcy could not adequately express his gratitude, but fortunately his cousin came to his rescue once again, finding the necessary words to thank their hosts and extract themselves from the situation.
“Well, that could have been worse,” Fitzwilliam said as he and Darcy ascended the stairs. It was early yet, but it had been a long day since their discovery of Georgiana’s disappearance and their panicked race from London, hoping to intercept her. They were both quite eager to seek their beds.
“I pray that the worst is over,” Darcy agreed. “If you are able to deal with Wickham suitably tomorrow, then I shall undertake to tell Georgiana the truth. You are quite right that I should have done so in Ramsgate; not doing so has proved far more dangerous.”
“Leave Wickham to me.”
Neither of them noticed the slightly ajar door they passed on the landing. Darcy clapped Fitzwilliam on the shoulder as they made their way to their rooms.
“Deal with that bounder and we shall shake the dust of Hertfordshire from our boots by noon.”
“Are you sure that you are so eager for that?” Fitzwilliam asked slyly. “There is nothing here that tempts you to remain?”
“Shut up, Fitz!” Darcy gave his cousin a dangerous scowl, and Fitzwilliam chuckled.
“Do not think I will remain silent on the topic indefinitely,” he warned.
“I have no doubt of it,” Darcy replied, “but pray, let us deal with the current crisis before you instigate a new one?”
Laughter was Fitzwilliam’s only response as he closed the door of his room in Darcy’s face. Shaking his head wearily, Darcy sought his own bed, even though he was certain sleep, if he found it at all, would be both disturbed and fleeting.
CHAPTER TEN
Elizabeth frowned as a door closed, cutting off any further conversation from her ears. Her eavesdropping had gained her no new knowledge really, other than that there was some ‘truth’ about Wickham which Darcy planned to reveal to his sister tomorrow. And that Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to have some plan to ‘deal with’ Wickham. With a sigh, she closed Jane’s bedroom door the rest of the way. She might as well get some sleep. There would be nothing new to learn until the morning.
Jane shook Elizabeth awake a little after midnight. Seeing Jane’s sleepy eyes, Elizabeth forced herself to climb out of bed even though her weary body cried out for more rest. “How is Georgiana?” she asked quietly, urging Jane into the warm bed and pulling her robe back on.
“Very restless,” Jane shook her head. “Her fever is still high, I haven’t been able to coax more than a spoonful of water into her.”
“All right, I shall do my best. Good night, darling.” Elizabeth leaned down to kiss Jane’s brow, watched her sister’s blue eyes close before she picked up the candle and crept quietly back to her own room.
Longbourn was still and silent in the dead of night, and very cold. Elizabeth snugged her robe tighter around her and found a shawl hanging over the back of a chair, added that about her shoulders as well. Checking on Georgiana, she found the girl very hot and restless in her sleep, tossing and turning, mumbling unintelligibly under her breath. She debated with herself for a few minutes whether she should add another log to the fire, in case the room became too warm for Georgiana, but eventually reasoned with herself that the bed was a good distance from the fire and that Elizabeth would do nobody any good by freezing herself to an icicle. Another log was placed on the coals, and Elizabeth settled herself into the chair by the fire.
Georgiana roused a little later, muttering more loudly and thrashing about as she tried to sit up. Elizabeth rushed to try and settle her again, murmuring soothing words and stroking the younger girl’s hair, begging her to take a drink of water. She managed to coax only a few sips past Georgiana’s dry, cracked lips before the cup was pushed away.
Finally, Georgiana drifted back to sleep and Elizabeth retreated to collapse into her chair again. Miss Darcy was not an easy patient by any means; an imperious tone had emerged when Georgiana demanded that Elizabeth take the cup away which strongly reminded Elizabeth of the elder Darcy sibling.
I should not be unhappy if I had never heard the Darcy name again, and here there are two of them beneath Longbourn’s roof throwing our lives into disarray. Morning could not come soon enough, though Elizabeth dreaded Mr Darcy’s reaction to learning of Georgiana’s illness. He would be most displeased that his plans to shake Hertfordshire’s dust from his boots as expeditiously as possible would be thwarted until she was well enough to travel back to London.
The thought of his likely vexation brought a tiny smile to her lips, even as she found herself shivering. There were no more logs to put on the fire, so the room would only grow colder. Thoughtfully, she eyed Georgiana. The bed was a fair width, surely there would be room enough for both of them! Elizabeth had often enough shared it with Jane when Longbourn hosted a large number f guests, after all. Making up her mind, she hurried over to the bed and slipped under the covers beside the other girl, sighing with pleasure as the warmth of the bed seeped into her chilled body. Eventually, she drifted off into a light sleep, waking instantly whenever Georgiana stirred.
Morning seemed a very long time in coming, but eventually her keen ears picked up the sounds of stealthy feet moving on the stairs, the quiet clop of a horse’s hooves outside. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s horse being brought up, she guessed; the thin grey light of dawn was just beginning to filter past the heavy winter curtains covering the window.
Georgiana stirred and mumbled something; Elizabeth put a hand to her brow, hissed with horror as she discovered that Georgiana’s fever was higher yet. Scrambling hastily from bed, she hurried to the door, pulling her robe tightly about her.
She emerged onto the landing at the same time as Colonel Fitzwilliam, who flushed and hastily averted his eyes from her state of undress.
“Miss Elizabeth!”
“Georgiana is very ill,” she told him, having no time for concerns about propriety.
Fitzwilliam’s face paled and he hurried past her into the bedroom, stooping over the bed to briefly examine his cousin. “Fever,” he said grimly. “When did this come on?”
“Late last night. I have tried to keep her comfortable, but she needs the doctor. I heard your horse being brought around, sir; you are bound for Meryton?”
“Indeed.” He straightened up, gave her a sharp look. “Tell me where to find the doctor’s house; I will fetch him here myself.”
“You have other errands to see to, I am sure, Colonel. If you inform him that Miss Elizabeth Bennet says it is a matter of urgency, Doctor Jones will expedite his journey here, I assure you.” She gave him swift directions to the doctor’s house and he repeated them back to her crisply before taking his leave without ceremony.
The household was waking now, Elizabeth could hear voices below stairs as she closed the bedroom door behind the Colonel. Not five minutes later Mrs Hill tapped on the door and came in with a tea-tray.
“Bless you, Mrs Hill,” Elizabeth was in desperate need of the sustenance. She drank a cup of tea and dressed herself quickly, sure that the morning would be busy. She had scarcely finished putting up her hair when Jane entered, all concern for Georgiana.
“Doctor Jones will be on his way, the Colonel will have reached Meryton by now,” Elizabeth assured her.
“Go and break your fast, then; I will wai
t until after the doctor has arrived,” Jane suggested. “No, Lizzy, I insist,” when Elizabeth would have demurred. “You spent the bulk of the night with Miss Darcy, and I know how restless she was when I was with her. Go and eat something, you need to keep your strength up.”
Tired and hungry, Elizabeth was not about to argue the matter. Georgiana would likely need a great deal of nursing over the next few days, and she knew very well that the brunt of the work would fall on her and Jane. “I will be quick,” she promised, and hurried below stairs.
With little patience for company, Elizabeth made for the kitchen, knowing that Cook would find some breakfast for her to eat at the table there. A bowl of porridge with a piece of honeycomb in it was quickly procured for her, and she sat down to eat ravenously. She was just spooning the last morsel into her mouth when the sound of wheels and hoofbeats outside announced the arrival of the doctor’s gig.
Hurrying back to the front of the house, Elizabeth arrived in the hallway just as Hill admitted Doctor Jones to the house, and also at the exact moment Mr Darcy descended the stairs.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy inclined his head to her politely. “Is Georgiana awake? I desire to make an early departure for London, so if she could be ready as soon as possible...”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam did not speak to you before he left?” Elizabeth said, mentally cursing the colonel for leaving her to break the news. “I am afraid Miss Darcy was taken ill with fever during the night. Doctor Jones is here to see to her. This way, please, Doctor.”
There was little Darcy could do but pace and fume at the foot of the stairs as Elizabeth and the doctor proceeded above. Mrs Bennet came down a few minutes later and asked him if he would go in for breakfast, but he declined, too irritated to eat. Surely Georgiana could not really be ill! She was just malingering, making a desperate attempt to stay close to Wickham, for all the good it would do her.
One look at the doctor’s grave expression when he came back down and that misapprehension fell away, replaced by deep concern.
A Christmas Miracle At Longbourn (The Darcy And Lizzy Miracles Book 1) Page 6
