by Wendi Sotis
Elizabeth blinked tears from her eyes as she sat looking at one of the drawings she had just received. The one from which she could not tear her eyes depicted Darcy and her standing in what looked to be a grand portrait gallery. Darcy’s arms surrounded her tenderly, and she was leaning back, resting against his chest. The couple in the sketch looked up at what could only be their wedding portrait.
Although there had been moments that Elizabeth felt Darcy’s opinion of her had softened, she doubted this could be a possible outcome. Why do the gypsies insist on torturing me with what can never be?
A knock sounded on the door. Elizabeth called out, “Just a moment, please!”
There were quite a few sketches that Elizabeth did not want anyone to see, including this one, so she had been keeping her drawer locked. But now in her confused state, Elizabeth could not remember where she had hidden the key, so she opened another drawer and thrust this new stack of drawings inside it. Elizabeth wiped her face with a handkerchief, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Georgiana waited until the door had closed behind her to speak. “I am sorry you feel you must hide, Lizzy,” Georgiana furrowed her brow.
Elizabeth shook her head. They had had this conversation already, but Georgiana continued to blame herself. “Georgie, you did nothing to bring this on. It was not your doing.”
Georgiana looked down at her hands.
“Have the Bingley’s gone?”
The younger girl nodded. Elizabeth had noticed that Kitty and Lydia were sometimes a little too enthusiastic for Georgiana’s tastes, so she suggested they spend some time in her chamber. “Jane had the best ideas for arranging hair; let me see if I can find her. I will return shortly.”
Elizabeth slipped from the room, leaving the door partially ajar.
~
Georgiana thought she would get a head start to make it easier for Jane and Elizabeth, and so began to remove the pins holding her hair. For her entire life, Georgiana had longed for a sister. Since arriving at Longbourn, she felt almost as if her wish had come true—it had been delightful.
Once finished with the pins, she opened the drawer where she knew Elizabeth kept her brushes, but when she looked inside, she saw several folded pages covering them.
Curiosity burned within—these had to be more of Elizabeth’s gypsy drawings—but she refused to betray Elizabeth’s friendship with even a short peek. Turning her eyes away, Georgiana reached under the paper and pulled the brush from the drawer, not realizing that the bristles caught on the pages. When she heard the distinctive sound of paper falling to the floor, Georgiana realized the drawings had been pulled out along with the brush.
Eager to return all the pages to the drawer before Elizabeth returned to her chamber, she leaned to pick them up. There was simply no way of completing the task without looking at the pages, for they had all fallen open.
Georgiana gasped.
~
Elizabeth rounded the half-open doorway and stopped short. Georgiana was kneeling on the floor with Elizabeth’s brush in hand, and on the floor were the drawings she had received today! Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Elizabeth had seen one, but even she did not know what was on the other pages.
“Lizzy, why did you stop?” Jane said from behind her.
Georgiana stood up quickly. Her eyes were filled with tears. Her mouth dropped open, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. The young girl spoke quickly, “Oh, Lizzy... I did not mean to look... they were caught on the brush and fell to the floor. I could not help but see!” Georgiana let the page fall to the floor once more. “I am sorry.”
Jane stepped around Elizabeth. The elder sister reached down and picked up one of the drawings.
Still in shock, Elizabeth stared at the page Georgiana had dropped at her feet—the sketch Elizabeth had seen earlier. She looked up at Georgiana. The poor girl seemed ready to crawl into a hole, and she began to sob.
It is obvious Georgiana is upset by the drawing. She would not approve of a marriage between her brother and me. Elizabeth shook away her surprise, stepped forward, taking Georgiana into her embrace. Georgiana leaned into her.
“I am very sorry that this has upset you so. It is a blessing, perhaps, that the sketches do not always come true.”
After Elizabeth’s statement, Georgiana sobs increased in intensity. Elizabeth’s throat tightened as she tried to rein in her own tears. She felt Jane move to the door and close it, but remain within the room.
When Georgiana was able to speak through her tears, she asked, “You do not want to marry my brother?”
“I can see it in your eyes,” Elizabeth whispered past the lump in her throat. “Please know that I would never accept without your blessing.”
Georgiana gasped and looked up, “No, Lizzy!” She hiccupped. “That is not why I was crying! I was afraid you would be angry that I saw the drawings.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you love him?”
No matter how she tried not to allow it, a tear escaped Elizabeth’s eye and rolled down her cheek. She nodded slightly. “I have loved him since I saw the first picture of him, long before I even met him or you. But, dear Georgie, your happiness is more important to me than my own. If you do not approve—”
“Oh, but Lizzy, I do approve—how could I not? Your marrying Fitzwilliam would be in answer to my dearest prayers!”
Jane let go of the breath she had been holding. Elizabeth made a noise that was half sob and half laughter, and she pulled Georgiana into another embrace. Jane put her arms around the both of them.
When the tears of happiness shed by all three young ladies were dried, Georgiana asked, “May I see the other drawings?”
“I have not seen but one of those which newly arrived today, but now that my surprise has worn off, I can feel that the gypsies meant for you both to see them.” Elizabeth sighed deeply in relief. “Shall we gather them and take a look?”
Georgiana held up the one with the portrait. “Do you know where this is?”
Elizabeth shook her head and blushed. “I feel it is... home,” she replied, barely breathing the last word.
Georgiana’s smile widened. “This is the portrait gallery at Pemberley. I know exactly where this painting will be displayed!” She took Elizabeth’s right hand and Jane’s left one in her hands. “You will truly be my sisters!”
“Georgie, you should not become too excited... I must warn you that I can show you pictures of Mr. Darcy and me dancing at Netherfield and several others which did not happen.”
“Oh.” Georgiana looked at the floor. “But your missing the dance was my fault. If only I had not gone up to bed so early...”
Elizabeth reached out and squeezed Georgiana’s hand.
Jane answered, “But perhaps it will happen. What if that particular dance was not supposed to happen at the ball?”
“It is possible.” Afraid to hope, Elizabeth tried to keep her tone even.
Jane looked at the drawing she had been holding since entering the room. With a smile that could have brightened the entire county, she turned the sketch to face Elizabeth and Georgiana.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Georgiana clapped her hands in delight. “A double wedding!”
~%~
~London
Darcy led the way to the visitors’ wing where Wickham was being kept.
“You are holding him in one of your luxurious bedchambers? I would have thrown him in a closet.”
“I had thought of that myself, but why inconvenience the staff by having them empty it first? He is being kept in the dressing room.” Darcy said. “’Tis small and easy to contain him there.”
“Too bad you do not have a dungeon in your house,” Richard replied. “What I would not do to see Wickham in shackles.”
Darcy entered the bedchamber and nodded to Roger, who was quick to rise from his chair facing the dressing room door and come to attention.
“Has he given you any trouble, Roger?” Darcy asked.
“Haven’t heard a peep from him, sir
,” Roger answered.
“Take a respite, Roger.” Darcy motioned towards the door to the hallway. “Return in a quarter of an hour.” Darcy held out his hand.
Roger handed him the key to the dressing room door. “Aye, Mr. Darcy.” Roger bowed and left the room.
“No witnesses, eh?” Richard chuckled.
Darcy gave his cousin an irritated look. “Roger has come with us from Netherfield. He is a good man who insists on remaining on duty to guard Wickham.”
Richard lifted one eyebrow, knowing Darcy never used any but his own servants.
Darcy answered Richard’s questioning look, “He is the son of a tenant of the Bennets and very loyal to that family.” Darcy unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping through it. Before he could look around for Wickham, movement caught Darcy’s eye, and he instinctively deflected the item with his arm.
Darcy kicked the door open further, trapping Wickham behind it against a tall chest of drawers.
“You all right, Darcy?” Richard asked.
Darcy nodded. “I had a feeling he would try something like that.”
“Ah, Richard! Come to say goodbye to your old friend before I leave the country, eh?” Wickham said.
Darcy pushed harder on the door. Wickham grunted.
Richard stood with his hands on his hips, smiling at Wickham, who tried to squirm his way from behind the door. “You were never a friend of mine, Wickham. I should call you out for what you had planned.”
Wickham’s voice was strained as he said, “A Fitzwilliam would never do anything illegal!”
“For you, I would be happy to make an exception.”
Darcy pushed a little harder on the door and then pulled it away from Wickham. Wickham stepped away from behind the door, careful to keep his distance from both gentlemen.
Richard said, “Well, I had to see for myself that you had not changed, Wickham. Already, I have seen enough to know that you have only worsened with age. Let us go, Darcy.”
Richard stepped through the door first, and Darcy stayed behind for a moment to say, “You are in luck, Wickham. Your ship sails the day after next.”
With one quick movement, Wickham pushed over the cabinet that he had been crushed against a few moments ago, closing the door and blocking it from being opened again. He pulled out a knife.
Richard pounded on the door.
“Where did you get that knife?” Darcy growled.
Wickham smiled wickedly. “Courtesy of Lizzy at Netherfield.”
“That is a lie! She would not have—” Darcy began to answer but realization dawned on him. Whatever happened to the knife in Georgiana’s bedchamber? After he had kicked it away from Wickham’s unconscious body, Darcy had been too worried about Georgiana’s plea for help. Elizabeth was not breathing...
“I can see that you finally realized your mistake.” Wickham laughed. “While the condition of your ladylove distracted you, Mrs. Younge hid it. She passed it to me in the coach as she fussed over me on our way to London.” He sniggered. “I will not hesitate to use it, Darcy. Your servants and Richard will do as I say whilst I hold their master at knifepoint.” He gestured towards the door with the knife. “Move the dresser and open the door. I refuse to be sent to Australia!”
Darcy leaned down, feigning to do as Wickham directed. He backed up quickly and elbowed Wickham in the gut, hitting his knife arm against a low chest of drawers. The knife dropped to the floor.
They struggled for several moments, exchanging blows until Darcy got off a solid punch to Wickham’s jaw. Off balance, Wickham tumbled backward, hitting his head on the chest of drawers as he collapsed.
Darcy nudged him with his foot. Wickham did not move. Keeping a close watch on the scoundrel, Darcy retrieved the knife. I will not make that mistake again.
The moment he shoved the dresser away from the door, it opened. Richard and Roger rushed in.
Richard congratulated Darcy on his quick thinking. “Roger, help me place him in a chair. We will bind him my way this time. I guarantee he cannot escape these knots.”
As they approached to haul him off the floor, Richard stayed Roger’s hand. “Just a moment.” He bent over Wickham and listened to his chest. Richard looked up at Darcy and shook his head.
“What?” Darcy’s eyebrows raised up high. “He is dead?”
Richard looked around, touched the edge of the chest of drawers and looked at his fingers. “Blood.” He moved Wickham’s head to the side and gestured to the blood pooling under it. “He must have hit his head on the dresser.”
Darcy sighed. “Leave him there. I will send for the doctor.”
Chapter 25
“Thank you for agreeing to make the arrangements, Mr. Lortham; I have no desire to do it myself. Have the bill sent to Darcy House,” Darcy told the doctor. “I doubt anyone will attend the burial.”
Having been told the circumstances of Wickham’s injuries, Mr. Lortham understood and quickly took his leave to be about his grim business.
The gentlemen, alone in Darcy’s study, remained silent for some few minutes before Richard exclaimed, “Good riddance! You know, Darce, it has just occurred to me that by dying, Wickham has finally achieved something that could be of benefit to others.”
Darcy closed his eyes and laid his head back against his chair. “I must inform Mrs. Younge.”
Richard shook his head. “Rest a bit first. These past few days have been exhausting for you.”
“No.” Darcy rose. “I would much rather be done with this. Do you wish to attend the meeting?”
“Lead on, cousin.”
~%~
Surprisingly, Mrs. Younge did not react to the news at all. Darcy looked to Marie, who only shrugged.
“Mrs. Younge, did you hear what Mr. Darcy said?” Richard said gruffly.
Never taking her eyes from the flames in the hearth, Mrs. Younge sighed and nodded. “May I have supplies to write a letter to my sister, sir? I’ll be leaving tomorrow, and I don’t want her to worry when she doesn’t hear from me.”
Darcy answered, “Yes, but be aware that I will read the letter. You will say nothing specific as to why you are leaving—nothing slanderous against Miss Darcy or Miss Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Younge agreed but said no more.
As Darcy showed his cousin out, Richard turned to face him. “I have business to tend tomorrow, but I will accompany you to the ship the following morning. Send for me if I am needed before then.”
“Thank you, Richard.”
~%~
November 28, 1811
Early the next morning, a footman brought him the letter that Mrs. Younge had written. Surprisingly, the woman had done an excellent job of keeping her reasons for leaving England vague.
Mrs. Younge admitted that her sister had been correct—her devotion for Wickham had led her to trouble, but to a much higher degree than either woman had ever imagined. Given a choice between prison and the opportunity to begin anew in Australia, she had chosen the latter. Mrs. Younge also mentioned that she should not worry about Wickham’s influence leading her astray again upon foreign shores because he was now dead. She regretted not being able to see her sister once more before she left, but there was nothing else to be done for it since her sister was away from Town.
Noting the address in case it was ever needed, Darcy had a boy from his staff deliver the letter, and then occupied himself with business for the remainder of the day.
Before retiring for the evening, Darcy’s feet took him to the music room. Setting down his candelabra, he closed his eyes and filled his lungs with the scent of roses. The familiar longing that had always accompanied his entering this room—grief for the loss of his mother—was still present, but now, the ache was deeper, more urgent than ever before. It took a moment to realize that Elizabeth was the reason. After her visit here and their conversation at Netherfield, this room was now forever linked in his mind to her, as well. He missed her desperately.
No doubts remained in his mind
or his heart. Upon his return to Hertfordshire, he would seek permission to court Elizabeth.
~%~
November 29, 1811
Richard presented himself at Darcy house at the break of dawn to join his cousin in escorting Mrs. Younge to a ship bound for Australia. As they stood on the dock, watching the ship until it had nearly left the harbour, Darcy said, “Come, I have seen enough. I will be very glad to put this behind us and move forward with life.”
Richard clapped his cousin on the shoulder. “Good to hear.”
As they turned to walk away, a ruckus rose from the few onlookers who remained. Darcy approached a man standing close to the water. “What is it? What has happened?”
The man pointed to the ship headed for Australia. “Couple a men jumped off ship, and they’s lowered a boat. Looks ta me they be goin’ in afta’ a man overboard, sir.”
Darcy looked at Richard, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as he. Richard shook his head and said, “No. There were an awful lot of people sailing on that ship. I doubt it was Younge.”
Darcy did not look convinced.
Richard turned to the man. “Will they let those of us on shore know what happened?”
“I’d think since they’s still in port, if the man din’t make it, they’ll send someone ta shore wit’ a letter ta ’is next o’ kin.”
Richard slipped the man a coin. “Come on, Darcy, let us go home. If it was Younge, my contact will let us know.”
Upon arriving at Darcy House, the gentlemen made their way to Darcy’s study. They were surprised when Marie knocked on the door, seeking the master.
“Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Younge left this behind. It is addressed to you, sir. I found it after you had gone.” She curtsied and left the room.
Darcy paled as he read the letter. “It seems you will hear from your friend soon, after all, Richard. The person who went overboard was Mrs. Younge—purposely. She did not wish to go to Australia without Wickham and felt prison was not an alternative acceptable to her.” He flicked the letter with the back of his fingers. “Mrs. Younge could not swim.”
~%~
November 30, 1811 ~ Hertfordshire
