by Webb, Brenda
No longer able to restrain himself, Charles came to his feet startling both of his sisters. “Caroline Beatrice Bingley! I am ashamed to call you my sister! How dare you compose lies to hurt a kind-hearted, admirable woman like Miss Elizabeth Bennet! She is every inch a lady, which is more than I can say for you!”
“They are not lies! She has designs on Mr. Darcy, and she is acting like a strumpet, trailing him and his sister all over London. I would not be surprised if she calls on him at his house!”
“Enough! If anyone is acting like a strumpet, it is you! Do you know how often Darcy has asked me not to put him in your company? He loathes the way you chase after him. And I know for a fact that he has no relationship with Miss Elizabeth other than friendship.”
“You cannot believe that, Charles! She comes from the basest family. Not a one of them has any manners or any qualms about chasing men. Why—”
“I will say this only once. I am betrothed to Miss Jane Bennet, and I will not have you disparaging her or any member of her family ever again.”
Caroline let out a piercing scream as both hands came to her face. “NO!”
Charles continued undeterred. “For your arrogance in dismissing my staff at Netherfield and your attempt to ruin Miss Elizabeth’s reputation for your own selfish reasons, you shall go and have your maid pack your things. From this day forward, you shall reside in Scarborough with Aunt Harrison. You shall be on your way first thing in the morning. And I warn you, do not give me reason to reduce the amount I have added to your allowance.”
With those words, Charles stomped out of the room and up the grand staircase. Eventually, the sound of his boots could be heard echoing down the long hall on the floor above. Caroline stood for several seconds in the same spot, her eyes wide as saucers as she contemplated what had happened.
Louisa rose slowly from her seat, absentmindedly smoothing her skirts before silently heading towards the door. As she was about to exit the room, Caroline found her voice.
“Louisa, you cannot let him do this to me! You have to make him come to his senses and change his mind!”
Louisa did not turn around with her reply. “No, I do not. You have been cautioned often enough that you go too far, and you chose to disregard those warnings. Charles is marrying Jane Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth will be a part of our family. Your actions to do her harm were cruel and could rebound on us all. I am afraid that you have made your bed, and now you must lie in it.”
Louisa continued on out the door and up the stairs to the sounds of Caroline’s cries.
“How dare you take Eliza Bennet’s side over mine!” There was the sound of shattering glass. “I shall not go! You shall see!” More glass shattered. “Charles shall never make me move to Scarborough! NEVER!”
~~~*~~~
When Bingley’s coach pulled away from the house the next morning, a silent and seething Caroline was aboard, along with a very unhappy, howbeit well-paid, maid who had agreed to accompany her as far as Scarborough. Charles doubted the woman would suffer his sister’s temper after the trip, and had not extracted a promise that she would stay in Scarborough as Caroline’s maid. Nevertheless, he was not worried. After all, the maid’s pay would now come from Caroline’s allowance and if she wished a maid, she could very well hire one herself. As he watched the coach roll out of sight, he could not suppress a smile.
Now that I have washed my hands of you, dear sister, I shall work on distancing myself from Louisa and Hurst. That should save me several hundred pounds a year. From now on, Jane shall be my first concern. That is how it should be.
Tipping his hat at the retreating coach, he began to walk down the street towards the park. Today was a beautiful day, and he planned to make the most of it.
~~~*~~~
Chapter 22
Ramsgate
Younge’s Art Gallery
George Wickham stepped out of the hired carriage and onto the hot sand that flanked the walkway in front of the art gallery. Straightening his clothes, he ran a hand through his straight hair before donning his hat and giving it a pat.
Today was the day he would encounter Georgiana Darcy for the first time in years. Many thoughts ran through his head. Would she remember him fondly? Had her brother poisoned her mind against him? Instantly his thoughts flew to the day he was escorted off the property by two burly footmen, and his anger rose as though it were yesterday.
Following his departure from university for several infractions, he had no longer resided at Pemberley and only returned upon learning of Mr. Darcy’s death. Certain that the man who thought so well of him would leave him an ample inheritance, Wickham was greatly disappointed to learn that he had been bequeathed three hundred pounds and the living at Kympton. Furious, he had demanded that Fitzwilliam Darcy give him three thousand pounds in lieu of the living. There was no doubt in his mind that he could parlay that meagre amount into a small fortune with his proficiency at cards, however, in less than a year, he was penniless. Then, when he heard that the Kympton living was open once again, he had returned to Pemberley, hat in hand, and practically begged Darcy to forgive his previous attitude and allow him the position. For all his posturing, there was to be no sympathy from the Heir of Pemberley and an argument resulted with him being thrown from the estate.
Today you pay for your arrogance, my old friend! Your precious sister will suffer for your sins against me.
As he approached the front door, Mrs. Younge opened it immediately, and Wickham entered, stopping in the foyer of the modest gallery. Off to one side he could see a golden haired girl through an open door. Her back was turned to him, and she paid no attention to his entrance, no doubt used to customers entering the establishment during her lessons. Mrs. Younge silently tilted her head towards the girl and headed in the opposite direction.
As he approached the doorway, Wickham could tell that Georgiana was working on a watercolour, and he stopped to observe. She must have felt his presence, for she turned to study him. Expecting to see Mrs. Younge, she dropped her eyes. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room with as much confidence as he could muster.
“Miss Darcy?” Georgiana’s head came up. “I could not believe my eyes when I saw you sitting here. I believe I would know you anywhere, even from behind. But, even so, you are no longer a girl but a lovely young woman.”
Georgiana’s voice faltered as her head quickly bowed again. “I… you have me at a disadvantage, sir. I do not believe that I know you.” She turned back around, the set of her shoulders evidence of her discomfort with his presence.
“I am sorry.” Wickham removed his hat and walked around the table so that she would have a good view of him. “I did not realise that you would forget me so completely. It has been several years since we were in each other’s company, but we were once friends.”
Now, Georgiana looked up with a puzzled expression. “Friends?”
“Yes. I grew up at Pemberley.”
A thought came to mind. Georgiana recalled someone near her brother’s age who used to entertain her with feats of magic. “Are you Mr. Wickham’s son?”
Wickham smiled beguilingly and bowed deeply with a sweep of his arm. “Indeed! George Wickham, at your service, madam.”
“But, I thought—” Georgiana halted and Wickham held his breath as she glanced about with a bewildered expression. “I do not know what I thought. It seems that one day you were there and the next you were gone.” She began to clean the brush she held with great enthusiasm as if scrubbing it would help solve the riddle. “I do remember that Brother would not answer my questions about you.”
Wickham hesitated unsure how to answer. Finally, he decided his best option was not to disparage her brother. “He was being kind.”
She eyed him suspiciously now, as she dried the brush and placed it in a jar holding several others.
“At that time, I was not the kind of man I should have been, and your brother asked me to leave Pemberley.” He walked around the room pretending to foc
us on the various unfinished pictures that were propped on easels. “I do not blame him in the least. My mother died when I was born, and my father died while I was still a boy. Your father…” Wickham milked the moment for all its worth, taking a ragged breath and exhaling slowly. “Well, he was like a father to me. When I came home from my first year at university, I learned that your mother’s health was still precarious, and your father was showing signs of the heart problems that would claim his life. I am ashamed to say that I did not handle it well at all. I could not fathom life without my mentor.”
Georgiana’s brow furrowed. “I can fully understand that. I am afraid I did not handle my mother or father’s illnesses well, either.”
Pleased with her response, Wickham whirled around. “Please, accept my apology for bringing up something that is a reminder of your pain. I should not have mentioned it.”
“No, no, there is nothing to forgive.”
“It is just that when I saw you sitting here, I knew that I had to speak to you. You are reminder of all that was good in my early years.” He smiled, using all his charms to convince her of his sincerity. Then he swept his arm about the room. “This is truly remarkable! Mrs. Younge’s late husband was a long-time acquaintance of mine, and whenever I am in Ramsgate, I call on her to see how the gallery is faring and to encourage her. In my opinion, she has done an excellent job with the business since his death.”
Georgiana turned to inspect the foyer of the gallery. “Do you know where Mrs. Younge has gotten off to?”
“Just as I entered the shop I saw her leave out the back door and hurried to see where she was headed. She was half-way down the wooden walk to the gazebo by the time I reached the door.” He quickly added. “I am sure she will not be gone long.”
“Oh, she is never away for too long. I imagine she has left to fetch Margaret—I mean, Lady Strongham—and we shall exchange places.” At Wickham’s raised brows, she explained, “Mrs. Younge instructs first one and then the other of us. It is my turn to occupy the gazebo and practice what I have learned.”
Wickham nodded as though he had not learned this already from Sarah Younge. “Would you object if I accompanied you to the gazebo to continue our visit?” At Georgiana’s hesitation, he quickly added, “I would dearly love to hear of Pemberley, as I miss it terribly. I have often wondered whether Darcy convinced Lord Landingham to sell him that black stallion or if Mr. Armistead’s son ever returned from Scotland.”
She was satisfied with his earnestness and had decided in his favour just as Mrs. Younge entered the room with her other pupil. At that time, the proprietor made a point of introducing Wickham to both young women as her old friend. And because her instructor seemed completely unconcerned that he had been alone with her, Georgiana felt secure in his presence.
Ere long they were ensconced in the gazebo with Wickham captivating Georgiana with tales from her early years and of happier times with her parents. When he ran out of actual stories, he began making them up just to convince her that, had he the time, he could share many more. Naturally Georgiana was mesmerised, as she had never heard these stories, and seeing her fascination, Wickham moved on to his next lie.
“I have to ask, whatever became of Lady Ashcroft? Did she ever marry again?”
“Aunt Audrey has not remarried. She is my companion. In fact, she shall be here to collect me at the end of my session.” Georgiana watched the smile fade from his lips and enquired, “What is the matter?”
“I am afraid that if she were to learn that we are talking, she would put her foot down.” He smiled wanly, hoping he appeared sincere. “When I was acting out of my sorrow, I am afraid that I managed to anger your aunt, and I fear she will forbid you ever to speak to me again.”
“Whatever did you do?”
“I stole a pound from her reticule for a trip to London, set on drowning my sorrows in drink. I owned up to it when it was uncovered, but she was insistent that I was not to be trusted ever again. I believe that was a huge factor in your brother’s decision to banish me from Pemberley.” Wickham sat down dejectedly on the wooden railing that surrounded the structure. “I deserved her wrath, and I do not begrudge her that opinion, though I have tried to become a better man over the years.”
“Then I suppose it would be better if I do not mention you.”
Wickham’s smile was blinding. “Would you do that? Then we could continue our talks. It is almost like old times learning what has happened to all those I hold most dear from my childhood.” He moved to bend down and take both her hands in his. Looking deeply into her eyes, he swore, “I will never do anything to destroy your trust in me.”
~~~*~~~
Hawthorne Hall
The garden
Audrey Ashcroft leaned back into the soft cushions of the large tree swing and closed her eyes. The day was lovely and not too warm, and she was enjoying her stay with her old friend tremendously. She had escorted Georgiana to the art gallery early that morning and would not go back to fetch her until late that afternoon.
On the whole, her mind was fixed on Georgiana from daylight to dark. She was a firm believer in keeping a young person occupied with good pursuits and had taken that path with her sister’s child. Anne Darcy was so ill in her last days and Fitzwilliam so burdened with estate issues and his ridiculous marriage that Georgiana had essentially been left to her own devices a good bit of the time. When she had come to live with her niece and nephew, it had taken over six months to get the child headed in a productive direction, and Lady Ashcroft was not about to let her charge slip back into her former laissez-faire attitude. Nonetheless, these few hours with nothing to occupy her mind were a welcome respite, and for the first time in ages, she felt at ease doing absolutely nothing.
“What is making you smile so?”
Her hostess’ voice broke through her meditation, and Lady Ashcroft opened her eyes and smiled even more widely. “I was just thinking of how far Georgiana has come in the last two years.”
“You have done a fine job; anyone can see that. It is a shame you never had children of your own.” Pain crossed Audrey’s features and Violet regretted her choice of words. “I am sorry. Will you forgive an old lady for a slip of the tongue?”
Lady Ashcroft slid over and patted the place next to her on the swing. Violet Hawthorne sat down and reached to entwine her friend’s arm sympathetically as she continued her request for forgiveness.
“I find that I am constantly apologising lately. I have gotten used to speaking frankly, without thought of how it might affect others. I would never purposefully hurt you, and you know how much I thought of your dear husband.”
“I know,” Lady Ashcroft said softly.
“Your Joseph was the only man I would have left my husband for!” As Audrey pretended to be shocked, she chuckled. “Not that he ever paid me, or other women, any notice. He was completely and utterly in love with you. That is how it should have been.”
They both sat silently for a moment, lost in memories.
“I do believe, however, that he had the most charming personality of any man of my acquaintance. My Horace was not one for being charming, though he was a good man. But Joseph—now he was the ideal man! He was captivating as well as handsome.”
“That he was.”
“You know that I think it a shame you never married again.”
A smile replaced Lady Ashcroft’s sad expression. “I should as you have told me often enough.”
“And that amiable Lord Landingham is in Ramsgate, and I know for a fact that he dotes on you. He is not short on looks either!”
“Violet,” Audrey warned, lowering of her voice. “You know how I feel about your match-making.”
“Well, I am just saying—”
“Let us change the subject.”
“Very well. Then may I request your help in a conspiracy?”
“And what conspiracy would that be?”
“The presence of my godson, Colonel Cochran, is not a coinciden
ce.”
“Oh?”
“I had long suspected that he was in love with my niece, Alfreda. Only recently I learned that he asked to court her last year, and that horrid nephew of mine would not consent. Apparently, John threatened Alfreda if she informed me of the situation.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I intend to put them in each other’s company at my birthday dinner. I want to give them a chance to meet again without John’s knowledge—to see if Alfreda still desires his suit. David has assured me that his feelings for my niece have not changed. Would you be willing to feign being unwell and ask Alfreda to accompany you into the garden for a breath of fresh air? David will be waiting there.”
“Might not Mr. Wilkens follow us into the garden?”
“John always arrives late. He uses business issues as an excuse, but it is likely only his mistress that occupies his time. I have already made my intentions clear to have Alfreda here early, with or without his escort. If all goes as planned, John will arrive later and not realise that David is here until after he and Alfreda have talked. Also, I have enlisted Lord Landingham’s cooperation in keeping my nephew occupied once he does appear.”
“Marshall—I mean, Lord Landingham is going to attend your party?”
“Yes, and you may call him Marshall in my presence, dear. I know that you and he are very good friends.”
Audrey coloured, but did not deny the assertion.
“Now, are you willing to help me with this subterfuge?”
“Of course. I will do whatever I can to help you and Miss Wilkens. I just pray her brother does not discover your plan and cause a scene.”
