by Anne Morris
Georgiana Darcy was an easy target, and he smiled as he thought about that. There was some part of her, despite the bold exterior, that wanted to be pampered and petted and told she was beautiful. She wanted to be told of her attractions—a skill he was quite able to deploy—and he was particularly able to play on their connections to Derbyshire, to Pemberley, and their childhood. She had memories of his being at Pemberley and of his being a childhood acquaintance, though he had been more of a companion to her brother.
There had been encounters with her which he was able to aptly spin; to take chance encounters when she was small, and to turn what had been small truths into wild stories. To turn simply seeing her by the lake at Pemberley into his taking her hunting for wildflowers, and spending the entire day together. "Don't you recall, Georgiana, we spent all afternoon doing so!" And getting her to believe him, and she did believe him, with an assurance that did not surprise him because young ladies were so gullible; they wanted to believe. They wanted to believe everything his beautiful face imparted; they wanted to believe every word that came out of his full and luscious lips.
He was able to affect other meetings, though he was sure that Fitzwilliam Darcy was watching his sister closely. She, however, had a certain cunning, and she was able to deceive her brother. She would go to call at Longbourn, and she and her friend would state they would walk in the gardens. The young ladies would then slip out of the gardens and meet him half way—and Longbourn was such an easy distance from Meryton, just a mile. What was half a mile of walking to weave more tales, to weave more familiarity with Miss Darcy?
He began to drop hints about his affection for her. He knew from years of experience, how to do it. He was, after all, looking at his thirtieth birthday soon, he knew how to be, in manners and countenance, the lover without stating such things outright so he would be sued for libel with expectations of marriage. But in this case he wanted to marry this one. She was worth thirty thousand pounds, and he was always short of money. A lieutenant's pay never had been what he had wished to live on. He was simply not sure of how and when to get her to run away with him.
• • •
Darcy and Elizabeth had come to a tense understanding whenever they met. He kept feeling that this would be the day he would explain his actions to her—he would explain about Mr. Wickham, and he would explain what he had done with Mr. Bingley, though that surely was a moot point as Bingley and Jane were, after all, getting married.
But Darcy found himself always in large assemblages if she were present, and she never permitted herself to be in such a situation that she was even in a corner that he could go and whisper to her. Elizabeth never had an empty chair by her, there was not even a card table where distracted players might allow him to speak to her, though they frequently met in company. Their time together was heavily chaperoned. They had adopted an overly polite acceptance of each other, and his month in Meryton was proving a poor investment though Wickham, at least, had proved to not be the issue he feared, and the blackguard, thankfully, kept his distance from Georgiana.
• • •
Georgiana had never been as thrilled with such a venture as this trip to Hertfordshire, with her clandestine meetings with Mr. Wickham, and with Lydia's help in obtaining and arranging those assignations. Before coming to Hertfordshire, she had small memories of George Wickham as a child, but he had rekindled them, telling those stories of the things he had done for her when she was small. Wickham had done so much more than Fitzwilliam ever had! Her brother had been more of a caretaker than a playmate with their mother's illness and death. Then they lost their father, and Fitzwilliam had become even more of a father figure when he became her guardian.
Georgiana often imagined having a younger brother. She became quite enchanted with Lydia's small brother, Simon. Georgiana imagined being able to have another possibility in her relationship with Fitzwilliam while she and Lydia played with Simon. Fitzwilliam and Georgiana had not had a close relationship so she envied what she saw between Lydia and Simon. Georgiana used her friend, and Lydia's relationship with Simon, to fill in gaps that she missed—and especially any sense of fun or delight—when they frequently went out together on walks, though the governess often went along with them.
Georgiana had a poor opinion of Miss Simnel, but she had never liked any of her governesses as she had bristled about the restrictions they imposed. She did not treat Miss Simnel as well as she should. If Lydia noticed, she did not say anything. Though Lydia loved her governess, she did not want her friend to think despairingly of her for either wishing to play with her brother, or for actually liking that governess. Lydia supposed that she should be like the Watson sisters or the Harrington sisters, who thought only of ways to attract gentlemen and should not be thinking still of playing with a little boy who was nine years her junior.
But Georgiana had a gentleman, and though George Wickham might be older, he was certainly handsome. That was one point on which she and Lydia talked at length. There simply was no point about George Wickham's beauty that did not make the two friends sigh; his long lashes, his soft brown eyes, his fair hair, the cut of his chin, the dimple to be seen only when he smiled. They felt they should write poetry about all the aspects of his beauty.
Georgiana's one concern was what was to happen when they went away. She knew it was not proper to write to a gentleman, and yet she could not bear the idea of parting with him, now that she had found him. His words and hints to her had certainly been flattering. She believed he even hinted at marriage—a prospect Georgiana had not yet allowed fruition in her brain. But such a thing meant freedom from restrictions, an over-bearing brother, and an ever-watchful companion, it would also give her a particularly handsome husband, and not seeing him again was a prospect she could not abide, so she wondered what to do next.
• • •
Wickham knew he only had days, perhaps hours left before both he and Georgiana left the area. The regiment was to leave the day after the wedding, and though he considered many different scenarios, he could not engineer any that allowed him to take advantage of her presence near him. It might be better to find another place where her brother was not so close at hand; there might be another place where he might encounter Georgiana, where Darcy was hours or days away—too far away to affect a rescue once they began the run to Gretna Green.
He decided to write to Mrs. Younge. She had been a faithful correspondent since Younge had died. She had returned to Derbyshire, once widowed, and established herself and her respectability, eventually landing the post as companion to Miss Darcy. He had known both Younge and Mrs. Younge back in his navy days; odd, as he considered it, that one of the few contacts he kept from those days was a woman, well, one of the contacts he actually liked.
In his last assignation with Georgiana, Wickham told her about his prior acquaintance with Mrs. Younge, that he was a friend, and that they could correspond through her companion. Georgiana had been thrilled. She went all weepy and clingy, when he had mentioned it was their last meeting, and that it might be many months before they met again—how he hated young girls—but he had kissed her lightly, told her he would write, and they had parted.
Old habits die hard: he could not bring himself to say he loved her, he had learned to never say that to any woman. He could not begin now even if this woman, this girl, was to be his wife.
Nineteen
—
Tenuous & Broken
Jane and Bingley wed; the couple set off for London, and everyone had something to say about it. Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy were to remain for a few days at Netherfield before heading north to Pemberley.
Georgiana had low spirits, and was so loathe to part with Lydia that she begged, cajoled, and pleaded every moment that she got with her brother to let her bring her friend to Pemberley with her. Darcy was understandably reluctant to permit such a scheme, but with the tenacity that she often displayed, Georgiana was not one to drop the subject. If Lydia could not come now, then wh
y not have her come later in the summer? And perhaps bring one of her sisters; allow Elizabeth or Mary to come as an escort?
She, of course, was teasing—she did not know of his admiration for Miss Bennet. As an unmarried lady, Elizabeth would not be permitted to chaperone Lydia. But Darcy thought about having Elizabeth visit his estate, to visit and to show her what she had given up by turning him down.
The regiment had left two days before, and with them, and with good riddance, George Wickham. Wickham had, however, not been as difficult a problem as Darcy had initially imagined. While he had not avoided the Netherfield party entirely, whenever they met socially—and the man had had the audacity to dance with his sister at the Assembly ball—Wikcham had not paid as much attention to Georgiana as Darcy had feared, and for that he was grateful. Now the militia would camp in Brighton for six or nine or twelve months, and Darcy need not worry about the blackguard unless they crossed paths again.
It was possible he and Wickham might run into each other in London, as everyone eventually came to London, and Darcy could not honestly see Wickham continuing in the life of a militia lieutenant. How Wickham would fare, or what he would do, Darcy did not care, so long as Darcy never had to look on his face again. He realized how little he wished to ever be in Wickham's company again or to see this man, after encountering him in this setting. Wickham was not a man to be trusted. Something about Wickham disturbed Darcy on an even deeper level now, though Darcy was hard pressed to say why. What was there about Wickham's outward appearance and manners which invoked something, on some internal level, to consider that Wickham was a man sinking in morals.
They were to leave on Monday for Pemberley, and Georgiana was pressuring him to allow her to invite her friend. He had his objections, his own private ones—which he had not shared with Georgiana, for he could not tell her of Elizabeth's rejection of his suit—and he had never spoken about the unsuitableness of Lydia as a companion and friend to his sister. But he was beginning to realize that to make such an argument with Georgiana would be showing his hand, and she would likely become all the more attached to her friend by pointing out his objections. Darcy considered it was going to be a visit he would need to allow, though her idea of a six week summer visit would not be permitted; he would suggest two weeks and let her argue with him to allow three.
He walked toward Meryton at a lazy pace; looking down the side lanes to see if Miss Bennet was walking there, but did not spy her. It was market day when he arrived, and the village was busy, so he continued on through, lost in thought. Longbourn had not necessarily been his destination, but after leaving Meryton behind, part of his mind realized that his feet were taking him in that direction.
A group from that house approached, the governess and Simon, but also, he realized, some of the little visiting cousins, two little girls. It was, however, Elizabeth Bennet walking along with them who captured his attention. He stopped walking and waited for them to approach.
"Miss Bennet, Miss Simnel, I believe," he looked at the governess with a slight hesitation, as he realized he could never quite remember her name, "Master Simon, and I do not believe I know your young friends."
"This is Miss Anna Gardiner, and Miss Paulette Gardiner," said Elizabeth. Darcy looked at the little girls. The older one was perhaps nine, the younger was slightly taller than Simon, but close in age. He thought there was a slight resemblance; they would certainly be handsome girls like their female cousins.
"They are my cousins!" cried Simon. "Paulette and I are only six days apart—we almost share the same birthday!"
"How interesting," replied Mr. Darcy. "Were you going to Meryton? It appears to be market day."
"I am afraid I forgot it was market day. It has been a busy morning in the nursery," said Miss Simnel with a hand to her forehead, "we were simply in want of a destination." She looked at her three young charges. "It is almost time for our midday meal; let us turn back for home. Perhaps the boys are up from their naps." One of the girls huffed something about younger brothers, and Miss Simnel scolded her to not be impertinent.
"Were you walking to Longbourn to call?" asked Elizabeth, looking at him as he watched the governess, and the children make their way back to the Bennet's estate.
"I was, yes," he replied, though he had not planned it, nor had he a specific reason. Georgiana would wish to extent the invitation to Lydia Bennet herself, though perhaps he might discuss the matter with Mr. Bennet. "I had thought to discuss something with your father," and he began walking again.
• • •
She considered the perverseness of finding herself speaking to Mr. Darcy. She had managed to avoid being alone or even in a company with less than a dozen people in attendance since he had arrived a month ago. They seemed to have come to a sort of understanding to treat each other as common and indifferent acquaintance if they met. Elizabeth could speak to him as was required, out of politeness, to do so, as he was also able to do.
His conversation had been less stilted since his return to Meryton, and had more warmth; she heard some of her neighbors comment on the change of his demeanor, putting it down to him being the sort of gentleman who needed more time to understand those in his circle of acquaintance. She had considered that point, and thought there might be some merit to it. Perhaps his stiffness and aloofness had been less about pride—though he certainly had pride—but was due, in a small way, to being uncomfortable around new acquaintance. She would allow him that.
She had no fuel to be angry with him about interfering with Jane and his friend now that their misunderstanding had come to a happy conclusion. If Mr. Darcy had done anything to suggest Bingley come away, Elizabeth did not know of anything he had done to keep Mr. Bingley away—that Bingley had been able to do very well by himself. Perhaps Bingley was that whimsical creature they had suggested he was, but Jane was happy and content now, and she was ready to forgive him for his capriciousness.
Elizabeth had also had a change about her views on Mr. Wickham. After returning from Scarborough, she had heard many tales about Wickham from all of the lovelorn young women in Meryton. Wickham had moved from a preference of one young lady to another, causing animosity amongst those ladies, as though he was a prize to be fought over. Elizabeth considered his actions, and realized he appeared to be paying attention to the most eligible in Meryton in terms of fortune.
She and Mr. Wickham rarely spoke at social gatherings anymore, but she had been able to observe him and saw, when he seemed to consider no one was looking, a weariness and displeasure with the feminine company in front of him, until the lady in question turned her eyes back on him again, and then he was all smiles. He too had a mask to display in company like Mr. Darcy. She was beginning to think that Wickham's charm was a veneer and hid a false heart as his interest in any young lady rarely lasted more than a fortnight before he moved on to another paramour.
It was not, however, until she was walking next to Mr. Darcy that she considered what Mr. Wickham had told her about Mr. Darcy's masterful ill treatment of him, and she wondered if Wickham had embellished or elaborated what had been shared with her that November night so long ago. She realized how much information he had imparted to a relative stranger—her—that evening. It might be worth soliciting Mr. Darcy's opinion, and allowing him to defend himself against Wickham's accusations.
"Your family has been blessed," said Mr. Darcy as he watched the three children.
"It has, and I thank you," said Elizabeth.
Anna ran ahead, laughing as her longer legs carried her away from Simon and Paulette, and she taunted them about her abilities to run faster than the younger children. The other two cried out at the challenge, and took after her with Miss Simnel attempting to call them to order. Elizabeth laughed at the sight of the three children running. The group, however, separated even farther from her and Mr. Darcy as Miss Simnel quickened her pace, not quite running, to keep an eye on the children.
"You are to leave Meryton soon I understand, from Lyd
ia?" asked Elizabeth turning to look at him. She had no wish for awkward silences for the half mile they had to traverse to reach Longbourn.
"Yes, we will leave on Monday and return to Derbyshire," he replied. "That was what I have come to speak to your father about," he looked at her with a slight smile, "my sister wishes to have Miss Lydia come for a visit, and I am seeking permission for your sister to return with us."
Elizabeth was surprised that he would allow such a visit to occur given what he had expressed about her sister in Scarborough, and his overall unhappiness with their friendship, but perhaps her words at their last meeting had had some effect.
She thought about how reticent he was, and about his own mask, his imposing manners, and yet Mr. Bingley had come back to marry Jane—had that been with Mr. Darcy's blessings? What was the true tale of the relationship between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham? She had been formulating many reasons to doubt Wickham's story as she had begun to question his character.
Laughter from ahead of them brought both of their eyes down the road, and they realized how far ahead the children and the governess had wandered. Paulette and Simon had their hands clasped as they bent over laughing, as if they had attempted to catch up with the nine year old, but having failed, found amusement and happiness in simply having tried.
"It is pleasant for Simon that he has cousins his age to play with," said Darcy, looking at the pair. "Master Simon said his little cousin was of the same age?"
"Yes," laughed Elizabeth, "Aunt Gardiner was confined with Paulette but six days after Simon was born."
"They might almost have been twins," said Darcy, "There is some similarity in looks that they are surely related." Elizabeth's smile slowly faded as she stopped looking down the path and looked over at her companion who stopped walking to look over at her. The impassive face was back. "Simon is yours."
