by Jennifer Joy
Elizabeth’s nostrils flared. “Wickham preyed upon your sister, who was too innocent to recognize his intentions. She had been raised to trust him, and he abused her trust.”
“He courted her in secret, knowing I would not approve of their match — knowing I would have seen his true motives.” Darcy sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. How stupid he had been. He had told Elizabeth the story, but there were details Darcy had left out. He would share them now.
He continued, “Georgiana suddenly became interested in the health benefits of the coast. She expressed particular interest in Ramsgate.”
Elizabeth smiled sadly at him. “And, being a devoted brother, you gave in to her request because you would never deny her anything that could give her pleasure.”
“I let her walk straight into Wickham’s trap. He courted her openly and without fear of being discovered by me.”
“How did you catch them?”
“Georgiana had a habit of writing to me every other day. When her letters became infrequent, I worried. I decided to travel to Ramsgate to make sure she was well. I hoped to find her occupied with her friends. However, as her guardian, concern compelled me to see for myself.”
“As a good guardian should,” Elizabeth acknowledged.
“Most young ladies would complain I was overprotective.”
“The thought had occurred to me,” she admitted, continuing, “but in this case, you had genuine cause for concern.”
Darcy pressed his fingers against his pounding temples, continuing, “I found them. Wickham had called on Georgiana alone at the house I had let for her. Her companion was nowhere to be found, though she immediately appeared and attempted to cover over what they had been up to.” The next bit was the hardest to say, for Darcy remembered the look on his sister’s face. “I was angry, and Wickham was desperate when he saw his plan to marry a fortune had failed. We exchanged harsh words. Wickham belittled her. Georgiana’s greatest qualities — her timidity, her grace, her innocence — were used against her. He admitted in her hearing that he was only interested in marrying Georgiana to gain possession of her fortune.” Darcy had to stop.
Elizabeth clutched her hands together. “Wicked man. What a horrible thing to say in front of an impressionable young lady. I wish Colonel Fitzwilliam had run him through with his sword.”
Her ire for Georgiana’s behalf loosened the vice-like grip of guilt on Darcy’s heart. He said, “I will never forget the look on her face. Before my eyes, I watched her dreams shatter, her innocent belief disappear, and her hope die.”
Elizabeth’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Her sympathy made it easier for Darcy to ask her opinion. “As you have seen from your brief interaction with Georgiana, she still suffers. I know I am to blame. However, I do not understand where I failed her and until I do, I fear I may never be able to repair the damage I have done. I fear she mourns the loss of a man wholly undeserving of her.”
Elizabeth pulled her chair down the length of the table, closer to Darcy. “You have my complete attention,” she said.
Darcy did not know where to begin, and so he continued where he had left off. “I took Georgiana posthaste back to Pemberley and continued on as if nothing had happened. I was careful not to mention Wickham to her, and every time I saw her sad, I would purchase a gift for her. Like you, she loves to read.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrow, silently inquiring for more detail.
He explained, “I bought her novels and new music to play at the pianoforte. I even bought her a new instrument. But the more I tried to please her, the more she withdrew. She would only speak when spoken to. Soon, she lost her appetite. She became so pale and thin, I worried for her health. That was when I called my aunt Helen — Richard’s mother — and asked for her to join us. Her first business was to discharge me from Pemberley as if she had the right to dislodge me from my own home.”
Darcy heard the bitterness in his tone, but the anger he carried only grew when he realized that his aunt was no longer the source of his hurt feelings. He was angry at himself. Aunt Helen would never do anything to harm him or Georgiana. She would only ever act in their best interests out of love, but his treacherous heart had blamed her.
It was difficult for Darcy to meet Elizabeth’s eyes, but he forced himself to. He was not one to back down from his mistakes, nor to hide from them. Darcy would face them head on, and he would change his own character to bring his sister greater joy; to become the husband Elizabeth deserved.
Leaning forward, Elizabeth took his hand between hers and pressed it against her warm cheek. “And yet, you left. You, the master of Pemberley, allowed your aunt to dismiss you from your own home. If that is not proof of your love for your sister, I do not know what is.”
Darcy was confused.
Elizabeth explained, “You were willing to do something you would normally rebel against in the hope that it would help your sister. You acted out of love for her. You put her needs ahead of your own pride.”
Darcy had not seen it that way. He had not been happy about it. In fact, he had grumbled about it quite a bit to Richard during his stay in London until Darcy departed for Hertfordshire.
He tightened his grip on Elizabeth’s hand. “Please, help me understand, Elizabeth. Where did I wrong my sister? There is nothing I wish more right now than to understand so I can make amends … and prevent this from happening between myself and anyone else I love ever again.” Darcy could not bear it if Elizabeth distanced herself from him. He would not repeat the same mistake — once he knew what it was.
“I can only tell you what I have observed from my experience with you. I do not know your sister well, so I will not presume to speak for her. But as a female with sisters who suffer heartbreaks every other week, I do have some experience in helping them overcome disappointment.”
Darcy raised her hand to his lips. “You have my full attention.”
Elizabeth smiled softly at him. “You may soon wish you had not asked, William, for I am bound to reveal things about your character that you have been blind to and will not enjoy hearing.”
He was ready. “Then I must hear it. My character demands it.”
She shook her head, the smile still firmly in place on her lips. “That is part of your problem because you see it as a strength. I can see now why I was left with such a poor impression of you on our first meeting. From your account of what happened previous to your arrival in Hertfordshire, I understand you were in a tempestuous mood. You were upset and angry. Pray correct me if I am wrong…”
Darcy appreciated her effort to understand him before giving her opinion. It deepened the trust he had in what Elizabeth would share. Darcy nodded. “It is as you say. I should have remained at Netherfield Park instead of exposing the good people of Meryton to my horrible temperament.”
Elizabeth tilted her chin and grinned. “Already, you are making progress.”
“What do you mean? You have not exposed my faults yet for me to change them.”
“In admitting how your attitude affected the people of Meryton, you expressed sympathy for them. It is a characteristic I have noticed you sometimes lack.”
Richard had said something similar. Darcy had been angry with him, thinking him full of nonsense. But Darcy did not think the same of Elizabeth. “Pray, continue,” he pleaded.
“Did you not think how your guilt — your lack of sympathy for yourself — would affect Miss Darcy? It is plain for me to see how deeply you care for her. Your love for your sister is stronger than your pride, and you are willing to change for her to gain her approval.”
Darcy wanted to pound his fist against the table in frustration. If he was so wonderful, then why had he not been able to help Georgiana more than he had? He said, “I cannot help but feel you are praising me when I do not deserve praise.”
“You are too hard on yourself, William. You have impossibly high standards. I did not understand until you shared the story of
your pocket watch with me … hearing you speak of your father and how important his approval was for you. You think you must be practically perfect to be loved.”
Darcy could not contradict her. Years of pent-up emotion strangled his throat. He nodded for her to continue.
Elizabeth asked, “Could it be your sister is the same as you?”
“Georgiana is good by nature. She always gives her best at every endeavor, succeeding in any accomplishment she undertakes. Her talents and abilities exceed those of most ladies twice her age. She is amazing.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “She sounds perfect.”
The way she said it did not sound like a compliment.
Darcy clarified, “Of course, she is not perfect. Nobody is.”
“And yet, you approve of her? Faults and all?”
“With all my heart, I do,” he answered vehemently.
He tried to pull his hand away from her, but Elizabeth did not let him. She was not done yet. “Then you must tell her so! She must feel that she has failed you miserably.”
Elizabeth continued, and Darcy had no option but to listen to her. “You told me yourself how you sought your father’s approval. I would wager your sister feels the same toward you. She loves you, not because you never make mistakes but because you are her brother. Did you stop loving her because she made a horrible mistake? Your good opinion once lost is lost forever. She does not mourn Wickham. She mourns the loss of her beloved brother.”
Darcy slumped in his chair, unable to sit upright. He finally understood. “She thought I disapproved of her. She thought she had disappointed me, that I did not love her, and it made her sick.”
Elizabeth nodded and handed him a cup of tea. “That is my best guess. Here, drink. It will settle your stomach.”
The solution was so simple, and Darcy had failed to see it. If Georgiana sought his approval as he had craved his father’s, Darcy would give it to her. Every day, Darcy would tell Georgiana he loved her. That he was proud of her. That he thought she was perfect just as she was, faults and all.
Darcy drained his tea and praised the heavens for Elizabeth Bennet.
He set down his cup. It was time to tell her his plan. They had a villain to catch on the morrow.
Chapter 31
Darcy descended the stairs in search of Mrs. Fuller.
After an hour of artful persuasion the prior evening, Elizabeth had convinced him to allow her a greater role in his plan. Her arguments were sound, and Darcy knew her to be capable. Otherwise, he never would have allowed Elizabeth near Darcy House.
Mrs. Fuller sat in her parlor. She lowered the newspaper she read when Darcy approached. “How convenient you should join me, Mr. Darcy. May I have a word with you?” she asked.
A gentleman’s manners prevailed over Darcy’s purpose to request a maid's uniform for Elizabeth to borrow. If Mrs. Fuller wished to speak with him, he would listen. She deserved no less for the kindness she had shown them.
At Mrs. Fuller’s invitation, Darcy sat in the chair opposite her, and she poured him a cup of tea. Funny, he had not noticed the extra cup. Mrs. Fuller must have been expecting him.
She took a sip of her tea, humming in approval before she set her cup and saucer on the table. Clasping her hands together, she looked intently at Darcy, and said, “I have raised three boys of my own, and most of my boarders are single men who stay here and work until they meet a young lady, fall in love, and leave my establishment to make a home of their own.”
Darcy nodded to acknowledge that he was listening, though he did not understand why she spoke thus.
She continued, “I have seen too many young men in love not to recognize it in you.”
Ah, that was the point. Darcy nodded again. He would not deny his feelings for Elizabeth.
Mrs. Fuller added, “You must understand why I question your motives, then, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy set his cup down with a clatter. “They are honorable, I assure you,” he said firmly. Who was this woman to doubt his intentions toward Elizabeth?
Mrs. Fuller met Darcy’s eyes levelly. She said, “Colonel Fitzwilliam assures me you are an honorable gentleman, and I trust his opinion. That is why I find it difficult to understand how you allow the lady in possession of your heart to be exposed to society’s ridicule by keeping herself in your company while you are yet unmarried.”
“Through no fault of her own,” Darcy defended quickly.
“Whose fault is it? Yours?”
How was he supposed to answer that? Darcy would have had to tie Elizabeth to an immovable object to prevent her from accompanying him. Even then, she would have chewed through the ropes and tracked him down, angry at him for the time he had made them lose. Darcy tried not to smile. Elizabeth was unlike any other lady in the kingdom. He did not expect Mrs. Fuller to understand, so Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth has a strong will. She knows I am not a traitor, and I will not do her the injustice of betraying her with ingratitude when I owe her my life.”
“Miss Elizabeth is a treasure among women for sacrificing her freedom and her future for others as she is doing.”
Mrs. Fuller’s praise of Elizabeth felt like a cut to Darcy’s character, but he had to agree with her. “She has no equal.”
Mrs. Fuller leaned forward. “Then, as a gentleman who loves her, you will grant her the freedom to choose.”
Had Richard told the woman nothing? There was no choice to be had. Elizabeth had indisputably sealed her fate with Darcy’s when she had helped him escape from jail. Not to mention the kiss … and the night alone at her uncle’s warehouse. Over and over, they had chosen each other until Darcy could not imagine a future without Elizabeth.
Mrs. Fuller looked at him, her eyes full of pity.
Darcy’s hackles rose. He would be polite out of respect for her help in their time of need, but she clearly did not possess all the facts.
She spoke before he could. “I can see from your expression that you do not think Miss Elizabeth has a choice.”
It was the first sensible sentence Mrs. Fuller had uttered since she had poured tea.
Darcy said, “Precisely. I cannot deny my confusion at your implication that either of us has a choice in the matter.”
Her voice softened. “Colonel Fitzwilliam told me you are honest. I am happy to have you prove him right. It makes what I have to say easier, knowing that your intentions, while misinformed, are honorable.”
He was the one who was misinformed? Hardly! Darcy corrected her, “I assure you, Mrs. Fuller, Miss Elizabeth’s welfare is more important to me than my own. I fear I am not the one who is misinformed in this parlor.”
“And she has stuck with you through your worse trials selflessly,” Mrs. Fuller said, pushing a stack of papers by her elbow closer to him. On closer inspection, Darcy saw they were articles she had clipped out of the newspapers. All of them were about him.
She explained, “My boarders ensure I am always current with the latest newspapers. I have been keeping track of everything written about and against you, and I have yet to read any mention of Miss Elizabeth.”
How could that be? Darcy picked up the clippings, noting their sources. The Tattler, Earnest Enquirer, Society Scandal, The Spectator, Gossip Gazette… Darcy shoved them away in disgust. “None of these papers are reputable. They print gossip to increase their circulation.”
“But the people read them, and they believe what they read. You, more than anyone, ought to know that by now, Mr. Darcy.”
“Nothing has appeared in The Times about me?” he asked. That was the only newspaper he trusted. Their correspondents were infamously cautious in checking their facts before printing since their publisher had spent two years in Newgate over a story he had circulated. Their caution in the years since the incident had earned The Times a reputation for being impartial and truthful.
Mrs. Fuller replied, “No. I have seen nothing about you in The Times, and I read it daily. They printed a notice of Marquess Malbrooke’s death,
but they made no assumptions.”
At least Darcy had that in his favor. Begrudgingly, he read the clippings more carefully. Mrs. Fuller was correct. Not one article mentioned a young lady accompanying him. Not one paper had printed her name beside his. Not even Bingley and Miss Bennet’s names were mentioned.
It was elating and aggravating. He asked, “How can this be? Miss Elizabeth helped me escape from prison three days ago. Her sister and my close friend are in Newgate because of it. Please do not misunderstand me, Mrs. Fuller. I am pleased they have not been dragged through the mire along with me, but I do not understand how it is possible.”
Mrs. Fuller shrugged. “I will not pretend to understand people’s tastes, but I do know that newspapers cater to them. Perhaps the editors have more of a conscience than we give them credit for.”
Darcy scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“Or, perhaps, Miss Elizabeth and her sister pale in comparison to the far more tantalizing story of the great Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley being brought to his knees by the same society he is infamous for scorning. You have a reputation, sir.” Mrs. Fuller pulled the articles closer to her, tapping her fingers against them.
Darcy grimaced.
Mrs. Fuller continued, “You can cut your attachment to Miss Elizabeth today. Allow her to live the life of her choice — a life that will bring her happiness without the danger of being cut short before she has reached her prime. Come, Mr. Darcy, do you truly wish for her to spend the rest of her days rotting in a prison, labeled as a traitor? Do you think Miss Elizabeth’s love would withstand that? Could you watch her suffer when you could spare her now? You cannot expect a fair trial. You will die in the worst possible manner unless a miracle happens and you can prove you did not murder the marquess. You do not seem to me to be the sort of man to trust in a miracle.”
