by Brigid Huey
Georgiana relaxed a bit, but her whole demeanor was expectant. Darcy led Falcon to the groom.
“Give him a good rubdown, will you?” he said to the man. “And an extra bucket of oats.”
“Aye, sir,” the man replied.
Darcy looked down at himself. He was covered with dust from the road and longed for a bath. Looking up at Georgie, he realized he would have to wait. Her anxiety was obvious.
“Shall we walk to the rotunda then?’ he offered in defeat. She nodded her acceptance, and they left the stables together.
“I have much to tell you, Georgiana.”
“Though you would rather not,” she said, slipping her arm through his.
“Quite so.”
He sighed, leading her up the steps of the rotunda and settling them both on the same bench that Elizabeth had occupied not two weeks hence.
“I must share some news with you, my dear, that is rather shocking. There is no way to do so without betraying a friend’s confidence, but you must know the truth, for it affects you as well. I think this would not distress our friend; she would trust you, I hope.”
“And may I ask if this friend is Miss Bennet?”
“It is, indeed,” he replied, looking at her askance.
“She and her aunt and uncle left so suddenly, I thought something must be amiss.”
“You are observant, as ever.” He paused, looking out at the landscape for a moment. There really was no way to gather his thoughts. No matter what pretty language he used, the truth would hurt.
“Yes, our friend, Miss Elizabeth, received a distressing letter before she left Derbyshire. Her youngest sister, Miss Lydia had run off with a member of the militia quartered at Brighton.”
At this, Georgiana gasped, her hand flying to her heart. “Oh!” she said, “Poor Miss Elizabeth! Poor Miss Lydia.”
“Indeed,” Darcy said, his tone grim. “And yet, there is more that you must hear. The man that she ran away with was George Wickham.”
Georgiana paled. She cast her eyes to the ground, and Darcy saw that she had begun to weep. Damn that odious snake!
“Do not be too distressed, my dear,” he said gently, taking her hand in his. “They will be married soon, and Miss Lydia will be well enough.”
“It is too horrible,” she whispered. “When will we ever be free of him?”
“Never, I fear,” Darcy said heavily. At his tone, she looked up.
“There is more, is there not?” she prompted.
“Yes, there is more—quite a bit more—and none of it pleasant.” He raked his hand through his hair. “It was I who discovered Wickham and Miss Lydia. I arranged for them to marry. And, in doing so, I discovered some shocking news.”
“More shocking than an elopement?” Georgiana said faintly.
“Wickham claimed to be Daisy’s father.”
Georgiana closed her eyes, and Darcy felt his heart sink. It was too much for such a delicate spirit as hers. She was just beginning to recover from last summer and her involvement with Wickham. How could she be expected to live with his child?
“Forgive me, my dear. I should not have burdened you with this knowledge.”
“Does he mean to try to take her?” she whispered.
“No,” he replied, surprised that this was her first thought.
She let out a breath. Then she asked how exactly Wickham had made his claim. Darcy explained Wickham’s knowledge of Daisy’s mother.
“That is hardly proof,” she said at once.
“It is enough proof for a man like Wickham to use against us.”
“You paid him to keep quiet, I presume.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I did,” he confirmed, suddenly uncomfortable. “I had to.”
Georgiana turned to him, her eyes glistening.
“Of course, you did, my dear brother. You always protect those you love. You will not send our Daisy away, will you?”
“Do you mean to say that you wish to keep her here with us, at Pemberley?”
“I could not bear it if you sent her away!” Georgiana exclaimed.
Darcy felt a sudden lightness within his heart.
“Oh, my dear Georgie,” he said. “You have no idea how much I wished you might say so!”
She embraced him, road dust and all. “And what of Miss Bennet?” she asked, pulling away. “Does she know this shocking news?”
“She does not, nor does she know that I was involved in any way with arranging her sister’s marriage. I must tell her about Daisy’s parentage, however. I have no doubt that Wickham will try to abuse her with this knowledge in some way.”
Georgiana looked at him seriously. Her golden hair glowed in the sunlight filtering through the rotunda.
“You must tell her all, Fitzwilliam.”
He shook his head. “I cannot, Georgiana. I will not burden her in such a way.”
“She can handle this news as well as I,” Georgiana said. “Indeed, I have no doubt that Miss Elizabeth is strong enough to bear such news with her usual grace.”
“Georgiana, I told you because you are Daisy’s guardian. You are helping me to raise her here at Pemberley. I could not keep the truth from you. You had to know that I had arranged the marriage, but Miss Bennet does not.”
“And is she in such a different situation than I?” Georgiana asked. He glanced at her sideways. Her knowing look revealed that his feelings for Elizabeth were no longer private.
“I…I would not have her feel a sense of obligation,” he said quietly.
“A woman you esteem as highly as Miss Elizabeth deserves to hear the truth from your own lips,” she answered.
Darcy sighed. He knew she was right. He bent and kissed Georgiana’s forehead.
“When did you become so very wise?” he asked.
“Heartache and failure, as unpleasant as they may be, are the greatest teachers, I believe.”
How right she was! Had he not failed to secure Miss Elizabeth’s hand last April, he might never have learned to view himself with honesty. He realized then that another journey lay before him.
He must go to Longbourn and tell Miss Bennet the truth.
Chapter Twelve
Elizabeth rose early, her mind as unsettled as it had been when she retired the night before. Lydia and her husband had arrived on Sunday. Elizabeth had tried to dissuade her mother from inviting them, but her pleas had not been heard. And now, Mr. and Mrs. Wickham were ensconced in the guest bedroom.
Elizabeth sighed as she wove her hair into a simple knot at the base of her neck. At least they were to be leaving late this morning. And Mr. Bingley was expected to call this afternoon, as usual.
She prepared herself to go downstairs, taking care to wear her walking boots; she was in desperate need of a quiet walk. Thus, it was with surprise and displeasure that she encountered Lydia and Kitty in the breakfast room. She bid them good morning as pleasantly as she could.
“I am sure you are surprised to see me, Lizzy,” Lydia said. “I am no early riser, but my husband snores overmuch, and I found I had better get up.” She laughed as she said this, and Elizabeth stared at her in disbelief.
“Please, Lydia,” she said. “Do not discuss such intimate matters with me—least of all at the breakfast table.”
“La!” Lydia laughed. “We married women care not for such formalities. You always were so delicate, Lizzy dear.” She laughed again, and Elizabeth felt her face heat—not with embarrassment but with anger. She glanced at Kitty, who seemed distinctly uncomfortable. At least one of them had some sense.
Elizabeth decided that the best course of action was to ignore Lydia’s goading and, instead, turned her attention to her breakfast. Though she longed to escape, something within her was unwilling to leave Kitty alone with Lydia.
“Did you have much time to shop whilst you were in London, Lydia?” Kitty asked.
“No, and I was quite put out about it! My husband and I had not time when we first arrived, and once Mr. Darcy
discovered us, my aunt would not let me out of the house again. She was horribly unpleasant!”
Elizabeth nearly dropped her fork at the mention of Mr. Darcy’s name.
“Mr. Darcy?” she said, her incredulity getting the best of her caution. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well, he was the one who found us, did you not know?” Lydia said carelessly. “He found us in London and helped my dear Wickham settle his business affairs. He was rather high-handed, as usual!”
Lydia helped herself to another plate of biscuits and jam. Kitty seemed unaffected by this astonishing revelation.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth repeated.
“Yes, Lizzy, stop being such a simpleton. You know who he is. The proud, unpleasant man that insulted you at the Meryton assembly? He was able to locate a commission for my dear Wickham. Though why it had to be in Newcastle, I cannot understand. He owed my dear husband a favor.”
“That is preposterous,” Elizabeth retorted, finding her wits at last.
“Stop it, Lizzy. You cannot boss me around any longer. I am a married woman!” Lydia took a large bite of her biscuit. “But you mustn’t tell anyone,” she added, looking from Elizabeth to Kitty. “They told me not to tell a soul. I can tell you both, of course, because you are my sisters.”
Lydia blissfully took a sip of her tea, Elizabeth sat stone still, and Kitty, who seemed to sense that something was amiss, tried to change the subject.
Lizzy scarcely heard them. Mr. Darcy had found Lydia! And purchased Wickham’s commission! It was too much to take in.
As soon as her father appeared, Elizabeth rose and excused herself.
“Are you quite well, Lizzy?” he asked. “You seem rather out of sorts.”
“Thank you, Papa, I am quite well. I am only in need of fresh air. I shall take a walk.”
“Take care that you are back before tea, Lizzy,” he replied. “I cannot be held responsible for your mother should you not be here to see your sister off.” He winked and returned his attention to his paper.
Elizabeth slipped outside—grateful to be away from Lydia and her insipid conversation—for her mind was in great turmoil, and she required solitude to steady herself.
She considered keeping to the garden but abandoned that idea in favor of a longer ramble through the surrounding countryside. Selfish it may be, but Elizabeth had no wish to be within sight of the house. She would take care to be back before her sister’s departure.
At length, Lizzy decided to head north toward Netherfield. Though she had no plan to actually go near the house, the grounds were beautiful, and Elizabeth knew that Mr. Bingley of all people would have no objection to her enjoying them.
Her tensions began to ease as she crested the hill, looking down upon Netherfield. It was a lovely home, and Lizzy knew that her sister would be happy there. As soon as Lydia and Wickham left, the wedding preparations would begin in earnest. She thought again of Mr. Darcy and his honest apology for his interference. It was a great man indeed who could admit to such a wrong with so little prevarication.
She wondered what he was doing now. Georgiana had said that he had been called to London. Was she aware of the reason for his business there? Was he still in Town, or had he traveled home? He hoped for Georgiana’s and Daisy’s sakes that he had returned to Derbyshire.
She looked out again over the vista before her. Derbyshire seemed a world away. Would she ever see it again? The thought that she would definitely see Mr. Darcy at Jane’s wedding was both comforting and heartbreaking. To see him, knowing that all hope was lost, might be more than she could bear.
A noise behind her made her turn, and Lizzy was startled by the sudden appearance of the man himself.
“Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed. To her consternation, a deep blush burned her cheeks as she dipped a curtsy in greeting.
“Miss Bennet!” Mr. Darcy replied, clearly surprised to find her here. He took off his hat, polite as ever. Lizzy was momentarily distracted by his dark curls as they blew lazily in the slight breeze.
“Now you are the one surprising me, sir,” she said, recovering her wits.
“Indeed. Forgive me, Miss Bennet.”
“It is always a pleasure to meet a friend sooner than expected,” Elizabeth said. She smiled at him though inside her soul was quaking. He did still consider her a friend, did he not? They had parted well, but it had been under distressing circumstances. Perhaps time had taught him to be wary of her acquaintance.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet,” he replied.
“I did not know that you were in this part of the country, sir,” she said to fill the silence between them.
“I arrived late yesterday evening.” His tone was rather terse, but Elizabeth had grown in her understanding of him. He was startled and perhaps unprepared, but she hoped that he was not unhappy to have met her.
To her displeasure, she could think of nothing else to say. After an awkward moment, Mr. Darcy spoke again.
“Though you may think me impertinent, I am glad to have found you alone. Will you allow me to see you home?”
Elizabeth’s heart began to race. It was absolute folly to hope that he might renew his addresses to her. And yet, it had been all she could think of these past few weeks. She took a breath. “Certainly,” she replied. “Although I must warn you: my sister and her new husband are visiting Longbourn before they journey to Newcastle.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips thinned at this news, but he only nodded in response. They walked a few paces further, Elizabeth waiting patiently for him to speak.
***
Darcy walked blindly along the path. His heart had flown when he had come upon Elizabeth; he was delighted to see her. She had become the thing most precious to him. Why then was he always the one to bring her pain? It was almost intolerable. He wished to answer her every hope and dream, not bring her misery.
Georgiana’s words echoed in his mind. “A woman you esteem as highly as Miss Elizabeth deserves to hear the truth from your own lips.”
They walked on. He stole a glance at her face. She was staring out into the distance, lost in thought. How he longed to make her laugh, to see the sparkle in her eyes! She used to challenge him, tease him. But now their friendship seemed marred by all the pain that had come between them—most of it by his infliction.
He knew her disposition. She would be grateful indeed when she learned of his involvement in the resolution of Miss Lydia’s disgrace. And though the young lady’s actions were her own, it was his fault—and his alone—that she had been exposed to Wickham. Damn the man. Yet, Darcy knew with some certainty that Elizabeth would not see that, would see only his actions to save Miss Lydia. Despite himself, he sighed again.
Beside him, Elizabeth stopped walking to turn to him once more.
“There is something you must tell me, is there not?”
He looked at her, nonplussed. Was she really that attuned to him? There was something of her old challenging look in her eyes. Suddenly wary, Darcy took a breath. He was resolved to tell her the truth though it meant losing her forever.
“Yes, Miss Bennet. I am afraid there is though I am loath to say it.”
She waited expectantly. He resumed walking down the path, seeking a way to say that which he had hoped he would never have to share.
“Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Darcy,” she said, breaking the silence. “I already know.”
He stopped abruptly. She already knew? How the devil could she know? Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had assured him of their secrecy.
“I had thought the Gardiners more trustworthy,” he said rather ungraciously.
“Do not blame them, sir,” she said, though her tone was gentle. “Did you really expect my sister to keep your involvement a secret—she who has shown nothing but a lack of regard for the feelings of others?”
He closed his eyes. Miss Lydia. Of course she had said something. He had ignored the truth that she knew, hoping that her shame would keep her quiet. It was quite clear to him that she had no
sense of shame to speak of.
“I am sorry that you did not feel you could tell me,” Elizabeth said, her tone rather brittle. Darcy realized that she was hurt though he could not understand why.
“I was in the process of doing so, Miss Bennet,” he said gently.
“But you had no wish to do so,” she said at once, “having apparently asked my relatives to keep the secret.”
“I did hesitate to tell you, Miss Bennet, but not for the reasons you suppose.”
“Indeed?” she said, her brow arched high. He could feel her anger rising. This was not going at all well.
“I did not wish for you to hear such tidings from someone other than myself,” he explained.
“Such tidings?” she repeated. “That you helped my poor sister? Indeed, that you helped my entire family? Surely, these things do not qualify as bad tidings, sir.”
He faltered, unsure of what to say to calm her. Why the devil was she so upset?
“How could you not tell me?” she said, the words seeming to escape her lips on their own accord.
“Miss Bennet, I am trying to tell you now.”
“No, sir. I mean, how could you not include me in your plan to help them? That day…”
“I did not wish to raise your hopes, Miss Bennet,” he said as kindly as he could. “I have known Wickham for most of my life. I had a fair idea of how to find them, but I had little hope of making him marry Miss Lydia. And if I did succeed, what then? How could you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you?” she said. They had stopped walking again, and she looked up at him now, her brown eyes full of confusion.
“Yes. Forgive me,” he said, momentarily distracted by her beauty. “It was through my pride and arrogance that Mr. Wickham’s true character was not known to your sister. Now she is married to a scoundrel, and this marriage is entirely of my construction. How could you ever forgive me?”
“Mr. Darcy”—she sighed—“you saved my sister from a fate worse than a despicable marriage. At least now she has some protection. And the scandal that has enveloped my family these past weeks will pass.”
He shook his head, unwilling to accept her gratitude.
“You must permit me to thank you,” she continued. “I am very grateful for your interference. On behalf of all my family, please allow me to express my gratitude.”
