by J Dawn King
He looked to the love of his life to find her head bowed. He could not see her eyes, and this worried him. It was difficult to unbury a past only recently put to rest.
When Mr. Gardiner did not reply, his wife did. “That you refused to involve yourself in taking Mr. Wickham to task for the protection of others and how you would rather have overlooked his crimes than take action.”
“Yes, Mrs. Gardiner, this has been my wont. Until now.” He wanted to beg Elizabeth to look up so he could read what was in her eyes. Was it confusion? Anger? Disappointment? He did not know if he could bear her being disillusioned with his actions as he was hoping to set a pattern of fair headship he would assume for the rest of their marriage. “What Wickham will expect was for me to do the same as I have always done—nothing. Recall in his letter what he wrote in the second paragraph? He asked if I had already contacted the bank, Richard, and his former cohort, Mrs. Younge. Then he started the ridicule, which is his habit.”
“Yes, I recall,” Mr. Gardiner blandly stated.
“You see, not only does he comprehend how I proceed when confronted with a serious matter, I know him as well.” Darcy was on solid ground. “He will expect me to fret and then pay the piper when presented with his debts.”
“You are confident in this?” Elizabeth’s uncle asked.
“Absolutely.” Darcy refused to look away from Mr. Gardiner. “To explain further, I must speak of something only those of us in this room and Dr. Smallwood is aware of—Georgiana’s situation. When I unexpectedly visited her at Ramsgate in July, she admitted Wickham had sought an engagement and she had readily agreed. Rather than keep it secret from me, her guilt at making this weighty decision without consulting me moved her to pour out her heart. Buying the silence of the servants, I removed her to Pemberley where her disappointment caused her to withdraw from me. At her encouragement, I accepted Bingley’s invitation to Netherfield Park.” He shook his head, struggling with his own frustrations and self-chastisement. “I believe you are aware of the rest of the story. When I became aware Wickham was there with the militia, I did as I had always done—nothing to protect the citizens of Meryton from harm. I wanted to give him no reason to soil my sister’s name, so I let him go unrestrained and unpunished.”
His cousin cleared his throat.
“Ah, yes.” Darcy felt the blush of embarrassed humiliation creeping up his neck but vowed to himself to withhold nothing. “When Richard was told the events in Ramsgate, I had to physically restrain him from acting.” Running his fingers through his hair, he dropped his chin to his chest. “Would that I had let him.”
“I see.” Mr. Gardiner had his chin resting on the palm of his hand, his eyes looking into the flames. “Pray pardon my directness, but you are changed? This is not some momentary phase because of your sister’s circumstances?”
Again, Darcy was angered. Never had he allowed a man, other than Wickham, to question his honour. Yet, this man had temporary guardianship over Elizabeth, so had every right to pursue his concerns.
“I have learnt a hard lesson, first at the hands of Miss Lydia, then Bingley, and then Richard. Had I not done so, I have every confidence your niece would never have accepted my hand last evening. However, though my desire to please her has been my primary motivation, it is not the sole reason. I have endeavoured to be honest and upright. Allowing blatant injustices to continue when I have the power to see them changed is wrong. I will never forget what I have learnt at the hands of Elizabeth and her youngest sister, my family, and friend. I vow, before God and men, to become a man worthy of your niece. In this I will not fail.”
Mr. Gardiner’s lips, which had been pressed into a thin line, now lifted at the corners. “Well done, Mr. Darcy.” He sat erect in his chair. “I believe you have a question you need to ask me, do you not?”
All of them laughed. The public display of the proposal, in addition to the conversation in the drawing room, had made his intentions so clear that nobody had reason to question Darcy’s intent. Nonetheless, he refused to have any ambiguity.
“Mr. Gardiner, may I have your consent and blessing to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire and Gracechurch Street in London?”
“You may.”
The heavy millstone hanging around Darcy’s neck, that heavy burden of loneliness shifted, teetered, and fell to the floor. Looking at Elizabeth with every bit of love he was feeling, he saw a glimmer of affection. For the first time in his life, he had to restrain tears of joy.
CHAPTER 25
The next morning before calling on Elizabeth, Darcy stopped at the family jeweler who had replaced the setting on his amethyst stick pin to match the jewels Elizabeth had worn to the ball. He wanted to give her a token uniquely hers and thought to find a bouquet of roses fashioned into a brooch.
After a short conversation with the man, he learnt what Wickham’s third step had been.
“Mr. Darcy, would you be settling your account balance before making this purchase?” The elderly owner of the store quietly enquired.
“Balance? I do not understand. Did you not tell me the gold left from changing the setting was more than enough compensation for resetting the stone in silver? Did I fail to comprehend the charge?”
The man blushed bright red, shuffled his feet, and refused to look at him.
“Speak up, Mr. Weston. I need to know of what you are talking about.” Darcy’s voice was firm, yet soft enough it did not travel to the other customers.
“Mr. Darcy, I am speaking about the diamond and amethyst necklace, earrings, bracelet, and ring you sent your friend to obtain for you. He said he had specific instructions to match the stone of your stick pin with a more elegant set in gold. The diamonds he chose were the finest our store could offer, and the cost of the pieces, most dear.” The frazzled man glanced up at him. “He had your card with your signature on the back authorizing him to make the purchase. As a matter of fact, he said he also would be obtaining a new greatcoat for you on Bond Street since he was certain I noticed a small patch on your elbow where the fabric was thinning. I had not done so, but who am I to question the word and intentions of a gentleman?”
“Mr. Weston, would that man have been almost my height with blonde hair tied back, sharp blue eyes, and a big smile?” Darcy easily foretold how the jeweler would respond at his description of Wickham.
He was sick to his stomach as the man nodded. An earlier conversation came to him from his Eton days. Rather than preparing the written lesson due in class, George sat at his desk practicing his elegant scroll so his name would have the look of a gentleman’s when he needed to sign official documents as an adult. Darcy had rolled his eyes when Wickham had begun practicing with the longer Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esq. When he had asked George to cease, the lad replied that he would be able to sign Darcy’s name better than he could. He was laughing as Darcy vacated the room.
Darcy imagined he was still laughing.
He had spent the night before in careful contemplation of what he needed to do to stop his former friend. He knew he had given Mr. Gardiner little reason to trust him, which meant Elizabeth undoubtedly had that same level of confidence in him as well. Like Wickham, he needed a plan. After hours of considering one path after another, he was now a man with a purpose.
“That was him, sir.” Mr. Weston was relieved Darcy knew him.
“I am sorry to tell you he is no friend of mine. He is a thief and a rake.”
“But he had your signature. I know it well and it was a perfect match.” The pleading tone was difficult to hear.
“The cost of the pieces?” The price stunned him. Wickham had, indeed, chosen the best. “Do you have procedures in place to retrieve jewels in the event of a theft?”
“Yes, sir. I send out runners to the known pawnbrokers to let them know what is missing. I offer a reward to them for information on the thief and for the safe return of my goods.”
“Then I suggest you do so immediately. The man responsible is G
eorge Wickham. He is a recent deserter of the militia who had been stationed in Hertfordshire. I have reason to believe he is residing close to this area, but do not know his exact location. Should he be found, he will pay for the many crimes he has flagrantly committed.”
“You will not pay for the jewels?” Mr. Weston’s voice shook as he timidly enquired.
“I will not.” The man’s shoulders almost collapsed. “However, I will use all the resources available to me to hunt him down and see justice is served. You will start with your people going out to the shops, and I will call the constable.”
Darcy sent one of the footmen attending his carriage to the magistrate while the other one returned to Darcy House for Parker. As he waited inside the shop, Darcy worried at the damage Wickham was causing by counterfeiting his signature to rob innocent merchants. If only he had acted sooner. Nonetheless, it would soon be over. George Wickham’s days were numbered.
***
By early afternoon, Darcy had spoken with the magistrate, turning over his account books proving the many debts he had already covered for Wickham. The investigator Darcy hired for the case had boldly asked what the other surely wondered. Why had Darcy allowed this to go on so long?
Would he ever be done with the recriminations? He sincerely doubted he would be free of blaming himself.
Parker had gone from business to business on Bond Street and located six more merchants who had fallen victim to the conniving of George Wickham. All of the businessmen had been instructed as had the jeweler. Darcy was finished covering for the rogue.
A notice had been placed in the circulating newspapers stating the following, “Mr. George Wickham, formerly of Derbyshire and parts unknown and a recent deserter from his post in the Hertfordshire militia, is fraudulently using a forged document to obtain goods in the name of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. This serves notice that Mr. Darcy holds no responsibility for these debts. Do business with Mr. Wickham at your own risk.”
When he had shared his decision to publicly expose Wickham’s nefarious conduct to the world, the colonel’s brows had shot up his forehead. “The private, reclusive Master of Pemberley is allowing his business to be made know to all and sundry? How singularly unexpected!”
“Richard, I am committed to doing whatever it takes as long as Elizabeth and Georgiana are safe.” He meant it with his whole heart and soul. “I now comprehend that the damage done to the Darcy name is far worse by allowing Wickham to abuse myself and others than it would have been had I acted.”
“How are you, Darcy?” his cousin asked, his voice solemn.
Running his hand over his mouth, Darcy did not immediately answer. When he did, he spoke from the depths of his innermost feelings.
“In all I have done since the death of my father, I comforted myself knowing my choices would have pleased him.” Darcy scoffed, “How wrong I have been.”
“I am proud of you, Darce.”
His inclination was to accept the praise and stand taller. However, this was undeserved. He needed to do as Richard suggested and learn humility. Any chagrin was deserved.
When a message was delivered, Darcy was unsurprised. He had asked the magistrate to keep him apprised of their activities and findings. The note was not from the investigator. He recognized the hand as Elizabeth’s.
Tearing open the seal, he found unsettling news. Mrs. Bennet and her eldest daughter would be travelling to London with the Bingleys to shop for Jane’s trousseau. Their arrival was expected today. Today!
“Oh, Lord. This is all we need,” he mused aloud. “Richard, we need to remove Georgiana from the Gardiners immediately. The timing is terrible, but we cannot have a gossip like Elizabeth’s mother know why my sister has been residing in her brother’s home.”
“Good God!” Richard moved into action, as did Darcy. Within minutes, they were in Darcy’s carriage headed to Gracechurch Street.
They expected pandemonium but were met with calm. Though upon reflection, he wondered why he had assumed the worst. Two of the most intelligent women he knew lived in the Gracechurch Street residence: Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth.
Both his sister and his betrothed were busy tying the ribbons of their bonnets under their chins. On the surface, they were smiling. Closer observation revealed the quivering of his sister’s chin and a sheen of perspiration on Elizabeth’s brow. Mrs. Gardiner was not to be seen.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, gentlemen. We are ready to depart.” Elizabeth gazed up the stairway leading to the family rooms and bed chambers. “My uncle’s carriage will follow yours with Miss Darcy’s things.” Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, she proclaimed, “It is time.”
Resting her hand on Georgiana’s forearm, she whispered, “You will do well, Georgie. Pray do as we have practised and all will be as it should.”
His sister gave a brief nod before she, too, imitated Elizabeth and straightened her posture. As they walked through the doorway, Elizabeth reminded his sister, “Smile.” Another quick nod, and the male cousins moved to follow. Darcy was surprised when the two girls stopped under the covered porch.
Elizabeth hugged Georgiana and spoke in a voice louder than what was normal. “I am delighted you were able to stay, Miss Darcy. You have made this last week fly by.”
“Oh, Lizzy,” his sister responded, then pretended to catch herself. “I mean, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot wait for you to see Darcy House. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Morrison, is a bit stern, but she will love you, I am certain. Like me, the staff will be delighted to have a mistress in charge of the home. Are you ready?”
Elizabeth linked her arm with Darcy’s sister, both ladies radiating joy. “Let us go.”
Darcy handed Elizabeth into the waiting conveyance while Richard did the same to Georgiana. It was not until they were a distance away from the Gardiner’s house that he became aware of the emotional cost of their performance.
Georgiana burst into tears as Elizabeth rested her head back on the squabs, her eyes closed. Without looking, she reached around the young girl’s shoulders and pulled her close to her side.
“You were a success, my dear Miss Darcy.” Elizabeth completed the embrace by wrapping her loose arm around her as she turned to face his sister. “Should you ever decide to leave your mundane life, you could take to the stage and become a sensation.”
“Heaven forbid,” Richard muttered as Georgiana chuckled, wiping the moisture away with the fingers of her gloves as Darcy searched for his handkerchief.
“We have one more performance, Georgie.” Elizabeth held her tightly. The surge of inappropriate jealousy surging through Darcy shamed him. His sister needed comfort, not him.
Georgiana sniffed and sat up straight. As Elizabeth’s arms fell away from her, she looked directly at her brother and cousin. Darcy had no idea what would come out of her mouth, so he waited. When she started speaking, he was flummoxed.
“During the past two mornings, Mrs. Gardiner has been practicing with me so I would know how to respond and what to say if I was confronted with speculation as to my circumstances. She also helped me know what to do if I saw Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy caught Richard’s quick turn of his head towards him. Yes, the actions of Mrs. Gardiner were presumptuous. He had not been asked nor given permission for Elizabeth’s aunt to broach a subject with the potential to unsettle his sister. Yet, he would be eternally grateful to the woman as he had not considered how interested others would be in Georgiana’s activities.
He lived in a new world, different from the one he had inhabited before finding out his sister was with child. Nevermore would he blindly exist and go his way without considering the long-term implications of his decisions.
“How did you manage?” One of his greatest fears had been the future time when Georgiana would make her debut in society. How would he, an unattached man, uncomfortable in gatherings of more than a few people, guide her—help her along?
She giggled. “She asked me to get a picture in my mind of th
e most autocratic, arrogant, forceful person I know. Once I had a clear vision of Aunt Catherine, I was to imitate the angle of her chin, the look in her eye, and the motion of her hands and say, ‘Why would you think to ask me of my activities? Am I answerable to you?’” she exaggerated, elevating her nose until it was pointed to the roof as she stared down her cheekbones to a spot on his chest. “Should I see Mr. Wickham, I was to say, ‘Who are you to me? A servant’s son whose word cannot be trusted. Why do you approach an innocent? Are you so afraid of my brother that you choose not to speak with him?’”
Unbeknownst to her, Georgiana’s voice had dropped to a low timbre with a slight warble. Her imitation of their aunt was spot on. Darcy saw the look of incredulity on his cousin’s face and knew it reflected his own. This was simply amazing.
“Well done, Georgie.” She relished the praise. “How can we possibly assist upon our arrival at Darcy House?” At this point he had no doubt that Mrs. Gardiner had been thorough. He was immediately proved correct.
