Once back at his London home, Darcy bathed and changed. Regardless of how much he scrubbed himself, he could not wash away the overwhelming guilt he felt. He was not a coward, yet his running away from Hertfordshire with his tail between his legs had been the action of one.
He felt worse than he had ever felt before, even more so than discovering Wickham with Giana in Ramsgate. He had always prided himself on his honesty and honour. Had Miss Elizabeth not told him just last evening she saw him as an honourable man? What would she say if she knew what he planned to do?
The evidence of her fierce love for her sister was clearly visible when Miss Elizabeth had walked the three miles to Netherfield Park, not caring for the condition of the ground, to come nurse Miss Bennet. Would she ring a peal over his head if she ever discovered he had actively hurt her most beloved sister?
If Darcy went through with this and his part ever became public—there was a better than even chance it would with Miss Bingley as a co-conspirator—even if society eventually forgave him, his family would not. Worse, his actions if brought to light or not, he would never forgive himself.
How would he look Giana in the eye again? He could only imagine her disappointment with a brother she revered when his part came to light. Seeing her look at him in that way would break his heart…almost as much as it was breaking now at having given up the woman he loved.
If—when—it did, would he lose his friendship with Bingley? He finally admitted to himself Bingley was not the same malleable fellow he had been. Especially in the last year, Darcy had seen his friend mature and his spine stiffen. He needed to think and come to a conclusion, not only about what he would say to Bingley, but also about doing something to hobble Wickham.
He was seated in his study ruminating on these weighty subjects. His elbows were on his desk and his head resting in his hands as the feelings of guilt weighed down on him like a millstone around his neck. Just then he heard the front door being opened. The knocker was down. Surely the shrew would not try to gain entry to his house. He had instructed his butler, Killion, he was not at home to any save for close family members.
The study door was pushed open and Richard sauntered in followed by Giana. Darcy stood and went around his desk opening his arms for his sister to fall into them. For that moment, seeing Giana and hugging her, his guilt was forgotten, but only in the instant.
“It is good to see you, Sweetling, and you too Richard,” Darcy stated in welcome. “No duty today?” he directed at his cousin.
“I am on leave until after Twelfth Night,” Richard shared. “The reason for which will become clear shortly.”
“Brother, I need to confess I did something rather imprudent yesterday,” Giana admitted.
“Come let us sit, and then we may talk,” Richard suggested as he led his ward to the settee which was placed against the wall between the two windows.
Once Darcy had seated himself in a wingback chair opposite the settee, he looked at his sister questioningly.
“On Friday I went for a stroll in Hyde Park with Tiffany, our companions, and two Matlock footmen,” Georgiana began.
“It pleases me you were well escorted,” Darcy interjected.
“We had not been walking for long when approaching us from the opposite direction was none other than…George Wickham…wearing a uniform.” Darcy wanted to spring from his chair and make sure his sister was truly well but he saw Richard give an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He sat back in his seat. “He greeted me like nothing had occurred in Ramsgate, turning on all of his sickening charm. I-I slapped him…hard,” Georgiana admitted as she dipped her head to look at the carpet.
“You are well, Giana?” Darcy verified concernedly.
“I am. My hand stung for some time, but I must admit something. I felt pleasure when I saw the red welt forming on his cheek,” Georgiana shared quietly.
“Georgiana! Look at me,” Darcy commanded. His sister lifted her head until she was looking him in the eye—almost. “The only thing I feel is pride in you. You had the strength to let the miscreant know exactly how you feel about him and the lies he told you. If you were worried I would be angry, I am not. I am glad you had the footmen there; Wickham is a coward, and I am sure he said nothing but turned tail and headed away from you at all speed. He likes his victims to be helpless…” Darcy paused.
It hit him that he was using words to describe Wickham that were clearly applicable to his actions, or lack thereof, in Meryton. He was so worried about his sister, and here she had demonstrated much more backbone than he had of late.
“Unfortunately, none of those who saw him could identify his regiment, I know he is in the militia and I intend to run him to ground,” Richard stated firmly. He saw his cousin was about to protest. “There is nothing you can do to stop me, the only way I will not do so is if our ward does not want me to act.”
“I do. I very much want you to make sure he cannot keep hurting those around him with impunity,” Georgiana stated emphatically.
“It just so happens I know where he is and in what regiment of the militia he is enlisted,” Darcy reported.
“How is it you have that information, and why did you not write to me about him as soon as you became aware he was in the army?” Richard demanded.
“I admit to an error in judgement.” Darcy was gratified at the look of stupefaction on Richard’s face. Apologising was not something he had often done.
“Where is that bas…brigand?” Richard queried.
“In the market town close to the estate I was visiting. It is called Meryton in Hertfordshire. He is in a regiment of the Derbyshire Militia commanded by a Colonel Forster,” Darcy revealed.
“My men and I will be on the way to that town first thing on Monday morning,” Richard informed his cousins.
“Richard, I have enough of his vowels to have him consigned to debtors’ prison for the rest of his miserable life. They are being held by my solicitor. However, I have copies of them all here in my safe. Let me provide you with them and then let him rot in King’s Bench or Marshalsea for the rest of his days. He is not worth you being tried for murder,” Darcy pleaded.
Darcy well knew that look in his cousin’s eye, and he almost pitied Wickham once Richard got his hands on him.
