At one and twenty, George Wickham was an unhappy and resentful man. He was living in Seven Dials, the bowels of London. The money his father had given him was all but gone. He had lost most of it at the tables but had the good sense to keep a very little for living expenses. None of his schemes to make his fortune in the last three years had ever panned out as planned, instead costing him rather than producing the result he needed.
Since the day his father had given him the funds, George had not tried to contact the man. He was determined to make his fortune the way he saw fit, to show his father how wrong his estimation of his son was. To George’s chagrin, so far the only thing he had proven was that his father's warnings had been true.
Almost three years in the past, in a little town in Staffordshire, he had claimed to be a Darcy—the one and only time he dared—and gained credit after he charmed the merchants into believing his claim. The problem was the village was close to Holder Heights, and when Lord Holder had heard of this mysterious George Darcy, he had a good idea who the man was.
Lord Holder sent an express to Robert Darcy, informing him what his steward’s son was up to, sullying of the Darcy name. Unluckily for George Wickham, the Bennets were still with the Darcys as it was not quite three months after the death of Lady Anne.
Biggs and Johns were dispatched to give the wastrel agentlewarning. On the same day the two footmen arrived, Lord Holder had his steward canvass the business owners to get a list of the debts Wickham had run up. All of the vowels—a little more than fifty pounds worth—were purchased for his friend to be held until needed and the merchants were told it was the last time someone would cover them if they chose to extend credit to one unknown without an effort being made to verify his tale.
Meanwhile, the two huge men found Wickham in the local inn, drinking and spreading lies about the grand estate he would inherit. “An ‘ow would the son of a steward in’erit Mr. Darcy’s estate,Wickham?” Biggs growled.
George Wickham slowly turned and saw the two mountainous men with scowls behind him, all colour drained from his face. “‘Ey,” one of the locals who had been conned into buying drinks for the libertine spoke up. “Ya sayin’ ‘e’s not a Darcy?”
“No, ‘e be a liar, thief, an’ a cheat. ‘Is name be George Wickham, the son of thestewardof Pemberley, not themaster!” Biggs informed the now angry group of men.
Before the crowd turned too ugly, Biggs and Johns each took an arm of the petrified liar, lifted him as if he were nothing, and walked out of the inn with George Wickham dangling between them. When they reached a dark alley behind the establishment, the one-time warning was delivered, leaving Wickham with a broken nose and a missing tooth. Before they left, Biggs turned to the snivelling coward.
“Mr. Darcy wants you t’ know,” Biggs stated menacingly, “if ya’ ever use ‘is name agin, there will be no mercy. ‘E ‘as bought your debts ‘ere and you will go to gaol—if you are still alive—there will be no second chance.”
In the moon’s light, it was then George recognised them as two of the men who he had seen protecting the blonde after whom he still lusted. Up close they were much scarier than from a distance. He admitted then and there he could never use the Darcy name, or the names of any of their friends, ever again.
From Staffordshire he made his way to London, where he begged, borrowed, and stole whatever it was he needed to live, which is how he found himself in a tiny, rat-infested room in the worst part of Town. The next day, he was in a neighbourhood that was somewhat better than where he lived—any neighbourhood in London was better—walking down Edward Street. He saw a boarding house with a sign over the door that identified it as ‘Younge’s Boarding House.’”
There was a notice next to the door: “Seeking a man of all work.” Taking a chance it might get him out of the squalor he was living in, George Wickham knocked on the door, and told the woman who opened it he wanted to apply for the position.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Robert Darcy kept his word to his beloved wife. In July, a year after her passing, the master of Pemberley ended his year of mourning. He was thankful beyond words for the support and friendship of his extended family, for they had never allowed him to sink into the depths of despair he would have otherwise allowed himself to drown in.
At the end of the three months of his children’s deep mourning period, he had accompanied William to Cambridge to take up his studies, and then his daughter to Netherfield Park to be with the Bennets. His wife’s wisdom was proved once again as Gigi had thrived with the Bennets. She had been surrounded by love and sisterhood, and a slightly younger adopted brother. When Darcy had joined William for Christmas at Netherfield the year Anne died, neither he nor his son recognised the self-confident girl who threw her arms around them in welcome. After her mother passed, Gigi had begun to withdraw into herself and exhibited a level of shyness not seen before regardless of her friends’ attempts to draw her out. After a few months with the Bennets, the renewed shyness had all but evaporated.
Georgiana Darcy still missed her mother each and every day, but the love extended to her by the Bennets had done much to ameliorate her sorrow. She looked upon Aunt Fanny and Uncle Thomas almost as surrogate parents rather than merely adopted aunt and uncle. In addition, she had become very close with Mariah Lucas and the Long sisters. It also helped that Cassie—even though she was five years older—spent a few months at a time at Netherfield Park as well.
Her mother was always with her, Georgiana could feel her presence in her heart and when ever she was in doubt, she believed she could hear her late mother in her head giving her the advice she needed.
William was enjoying Cambridge. Yes, he was sad much of the time when he was not busy, and his mother’s death had left a hole in his heart, but he loved the intellectual stimulation. In addition to cricket, the Darcy heir excelled at fencing and was a force on the chess and debating teams.
The latter he joined to sharpen his skills for the epic debates he and Elizabeth tended to have when in company together, the former because he had been thought by his father to be one of the best chess players in their extended family. He needed every edge he could attain, and the debate team would help with bolstering his defences against a certain highly intelligent and strikingly beautiful young lady.
Georgiana had remained with the Bennets until her father’s year of mourning was complete. As his late wife and friends suggested, Robert Darcy visited his daughter almost every month she was at Netherfield, so she never felt abandoned.
Beyond the year of mourning, with the Bennets’ ready agreement, Gigi had spent a good deal of time in Hertfordshire so she could keep studying with the masters the Bennets had on staff, especially Mr. Mercury for voice andSignoreda Funti for her playing of the pianoforte, which was now on par with the three eldest Bennet sisters.
Kitty had displayed an innate skill for drawing during the last two years, so a new drawing and art master had been hired, young Mr. Adam Lambert from London, of no relation to Aunt Maddie Gardiner’s family. Mr. Lambert was an added incentive for Gigi to want to be at Netherfield Park as she, like Kitty and her cousin Anne, loved drawing and sketching. He would often sing with the group of masters when they had their impromptu music sessions, as it seemed he had a voice to rival Mr. Mercury’s.
In the last few months, William had started to notice Elizabeth, who was sixteen, as far more than a family friend. He was attracted to her, not just to her looks—though there was no arguing her striking beauty. It was her intelligence that was the main attraction for him.
Some may have been intimidated by a woman as intelligent, if not more so, than themselves, but William considered it a huge plus in her favour. She was also teasing, playful, and could be impertinent if she so desired. The more time William spent around her, the more he came to realise he was falling in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
One evening, when William had arrived home at Pemberley for his Easter term break from Cambridge, he told his father he felt he was falling in love with Elizabeth. Robert Darcy threw back his head and laughed. Even though his stomach sank at such a reaction, William held his peace because it was the first time he had heard his father laugh since before his mother had received her diagnosis.
“I am sorry, William; I was not laughing at you,” Robert told his son as he regulated his mirth, not missing the hurt in Williams eyes. “I am laughing at your mother’s perceptivity. She told me she believed you would fall in love with Lizzy one day, and I thought she was out of her senses, as it was during the time you and she were standoffish to one another.”
“Thank you, Father,” William stated with relief. The fact his late mother had predicted his falling in love with Elizabeth made her all the more desirable, knowing he had his late mother’s blessing.
“You know you will need to wait two years for her come out before you declare yourself,” Robert reminded his son. “In addition, before you approach her you will need permission from her father.” His son had no idea who the father was that was referred to. “Once York approves you will need the King’s permission.”
“It will be hard to wait, but I will use the time to deepen my friendship with Elizabeth so she will hopefully start to develop tender feelings for me,” William voiced his hopes.
