Darcy knew he was unfit for company now, which was why he had been keeping to himself. He sat at his desk with his elbows resting on the surface and his head in his hands, massaging his temples in an attempt to minimize the constant deafening drumbeat in his head.
The fire had burned low in the grate and his study had cooled, but he did not notice or care. Bingley had visited that morning with the news he had at last found an estate close to Town to lease. He had asked Darcy to join him, which Darcy had previously assured him he would. Although he wanted to honour his word to Bingley, he could not manage residing in the same house with Caroline Bingley.
Georgiana had retired to her bedchamber after dinner, as she had every evening since their return. Persuading her to eat with him had been a victory of sorts. She no longer played her pianoforte; before his failure, it had been one of her favourite pastimes. She remained depressed and burst into tears at the slightest provocation.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Upstairs in her bedchamber, Georgiana Darcy, now almost sixteen, was crying herself to sleep—as she had every night since returning from Ramsgate. Her mortification and shame felt as heavy as if a mountain had fallen on her.
Her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam had both told her the bulk of the blame was to be laid at George Wickham’s feet, and the rest at Mrs. Younge’s. However, no matter how many times William or Richard told her she was not at fault, she knew she was.
Georgiana wondered if they were contemplating returning her to the nursery, if so, she could not blame them. She could see the look of despair in her brother’s eyes, and she knew it was disgust at her actions. It was no less than she deserved, after all she was disgusted by what she had done; how could William and Richard not be?
She was not aware William was blaming himself, not her. That she had not recovered was causing his feelings of guilt and despair, not what she interpreted as his disgust for her actions.
Uncle Reggie, Aunt Elaine, and her cousins Andrew and Marie had also told her it was not her fault, but Georgie did not believe them; she knew it was her fault.
She had willingly broken the rules of propriety. She had known what Mrs. Younge told her was not true. She should have waited for a reply from her brother before agreeing to any sort of courtship. She had been caught up in what she believed was romance and had ignored all the warning signs she now realised were there. Yes, she knew better now; hindsight was always clear, but at the time she had willingly let the two of them lie to her and manipulate her. She had, knowingly and wilfully, ignored many of the rules of propriety she had been taught.
She was aware of the sad truth now. All the lying, manipulating tormentor had wanted from her was to harm her honourable brother. Wickham desired to gain his revenge for perceived slights, and in the process gain her fortune of thirty thousand pounds. He would have gambled her dowry away, just as he had the funds her brother had given him already. He would probably have treated her worse than he did his horse.
Even had they eloped, Wickham would have gotten nothing, since her dowry would only be released if both of her guardians approved of the match. She was sure he would then have abandoned her out of spite, or tried to ransom her to her brother.
She remembered how, after hearing about the restrictions on her dowry, her loving suitor had denigrated her and walked out of the house with a sneer on his face, slamming the door in his anger.
Georgiana was filled with guilt and more sadness than she had known anyone could feel. She had almost brought infamy and dishonour to the Darcy and Fitzwilliam names. If not for her wonderful brother arriving when he did, she would have been utterly ruined.
Georgiana Darcy did not know how she could ever face anyone in her family again, never mind people outside of her family circle. She was sure they would see her guilt as plainly as if she were wearing a scarlet letter. They would all see through her; they would judge her; then, they would despise her.
She was now more shy than she had ever been. She heard one of the maids whisper to her new companion that she had gone from a shy young woman to a girl with no confidence at all. How had she made such a mess of her life at just fifteen?
Chapter 3
In his study, a brooding Fitzwilliam Darcy was second guessing his decisions yet again, as he did almost hourly.
‘I should have called him out, not let him go with an admonition. Richard was correct, he should pay for what he did. Why did I intercede when Richard wanted to hunt him down and make him disappear? If I were not so worried about Georgiana’s reputation—I hold over three thousand pounds of his debts purchased over the years; why did I let that damned wastrel go? Why did not I send him to a debtor’s prison immediately?’ He knew the answer even as he questioned himself again and again; he had made a snap decision; one he thought would be the best way to protect his sister’s reputation.
His thoughts turned to his good friend Charles Bingley, who had visited him with a request earlier in the day. Were it Bingley alone, he would go without question. Under normal circumstances, Bingley would cheer him up, but today he had not been successful.
Although Bingley asked him what was troubling him, he had dismissed his friend’s query. ‘I dislike going back on my word, but how can I reside at his estate, where I will have to deal with the unwanted advances of Miss Caroline Bingley?’At the best of times she was a trial, but now…
Darcy hated times when he had no occupation to take his mind from his failures. All his business had been completed for the day, and that of tomorrow and perhaps the day after. The only occupations he now had were dark thoughts and his liquor cabinet.
Although it was not in his character to over-imbibe, he had done so on a number of occasions during these last four months. He reached for the snifter of brandy on his desk and took a long swallow. He hated not being in control, but the drink dulled his mind and almost made him stop caring about his failures, if only for a short while.
He was aware he was not eating as he should, but his appetite was gone. He detested how Georgie had lost her hard-won confidence and constantly burst into tears, often before he so much as asked her how she was feeling.
No matter how many times he tried to convince her she was not to blame; the blame fell on a blackguard seducer almost twice her age—a man who had taken advantage of her tender heart, she refused to believe she was not the one at fault. He failed to realise the irony; she blamed herself for things she should not, just as he did.
He knew she still suffered, and he could not help her out of the melancholy into which she had sunk. He was at fault for not being a better guardian to her. He had not yet accepted he could have done no more; he had pushed that knowledge to the recesses of his consciousness.
Darcy had been proud when Georgiana had admitted some culpability in the scheme. She told him she had known better but had been caught up in what she believed was love. Before she knew what Wickham was, she had believed William would be happy for her. So deep was her belief in his approval, she had written to him—letters he never received.
He had tried to protect his sister by withholding information about George Wickham from her. In his mind, this was his worst failure; in trying to protect her sensibility and innocence, he had left her vulnerable because she did not have the knowledge which would have enabled her to withstand the lies, manipulation, and false charm employed against her.
In his misguided attempts to protect her, Darcy believed he had robbed his sister of the ability to recognise the signs of falsehood. In the depths of his despair, he failed to consider had Georgiana resisted, Wickham would have ruined her by force, kidnapped her, or both. The bastard might have done even worse to her.
Uncle Reggie and Aunt Elaine, the Earl and Countess of Matlock; cousins Andrew and Marie Fitzwilliam, Viscount and Viscountess Hilldale; and his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had tried to tell him he was taking too much on himself. They attempted to convince him the fault lay squarely at the feet of Mrs. Younge and Wickham, and only on them.
