He never understood where their pretentions and high opinion of themselves came from. His older sister, Louisa, had never acted so until she began to capitulate to Caroline for the sake of peace. Bingley was sure, separated from Caroline’s bad influence, Louisa would revert to her pleasant self. Like him, they were the progeny of a tradesman, and no matter how high they held their noses in the air and tried to ignore that fact; it would not change reality.
He was aware members of theTonsneered at and mocked his sisters, and knew one day they would push Darcy beyond the limit of his patience, causing him to deliver a much-deserved set-down to Caroline.
Bingley was positive no matter what Caroline did, Darcy would never offer for her, nor would Bingley want him to settle for so unhappy a union for the rest of his life. Even if she engineered a compromise—and he knew she was scheming enough to attempt it—he would not force Darcy to marry her. Much to Caroline’s dismay, should she attempt it, he would withhold his permission if Darcy’s ideas of honour and duty overrode his good sense.
“I understand the situation clearly, Bingley. I thank you for your kind invitation.” The words of the Colonel snapped him out of his wool-gathering, “I will inform you of the day I hope to arrive as soon as I know when I will have leave,” the Colonel said.
Then Bingley stood, bowed to the Colonel, and went to the cloak room to retrieve his outerwear from the attendant. Bingley donned his hat and greatcoat, and with a flourish and a good-natured grin he was on his way.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The servants employed at Darcy House, from Mr. and Mrs. Killion, the housekeeper and butler, down to the maids and under-gardeners, were concerned. Their master, although sometimes reserved and taciturn, was now dour and melancholy. He had been so for the last four months, ever since he had accompanied Miss Georgiana Darcy back from Ramsgate without her companion, Mrs. Younge. He had always been the best master and landlord, so his behaviour and sudden fits of temper were entirely out of character.
They knew something had happened to significantly change the mood of both the master and his much younger sister. However, Darcy servants never gossiped; they went about their duties as unobtrusively as possible, and without asking questions.
As it had been for the last few months, Darcy House was as quiet as a mausoleum, the silence broken only occasionally by the shuffling feet of servants performing their duties as quietly as they were able to. The atmosphere was depressed and dark in the Darcy household, reflecting the mood of its master, Fitzwilliam Darcy. That mood, however, did not hide the fact Darcy House was grand. It was located in Mayfair, on the most exclusive Grosvenor Square, opposite Matlock House.
Mr. Killion and his wife made sure the servants knew there would be consequences if any of them made noise that disturbed the master and raised his ire; his temper now seemed to explode after the slightest provocation. The mood of Darcy House had not just become dark; it was as though an aura of depression had settled over the entire house. This master was no longer the one they had known and respected since his father passed.
The servants also noticed Miss Georgiana Darcy, who had always been shy, had now completely withdrawn and was willing to speak only with her brother or her new companion, Mrs. Annesley. On the few occasions she said something to anyone else, it was no more than a barely-heard monosyllable, spoken without lifting her eyes from her feet. Often, she would burst into tears spontaneously and bolt for her chambers for no reason they could detect.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Darcy, who had averted a near-disaster in Ramsgate by pure luck, saw only the negative after that event. He wore his blame like a cloak of shame rather than celebrating the fact he had saved his beloved sister.
He sat in his study reliving the event once again—as he did almost every hour of the day. Since his return, he not only replayed what happened, he imagined what almost happened. His mind attempted to pinpoint his faults. Darcy forced himself to accept the blame for all of his real and imagined failures, convinced he had done nothing correctly for years. As he had a hundred times before, he sat in his chair and allowed himself to wallow in these dark memories once again.
His business took far less time than he thought it would, he travelled to Ramsgate to visit Georgie and her companion, Mrs. Younge, two days earlier than expected. It was only by the grace of God disaster had been averted when he decided to surprise his young sister with an early arrival.
When he reached the rented house in Ramsgate, he noticed there was no footman on duty at the entrance. Unhappy with this lapse of duty, he was already annoyed when he rapped on the door.
Mrs. Younge, not the butler, opened the door. She went as white as a sheet when she saw him. Her shock and mortification at seeing her employer made him suspicious—and, thankfully, caused him to be in a greatly heightened state of alert. What he saw when he entered the drawing room had curdled his blood. He saw George Wickham—the dissolute debaucher, profligate, and wastrel—sitting far too close for propriety and holding the hand of his innocent young sister.
With a sneer on his face, Wickham informed Darcy that he and Georgiana were in love and engaged to be married. Darcy, knowing the libertine was only after his sister’s fortune, explained the restrictions placed on her dowry to him. Not a penny would be released unless both he and her co-guardian, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, consented to the match.
After hearing her dowry of thirty thousand pounds—his object—would never be his, he made disparaging remarks about Georgiana, stating how distasteful it had been to pretend to love her. His words were intended to hurt, and they had the effect he desired on Georgiana. She burst into tears with huge racking sobs that did nothing but amuse the blackguard.
Darcy bit his tongue until it bled to keep the descriptive adjective about his former friend from escaping, then he continued his train of thought, allowing the memories to replay yet again.
Before Wickham left the house, Darcy warned him—in no uncertain terms—his debts would be called in and he would be sent to Marshalsea for the rest of his miserable, and probably short, life if he ever breathed a word about his sister to a living soul, or if he ever approached any member of the Darcy family again.
He also warned the dastard he should pray fervently that no word of what had happened in Ramsgate would ever be heard anywhere. In his fury and rage at having his revenge against Darcy thwarted, and because this latest get-rich scheme had been foiled, Wickham had quit the house, slammed the front door on his way out, mounted his horse, and had ridden away.
Darcy had talked to Georgie once her heart-rending sobs had ceased. It became clear to him, and to her, that she had been lied to and manipulated into believing herself in love.
He discovered Mrs. Younge was in league with Wickham. When Georgiana had been unsure about the propriety of spending time alone with Wickham, Mrs. Younge had assured her—more than that, encouraged her—telling her it was normal when one was planning on a life together, then she had helped plan the elopement with Georgiana’s suitor—all without informing her charge’s guardians.
It became crystal clear Georgie’s companion had promoted Wickham’s suit while discouraging Georgie from informing her brother about it. Georgiana’s missives were being intercepted by Mrs. Younge; despite her companion’s advice, Georgie had written to her guardians because she refused to lie to them, even by omission.
Mrs. Younge told her since George Wickham was an old family friend and her late father’s godson, there was no breach of propriety. She told her charge her brother’s lack of response indicated he agreed with her actions and would be happy for her.
Darcy threatened the malevolent Mrs. Younge with ruin and possible arrest for her part in the conspiracy, and dismissed her immediately—without pay or a character.
Later, he and Colonel Fitzwilliam discovered all of Mrs. Younge’s references were forged; she was sent to them by Wickham to assist him in carrying out his planned revenge for the perceived, if unfounded, offences he felt Darcy had perpetrated against him.
Fitzwilliam Darcy—William to his family and close friends—sat alone in his study as the remembrance of that fateful day spun in his head. His time was spent berating himself for what he felt were his failures as a brother and a guardian.
His mood was as dark as it had been after the passing of his beloved parents. First his mother had passed, and then his father seven years later. Orphaned at two and twenty, he became master of a vast estate, a house in Town, and three smaller estates; he managed these holdings and all of the Darcy investments. Together with his co-guardian, Richard Fitzwilliam, he had been given the responsibility for raising his then ten-year-old sister.
