“I am sorry that you had to hear such talk,” Wickham said to Georgiana. “It is coarse and certainly not true. Have I spent unwisely? Yes. I have not been a perfect man, my dear, but will a moment or two of weakness cost me your love?”
Darcy saw the answer in her eyes and realised there was no reaching Georgiana. She had a stalwart lover, and a brother who thought she was a little girl. His last chance to recover her would be if Wickham gaveherup.
“Georgiana, come home with us,” Elizabeth pleaded.
She shook her head. “He wrote me such romantic letters. I will never have to parade about for a husband now and?—”
“I have never threatened to do that,” Darcy interrupted. “You can take as long as you need and marry for affection.”
“You deserve better than Mr Wickham,” Elizabeth added.
She ignored him and looked at Elizabeth. “Be happy for me, Lizzy. I will be a married woman.”
“Happy? If you respect yourself or wish to be respected as a married woman, you cannot marry a dissipated man who spends his hours either at a tavern, a gaming house, or a brothel.”
“You don’t know him!” Georgiana stomped her foot. “You are repeating Fitzwilliam’s lies. I thought you were my friend.”
“Oh, Georgiana,” Elizabeth said with tears in her eyes. “I am. I will always be your friend, which is why I want you to come home. And the social consequences of marrying such a man will cost you most of your friends. You will regret this marriage, I promise you.”
They would make no progress this way. “Wickham, you will not get her thirty thousand pounds.”
His self-assured manner collapsed as Georgiana cried, “You cannot do that, Fitzwilliam! It is in my mother’s marriage articles.”
“Which state that her thirty thousand pounds was to be divided amongst her children upon her and my father’s deaths once they turn twenty-one or marry.”
“So you cannot keep it from me.”
“It said ‘children,’” he emphasised. “And no subsequent will or codicil changed it. You are not named, and one could argue that half of those thirty thousand pounds is mine. My father’s intention—and mine—was for you to have all of my mother’s money because I inherited the Pemberley properties. But if you marry without my approval, I will take the matter to the courts.”
“If you were to claim a portion, it ought to have been done when your father died and you inherited,” Wickham bit out. “It is too late now.”
“Is it?” Darcy asked lightly. “You are the one who studied the law these past three years. Is it too late?”
Wickham blanched and clearly did not know the answer.
“We need that money,” said his sister. “I scarcely have enough to get us home.” She began to sob, and Wickham dropped his arm from her shoulder. Elizabeth came near and pulled her into a hug. The man could not even comfort Georgiana if he thought he would not be paid for it.
“You can sue me for it,” Darcy said, staring hard into Wickham’s eyes. “You might win and get thirty thousand, or you might only get half. But I think since you ran off with her and I do not approve, the courts could say I have full discretion over how those thirty thousand pounds are divided. If the court allows it, I will give her nothing.”
He hated denying his sister her money, but he would do it to keep her safe from a scoundrel like Wickham.
“No windfall will soon come your way,” he went on. “It will be months, if not years, before it is resolved.” He tilted his head as though a thought had just come to him. “I hope you have made good connexions in all your years of ‘studying the law.’”
Wickham tensed, and Darcy braced himself to dodge a blow. Rather than hit him, Wickham swore. “You have a scarecrow of a case!”
“I have enough of one to keep the money from you for now,” Darcy said. “You will not get thirty thousand today if you marry her, and you may only get fifteen in the future.” They stared at one another with a loathing Darcy never knew he could feel for another person. “If you marry her, there is a significant chance you will get nothing.”
A muscle twitched in Wickham’s jaw. “You keep her money from me,” he murmured, “and you will regret it.”
Darcy shook his head. “No, I will rejoice.”
Wickham exhaled slowly and took a long look at Georgiana, who was sniffling in Elizabeth’s arms. “You might lose in court, Darcy. They could say it is too late to make your claim, and she gets it all.”
“Do you want to bet on that?”
Wickham hesitated for a few moments, then smirked. “I am always ready to roll the dice.” In a louder voice, he said, “Yes, Mr Darcy, I still want her.”
Georgiana looked up from Elizabeth’s shoulder and wiped her eyes, staring at Wickham as though the sun shone from his smile. “Truly?”
