Page 52 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

She broke down again and sobbed into the handkerchief for several minutes. The two men were helpless. Darcy placed an arm around her shoulders, while Richard sat beside her and gently rubbed her arm.

At last, she spoke.

“I do not know how I shall ever look anyone in the eye again. And we all know he will soon be hounding you for my dowry as the price of keeping his mouth shut. He is a horrible, despicable monster.”

She dissolved into tears once more.

Darcy looked at Richard and raised an eyebrow. Richard gave a slight nod.

Darcy spoke quietly.

“Georgiana, there is one matter that need not trouble you any longer. I hope this news does not shock you too greatly, but Richard and I buried Wickham today. At Ramsgate.”

Though he had spoken softly, the words struck the room like a pistol shot.

Georgiana's sobbing ceased. She lifted her head and stared at her brother.

“You buried him? He is dead? Did you risk your life meeting him on the field of honor?”

Darcy met her gaze, his own filled with sorrow.

“No, my dear girl. He drank himself to death. We found him lying upon a couch in the drawing room. We summoned the local physician, and after examining him, he declared that Wickham had died from excessive drink.”

Georgiana sat in stunned silence. For several moments she looked from her brother to Richard without speaking.

“So... I can never be forced to marry him?”

“Never.” Darcy's answer came without hesitation. “Neither Richard nor I, as your guardians, would ever compel you to marry such a reprobate, even had he lived. Nor will I ever force you to marry any man. We shall find a way through this, Georgiana.” Richard offered her his handkerchief, for Darcy's was damp with tears and no longer fit for use.

“If you are not expecting a child, you may remain with me and my family for the rest of your life. And if you are with child, we shall travel to America, to Boston. I will purchase a house, and we shall remain there for two or three years. Then we shall return home, or if you prefer, to Braemuir in Scotland. We will say your husband fell in the war. In time, we will put this behind us, and you and your child will make your home there with me and my family.”

The young girl sat very still, considering all her brother had said. At length she looked to him.

“Thank you, Fitzwilliam, for not casting me off. I deserve no better.”

“Georgiana, enough of that. You are but a child. You are not yet sixteen. Your companion was complicit. We all trusted her. How were you to know she would behave in so treacherous a manner? And Wickham was a practiced liar. He even deceived our father, who was otherwise an excellent judge of character. I should have taken better care of you. If anyone is to blame, it is I.”

Richard spoke before Georgiana could answer.

“No. Just as Georgiana is not to blame, neither are you or I, Darcy. Mrs. Younge came with references from respectable families in Derbyshire. She was a modest, well-spoken, educated woman who appeared to have been well brought up. We had no reason to suspect her treachery. Let us not dwell on blame. Let us look instead to the future and determine how best to meet it.”

Georgiana, utterly exhausted, retired to her room. The two cousins remained in the drawing room until the early hours of the morning, making plans before they too retired.

All things considered, the future was not without hope. Georgiana would recover from this betrayal. If Providence were kind, she would not be with child. And if she was, at least Wickham would not be there to extort them, nor would Darcy ever again be forced to contend with the reprobate.

For the first time since this tragedy began, Darcy felt a measure of hope. They would survive this.

Then his thoughts turned to the beautiful Miss Ramsbury, and grief pierced him anew. He thought of her lovely eyes and lustrous hair. He remembered with fondness her lively manner and quick wit. She was altogether charming, but now she could never be his. He had lost any hope of winning her. Would she think him indifferent when he abandoned his pursuit of her? Would his sudden withdrawal hurt her? He slipped beneath the covers, mourning the life he had imagined living with her at his side.

Chapter 23: The Great North Road

Elizabeth spent most of the next two weeks having new gowns made and shopping for undergarments and shoes, necessities she lacked because of her mother's negligence. Every evening after dinner, she sat at a table at the far end of the drawing room, reading and making notes. She became so absorbed in her studies that the conversations around her scarcely reached her.

When her wardrobe was replenished and while they awaited word from Madeline's sister, Elizabeth devoted entire days to her studies. She had read through most of the first volume and reduced its contents to four pages of notes.

Thus far, she had discovered one account that greatly interested her. A man disappeared during the early eighteenth century. He was a farmer who vanished at Arbor Low on December 21, the eve of the winter solstice, in 1722.

A legend arose from the disappearance, warning children to stay away from the stone circle after sunset on the twenty-first of December, lest the fairies carry them away as they had the drunken farmer. The tale held that he had lost his way while returning home from the village tavern. The following morning, only his hat and an empty bottle of gin were found lying in the center of the circle.