Now that all of the Bennet sisters were together, Catherine Bennet wanted to capture it the only way she knew how; with ink and paint. There would be many long carriage rides to move to Pemberley where she could learn of the latest family gossip. But the late afternoon light was dwindling and she never liked the sketches she did by candlelight once the dawn returned.
6
Entering the study of his closest friend Charles Bingley, Fitzwilliam Darcy unexpectedly felt a small stab of melancholy. Until he had crossed the threshold where they might speak of the sensitive matters surrounding the move of the Bennet family, Darcy had not appreciated this visit would likely be his last to Netherfield Park. Almost a year ago to the day, he had left London with his only aim being to conceal the loss of his sister, Georgiana. The emotions of the all-consuming events in the past year sharpened his focus on the subject at hand.
Darcy was distracted enough by his thoughts of nostalgia that he missed Charles’ first question as to his health. He had simply stood there, unmoving, and Charles let it go to see about pouring them both a drink.
Charles handed Mr. Darcy a glass of brandy after he had not answered his query, and then suggested they sit over by the fire, away from the door and desk. Fitzwilliam nodded and for once followed Mr. Bingley's lead.
"I know you will wish to go over the facts and figures, but first I must implore you to speak with me about a happier subject. How was Scotland?" The ever affable Charles Bingley began a conversation to raise both of their spirits. Although Mrs. Bennet had been rather rude earlier, the truth was there was very little happiness to reflect upon in regards to Longbourn and its loss.
Unfortunately, the disaster of the last few days at his Scottish estate were far from happy to Darcy's mind. He choked on his first sip of brandy, and Charles frowned.
"Do not tell me you had a terrible time on your wedding trip?" Charles attempted to interpret his enigmatic friend's odd reaction. But Fitzwilliam shook his head.
He set the offending glass of brandy on the table before him, and took a steadying breath. "Like most matters of the heart and home, it was a complicated endeavor. I failed to secure a true romantic excursion for Elizabeth because on the very eve of us leaving, I had received a letter from Georgiana. I became aware of Wickham's death long before my wife, and I have to confess she did not thank me first sparing her the distressing news so that she might celebrate being a new bride."
Mr. Bingley winced and blew out a low whistling sound. He was well enough acquainted with the second Bennet daughter to know she would not appreciate being left out of any important decision. He had always planned for his sister by marriage to be included in the matters he would now discuss with Darcy. But it was Mrs. Bingley who had suggested they divide and conquer the Darcys so that their generosity was appreciated long before it could be scorned by Mrs. Bennet or either of her youngest daughters.
Charles sighed. "Perhaps your wife will find reasons to be enamored with your efforts once more with Jane and Kitty in residence." Charles attempted to look on the bright side, but Mr. Darcy shrugged.
"You do not have to be delicate with me, old friend. I could have guessed that Mrs. Bennet, though it is to a lesser degree that I know the younger sisters, would not take the plan of moving them all to Pemberley well. I suppose our wives are visiting with their father," Mr. Darcy guessed, and Mr. Bingley grimaced. "No?" Mr. Darcy was perplexed. Having been through the incredibly painful process of his own father dying of illness, he had imagined that Elizabeth would run straight to his sickbed.
"He is sedated most of the evening hours. Jane will take Elizabeth in the morning, I am sure, for a visit. I'm afraid his pain is compounded by the circumstances of the injury, and without the laudanum, he further injures himself." Bingley gave Darcy the most salient points of Mr. Bennet's condition, and both men took a fortifying drink. They paused their conversation to feel the weight of responsibility losing Mr. Bennet would mean.
Finally, Mr. Darcy finished his drink with an exaggerated gulp, and set the glass down. He stood from the uncomfortable chair left behind for the leasing tenants of Netherfield. "I believe I'll take those facts and figures now. Is there any hope of rebuilding Longbourn?" Mr. Darcy began to walk towards the chaotic piles of letters upon the desk. He chuckled to himself at the sloppy and heavily-blotted penmanship of Charles Bingley on many of the pieces of parchment.
Mr. Bingley continued to sip his drink more slowly, but did rise to join his friend. "I am the least qualified to give you the particulars. It would be best if you sat down with Mr. Phillips."
"The brother-in-law?" Mr. Darcy refreshed himself as to the connection and Bingley nodded.
Mr. Phillips' status made Mr. Darcy realize that Bingley's own relations were missing. He hadn't liked the idea, but he was quite resigned to the knowledge that Bingley's unmarried sister, Caroline, would find a way to weasel herself an invitation to Pemberley as well.
"Where are the Hursts? And -- " Mr. Darcy cleared his throat so that he would not be forced to precisely name Caroline, but Charles caught his drift.
"That is the other subject we should speak about quickly before we are interrupted. I must stress that we have no evidence Caroline is responsible…" Bingley trailed off as Mr. Darcy looked at him without being able to guess the topic. So Mr. Bingley was forced to continue.
Before he did, he refilled his beverage and helped himself to a good portion of it before continuing. "You know Hurst has connections to moneylending."
Involuntarily, Mr. Darcy made an expression of disgust. A necessary evil for some men, the very nature of private loans was a profession scarcely above robbery in Darcy's mind.
"It would appear that at some point over the summer, Caroline went to Hurst asking for Wickham to be handled. She held this irrational idea in her head that should she be successful in removing George Wickham from this existence, you would jilt Elizabeth Bennet and instead seek her hand in marriage." Charles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as his friend reacted most strongly to such a preposterous idea.
"Has the woman gone mad?" Mr. Darcy exclaimed but Mr. Bingley shrugged.
"To be quite frank, we are unsure. But—" Charles took another drink as he allowed Mr. Darcy to process such an alarming development. "We did all decide that Caroline was too much of a danger to herself and others, and when the news of Wickham's death reached her, she believed herself responsible. I don't believe that my sister is a murderess," Mr. Bingley hesitated and his friend continued the line of thinking.
"But the very fact that she considers herself capable…" Mr. Darcy stood, stunned at such a revelation while Mr. Bingley nodded slowly.
Suddenly worried for the safety of his wife, Mr. Darcy asked the question that he needed answered most.
"Where is Caroline now?"
"Under lock and key at our great aunt's estate in Scarborough. Thankfully, with her age, not many will ask in society where she has flitted off to."
Mr. Darcy placed a hand upon the man's shoulder in solidarity. Charles' head fell as he allowed himself a small expression of remorse over the difficult situation with his sister, and Mr. Darcy patted Bingley's upper arm in sympathy.
"I have had to learn firsthand that we cannot control the women our sisters choose to become. The moment of realization can be utterly brutal. Do you mind if I share this with Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy asked, in part to live up to the expectations of his wife, and then the other part to preserve her safety. If Caroline Bingley had indeed gone mad, and viewed Elizabeth as her greatest rival, Fitzwilliam Darcy did not trust that she would not seek an even more insane plot to become his wife.
Charles sniffed and recaptured his countenance. He reached out a hand to shake Darcy's as a thank you for the man's support.
"It is unnecessary. Jane is telling her as we speak, another topic she and I both resolved was necessary for the protection of all. And other than Kitty knowing that she is to report any mention or sight of my sister Caroline, th
e rest of the Bennets are being kept in ignorance." Mr. Darcy nodded as Charles explained. "Kitty believes that Caroline is angry she was not selected to be a godparent and has assumed the danger lies against the twins."
At the mention of the babes, Mr. Darcy broke into a wide smile, which lifted the mood of his friend.
"Forgive me! I have failed in my duty to congratulate you!"
Mr. Bingley blushed and then smiled. "The day of their birth was ghastly, I will not lie to you. But seeing the two of them and how Jane dotes upon them, I tell you, the business of having children is one that pays great dividends."
Mr. Darcy offered to refresh Charles's drink and did not add that there was reason to suspect he too might become a father in the next year. If Elizabeth told Jane, the news would reach Bingley. And if she did not, the Bingleys would learn later when it was certain and Mr. Darcy would not risk his wife's ire.
The two men continued in each other's company for another quarter hour before Mr. Darcy announced that he would like to change and refresh himself from his journey. With dinner to be served within the hour, it was only polite for both of them to see to their valets.
When they had reached the foyer, Charles was explaining where Darcy could find his trunks, and possibly his wife, in the east wing of the home when the butler, Higgins, approached them.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir, but this has just arrived."
Higgins handed the express to Mr. Darcy who immediately opened the letter.
As Darcy read, his face drained of color and Mr. Bingley became immediately concerned.
"What's wrong? Is it Georgiana?" Charles began to guess and Mr. Darcy's shock soon turned to anger. He closed his eyes and took a breath before answering.
"My home in London has been attacked," Mr. Darcy said in a flat tone of disbelief.
7
Lady Catherine de Bourgh found her niece Georgiana Wickham lacking in good sense, good company, and any respect for her mother's sister. Every interview with the girl proved futile, and Lady Catherine almost regretted sending for the child to be housed at Rosings. Thankfully, the eldest daughter of an earl, she always had held an ability to set aside personal feelings for a larger benefit if she merely endured an unpleasantness. Such tenacity had served her well in her loveless marriage to Sir Lewis de Bourgh through all of his affairs. Until Providence decided which babe would survive, Georgiana’s or her daughter's, Lady Catherine would not jeopardize her future comfort on the mere whim of exasperation.
"And I am wretched. Do you know I have written to my friend, Miss Bingley, three times, and I have yet to receive a letter back. Loyalty is fleeting, it would appear, in all. Except you, of course, Aunt Catherine,” Georgiana complained as part of her longer, cyclical speech about how wronged she had been.
Most days, Lady Catherine ignored the girl’s whining, but this morning she humored her niece for her own aims.
"There always comes a time in a young woman's life where she learns that she must rely on her own ingenuity and strengths. If you knew of my life before you were born, child, you would learn we hold many great similarities. I was married off to a philandering baron, and when I asked my father for help, he would not come to my aid." Lady Catherine sniffed and very gently dabbed her serviette to the corner of her eyes as a show of heightened emotion. “I had to choose, you see, to waste away as the forgotten wife of a man too taken with drink and gambling to care for his wife and young daughter, or make my own way.”
The complication for Lady Catherine's complaint in solidarity was that Sir Lewis’ affair with another woman led to the birth of Georgiana’s late husband. And George Wickham was infinitely more lovable in death than he ever was in life.
"And Sir Lewis did not care for his son, either! Sending my poor Georgie away to never know the love of his parents," Georgiana ceased eating her morning meal and rubbed her midsection with thoughts of a different future for her child, the grandson of Sir Lewis de Bourgh. A strange tightening gripped her muscles, and then disappeared as quickly as it had come. She inhaled sharply, then ignored it. “Why did you not keep George here? He might have grown up to be such a better man than what upbringing a steward and his wife could provide.”
Lady Catherine glared at the thoughtlessness of her niece to propose that she should have raised her husband’s bastard! The daughter of an earl, play nursemaid to the simpering offspring of her husband’s lover? It was not to be borne!
“Tell me, if any of the other babes your late husband fathered in his wilder days come knocking on your door, will you take them in?” Lady Catherine asked Georgiana the hypothetical question to point out the child’s idiocy, but instead, the lack of maturity in her niece won out. She completely missed the comparison.
“How could you ask me such a thing? In my condition? Of course I know George had other lovers, and it hurt most bitterly when he never came back for me. But I loved him! And I will make sure his son has the best in life even if his father was hated by so many!” Georgiana stood up in her dramatic manner, but winced again as another spasm clenched across her abdomen. Lady Catherine noticed the pains, but did not panic as the inexperienced Mrs. Wickham was beginning to do.
“How long are the pains?”
“They just come and go. That’s the second one since we sat down.”
“And where does it hurt?” Lady Catherine asked, motioning for a footman in preparation to send for a midwife and Dr. Smeads. Georgiana indicated the top of her swollen belly, and then dragged her hands along to her sides.
“Oh, nothing to worry about then, child. You have weeks to go. Those are just the false labors many a woman feels before her first born.” Lady Catherine shooed the poor, obedient footman away from the table just as he neared. “Sit down,” she demanded of Georgiana, who paused briefly before complying.
Lady Catherine poured herself another cup of tea, and while Georgiana looked at her earnestly for a refill herself, her aunt placed the kettle down out of her niece’s reach. She lifted her cup and inhaled the pungent scent of oolong and orange peel, her favorite blend. Lady Catherine chuckled for a moment when she noticed her niece sulking.
“What are your plans, girl?”
Georgiana began to huff and Lady Catherine would have none of that.
“Stop your selfish and childish ways. Think! I may have erroneously given you the impression that I brought you here out of some great acknowledgment of the bastard you carry.”
“He’s not a bastard! We married!”
Lady Catherine tutted her disapproval. “A happy coincidence without the blessing of anyone in your family. Your husband was murdered. What makes you believe you will be safe if you leave the protection of your family now? If you have any plans to run, I’d suggest you think twice.”
Georgiana began to cry, but her tears did not move her aunt’s opinion.
“I do not know what my plans are! Fitzwilliam will not let me have my dowry, and he will not let me come home to Pemberley!” The soon-to-be-mother wailed again as another pain tested her nerves. Her aunt seized upon her niece’s vulnerability.
“Tell me about the scheme your husband was in.”
Georgiana shook her head.
“I do not know.”
“Yes, you do, think! Who were your husband’s associates? Where was he when he was not with you?”
Again, Georgiana shook her head and Lady Catherine banged upon the table.
“I do not believe you are such a simpleton as this! You took a lover, yes, I know all about your behavior, young lady, and you are far from an innocent victim in all of this. A wife knows. She always knows where her lout of a husband lays his head.” Lady Catherine pointed her finger directly at Georgiana’s nose and her niece focused on the large ring adorning her knuckle.
Slowly, Georgiana began to nod, without taking her eyes off the jewels.
“Younge. Sally Younge.” She gulped and turned away from her aunt in disgrace, missing her aunt’s smile.
Lady Catherine closed
her eyes for a moment and chided herself for missing such an obvious connection. That woman her inept nephews had chosen as a companion, the woman who allowed her charge to run off in the first place. She should have thought to send her connections there for more information.
“Good. Now leave it to me. My sources say your husband and brother are being blamed for this mining fraud. But we can turn the tables if we learn just a little more,” Lady Catherine again silently summoned a nearby footman with a beckoning of her fingers. “Take Mrs. Wickham upstairs and help see that she takes a rest,” were the only instructions Lady Catherine gave.
Georgiana began to protest, but then she looked up and saw that the young man wasn’t unpleasing to the eye. Matter of fact, he was a sturdy lad looking to be in his twenties and he smiled when he offered Mrs. Wickham his hand. For a moment, Georgiana looked to her Aunt Catherine in disbelief that the woman would be so brazen about sending her niece off with a footman, practically declaring he take her to bed. But her aunt refused to meet her gaze and only flitted her hand in annoyance that they be gone.
Refusing to acknowledge the wave of sadness in feeling unloved, Georgiana accepted the footman’s arm and leaned into his person as she took her steps.
“Pray, what do they call you?” she asked, as he held open the door to the hallway for her.
“Whatever name suits you, Mrs. Wickham.”
The Miracles of Marriage Page 4