Fate and Consequences

by Linda Wells

  He walked over to the window and looked out on the main street of the village. It was fairly late in the morning, and the town was bustling with activity. He sipped his tea and took in the scene. It was typical of any other village; there was a butcher, a ribbon shop, a small book shop. If things were different he might stroll over to see if any treasures had found their way there. But things were different, likely drastically different for him and his sister for the rest of their lives. He hated feeling so pessimistic, but it had become a habit to think the worst. Orphaned at the age of two and twenty, suddenly becoming the father figure to a little sister and master of an enormous estate with hundreds of lives left to his care … he sighed. It had been a long five years since his father joined his mother in Pemberley’s small cemetery.

  He tried to distract himself from his thoughts and concentrated on the people passing by. He noticed a group of four young women entering the street. Their dress was simple but fine, probably daughters of a local gentleman. He watched as two of them, rather too enthusiastic for his taste, ran with undignified speed to accost two local dandies outside of the apothecary’s shop. He noticed the other two, obviously older and possessing proper manners; continued their walk and how the smaller one of them seemed to admonish the young girls. He nodded in approval. He watched as they were stopped almost below his window by an older woman, and joined her in conversation. The smaller of the two stood; the blue ribbons of her bonnet blowing backwards and across her back, then further to lay across the nose of a donkey tethered nearby. Darcy watched in fascination as the donkey began nibbling on the ribbon, and with one pull the bonnet was ripped from her. She spun around, grabbing at the hat. Her hair was dislodged and suddenly a great cascade of chestnut curls fell from her head and bounced around her shoulders, almost down to her waist. Darcy drew in a sharp breath. The young lady did not cry out, but instead was laughing. He could clearly see her joyous smile, her dancing eyes, and could faintly hear the musical sound of her voice. It was the most alluring sight he had ever taken in. He felt a warm smile come to his lips as the lady shook a chastising finger at the offending beast, and took back possession of her bonnet from the girl at her side. The older woman appeared to be highly upset and quickly ushered them into a nearby home, most likely to repair the damage.

  Darcy found himself twisting, watching the door, hoping to catch another glimpse of the lady, but to no avail. It was only after he gave up that he realized his heart was racing and that his body had responded to the event in a way best kept private. He remained at the window until he heard a knock on the door, and forced himself away.

  Richard entered with his call. “Well, the coach will be ready to depart in about ten minutes. They will bring it around to the front door. Have you seen Georgiana this morning?”

  Darcy nodded. “Yes, I went to speak to her. She did not say a word. I doubt that she could, her face is swollen from crying. I cannot bear to think what this will do to her if word gets around.”

  “We should assign someone to read the gossip columns of all the papers, looking for any mention of it.”

  “I will do that myself.” Darcy said darkly. “I do not think that Wickham would go that route right away. I think he would wait to see how I respond to his demands first. But if word has spread from Ramsgate … it may be too late already.” A knock on the door alerted them to the carriage being in position. Darcy went to pay the innkeeper and Richard collected Georgiana. They made their way down the stairs and outside to the sunshine. Darcy was waiting by the coach; the two horses tied to the back, and saw that the seats were dusty. He asked that they be cleaned off before they boarded, and while they waited, Georgiana started a fresh round of tears, seeing the coach she had sat in the day before. Her handkerchief was hopelessly soaked, and Darcy had no replacement. He looked at Richard who shook his head, she already had his. He looked about for a shop to purchase one when a voice at his shoulder caught his attention.

  “Excuse me, Miss. I think perhaps you could use this.” Darcy looked down to see the concerned and kind face of the young woman he had watched from his window. She was holding out a square of linen, embroidered with some pretty small flowers.

  Georgiana looked at her through reddened eyes and spoke for the first time that day. “Oh, I could not, it is too nice.”

  The woman smiled gently. “Of course you can. We accomplished young ladies are always looking for something new to sew. This will give me a reason to finish all of the other handkerchiefs I have in my workbox. Come, please take it.” She pressed the cloth in her hand. “I hope you will soon be well.” She smiled at her and glanced up at Darcy.

  He was staring at her, mesmerized with her face. “Thank you.” He said. She nodded to him with a warm smile and turned away. Richard helped Georgiana up into the coach and entered after her. Darcy remained outside. An unprecedented impulse spurred him to act. “Miss!” He called, and walked up to her and bowed. “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. I would like to return your handkerchief when it has been laundered. May I ask your name and where it should be sent?”

  “I assure you sir, it is not necessary.” She smiled up into his eyes.

  “I appreciate that, all the same …” He looked at her with his brows raised.

  She took in his handsome exhausted face, and noted with pleasure his hopeful expression. She thought that if this brought him some little relief in what was obviously a time of great stress, she would grant him the favour. “My name is Elizabeth Bennet, and I live at Longbourn. This is my sister Miss Jane Bennet.” The tall blonde girl beside her curtseyed and smiled kindly at him.

  “It is my pleasure, ladies.” He bowed again and a slight lift to the corners of his mouth indicated a smile to them. He heard his cousin’s call from the coach and looked steadily into Elizabeth’s eyes. She felt inexplicably drawn to the intensity of his gaze. “On behalf of my sister, I thank you again.” He turned and boarded, and in a moment they were underway. Darcy nodded at the two women as they drove by; trying to memorize the face of one he knew he would never see again.

  Chapter 2

  The Earl of Matlock sat drumming his fingers on his desk and stared at his son and nephew. “How could you let his happen?”

  Darcy looked up at him sharply. “I certainly did not anticipate the son of my father’s former steward seducing my sister. Obviously I am at fault for not thinking of such a thing.”

  “Your sarcasm is not appreciated Darcy.”

  “Then do not presume to berate me for something I have already accepted as my responsibility. I removed Georgiana from school. I formed an establishment for her. I hired Mrs. Younge. I allowed her to go to Ramsgate. I stayed in London. It is entirely my fault. Now do you have anything of use to tell me or should I take my leave now?” He stood and went to lean on the mantelpiece of the unlit fireplace, staring intently at the grate, and attempting to control his anger. Between Georgiana’s unending tears and his regret and anticipation of disaster, the past week in London had been nothing short of torture.

  His uncle relented. “It is not all your fault Darcy. Georgiana must face her own culpability.”

  “Do not dare blame her!” He snarled.

  “She already blames herself.” Richard spoke, diffusing the tension between the two men. “You heard her. If she had only insisted on speaking to you before leaving, everything would have been different. She allowed herself to be swept up in the romance she perceived.”

  “The act of a sheltered, innocent child.” Darcy stated with bitterness.

  Richard shook his head. “You can not take on all of this. It will do you and Georgiana no good. The ones at fault are Wickham and Mrs. Younge.” He looked to his father. “Now, so we can get away from this blaming session, I suggest that we assess our options. Do you have any ideas, Father?”

  Lord Matlock’s eyes moved from one man to the other, and nodded his head. “Of course you are correct. We must deal with the situation. I assume you will not be calling Wickham out?” />
  Darcy’s gaze remained on the grate. “No. I will not risk Georgiana losing me to a duel or prison.”

  “How can he be worked on?” Richard asked.

  His father laughed. “I am sure he has debts, he always did in the past. If we could find them out and settle them …”

  Richard’s brow rose and he turned to Darcy. “Debtor’s prison? Hmm. That is a possibility.”

  Darcy closed his eyes and said with frustration, “You both fail to realize, Wickham is no longer my greatest concern. I have no doubt that he will try to use this to his advantage and try to harm us in some way, but I would pay his ransom forever if it kept Georgiana’s name safe.” He finally looked up at them. “Once the rumours start, nothing Wickham does will matter any more. The scandal will spread and will take on a life of its own.”

  “Are you so sure there are rumours? It has been a week. You may have dodged a bullet.” Richard said hopefully.

  Lord Matlock agreed. “If by some miracle that was true, then Wickham is our concern.”

  A knock on the door stopped the conversation, and the men stood as Lady Matlock entered the room. She grimly set down a newspaper clipping before her husband. He took it up and read aloud.

  The very young sister of a certain FD from Derbyshire was seen departing her holiday love nest for a quick journey to Scotland. The Gentleman is said to be furious and has given chase.

  Silence fell over the room. Finally Lord Matlock spoke. “Well, there it is.” They all jumped with the sound of Darcy’s fist striking the wall.

  “Darcy!” Lady Matlock cried.

  He stood rubbing his bruised hand. “Forgive me, Aunt.” He moved to stare out of a nearby window, his mind such a blur of thoughts, he could not fix on one to address first. Feeling the three pairs of eyes staring at him he sighed and turned. “We will remove to Pemberley immediately.”

  “No Darcy that is what you will not do. You can not hide. You must go about your business as usual.” Lord Matlock rose and began pacing as he thought.

  Darcy stared at his moving uncle. “How exactly do I accomplish that? Even if I do go about my normal activities, society’s busybodies will not allow me to forget. There are far too many of them hoping for a good scandal to fill the conversation of their dinner tables.” He shook his head. “If only it was not the height of the Season, it might die a faster death.”

  “You are hardly noted as a man who attends dinners and balls. All I ask is that you continue to visit your club, go to a play or concert, attend church. Do not hide. That will show shame. You are a very proud man, remain that way.”

  He sighed and nodded. “We will leave for Pemberley at our usual time next month.”

  Lady Matlock spoke. “Would you allow Georgiana to come and stay with us? I think she needs a woman with her.”

  He stiffened at the suggestion. “I do not think we should be separated …”

  “I agree with Darcy, Mother. If for no other reason, it would appear that he was ashamed of her and was sending her from their home.”

  Darcy’s eyes flashed. “That is not why I do not wish to be separated!”

  “No, but that is how it will be seen.” Lord Matlock turned to his wife. “You may go and visit her daily. In the meantime, a new companion must be found.”

  “I have already begun the search. I hope to interview candidates by the end of the week.”

  “And what of Wickham?” Richard asked.

  “He can do no worse than the speculation of the ton. He will get nothing from me.” Darcy’s glare passed over each of their faces, and they all returned to their seats to prepare for the questions of society.

  “WILLIAM?” Her voice was almost a whisper, but at least she was speaking. Darcy looked up from the letter he was writing and saw his sister standing nervously before him. She looked drawn and very small.

  “What can I do for you?” He said softly.

  She held out a neatly folded and pressed square of linen. “This was the handkerchief the young woman lent me … did you learn her address? I would like to return it to her. She was so kind to me.” Darcy took the proffered fabric and looked down at the delicate flowers so carefully stitched in a corner. Suddenly his mind was flooded with the vision of her laughing eyes. It felt good to forget for a few moments. “Brother?”

  He started. “Yes, she told me her name and address. I will take care of it for you, dear.” He set the cloth down, and meeting her furrowed brow realized it was somewhat improper for him to communicate with an unmarried stranger. “Perhaps you might like to include a note?” Her face cleared. He breathed. “Her name is Elizabeth Bennet.” Georgiana nodded, happy to have a pleasant task to occupy her mind. She turned to go when her brother’s voice called her back. “Georgiana, do you happen to know what sort of flowers these are?”

  Georgiana’s brow creased again. Embroidery was not something that her brother paid much attention. “I believe they are Sweet Williams. Aunt Ellen taught me that stitch a few years ago.” She might have imagined it, but a slight curve appeared on her brother’s lips, then it was gone in a flash. Seeing he would say nothing else, she left the room.

  The silence fell down around him, only the ticking of the clock on the mantle filling the void. Darcy continued to stare at the cloth, remembering the young lady who so caught his attention. He had no idea why Elizabeth Bennet had remained so deeply imbedded in his thoughts. He reasoned that perhaps it was simply because she was a ray of brightness on such a horrible day, and it felt good to think on someone so lovely and obviously full of life; something that he truly had not felt in years.

  He leaned back in his chair, gently tracing the flowers and thinking again about the same subject that had troubled him since he jumped on the horse to locate Georgiana. She would not marry now. At least if she ever did, it would not be to the gentleman he would hope for, a peer, or a wealthy landowner. No with this news, her prospects were considerably lowered, especially if the rumours, undoubtedly to be fuelled by Wickham in his attempt to extract money from them, told of her being compromised before he could find her.

  Darcy’s plans to never marry and leave Georgiana to handle the task of bearing the heir of Pemberley were dashed. He would have to marry and produce the heir himself. After watching the cold union his parents had, and admittedly rejoiced in seeing end after the demise of his mother at Georgiana’s birth, he determined he would not subject himself to the union he was raised to expect. A cold marriage of professed but unfelt affection, made solely to bring more funds to Pemberley and to provide a body to occasionally warm his bed and create an heir. He did not want it. Sometimes he allowed himself to feel the twinge of loneliness that marriage might relieve, but he would then think of his unhappily married friends, and that loneliness would be banished to the back of his mind where it belonged. He very rarely allowed himself to feel any emotion; these past weeks were exceptional in that respect. The thought of love in marriage never crossed his mind. He was content. He did not have to put on any pretence of tolerating the company of a woman to decorate his arm, or be interested in conversation that did not challenge. He found society and its ways growing steadily more intolerable. On those increasingly rare occasions when he felt the need for physical release, he would visit a house for gentlemen, but would always leave dissatisfied with the mechanical experience.

  He looked again at the cloth in his hand. He did not know this woman, but he found himself wondering about her. In such a brief time he learned several fascinating facts. She was happy. She had a sense of humour and tolerance for the absurd. She had no tolerance for poor behaviour, and she was undoubtedly sympathetic and kind. And she was lovely. He sighed and wondered what it would be like to talk to her, and if that experience would burst the little world he imagined around her. She was obviously below him in consequence but with Georgiana’s downfall, what did that matter anymore? The sound of his butler quietly entering and delivering his sister’s note startled him. He looked around the room, remembering
where he was and shook his head. There was no point in dwelling on such thoughts. He would never see Elizabeth Bennet again.

  Darcy read the note Georgiana had prepared. It was simply a thank you for her kindness. On impulse, Darcy picked up his pen and added a few lines, then sealed it. He set it aside on the top of his desk and taking up the handkerchief, tucked it into the breast pocket of his coat.

  A FORTNIGHT after the incident, a sennight after the publication of the gossip, Darcy steeled himself and walked to his club. He had put it off as long as he could. It was hard enough attending the theatre with his aunt and uncle, knowing that the opera glasses were all trained on his box and that he was the subject of the barely muffled whispers that he heard as they passed by. Church was its own brand of torture since it added the element of pious disapproval that the hypocrites who attended bestowed upon him and Georgiana as they took their pew, but this place would be a different experience entirely. Here there were no ladies present, and the men, friends and foes alike, would not hesitate to approach him. He entered the main room and paused at the door, searching out his friend Charles Bingley who had agreed to meet him there. He cursed to himself, realizing he had arrived on time, and Bingley had, as usual, been delayed. Placing a look of indifference on his face, he drew breath and entered the noisy confines of the men’s lair. Conversations ceased as he strolled deliberately across the room, nodding at a few men as he set a course for an empty corner table. Nobody stopped him on his way, but he knew it was just a matter of time before they began arriving.

  A servant silently appeared at his elbow, and taking his order for brandy he disappeared. Darcy picked up a discarded paper and began pretending to peruse it, all the while feeling the eyes upon him. It was a situation that always had made him uncomfortable. Arguably he should be used to being the object of attention in a crowded room. His family was not titled, but its age and extraordinary wealth made it just as important as the peerage. He had been the subject of matchmaking mothers and friends with younger sisters since he came of age, and had resisted them steadfastly through the years. Perhaps that was the one silver lining in this nightmare, perhaps he was not as desirable as he once was and they would leave him alone. He heard voices approaching and noticed several grinning men bearing down on him. Steeling himself, he looked up at them.