A Covenant of Marriage

by C. P. Odom

  Darcy sighed unhappily and wondered how much he was going to have to disclose before Georgiana’s questions were answered.

  “I have to agree with you about the family, especially the mother. She quite lacks any sense and decorum, but the two older girls are completely different: well mannered, polite, and amiable. It is almost as though they were raised by different parents.”

  “And is Miss Elizabeth Bennet the reason you have been so mired in melancholy since returning from Aunt Catherine’s in May?” Georgiana asked quietly.

  Darcy froze, stunned into immobility as he realised he had not managed to disguise his inner tumult at all.

  I should have known better, he told himself bitterly. Georgiana is my sister, and if anyone could pierce my vaunted self-control and concealment, it would be her.

  He tried to think what to do, but his surprise was so complete and so unexpected, he could not think of anything other than to disclose all and not lie to her.

  “She is,” he admitted, raising his eyes to his sister. “I first met her when I visited in Hertfordshire and then again at Rosings where she visited her friend Mrs. Collins who married Aunt Catherine’s parson.”

  “And you liked her? Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I mean.”

  “Oh yes,” Darcy said bitterly. “I admired her, but I could not let her see it. I am a Darcy, and Mother and Father would not have approved of her. She is the daughter of a country gentleman who has an income of only two thousand a year. Even worse—her father’s estate is entailed away. Neither she nor her sisters have any fortune, the family has no connexions, and her mother and younger sisters are foolish and silly. They do not have the manners and style of Miss Elizabeth and her elder sister. So, for these wonderful reasons, I would not let myself show affection, and she interpreted my behaviour—justly—as being arrogant, prideful, and selfish.”

  ***

  Georgiana winced at the bitterness in her brother’s voice.

  “When I left Hertfordshire,” he continued, “I thought I had escaped my attraction for Miss Elizabeth. I am sure the ghosts of our parents applauded my self-control. But then I went to visit Aunt Catherine, and I had not been there ten minutes before she informed me of the presence of the delightful visitor at the parsonage. From then on, I was in Miss Bennet’s presence almost daily. My aunt invited her to tea and to dine at Rosings, and Richard insisted that I visit the ladies at the parsonage, for he found their company a welcome diversion from the unvarying conduct of Aunt Catherine.”

  Darcy paused for a moment. “Soon, Fitzwilliam did not have to encourage me to go to the parsonage or into the park,” he continued, only vaguely aware of apparently being unable to stop explaining everything about the affair to Georgiana once he had started. “I would stop by the parsonage myself or meet Miss Elizabeth in the park, for she is a great walker, always going about the neighbourhood and exploring the wonders of nature. All my training has made me correct, but it has not made me amiable, especially when I am gripped with such conflicting emotions. Soon I realised I was trapped. I could not foresee any future for myself that did not include Miss Elizabeth at my side, no matter how the strictures our parents impressed on me might rail against the degradation of such an attachment.” After this last admission, Darcy fell silent, his chin cupped in his hand.

  “Well, what happened then? If you loved her so much, why did you not make her an offer of marriage? Surely, Father and Mother would have understood why you could do nothing less.”

  “Ah, but I did ask her for her hand, my sweet,” Darcy said, raw pain in his voice. “I determined to make my addresses to her on the next to last day before Fitzwilliam and I were to depart. I had it all planned: I was going to ask her to take a turn through the gardens after tea and there open my heart to her. But she did not come! I was upset, distraught that my plan had been spoilt. Finally, I left Rosings and went to the parsonage, where I found her alone, having declined to take tea because of a headache. And there I made my addresses, but everything came out wrong. None of what I had planned to say was said, and I made a horrible, horrible botched job of it. However, it would not have mattered if I had been as smooth-tongued as Wickham.”

  “What?” Georgiana said, plainly startled by this last statement. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean my hopes for the hand of Miss Elizabeth Bennet were doomed before they were ever uttered. As she told me to my face, I could not have made my offer in any possible way that would have tempted her to accept it.”

  “Impossible!” Georgiana said with a disbelieving snort. “I know there must be scores—hundreds—of young ladies who fall asleep dreaming about becoming Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

  “But they are not Elizabeth Bennet. She rejected me for a number of reasons, among which was that I had separated her sister from Charles Bingley and also kept from Wickham the inheritance my father had planned for him.”

  Georgiana jumped to her feet. “This woman sounds as foolish as her sister to have refused you in favour of Mr. Wickham!”

  “Be calm, Georgiana,” Darcy said soothingly. “I do not think Miss Elizabeth had a fancy for Wickham, but she is loyal to her friends and family, which cannot be called a fault. And she was correct about me separating her sister from Bingley. I did so in part because of the lack of propriety of some members of her family—especially her mother—and because I believed Miss Bennet did not return Bingley’s affection. From what Miss Elizabeth said to me, this was another of my miscalculations. As she told me in no uncertain terms, her sister did share Bingley’s affection, and it was much greater than I could discern. She has suffered greatly since then.”

  “Even so, to take the side of Mr. Wickham—” Georgiana said hotly, and Darcy gently intervened.

  “Wickham could charm the wings off a butterfly, my dear,” he said softly, drawing her down to sit beside him. “I have no doubt he sang a song of woe to Miss Elizabeth, enlisting her support as a friend. I am sure he would not attempt to win her as a wife. She is not rich enough to solve his problems. And I am certain of Miss Elizabeth’s good character to know he could not have enticed her into an illicit affair, as much as he might have desired it.”

  “What?” Georgiana cried, despite what she had experienced.

  “Oh, he has been successful innumerable times, my dear,” Darcy said bitterly. “Including one affair he had with the daughter of one of the professors, which was silenced successfully just before we left Cambridge. It was one of the things I tried to mention to our father, but he would not listen. His health was failing quickly at the time, if you remember.”

  “I do not, William. I was only eleven, and his death came as a tremendous shock to me,” Georgiana said sadly. “But Wickham was truly a villain, was he not?”

  “Very much so, which is why our cousin was so disappointed at his disappearing so thoroughly after Ramsgate. I believe Richard wished to have a discussion with Wickham—one involving sabres or pistols, I believe.”

  “Oh, that would have been dreadful!” Georgiana said. “Even Wickham…”

  Darcy patted her hand encouragingly. “It does not matter. Richard could not find him, nor could any of his officers who I believe assisted him surreptitiously.”

  After a few moments of silence, Georgiana said timidly, “You were speaking of Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Ah, so I was. So, after my abortive proposal, I wrote her a note explaining my offenses regarding her sister and Wickham and gave it to her the next day. I have enough confidence in her justice to believe she has acquitted me of any offences in regard to Wickham. Hopefully, despite being correct in charging me with separating her sister from Bingley, she has at least acquitted me of any iniquity in my motivations. I am sure she understands that my mistakes were made in defence of a friend, and she is too loyal to her own friends to hold this particular transgression against me.”

  “Then
, if you think she has forgiven you, could you not renew your addresses? If you so desire, of course.”

  “I do desire it, but it is not that simple. The two accusations she made against me were only supplemental to the true reasons she had for rejecting my offer. Remember, I said I steadfastly refused to let my attraction show after I met her in Hertfordshire. In the best Darcy fashion, I acted as though I was above associating with any of the local gentry. As a result, she attributed my behaviour to being arrogant, prideful, and selfish. And I have come to believe she was correct. I was acting just as I had been trained to do by Mother and Father. Though they were loving parents, they allowed, encouraged, and almost instructed me to care only for those of my own circle and to think meanly of the sense and worth of the rest of the world compared with my own.”

  “William! How can you make such unfair and unjustified accusations against Mother and Father?”

  “Because it is true, my sweet,” Darcy said dolefully. “Pray understand, I loved them as fiercely as you, and I still do. But you were only a babe when our mother died, and you were hardly eleven when Father followed her. It is not as though they were not fine people and good parents—they were—but they did have this fault, and I, as the oldest and the male child, was the object of their training. No, I was guilty of Miss Elizabeth’s charges, and her dislike was formed on that basis, which I cannot explain away. And now, she has even more reason to despise me.”

  “More reason? Because her younger sister eloped with Mr. Wickham?”

  “Of course. When I first knew Wickham had joined the militia in Hertfordshire, I briefly considered making his offences known. And I now realise it was my duty to do so, but I decided against it, thinking it was beneath me to lay my private matters before the world.”

  Darcy’s laugh was harsh with self-derision, and Georgiana winced at the sound.

  “Wickham must have been spreading his own version of these affairs to everyone he met, and since I would not lower myself to present my own arguments, he succeeded in sinking my reputation among the gentry of the neighbourhood and enhancing his own. Had I acted as I should and had Wickham’s worthlessness become well known, he would not have been welcome in the best homes. Thus, it would have been impossible for any young woman of character to form an attachment to him.

  “Elizabeth knows this. She knows her sister is ruined because of my pride. In point of fact, she has to be equally aware that her whole family has been ruined as a result of the scandal, and she undoubtedly has added that injury to my account. Her opinion against me was already fixed, and this has only made it stronger.”

  Georgiana could not agree with her brother on this, certain he was being much too harsh on himself. From her point of view, Elizabeth Bennet appeared almost as foolish as her sister did. How otherwise to explain her rejection of someone as worthy as her brother? The fire of resentment was kindled in her breast against this foolish country girl who had hurt her brother so badly—hurt him so deeply that he would talk this way, laying all the blame on himself and none on the woman he so mistakenly loved.

  She knew it would do no good to try to argue with William. Even if he were wrong, his skills at rhetoric, honed by his years at Cambridge, would unfailingly serve to advance his point of view in their rare disagreements. And, since his emotions had been engaged, he would not see reason.

  “I suppose there is nothing to do about all this,” Georgiana said finally, and Darcy nodded his head unwillingly.

  “Likely you are correct, dearest, but I am too upset to consider it tonight. I think I shall sleep on it before I try to make up my mind one way or another.”

  ***

  That night after having consumed more than one glass of brandy before he could fall asleep, Darcy had a nightmare in which Elizabeth fled from him through the woods of Rosings Park as he tried to catch her. She enumerated his misdeeds over her shoulder as she ran until she finally fell into the clutches of George Wickham.

  Darcy came bolt upright in bed, sweating profusely as his heart pounded in his chest.

  “I cannot let this happen again,” Darcy told himself as his racing heart slowed. “I cannot help the woman I love, but at least I can and must stop Wickham!”

  Chapter 5

  Adversity is the state in which man most easily becomes acquainted with himself, being especially free of admirers then.

  — Samuel Johnson (1709–1784), British author

  Monday, November 2, 1812

  Pemberley, Derbyshire

  Darcy boarded his coach for the journey to London early on Monday. He had assumed his sister would wish to accompany him since he could not be sure how long his task would take. He was prepared to spend months if necessary. He had failed to check Wickham’s excesses before, but this time he would not brook failure. He would return to Pemberley for Christmas, of course, but if he had not succeeded in his quest by then, he would return to town.

  Georgiana’s declaration that she would not join him had come as a surprise. Her initial decision to remain at Pemberley was based on the fact that London was a dreary place in winter. He had expressed a degree of scepticism at her reasoning, saying most people, especially those of fashion with the means to travel, left London in May or June after Parliament recessed, and the increasing heat made the environment in town less comfortable and even unhealthy. They would return in time for the start of the Season in the autumn months.

  She also said it would be impolite for both of them to be gone from Pemberley when Bingley and his sisters arrived. That brought him up short since he had forgotten about Bingley’s going north to visit relatives in Scarborough. His party would be stopping at Pemberley on their return, and thus it made sense to leave Georgiana at Pemberley in the care of her companion in order to greet them and act as hostess.

  Yet, her decision still seemed rather strange to him, and he wondered whether his sister had told him everything on her mind.

  When Darcy arrived at his town house, it was open and ready for him in accordance with his instructions sent by express. He was exhausted by the trip since he never slept well while travelling. He looked forward to a long, hot bath and a refreshing night’s sleep before starting the search for Wickham. Before going to his room, however, he wrote a quick note to his cousin Richard, asking him to call the following evening.

  ***

  Thursday, November 5, 1812

  London and environs

  Darcy left his house at ten the next morning. His coach took him to Edward Street, and it was not long before he located the house Mrs. Younge occupied. He had made a point to keep track of her whereabouts and activities after dismissing her from his employ, especially since he suspected at least a part of the funds that had allowed her to set herself up as a landlord had come from his own purse.

  He could not prove anything, but when Darcy inspected the books and receipts Mrs. Younge had kept, he had found nothing more incriminating than a nagging belief that her expenses had been slightly too high. He suspected she had formed some kind of arrangement with the shopkeepers with whom she did business, agreeing to patronise their shops for what she needed to set up and maintain Georgiana’s establishment. In return for accepting slightly higher prices, she and the proprietors could then split the surplus, but he could not prove his suspicions without seeking redress through the courts, which he had declined to do given the sensitivity of Wickham’s attempted elopement with Georgiana. He had forgone any attempt to recover what he suspected she had stolen and accepted the loss.

  He checked his cane, making sure the rapier enclosed within it slid easily from its wooden sheath, and he patted his pockets that held a pair of short-barrelled, twin-shot pistols. He did not anticipate needing such weapons, but this was a much less wholesome part of London, and it never hurt to be prepared. He knew Wickham had an exact duplicate of the cane. His father had bought two of them and present
ed them to his son and his godson the Christmas before he died. He was not afraid of Wickham’s skills. He knew his own were sufficient to give him an advantage if Wickham resorted to force when confronted.

  The hallway was dark and empty when Darcy entered the establishment, and he eased the front door closed behind him. A door was open ahead of him, spilling light out into the hall, and though his steps were quiet, they had obviously not been silent, for Mrs. Younge sat at a desk in the small room, looking directly at him as he appeared in the doorway.

  “Darcy!” she exclaimed, and the venom in her voice made his name sound like a curse.

  “The very same,” Darcy said evenly as he entered the office and sat on one of the two chairs, making sure his back was against the wall so he could see both doors to the room.

  “Get out!” she ordered, her expression drawn into such a rictus of hatred it was no longer that of the elegant lady she usually presented to the world.

  “Eventually, but only when it suits my purpose. I have come to see the fine establishment you have bought with the money you stole from me.”

  “I can have you tossed out into the street.”

  “You can try,” Darcy said with an edge of warning in his voice. “I have two footmen waiting with my coach and a pair of drivers. All of them are armed, as am I. They are sturdy fellows, and I dare say they can do for anyone you can afford to whistle up, including your old accomplice, George Wickham.”

  From the way her eyes tightened, he saw that both the threat and the mention of Wickham had hit their mark.

  “So he is here,” he said mildly.

  “What if he is? What business is it of yours?”

  “Just a bit of unfinished business I should have taken care of years ago. Would you mind sending for him? I have a proposition, and there will be no need for all the threats and counter-threats. Just a short talk and I shall be gone.”