Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth

by P. O. Dixon

  Elizabeth suspected such a plea would be wasted on her husband. Darcy did not like Bingham anymore now than he did when he first met him, despite the family connection and Bingham’s wont to do and say all the things that ought to garner Darcy’s approbation whenever the two were in company.

  “Georgiana, I do not think it would be my place to suggest such a thing to my husband.”

  “Who is better than you to do it? I know it is beyond his power to deny you anything. I just know that given a sufficient passage of time, my cousin will come to realize that his lack of fortune means nothing to me, and that I—” Here, the young lady halted her impassioned plea.

  “What were you about to say, Georgiana? I know you have a very favorable opinion of your cousin, one he is not unworthy of, I am sure. Is there more than merely a fond attachment on your part?”

  “Oh, Elizabeth! The more time I spend in my cousin’s company, the more I am persuaded that he is the only man in the world for me. I love him.” She smiled as though this were the first time she had spoken those words aloud. “I love him,” she repeated. “It is my ardent wish that he will one day feel the same about me.”

  Knowing how Darcy would react should he learn his sister’s feelings had progressed from liking to loving in so short a duration, Elizabeth could not help but suffer a measure of foreboding. Her husband meant for his sister to marry a man of consequence—a man with the means of keeping her in the manner of living in which she had been reared.

  Georgiana pursed her lips. She had just confessed her heart’s most closely kept secret to Elizabeth, whom she admired and esteemed, and this was the response she was to receive. Silence. She said, “I am surprised by your reaction, Elizabeth. You must have something to say to me.”

  “Finding one’s self in love is often a cause for joy. However, in this particular case, I feel it would be a disservice to you were I to congratulate you for suffering such sentiments.”

  “How can you say such a thing? You have always been one of Mr. Bingham’s staunchest supporters. Were it not for your generosity of spirit toward him, he would never have been allowed to visit Pemberley and learn about his family. Our acquaintance with him would have ended soon after our first introduction in London. Why have you turned against him?”

  “Georgiana, I have not turned against him at all. I value family above everything, and thus I was eager to do my part in uniting yours.”

  “Then why does the idea of my falling in love with him give you displeasure? Is it his lack of fortune?”

  “I would never judge a man by his financial worth. It is not that at all.”

  “Is it my brother? Has he thoroughly poisoned you against the idea of a union between my cousin and me?”

  “Pray let us not have this discussion, which we both can agree is premature at best and likely unwarranted in its entirety. I do not mean to diminish the import of your affections for your cousin, but there is no evidence to support that he returns those feelings ... unless there is something more that you have not told me. Has he done or said anything which might lead you to suspect his feelings for you are based upon anything but familial affection?”

  Not wishing to admit to all the intimate encounters she and her cousin had shared out of fear of being deemed as wanton, Georgiana held her tongue.

  “Has he?” Elizabeth repeated.

  “No—he has not. However, you ought to know that should Mr. Bingham offer his hand to me, I will not hesitate to accept it. Neither my brother’s sentiments to the contrary nor the opposing opinions of anyone else will dissuade me.”

  “It pains me to hear you speak this way.” Elizabeth’s stance was not so liberal and encouraging now as it had been when she had spoken with Jane earlier. Although she could never think so little of Mr. Bingham as did her husband, Elizabeth could not deny her increasing concern. Mr. Bingham and Georgiana were spending far too much time in each other’s company of late—time not always spent creating his masterpiece, but Elizabeth did not witness any symptom of love on his part the likes of which Georgiana suffered toward him. It would be a mistake for Georgiana to set herself up for disappointment and heartbreak when he took his leave of Derbyshire. She told Georgiana as much.

  Georgiana said, “Are we not all capable of making mistakes? Imagine if my brother had held your fondness for George Wickham against you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth beseeched.

  “Do you deny that George was once considered by many who know you best to be your particular favorite? Did you not at one time consider him a better man than my brother? I say this not to judge you, but to point out that we are all but mere human beings and subject to the same human frailties.”

  “Indeed, we all make mistakes, but that does not stand to reason that we ought to willfully dismiss the council of those who only mean to protect us. That is precisely your brother’s intention. It is my intention as well. Do anything but forget what you are about.”

  ~*~

  Georgiana and Mr. Bingham had finished the morning session and were now enjoying a walk on her favorite path before he was to take his leave. Darcy had stayed the night in Matlock, and Elizabeth was visiting a tenant’s wife who was bed-ridden after having given birth to her first child.

  Georgiana’s mind was intently engaged in thoughts of all that had unfolded between her cousin and her both in London as well as at Pemberley. She was convinced she was in a fair way of knowing all there was to know about the inner workings of his heart and what it would mean for her future.

  His voice pierced her private musings. “Would it disappoint you to know that when you and I are apart, I spend most of my time secretly crafting another portrait of you?”

  Comfortable with him, she laced her arm through his. “Why would I be disappointed? I am indeed flattered. Has Mrs. Carter seen it?”

  “No—no one has seen it. You see, I am agreeably engaged in capturing your likeness in my mind—for my eyes only, as it were. You, in all your magnificent splendor, just as nature intended.”

  Georgiana felt an all too familiar blush spread over her body. The implication of his speech was clear. He imagined her nude. As scandalous as his saying such a thing was, she could not object. Not when he was looking at her the way he was—that way a man looked at a woman whom he desired and the way a woman wanted to be looked at by the man whom she adored.

  Bingham swept his arm around her waist and drew her closer. He traced his fingers along her neckline, her chin, and then her lips.

  He leaned his head down. She closed her eyes. His warm breath against her skin invited her lips apart.

  “I believe it is time,” he whispered softly in her ear, “that I declare my intentions toward you to your brother.”

  Somewhat surprised, she opened her eyes. Her heartbeat thumping against her chest, she said, “And what exactly are your intentions, sir?”

  Releasing his hand from her waist, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Turning it over, he kissed her palm. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, “Can there be any doubt in your mind, my dearest Georgiana?”

  Chapter 13

  Darcy paced the floor. He’d known it would one day come to this. He was no more in favor of such an unequal alliance now than he was months ago. His sister deserved better than such a man as Alston Bingham.

  “What will it take to convince you that I love your sister?”

  “Time will tell. Assuming I would consent to your proposal, what are your plans for providing for my sister, especially in light of the fact that you have your sister and her child to care for?”

  “I am not without means, sir, if that is your only objection. I have my own income from my inheritance from my mother.”

  What a meager inheritance it is at five thousand pounds, Bingham considered. The income on that amount is nothing in comparison to Darcy’s, but Georgiana’s thirty thousand pounds will go a long way in elevating my financial standing. One day Angelica might draw the attention of a wea
lthy benefactor as well. True, I would not like it, but I would learn to tolerate it for the greater good.

  “I do not claim that I will be able to keep your sister in the style of living to which she has been accustomed all her life. There will be sacrifices. Your sister is aware of all of this.”

  Sitting alone in the parlor, Georgiana waited. Upon seeing Mr. Bingham speaking quietly with her brother and then subsequently following him out of the room, Georgiana’s agitation was extreme. She truly feared her brother’s disapprobation, for he had not warmed to the idea of Mr. Bingham being a third cousin. Surely the prospect of now having to call him his brother would be a cause for untold unhappiness. She deserved a husband of consequence in the world, her brother would argue. Of course, her brother would rant and rave to that very effect, but, in the end of it all, he would relent. Having chosen a love match for himself, how could he not allow her the same liberty?

  She sat in misery until Mr. Bingham appeared again, when, looking at him, she grew a little concerned about his comportment. In under a minute, he approached the table where she was sitting and said in a whisper, “Your brother wishes to see you.”

  She did not like his look or his tone, and she wondered what her brother had said to cause such a dismal turn of her dear cousin’s countenance. Arising from her seat, she said, “Mr. Bingham—”

  “—Speak with your brother. I shall call on you early in the morning at the usual time.” With that, he bowed and went on his way, leaving a rather befuddled young lady standing there.

  Darcy was walking about the room, looking grave and anxious, when his sister entered. “Georgiana,” said he, “what are you doing? What are you thinking in accepting this man? You hardly even know him.”

  She hated distressing her beloved brother by her choice and filling him with uncertainty and fear, but this was her decision. She tried her best to assure him of her attachment to her cousin. Theirs was not an attraction of a few days or even a few months, but one of knowing rooted in their shared passions as well as lineage.

  “I am sorry to say that I do not bestow my blessing, at least not willingly. I do not believe it is in your best interests. However, if you are determined to have him then I am willing to reconsider my position on the condition of an extended engagement period.”

  “What do you expect will change?”

  “A great deal might change or nothing at all. Certainly there is no harm in waiting, is there?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “If you are old enough to marry you ought to be old enough to have some indication,” he said. It pained him to utter those words, but his sister was not a child, and there was the fact that the cousins had been spending a great deal of time together of late.

  As aggrieved as she was to hear her brother, whom she likened to a father, speak this way, the implication of his speech did not escape her. Georgiana colored. “Mr. Bingham is a consummate gentleman, as you would very well discern if you would but spend more time getting to know him.”

  “That is my point. I know nothing about him that would allow me to relish the prospect of his taking you away to parts unknown to suffer life as the wife of a struggling—I beg your pardon—an aspiring artist.”

  “You have not given yourself the trouble of knowing him. You have been opposed to the idea of his getting acquainted with his own mother’s family—our family—almost from the moment he informed you of the connection.”

  “I will not have you speak to me in this manner, young lady. It is for me to decide whom you shall marry and whom you see for that matter. Be thankful that I have allowed that gentleman to spend time with you at all.”

  Oh! You are impossible. How on Earth have I managed to convince myself otherwise all these years? Georgiana thought but did not voice aloud. Elizabeth, of whom Georgiana had the highest opinion of in the world, would very likely have expressed so unguarded a view. However, through her sister’s instruction, she began to comprehend that a woman may take liberties with her husband that a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. She did have the liberty of storming out of the room and inconveniencing him by leaving the door standing wide open, which is precisely what she did.

  After spending time with Georgiana and listening to her account of Darcy’s decision, Elizabeth sought her husband’s company. “I spoke with Georgiana,” she began the instant she came across him. “She is terribly upset.”

  “I am not surprised to hear that.”

  “I understand that you are requiring a lengthy passage of time before you will give your consent for her to be married to Mr. Bingham with the goal of allowing them more time to get acquainted with each other.”

  He shrugged. “I am hoping that the results of my investigations into the man’s past will yield information that will prove my suspicions are either legitimate or wholly unfounded.”

  “So this delay is not to give Georgiana and Mr. Bingham more time to get acquainted, but to give you more time to investigate the gentleman.”

  “Indeed.”

  “This smacks of subterfuge on your part—dare I call it duplicity? Have you not boasted that disguise of any sort is your abhorrence? Are you above practicing that which you preach?”

  “It is my sister’s future that is at stake. You know there is nothing I would not do to protect her.”

  Elizabeth folded one arm over the other. “And what if your investigations should turn up nothing at all that would discredit Mr. Bingham?”

  “If the man has nothing in his past to justify my disapprobation then I will not stand in his way. That said, I have no desire to see my sister suffer further disappointment in love, but I would not be terribly upset if the man suddenly decided to go on about his business far, far from Derbyshire. My sister deserves better.”

  “What could be better than Georgiana spending her life with a man who loves her?”

  “Spending her life with a man who loves her and is capable of providing for her is far better. I do not believe I am expecting too much by wishing for such an outcome.”

  Chapter 14

  Whenever Wickham could, he left his wife at the Bingleys’ estate and ventured to Lambton to engage in secret affairs that she did not need to know about. He had just finished one such assignation and was headed to his preferred gaming establishment when he espied an old acquaintance. He hurried across the street to where the fellow stood.

  “Still destined to wherever the road leads you, my friend. No doubt it is a winding road that has led you back to this godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere.”

  Bingham swung about and found himself face to face with the gentleman whose acquaintance he had made the first time he was in Lambton nearly a year ago. “Indeed, it is a winding road that has brought me right back to where I ought to be.”

  “Ah, good fortune or a woman,” said Wickham in recollection of their first meeting.

  “Actually both—combined in one neat and, dare I say, comely package.” Wanting to attach the forgotten name to the face, he said, “I must beg your pardon, sir. You see, I am no good at remembering names. Pray what is yours again?”

  “George Wickham at your service,” he replied with a slight bow. “I believe you said your name is Alston Car—”

  “Bingham,” the other man quickly interjected, wishing he’d never broached the subject.

  Wickham’s expression clouded. “No—I am certain you introduced yourself as—”

  “—Much time has passed since you and I first met, sir. Moreover, let us not forget there was a fair amount of spirits consumed between the two of us. Speaking of which, pray you will join me inside this fine establishment for a drink.”

  Once they were settled at a table with beverages in hand, Wickham said, “Pray who is this bundle of loveliness that you spoke of before, if I may ask?”

  “Unless my memory fails me, you are very acquainted with the young woman’s family. Indeed, it is Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
>
  Wickham found himself almost completely at a loss for words. This—this vagabond who fancied himself a gentleman and sitting across from him dared to boast of a connection with Georgiana!

  My Georgiana! Wickham silently declared. The young woman whom he had befriended when she was but a child and who was designed for him and this—this man who may have had connections but clearly no fortune of his own. Silent and grave, Wickham took a long swallow from his glass.

  The other man said, “If I were a gambler, I would wager all that I own that you find my assertion troubling.”

  “Indeed, I do—but not for the reason you might be thinking.”

  “Rather than mince words, why don’t you tell me the cause?”

  “Well—the fact of the matter is that I would be troubled to hear any man voice the words you spoke just then. You see, Miss Darcy and I share a peculiar history. Indeed, our lives might well have been one had dark forces not intervened.”

  The other man laughed a little. “Pray do not tell me that she left you standing at the altar.”

  “Trust me; the lady had every intention of marrying me. She and I had always been close.” Wickham took a sip of his drink. “Perhaps I have said too much, for I would not wish to stir up any trouble that might impede your good fortune.”

  “Would it ease your conscience if I were to tell you that Miss Darcy and I have already spoken of her fond attachment with another and how her brother intervened? No doubt your allusion to dark forces was meant to be Darcy himself.” He picked up the bottle and capped off Wickham’s glass. “I am not at all opposed to hearing your side of the story.”

  “As I said, I was meant to marry the young woman. I have known her all her life. As a consequence of the differences in our ages, she looked upon me more as an older brother for the best part of her youth and, indeed, in so many respects it made sense. Her father, the late Mr. Gerald Darcy, was my godfather after all. He loved me as though I were his own son.”