“I… How can I trust anything or anyone when I was apparently so wrong before? I simply cannot credit what you tell me of Mr Wickham.”
Darcy bit back a sigh. And there it was again—that wave of dizziness. He ought to call for his carriage soon. “This again? Georgiana, we have spoken of this a dozen times. How can you still doubt my words?”
She shook her head. “But you were notthere, Fitzwilliam. You maintain that he only meant to take advantage of me, but there was never one inappropriate word or gesture.”
“His very presence there was inappropriate!”
“It was a coincidence,” she insisted. “I saw the man he had come to Ramsgate to meet—a Mr Billings, that was his name. Mr Wickham was to become his steward.”
“Steward! How terribly convenient, then, that my arrival disrupted his chances at honest employment,” Darcy retorted, his voice dripping in sarcasm.
“He did not leave Ramsgate because he heard you were in town. I told you, he had a letter… Brother? Are you well?”
Darcy was wincing, squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden crashing sense of nausea. No, no, not now! He did not have time for this! He sucked air between his gritted teeth and tried to continue in a steady voice.
“Georgiana, you must understand that Mr Wickham could not possibly have had honorable intentions toward you. He knows better than most what expectations you were brought up to, and he knows equally well that he is not a suitable match. He meant to exploit you.”
“He meant no such thing! I am sure of it, Fitzwilliam. He was only ever a faithful friend.”
“Indeed. Tell me, was this ‘faithful friend’ ever entertained in your sitting room?”
She blinked. “Well, yes. With Mrs Younge present. She thought he was a remarkably polite guest, and she complimented you on having such a friend.”
“That is not…” He bit his lips together. Dear heaven, it was too late, for he tasted bile. Another moment, and he would humiliate himself in front of his sister! His eyes darted to a decorative basin Lady Matlock kept on a side table. If needs must, he could employ that…
“Brother, are you listening? I feel as though you hardly hear a word I have said, and you do not care, anyway.” Georgiana crossed her arms, but her eyes were brimming with tears.
Darcy worked his mouth. That bitter tang was starting to subside, but there was a strange new sensation travelling down the right side of his neck. He drew what he hoped was a calming breath and forged ahead.
“Did Wickham ever ask you for anything? Speak of his ‘reduced circumstances,’ lament a ‘broken heart,’ or try to get you to reminisce about your fondest childhood memories at Pemberley?”
Georgiana’s gaze grew unfocused in thought. “Well… yes, I suppose… all those things…”
“There you have it, then. He was working upon your sympathies, Georgiana. And he would have succeeded, too, if I had not arrived when I did.”
Georgiana’s brow furrowed. “But, Brother, he said that he meant to leave Ramsgate a full day before you arrived. He told me the afternoon previous that he had an urgent letter from a distant relation and had to go to London on short notice.”
“And he offered to escort you with him, no doubt,” Darcy snorted.
And that was when his right hand spasmed. Horrified, he tucked it behind the arm of the chair, so Georgiana saw nothing. But it seemed to have acquired a life of its own, twitching and contracting like a coiling snake. And he had no control of it whatsoever.
“Not at all!” Georgiana was protesting. “He… Oh, what is the use? No matter how innocent it was at the time, you will only see the worst in whatever I say.”
Shooting tingles were now spearing the length of his arm. He had to end this conversation, and quickly! “Georgiana, you have been deceived,” Darcy grunted. “Wickham never had any such relatives. His sudden departure upon hearing of my arrival is evidence enough of his ill intent.”
Georgiana scowled and stared out the window for a full minute, her jaw clenched and her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
Darcy used the moment to collect himself. His hand had gone entirely rigid, the muscles of his forearms contracted and the arm stiff. Angels in heaven,whatwas wrong with him? But he could not leave his sister yet… not when she finally looked as if she might be willing to hear something from him. “Forgive me, dearest, but… I am afraid men are not such tame, civilised creatures as most ladies expect them to be. Pray, trust me in this. I do know that of which I speak.”
She kept staring out the window, her creamy throat bobbing in a frustrated sob. “Idotrust your wisdom, Fitzwilliam. Truly, I do. But I wassosure of his regard. He was so sincere, and how could anyone who learned at our father’s knee be anything but good?”
Egad… his face was frozen. Darcy tried to smile, or frown, or… or something, God help him, but the right side of his face seemed suddenly afflicted with the same palsy that had overcome his hand. He forced his tongue and the left side to work, but if Georgiana were paying attention—which she was not—he could not have hidden the trouble.
“Georgiana, Wickham is… well, in my experience, he is not the man our father hoped for him to become.”
Was… was thatdroolhe felt on the side of his mouth? He swiped at it with his left hand, and it came away wet. And Darcy could only stare in horrified awe. Oh, this wassomuch worse than it had ever been! The vomiting and dizziness that often accompanied his worst megrims would have been far more welcome than… whatever this was.
“But you do notknowthat. You have not seen him in five years, since the reading of the will.”
