For MrDarcy, trouble always came in the form of George Wickham.
The first instance was his birth. From the moment George could walk, he always led towards mischief; the moment he could talk, he fibbed. Transgressions were never his fault. A broken precious vase was blamed on a maid, who then lost her position. At Cambridge, his dissipated existence increased. Opium dens, increased gambling stakes, loose women, and bolder lies.
Then George set his sights on Georgiana, or to be precise, her thirty thousand pounds. With a beaming smile Georgiana announced her intention to marry MrWickham. His expression changed when the circumstances regarding the release of her dowry were revealed, and Wickham broke off the engagement. How heartbroken Georgiana had been and how she still suffered from his lies poured into her willing ears and open heart.
The latest insult: Wickham ended up in Meryton, fairly upon Darcy’s doorstep—poisonous smirk in place. Oily charm oozed off him in gallons. Armed with insidious intentions and incredible self-assurance, Wickham zig-zagged the truth. With ease, he poured an abridged version of his history into the delicate and willing vessel of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
That she had taken Wickham’s part angered Darcy. He should have expected it, his experiences taught him that—
He could not be angry. He wasdisappointed.He had thought better of her perspicacity and wit. Had he offended her so much that she would listen to a snake? His spirit was crushed, in heart, in mind.
Disgust pierced his soul as he stared into the dwindling fire in his room. At Rosings, Wickham had once again inserted himself in Darcy’s business. What had he been doing in Hunsford chasing Miss Elizabeth Bennet?
Darcy was grateful for his cousin’s presence in Hunsford. Richard could never tolerate Wickham, and after the last offence, Richard’s patience had reached its limit.
Darcy sipped his brandy, the liquid burning down his throat as his mind reviewed his association with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and the events that led to the tragedy that had befallen her.
It all began in early September.
Darcy had thwarted the attempted elopement of his sister, Georgiana, and had settled in London before the season started so that he could concentrate on his sister without Pemberley as a distraction.
Darcy thought to show a pretence of regularity to the world and went to his club. There, by some strange luck, he met his cousin Viscount Wessington, Cyril Fitzwilliam, in the reception hall.
“Darcy, I have not seen you in an age!”
Darcy groaned. “Wessington, how are you?”
“How doyoudo, you irascible old man?”
“I am three years younger than you, I will have you know.” Darcy said, ice lacing his tone. Darcy rubbed the temples of hishead to work away the headache that had formed at the sound of the boisterously happy Viscount.
“Then act young. It is a fleetingly short time we can behave as we want to.”
“What do you want?” Darcy groaned. Where were headache powders when you needed them? Darcy tried not to scowl as the effort worsened the throbbing at his forehead.
“I need to lie low for a bit,” Wessington said. “Someplace not related to the earldom where I can hide and have a little holiday.”
“I am not sure I want to know the reason.”
“Nothing scandalous, I assure you—just tired of London and mama’s excessive matchmaking. Honestly, one more simpering so-called jewel of the Season and I know I could not keep my equanimity. My man of business has found a place—a nice little estate called Netherfield. Why not come with me? You look like you could use a little country air.” Cyril leaned in close and whispered, “It might be just the thing to divert you after the incident. By-the-by, how is Georgiana?”
“She is still melancholy, playing dour compositions on the pianoforte.”
“Maybe we can invite her along, too.”
“Perhaps. Though I imagine she would prefer to remain in Town.” Darcy checked his watch. “Where is Netherfield again?”
“Hertfordshire. It is a four-hour drive from London.”
“I suppose it could be restful.”
A few days later, he and his cousin took a carriage with another for their luggage and personal servants; they arrived in time for afternoon tea.
A month had passed; the weather cooled, but the passion his cousin held for Miss Bennet burned bright—Wessingtonhad become attached to a Miss Jane Bennet, whilst Darcy had developed a fascination for Miss Bennet’s younger sister, Miss Elizabeth. Despite his cousin’s readiness to ally himself with a family so deficient in both connexions and decorum, Darcy could not, for his own part, be persuaded to countenance such an attachment. He could not let the youngest Bennet sisters influence Georgiana. Wessington had no impressionable younger sisters to protect. If the younger sisters did behave, the mother could not be tolerated. No, Darcy had a standard to protect.
Whilst on a ride to Longbourn, the Bennets’ estate, three miles from Netherfield, they spotted the five Bennet sisters standing next to a Lieutenant Denny and another man. When the man turned, Darcy swallowed his rage! How dare MrWickham show himself as a respectable gentleman? How dare such wickedness stand near Miss Elizabeth? Her fine eyes smiling, she had been laughing with him! His blood boiled. Wessington managed a strained greeting. When his cousin lingered to speak with Miss Bennet, Darcy, unable to contain his violent thoughts towards his former friend, urged his horse around and galloped out of the high street.
He next saw Miss Elizabeth at the Gouldings’ dinner party. Her cheeks positively glowed; her laughter enhanced the amber flecks in her green eyes that glimmered in the candlelight. There was some cruel fate at play, for Darcy was seated next to Miss Elizabeth. Their conversation was confined to polite discourse, and he sensed his monosyllabic answers did not please her. But given her connexions and paltry dowry, he knew it would be wrong to encourage her.
