Darcy POV
At the same time that I knew exactly how to tell my sister of Mr. Wickham's death, I was having trouble deciding how to begin, and words would not form in my mind. I decided just to start, "Georgiana, please sit. I must tell you something I have known for a few days now. Your reaction is one that I am not sure of, and I have asked Elizabeth to come as well, as she is aware of this information."
She sat and looked quizzically at Elizabeth and me. Sometimes I felt so much more like a father to her than a brother, and the stress took its toll. "I received a letter earlier this week," I said, "and its contents were not entirely pleasing. The letter held…information about," I stopped, unsure of if I really wanted to tell her. Georgiana was sitting, worried about that which she did not yet know.
I looked pleadingly at Elizabeth, and her apologetic eyes glanced at me. "Brother," whispered Georgiana, "what is going on?" I took a deep breath, "Georgiana. Forgive me for being so blunt, but Mr. Wickham is dead. I was unsure of how you would take it after what happened. I'm sorry." I added this, "It may not seem like it sometimes, but he was like a brother to me at one time, too." She sat, staring at the floor, her face void of all emotion. A few minutes passed, the tension filling the air and driving me to my wits end. I so desperately wanted to know my sister's feelings and comfort her.
Elizabeth walked over to me and suggested, "Mr. Darcy, I think you had better leave." I nodded and strode over to my sister. I placed my hand on hers for a moment and noticed how dreadfully cold they were. Then I left Elizabeth with Georgiana. I knew she would take care of my sister.
I walked aimlessly through the halls of Netherfield. I knew where I was at all times, seeing as it was a relatively small estate if one were to compare it to Pemberley, and yet I found myself not knowing where I was headed. I was wrapped up in my thoughts of Mr. Wickham. In the years before my father's death, he really had been a good sort of brother, even if he vied for my father's attention so much that I felt neglected. To this day I credit him for making me much of who I am. It was because of his short love of playacting that I grew to love reading. His silly games taught me to find humor in things, even if that was a rare occasion at the present. He had been relatively nice during our childhood years.
Then he changed. Shortly before the death of my father, he had started to act colder towards my family—primarily me. After my father died, Wickham had lost the only person who had ever tried to keep him from trouble. His care towards anything remotely serious flew away and then he started to act irresponsibly. At this point, he taught me how not to act. If Wickham did anything, I was sure to do the opposite. I was sad that he died, but relieved that he could cause no problems now.
"Darcy!" yelled Mr. Bingley from down the hall I was now meandering through, "I've been looking all over for you. I have the most wonderful news—I have just returned from Longbourn where it has been agreed that I shall marry Miss Jane Bennet!" I congratulated my friend; glad that he could find happiness and that not even Caroline had the ability to prevent it. I now understood why he was adamant that she leave. "I am most happy for you, Charles," I said, with veracity. Then I laughed silently, remembering how nervous he had appeared when leaving Netherfield that afternoon. "I hope that I may soon be happy for you, too, Darce," he hinted, obviously saying that I should ask the same of Elizabeth.
I must honestly admit that it did cross my mind when he mentioned it, and I had contemplated it before, but now that I was faced with the challenge, I was unsure of how to continue. I loved Elizabeth, as did my sister, so much so that anything anyone said would not affect us at all. She loved me, so I knew that my struggles were not in vain, so then why did I feel uncomfortable about asking her to be my wife? If she were to say yes, I would be the happiest man on the earth, never wanting anything more than to be with her for the rest of our lives. If, however, she were to decline my proposal, I would be broken. I do not know how I would live out my life without her.
She would not turn down my proposal, should I ask it, would she? No. She loved me deeply, and I knew that to be true. I kept telling myself this over and over again. No matter what I did I still doubted. It was part of my being, the doubting, and it too was Wickham's fault. I was always so careful about showing my emotions because I never knew if someone was telling the truth. I had to uphold to so many standards in my position, and I always hesitate in important decisions.
One of the things I loved most about Elizabeth was how free I felt around her. I had found myself thinking more clearly and she had even told me on one occasion that I seemed much less haughty and arrogant. She and I connected on so many intellectual levels as well as connecting on a more mental basis. After pondering all of the thoughts racing through my mind, I had made my decision. I would ask her to marry me, but not yet. I would wait until I knew that she was ready and that Georgiana was feeling alright. I really worried about her and how she was reacting towards Wickham's death.
I kept walking around Netherfield until I found my room. I went to the desk to compose a letter to Colonel Fitzwilliam. As Georgiana's other guardian, I felt the need to write him about the ensuing circumstances. The letter I scribbled was short and barely legible. I could not concentrate well enough to pay attention to my writing.
I looked at the penmanship on the letter and crumpled it up, throwing it into the fire, my built up emotions from the past days flowing out. I stared at the paper in the fire, and the aggravation that had so briefly come over me halted. I was fascinated at the way the smoke rose off of the paper, dancing up and through the chimney. The burning parchment seemed to help me somehow. I thought that perhaps, it symbolized all of my frustrations of the past weeks and that they were drifting away.
I started to compose another letter, slowly this time, to my cousin. I wrote almost half of what I intended to correspond before a wave drowsiness crashed upon me. I retired to my bed and fell asleep immediately, dreaming of my sweet Elizabeth and Georgiana.
Yeah, so it may be a little cheesy, but it's cute, so get over it ;)