A/N - This is the last chapter of this book! Thank you so much for reading along and for your comments - I am horribly behind on reading them, sorry, work is mad. But thank you for reading and I hope you have enjoyed this little book! It is book 2 of 3 so I will begin sharing the next (last) in this series soon. Have a great week!

George Wickham tugged at his cravat, which seemed to grow tighter with every step he took towards Netherfield Park.

The elegant house had not been his intended destination. At first, he had called at Trenholme, and, finding it deserted, had walked aimlessly for a time while deciding on his next course of action.

He had hoped the effort of reconciliation would have been enough to quiet his conscience, but it was a vain hope. This better part of him, now awakened after many years of suppression, would be satisfied with nothing less than a full admission of his wrongs, than the offer of some service, however painful and humiliating, in attempt to redress the balance.

Egerton is gone, he reminded himself. There can be no making amends at present. The servants had claimed ignorance of when their master might return, and so he had been forced to move on and consider other options. Providence might have foreseen this, for she had offered him one other opportunity to begin to repair the damage he had caused. Darcy was in Hertfordshire and he knew precisely where he might be found.

Of course, the prospect of facing off with his old friend was somehow still more painful than facing Egerton, although the latter had far more cause to hate him than Darcy did. Wickham also had far more cause to dismiss this hatred. He had not meant to harm Egerton. Oh, he had lied and cheated him, he had made a game of his sister's affections. All this was true and caused Wickham pain to recall it. But he had not wilfully inflicted blindness on the man and he endeavoured to make him understand that.

Darcy, on the other hand, had a lifetime of examples of where Wickham had caused him trouble, either intentionally or otherwise. Wickham was not ignorant of how many times his old friend had bailed him out of trouble both before and after his father's death. He was not sure why he persisted in helping him, and wondered, had Darcy been stricter with him from the off, whether he might have respected him more and toyed with him less.

It was scarcely an argument worth having: the past could not be changed. More's the pity, Wickham thought, giving the cravat one final tug and making his way slowly up the driveway on foot towards Netherfield. He wondered, idly, whether he ought to have brought a friend with him, thinking it might have quelled Darcy's anger if he knew there was a witness present. His lips quirked at the notion of seeing Darcy so enraged he might lash out, but he dismissed the notion. Darcy was too honour-bound to resort to a physical altercation. He had not called Wickham out to a duel over Georgiana: he would hardly find cause to do it now, when his old friend had come to make amends. Likely he would not believe him, but that was not Wickham's concern. He wished to quiet his conscience, and he would do whatever it took, if only so that he might be once more permitted to sleep at night and not lie awake, staring into nothingness and recalling his sins.

He rapped smartly at the door, straightening and clasping his hands behind his back as the housekeeper bustled forward to greet him.

"Mr Wickham here to see Mr Darcy," he said, rocking back on his heels and smiling in a manner he hoped engendered trust. It did not seem to engender anything at all, for the housekeeper merely frowned.

"He's not here," she said, glancing up and down Wickham, taking in his regimental uniform with a sniff. "They've all gone on to London, sir."

"London?" Wickham's posture slackened. Was the entire world turned against him? Here he aimed to repair the wrongs he had done and every time he tried was met with failure. "When will he be back?"

"I don't know," the housekeeper said, philosophically. "I can tell him you called when he does return, if you wish." She paused. "If he returns, I mean. I daresay he might not, for the lease is in Mr Bingley's name, and not Mr Darcy's. Do you know Mr Bingley? Perhaps you might write to him in London. Or Mr Darcy, I believe he has a house in town…"

Wickham waved the woman away, in no humour to hear her justifications. He turned and stalked towards the road, irritated at the waste of a day and anxious that what he thought would be easily, albeit painfully, mended would now go unaddressed for still longer.

The sound of carriage wheels halted his progress and he peered into the distance, thinking for half a moment to see the Netherfield carriage bringing Darcy and Bingley back. 'Twould surely be proof that Providence is toying with me if it is so, he thought, bracing for an unhappy reception. The carriage slowed as it passed, though, and he was able to peer inside, seeing not Darcy nor Bingley but another person, the one he was least prepared to see ever again.

Georgiana.

A/N - Book 3 coming soon! xxx