Title: Dare to Refuse Such a Man
Rating: T (PG-13) – Most of this story is turbulent, but relatively innocent. However, there are some scenes which hint at/depict domestic violence.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Regency
PSA: I hope that you and yours are safe and healthy during the COVID-19 crisis. Take precautions for yourself and others and please don't hoard any goods that your family doesn't need; we're all in this together, even while we remain physically apart.

Summary: It had never occurred to Fitzwilliam Darcy that, once he had chosen a bride, her father might dare to refuse his consent. However, a woman worthy of being pleased is also worth fighting for. DE, Regency, clean romance.

"He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask."

Mr Bennet, Pride and Prejudice Volume III, Chapter 17

Chapter Thirty-Two

Thursday
November 14, 1811
Darcy House, London

As Darcy watched the carriages rattle past his townhouse from above, his thoughts were not without but within. He was only barely cognizant of the world outside his study window, so enthralled was he with his own reflections of remorse, anger, disappointment and, most of all, profound relief.

Darcy was not sure whether to assign more credit to his cousin's tracking skills or an astounding amount of good luck, but Georgiana had been found within a handful of hours of Richard sending an express to Netherfield. By the time Darcy had arrived in London, the situation had been resolved, the crisis averted and punishment meted out to the scoundrel behind it all. Had Darcy himself been on the wayward couple's trail, he was not entirely certain what he would have done with Wickham in the aftermath, but Richard had tossed the scum directly into prison. Not for kidnapping, as Richard had told his troops when he had rallied them, but debt which had grown to such a substantial amount that there was no possible way for Wickham to ever pay it off. Not without Georgiana's dowry, at least, and that was now entirely out of his reach.

That these events had concluded with such trifling exertion on his side was less satisfying to Darcy than it would have been to many. It should have been a welcome surprise, but considering that the trouble had come about, in part, due to his own mistaken pride, his absolute refusal to see that his sister was leaving childhood and entering womanhood, some of the responsibility rested with him. Certainly, Georgiana was old enough and educated enough to know that an elopement was a serious matter and not to be taken so lightly, but Darcy felt that he had protected her excessively and to her detriment. Had he explained at least in part what had occurred between himself and Wickham, at least intimated that the blackguard was not to be trusted in spite of their father's favor, she might not have been so taken in by a man she remembered fondly.

All of that said, he was more angry and disappointed in his sister than he was with himself. What could she have been thinking? Even without knowing the truth about Wickham, surely she had been raised better than to run off with a man nearly twice her age! He had clearly allowed her to read too many novels – or at least too many of a trifling sort without redeeming morality threaded into the plot – and been too lax in not pushing her toward other genres. This, too, was his fault, but he could not blame himself too harshly because her education had been calibrated to counteract any foolishness she might pick up from one bad source or another. She had sense enough to know better even if her head was filled with romantic drivel. He had thought so, at any rate.

But his flaws and Georgiana's understanding were paltry compared to the real villain of the piece, which was Wickham himself. Darcy doubted that many young ladies of such tender years could have withstood his charm, his purported devotion, even when their better judgment dictated that they should not behave wrongly. Wickham had always had the gift of convincing others to do what he wished and his skills had reached beyond fifteen-year-old girls with a penchant for romantic fantasy. Darcy's father had been enamored of the younger Wickham's bonhomie whilst he had still been alive and Darcy himself had not recognized the full extent of Wickham's amorality until they were both adolescents. He had duped many who should have known better and, were he not currently locked up, would very likely have continued to do so for many more years to come.

With a slight shudder, Darcy realized that he was very fortunate that Wickham had never met his Elizabeth. She was not a person he would have quantified as gullible by any stretch, but she would have presented a delectable target for Wickham, whose greed was only equaled by a desire to revenge himself upon Darcy for a series of imagined slights. Eloping with Georgiana would have obtained him both in one fell swoop. To turn Elizabeth's head from him would have been...

Darcy chased that disturbing thought away with a few swift shakes of his head. It was pointless to conjecture what Wickham might or might not have attempted with Elizabeth because, thankfully, they had never met and never would meet in the future. She was safe from him as Georgiana had not been.

A light knock upon his door called Darcy's attention away from the window and his swirling thoughts. He turned round, his hands still locked behind his back, and bid the visitor, "Come."

The door opened and Richard entered with a familiar lady in a drab brown dress. Mrs Eugenia Younge, to whom he must be both resentful and grateful in equal measure.

"Good morning, Mr Darcy," the lady said as she rose from her curtsy. Darcy silently indicated with a wave of his hand that she should be seated in one of the chairs placed before his desk. She took this direction and planted herself in the one to her right, leaving Richard the matching one to her left.

Darcy did not bother to return the greeting because this was hardly a social call. Instead, he launched directly into this interview with the sort of grimness that the subject matter required. "I understand that we have you to thank for putting an end to Georgiana's little escapade."

Mrs Younge nodded, a single bob of the head which was more acknowledgment than agreement.

"However," Darcy continued, his eyes frozen on the former companion's placid features, "I also understand that you were, at one point, in league with Wickham. Is this true?"

The lady sat up straighter, but kept her eyes respectfully averted from his. "It is."

"And you later had regrets?"

"I did."

Teasing out every detail of the story in this fashion would only exhaust them all, so Darcy leaned himself against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, and invited her to tell her own tale. "Perhaps if you started at the beginning…," he prompted.

Mrs Younge breathed deeply and lowered her head, her gaze sightless as she stared at where her hands were clasped in her lap. "I am uncertain if anyone has already told you this, Mr Darcy, but my mother passed away on the eleventh."

"You have my sympathies."

"Thank you. It was not long before you offered me the position as Miss Darcy's companion that we found out that she was slowly wasting away – consumption, according to the physician my brother took her to. There was little anyone could do aside from making her comfortable, which my brother attempted to do as best he could. We are not wealthy, Mr Darcy," here, Mrs Younge's voice shook, but Darcy was little inclined to offer her additional sympathy when her methods to enrich herself and her family had been at the expense of his sister's happiness, "and it was a struggle. I took this position with the hope that I could better assist with her medical expenses, but even though the salary you offered was quite generous, it would never be enough to ease her suffering. When Miss Darcy and I met George Wickham in the park last spring – by chance, I thought at first – I was already rather desperate."

"You might have asked for an increase in your pay," Darcy grumbled. He was no stranger to grief, but he had never performed a dishonorable act because of it. To his mind, there were far better options than throwing a young girl into the manipulative power of a man like Wickham. Mrs Younge's mind could not have been so addled as to think the reprobate had approached her for affection's sake.

Mrs Younge shook her head in response. "I could not, sir, not so soon after taking my position. Moreover, I was not at all convinced that you would have wished to assist. I have since learned that you are more generous than I once gave you credit for, but even so it is a great deal to ask of one's employer."

"And so you preferred to swindle it from an innocent young girl?" Richard broke in for the first time, his tone less indignant than his question. He was outwardly calm, but Darcy could see a darker emotion radiating from his eyes. It was clear that his cousin had been entertaining thoughts along a similar line to Darcy's.

Mrs Younge shook her head again. "No, of course not, but desperation can reorder anyone's thoughts and force them to consider that which, in a perfect world, they would never even contemplate. When Mr Wickham offered me five thousand pounds of Miss Darcy's dowry, I...God forgive me, I was weak. I was not thinking of anything aside from my poor, suffering mother. I am ashamed of what I almost did, but there it is."

"I thought you said that your mother could not be cured, so what difference would additional funds make?" was Darcy's counter. Even as they poured from his mouth, he felt the insensitivity of his words, but it was a flaw in her logic which must be exposed.

Mrs Younge swallowed. "I could not accept Mama's fate at first and thought that perhaps the right doctor, with the right medicines, could bring about a miracle. Now that I have had more time to...to accept the inevitable, I know how foolish I was to even think so. It is no excuse, but I was crazed with thoughts that I could somehow make her better." Twin trails of tears were now cascading down either side of Mrs Younge's face, though she did nothing to wipe the moisture away. She seemingly did not notice.

Darcy was as uncomfortable as any man when it came to a woman's tears. And it seemed that Richard suffered from the same affliction for Mrs Younge found herself suddenly offered not one but two handkerchiefs. She accepted the one proffered from Richard and buried her face within its folds, unleashing a rattling sob the instant her features were covered.

They allowed her a few minutes to collect herself and then Richard, with a gentle cough from the back of his throat, prodded her to continue. "Again, we offer our most sincere sympathies for your loss." Far more sincere now than before. "Please, continue with your story. You say you met with Wickham, seemingly by accident, in the park. When was this?"

Mrs Younge emerged from behind the folded cloth and dabbed a few tears from her lashes. More replaced those which had been siphoned away, but she was now in control of herself. With a sniffle, she confirmed, "Yes, in March. He said that he happened to be in town and that he was pleased to encounter Miss Darcy; he claimed to be an old family friend, which Miss Darcy did not dispute. Considering this, I thought it not improper for him to call upon her so long as I was there to chaperone. After his first visit, there was another, then another and finally I began to see the danger to Miss Darcy's tender heart should this continue. I spoke to Mr Wickham privately, intending to delicately suggest that he perhaps not visit quite so often, and he made me his offer – five thousand pounds for looking the other way and not discouraging Miss Darcy from accepting his attentions."

Darcy's ire, which had been subdued in the face of Mrs Younge's obvious grief, made a resurgence as she admitted her deception. "And you took him up on it? With no concern at all for my sister's feelings or reputation?"

Mrs Young shook her head back and forth with some rapidity. "No, not at first. Though it was tempting, I told Mr Wickham that he had better not come around again. Instead, he continued to meet us – more obviously by design – in the park and woo Miss Darcy publicly. I had warned her not to be so trusting of him, but it seemed that none of my advice had taken root for she was smitten with him from the first. Over time, Mr Wickham used his charm on me, too, and convinced me that it would not be so terrible if he and Miss Darcy were to marry. He also reiterated his offer of five thousand pounds several times."

Richard, warily, asked, "When you say he 'charmed' you…?"

"Nothing like that, no," Mrs Younge denied. "He could not risk alienating Miss Darcy, naturally, and so he only ever acted as a friend toward me. His lure was monetary."

Mrs Younge paused here, fidgeting with Richard's handkerchief in her lap. Anxious to hear more, Darcy prodded, "And you did not tell me about this, why?"

Mrs Younge drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "At first, it was because you were at Rosings Park for Easter and I did not wish to insinuate anything potentially damaging to Miss Darcy in a letter. I had intended to speak with you in person when you returned to Town, but by then Mr Wickham had convinced me to go along with his scheme. And, of course, I could not tell you for various reasons then."

Darcy felt, and he could see from Richard's expression that his cousin agreed, that this was all the more reason to reveal all, but he could hardly expect a co-conspirator to reveal themselves in the midst of a collusion. "Go on."

"After some time, however, I began to realize what I had been allowing, what I had nearly done. I believe it was partly because I had started to accept that my mother's illness was not the sort which could be cured, but primarily as a result of Mr Wickham's pushing and prodding to encourage Miss Darcy to consent to an elopement. It was he that suggested the trip to Ramsgate I recommended to you – he felt that it would be easier to enact his plans if Miss Darcy were no longer under the nose of her guardians, despite the longer distance from Scotland. He even suggested that my mother might come with us and benefit from the sea air, the cheeky scoundrel! Miss Darcy was eager to go, but when it came to the point I...I could not go through with it. I instead encouraged Miss Darcy to follow your plan of returning to Pemberley for the summer, under the premise that she would wish for one more season as a resident of her childhood home before submitting herself to marriage."

"Why did you not simply convince her to drop Wickham?" was Richard's belligerent question.

"I had tried, of course, but nothing I said could convince her of his lack of suitability." Mrs Younge sighed, the breath weighted with some heavy emotion. Exasperation? Disappointment? It was difficult to say when Darcy knew her only as his sister's companion and had, apparently, overlooked some very key details of her character. "As I had nothing to accuse him of other than being poor, she would not give him up. Thus, it seemed best to entice her with sentiment for her home and family to separate them. Mr Wickham was not best pleased, of course, but I told him that you had insisted and that nothing could be done about it. When Miss Darcy was not around, however, I let him know in no uncertain terms that our deal was broken and that I would do nothing further to aid him in swindling the poor girl. He was very angry and threatened to expose me, but I pointed out that he would only expose himself as well and he was forced to desist. We were at an impasse.

"Once we had arrived at Pemberley, a safe distance from Mr Wickham – who dared not venture into Derbyshire, as I had hoped – I did my best to again convince Miss Darcy that she should reconsider Mr Wickham as a husband. I thought I had made some progress, but over time her tender heart seemed to become more fond of him than ever; I often caught her reading the letters he had written her whilst still in London and lamenting his absence. I could not destroy them without seeming cruel and losing her confidence, so I allowed her to keep them as a token. I regret doing so since they kept Mr Wickham fresh in her mind, but at the time I knew not what else to do."

"I wonder," Darcy interrupted, drawing the eyes of Mrs Younge and Richard to himself, "why you did not confide in me once you felt the immediate danger had passed. Did you believe that Wickham would simply give up on his prize?"

Mrs Younge was wringing Richard's handkerchief between her hands. "I did not know him well enough to suppose one way or the other, Mr Darcy, but to tell you at all would mean an immediate dismissal from my position and that I could not risk. Not only was my income necessary to my mother's care, but a new companion would not have known the danger that Mr Wickham posed to Miss Darcy. What if she were taken in? What if the plot went further? No, I could not tell you."

"I would have warned your replacement against him!" Darcy countered with a snarl. "Further, I would have kept a closer watch on her and threatened Wickham to stay away. Did you not think of that?"

Mrs Younge, despite the increased hostility of Darcy's accusations, did not quail under his glare. "You forget, sir, that Miss Darcy's safety was not my only concern; my mother's care was also dependent upon the salary I was earning from you. There are not so many well-paying positions out there that I can afford to simply throw one away. Further, the location of Pemberley was a boon for, once we arrived there, I could visit my brother's house and sit at my mother's bedside nearly as often as I wished. My brother, Mr Potter, lives but six miles from Lambton, you see, and it was a short carriage ride to pay a call. Miss Darcy, bless her sweet heart, covered for me many times when I went to visit her, even going so far once as to explore the village without my company. That was when she met your Miss Bennet."

Darcy recalled the incident now; Elizabeth had haltingly mentioned it during one of their many private walks during their courtship. She had discovered Georgiana in Lambton, practically alone save for a single footman, and invited her to the parsonage. Mrs Younge had appeared much later to collect her and Darcy had never suspected her absence at all since he had come upon them all with Morton as the ladies were intending to depart. He had been so caught up in staring at Elizabeth that he had barely considered any lady aside from her and his curiosity as to how Georgiana had ended up at the parsonage in the first place had been entirely lacking. Not that he, in hindsight, would have thought anything amiss since Mrs Younge had been present by the time he had arrived.

Still, he had noticed Mrs Younge's frequent absences, both in Town and Derbyshire, well before Georgiana had eloped. Caught up in courting Elizabeth, Darcy had not been as vigilant of his sister's comings and goings as he should have been and, as a result, many things had been plotted beneath his very nose for the greater part of a year. And when he had hied off to Hertfordshire in pursuit of his beloved, he had left Georgiana alone in Mrs Younge's company, in spite of his concerns regarding her dedication to her post. He had also, apparently, left her open to Wickham's machinations by returning her to the place the blackguard had first plotted against her. Not that he could have known that, but Darcy still felt as if he had not done enough to protect Georgiana and the guilt churned nauseatingly in his gut. Thank God Richard had returned to London a few weeks ago…

At length, Darcy again prompted Mrs Younge to continue her story, his voice clotted and hoarse with self-recrimination. "And when we returned to London…?"

"When we returned to London, I still thought that Miss Darcy was safe. I had not seen hide nor hair of Mr Wickham since leaving for Pemberley and I had no suspicion at all that he would return, although I should have. Low and behold, almost the moment you were known to be out of the city, we again met Mr Wickham 'accidentally' in the park, just as we had at the first." Mrs Younge huffed another sigh. "Had I used even a small portion of my wits, I would have realized that he was merely lying in wait for an opportunity. I also would have revealed all to you, with no consequence to my own concerns, had I seen him before your departure. Instead, he reappeared just as soon as he felt the coast was clear and attempted to insinuate himself into Miss Darcy's good graces again."

Richard, exasperated, again asked why Mrs Younge had not bothered to come forward once Wickham had made his presence known again. "I mistakenly believed that I had handled the situation, Colonel. Mr Darcy was no longer in London, you had yet to arrive, and I had warned the scoundrel off myself. I even informed all the staff at Miss Darcy's townhouse to be on the lookout for Mr Wickham and to turn him away, no matter the circumstances. 'Even should he be lying bleeding in the street,' I said, 'you are never to admit Mr Wickham to this house!' It did not occur to me, however, that Mr Wickham would have another ally in the household."

"Gilbert," Richard interjected, practically spatting the name from his mouth. "The footman who accompanied Georgiana and Wickham on their little adventure."

Mrs Younge nodded. "The very same. I thought him loyal to Miss Darcy, having entrusted him to watch over her whilst I was visiting my mother in Derbyshire, but it appears that he was merely ripe to do anyone's bidding should they sneak him a few coins. I am ashamed to say that I was entirely taken in by him, even more so than I was by Mr Wickham. Gilbert passed along information regarding Miss Darcy's schedule, escorted her on walks in the park when I was unavailable, helped spirit them from the house when the time came...anything that Mr Wickham required, Gilbert was his man. I did not realize it myself until I read Miss Darcy's note."

Ah yes, the note. It was tucked away in Darcy's desk drawer, awaiting the moment when he would confront his sister with her misbehavior and looking all the worse for wear for being passed between several angry people in the last two days. In it, Georgiana pleaded with him not to follow her and Wickham and to allow them their happiness. She had even reassured him that, with Gilbert the footman in attendance, she had taken every precaution to ensure her own safety on the journey. Thankfully, the snow coming in from the north had put paid to their flight from the capital and Richard had caught up with them within hours, a contingent of soldiers at his back. All thanks to Mrs Younge.

"And where were you when she was writing that note?" Darcy stared down at her with his brow furrowed in accusation. "I am grateful that you finally sent word to one of her guardians, but why could you not have prevented her escape in the first place?"

Mrs Younge did not respond immediately, instead swallowing several times as if clearing her throat to make way for her explanation. More tears dripped down her face and into her lap as her head bowed lower. At length, she was able to say in a strangled voice, "My...my mother. She…," Mrs Younge paused again to clear her throat of obstruction, "She passed away. On the eleventh."

Of course. She had said that already, had she not? Darcy felt yet more guilt creep into his stomach, increasing the nausea he already felt.

"While I was...saying goodbye, Mr Wickham arrived at the townhouse and took Miss Darcy away, with help from Gilbert. When I returned late the next morning, I found the note."

"But I thought your mother was in Derbyshire," interrupted Richard, gently.

Mrs Younge dabbed at her cheeks and nose. "My brother brought her to London. He knew that she did not have long and he did not wish to deprive me of any opportunity to see her before...before the end. Moreover, there are better physicians in Town than in the country and he hoped to do whatever he could for her to make her final days more comfortable. There was little anyone could do to help, but he felt he must try."

"I see." Richard sat back in his seat and covered his mouth with his hand. It was apparent to Darcy that he was discomposed by Mrs Younge's grief, so fresh and irrepressible. Darcy felt much the same as Richard looked; he could easily recall the despair of losing a beloved parent.

"Mrs Clarence said that Miss Darcy had gone up as usual the night before," Mrs Younge continued after a moment, apparently wishing to push forward rather than dwelling on her own loss, "and so I assume that they must have waited until the household was abed before leaving. What they did not account for was the storm coming in from the north...but then I am sure you are more aware of that than I. I contacted Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately upon discovering the letter and...well, my part in the story ends there. I am certain, Mr Darcy, that your cousin has already told you the rest."

Indeed he had. Richard had spared no detail of the hunt, describing how he had rallied his troops under the pretense of a suspected kidnapping – he could not very well tell anyone that Georgiana had gone along willingly, after all – that must be interrupted before the young lady came to harm. He had sent the express to Darcy and then taken off immediately after the wayward couple, catching up to them after a few short hours on the road, likely before Darcy had even learned of their flight. Richard had found Wickham and Georgiana holed up in a ratty little inn along the Great North Road, posing as a married couple, and dragged her away from her would-be lover. Wickham had been placed under immediate arrest, transported to a London jail for his debts and Georgiana returned to Darcy House to await her guardians' displeasure. She was still above stairs in her old rooms as Darcy had not yet cooled his temper enough to speak with her. She was, according to Richard, heartbroken and angry over being thwarted.

"I must extend my gratitude to you for preventing the culmination of Wickham's scheme," Darcy said, "but you must see that it is impossible to retain your employment after all that has happened."

Mrs Younge nodded solemnly. "I understand. It is no less than I expected."

"I will give you three months' pay for the service you have rendered our family, but I cannot in good conscience give you a reference." Darcy's stomach clenched in guilt again, but he had considered this point for a long time. He could not inflict Mrs Younge upon another family, considering how she had been at least partially complicit in the events which had unfolded. She might have listened to her conscience in the end, but the weakness in her character was troubling.

"You are very generous, considering the circumstances," Mrs Young said, a small smile forming upon her lips. Her eyes were not lit with any sort of happiness, however, and so Darcy must assume that she did not feel the pleasure she mimicked. "Truly, it is not necessary in any case. Now that my mother is gone, my brother has offered me a place in his household. It was not possible before, not when we needed my wages so desperately, but I can now return to some semblance of the gentility I was born to. I thank you for not pressing any charges against me for conspiring with Mr Wickham at the first."

"Yes, well...you might have had a lapse in judgment, but it is because of you that Georgiana was rescued in the end. I again offer you my condolences and hope that you find peace." Darcy spoke softly in deference to Mrs Younge's grief and the gratitude he owed her. He could not overlook the damage she had done, but nor could he overlook the catastrophe she had prevented.

"Thank you, sir." She stood and offered Richard back his handkerchief, which he accepted and returned to his pocket. Mrs Younge then turned to Darcy and, with some hesitance, asked, "I wonder if I might make a request, Mr Darcy."

There was a limit to what he was willing to give, but a reasonable request might be granted. "Go on."

"I wonder...if I might visit Miss Darcy. Not right away, of course, but...but in the future. I have become very fond of her and would like to know that she is well."

Darcy startled, having not expected Mrs Younge to wish any such thing, but then realized that it was natural considering everything the companion had done throughout the past several months to protect his sister from Wickham. Still, he was not inclined to promote a continuing acquaintance with a woman who had very nearly betrayed them all, even if she had experienced second thoughts later. "We shall see."

Mrs Younge's weak smile lifted her lips for a moment. "Thank you. That is perhaps a better answer than I should expect."

A curtsy, a few polite parting words and Mrs Younge was gone. Once she was, Richard slumped back in his chair and heaved a sigh which puffed out his cheeks. "I cannot decide if Mrs Younge was the villain of the piece or the heroine."

Darcy shook his head to clear the contradictory thoughts buzzing about his mind like a swarm of circling flies. "Neither can I."

o0o

Friday
November 15, 1811

November 12, 1811

My Dear Eugenia,

You will not be pleased when you know where I am gone, and I wish it were not so, but please do not panic when you discover I am missing tomorrow morning. I am going to Gretna Green, and I am sure that you can guess with who, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. I beg that you not send word to my brother just yet, not until we have had a chance to get away; I would prefer to present my marriage as a fait accompli when I write to Fitzwilliam and sign my name Georgiana Wickham. I do detest the necessary subterfuge, but so it must be – Fitzwilliam has made his views on marriages outside of our "sphere" perfectly well known and, even if he can overlook his prejudices for Lizzy's sake, I cannot believe that he would make an exception for my George. He still considers me a child incapable of making my own decisions and would undoubtedly crush my every hope of happiness if given half a chance.

I am sorry, my friend, for putting you in such a position, but fear not! Once I have returned from Scotland, you shall have permanent employment in our household as my particular companion. I am also heartily sorry for your loss – Mrs Potter was a dear soul and will be sorely missed by everyone who knew her.

Your affectionate friend,

Georgiana Darcy

P.S. I nearly forgot. Gilbert is coming with us to lend aid and security to our journey, so do not fret when he turns up missing, as well.

Darcy wished to clench the thoughtless letter his sister had written to Mrs Younge in his fist, but resisted the urge. It was already damaged nearly beyond legibility and further abuse would likely tear it completely to shreds. Once he had confronted Georgiana with her own words, however, he fully intended to pitch it into the fire and let it burn to ashes.

He sat behind his desk, a place he had rarely left in the past few days as he had dealt with the aftermath of Georgiana's aborted flight to Gretna Green. Discussions with Richard as to how to mete out punishment to their shared ward, the interview with Mrs Younge, various affidavits and legal paperwork to keep Wickham in jail where he belonged...all of it must be attended to in order to clean up Georgiana's mess. He had even taken his meals in there, though that was primarily because Georgiana was confined to her rooms and Darcy had no desire to dine alone at the table. How he wished that Elizabeth was there to lure him out of his dark cave of paperwork and frustration, but she was still in Hertfordshire and entirely ignorant of current events. He looked more forward than ever to returning to her comforting embrace and halving his burden within the circle of her arms.

A light knock upon the door alerted Darcy to the arrival of his sister. He had been dreading this interview since the first flush of relief at the intelligence of Georgiana's safety had abated, knowing that it was bound to be everything uncomfortable and unpleasant. "Come."

The housekeeper entered and Georgiana followed her in, head bowed. Darcy wished to think that this signaled some amount of contrition for what she had done, but Georgiana's jaw was clenched tightly and her expression, what he could see of it, was folded into a scowl.

Darcy stood and nodded to his housekeeper. Georgiana's former maid, who had looked the other way instead of alerting anyone to what her young mistress had been up to, had been dismissed without reference the day before. "Thank you, Mrs Clarence."

Mrs Clarence bobbed a quick curtsy and left, closing the door behind her. Georgiana stood in the center of the room, her posture stiff and unyielding. She refused to look at him.

"Take a seat," said Darcy, more of a command than a request. He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk, the one which Mrs Younge had utilized during her interview, and waited for her to obey.

Georgiana remained where she was. "I would prefer to remain standing."

So the rebellion continued. Very well, he had other battles to fight. "If that is your wish. I suppose it is no mystery why you are here."

"No."

Darcy walked round his desk and planted himself in front of his sister, arms clasped at the lower portion of his back. One hand grasped a wrist, the other was balled up and white knuckled. His expression, reflected back to him in the face of the grandfather clock standing sentry on the other side of the room, was thunderous. "What were you thinking, Georgiana?" Still, she would not look at him and he could see her jaw tighten. "Why would you throw away your position, your good name, in such a way? Do you not comprehend how very serious an elopement is?"

Georgiana muttered something which was unintelligible to Darcy's ear.

"What was that?"

After a long moment, Georgiana swallowed, opened her mouth and replied, "Nothing."

"No, you may as well come out and say whatever is on your mind, Georgiana, for I have not the slightest inkling of what is in there! I had thought highly of your good sense and propriety, but it seems that I was entirely mistaken in doing so." Darcy's voice was now little less than a shout and he could feel his control slipping. "You really must enlighten me as to what motivated you to behave in such a foolish, ruinous way."

Georgiana turned her face away and glared at where the fire blazed in the wall. "You would never understand."

"Try me." When she still would not speak, Darcy prodded her with an impatient repetition of his demand. Georgiana jumped at the sharpness of his bark and squeezed her eyes shut tight. "Fine," Darcy conceded in an outwardly calmer manner, "then I suppose I have no choice but to send you to Aunt Constance. Surely she will have better luck in prying an explanation from you."

Darcy moved as if to side-step her and Georgiana reached out to grasp hold of his arm. When he looked down at her, he found her looking up at him with a distinct note of panic within her cloudy gray irises. "You would not."

"See if I do not," Darcy countered. "Richard has already informed her of your misbehavior and she will undoubtedly wish to speak to you about it at some point. I may as well allow her to do so now and report back to me with her findings."

"No! Why would you tell Aunt Constance?" Georgiana's voice had risen an octave and her expression was rearranged from defiance to alarm.

"Because, Sister Dear, she may be forced to quell any rumors which crop up after your little escapade. You did not think that your flight would go entirely unnoticed, did you? Aside from Mrs Younge, your maid and the footman you took with you are also aware of what you have done and word could easily leak out, ruining your reputation if something is not done to counter it. I have dealt with them to the best of my abilities, but money and threats can only go so far. You will be very fortunate if nothing comes of this."

"Nothing would have come of this if you had simply let me go to Scotland with George!" Georgiana debated hotly. "I would have returned as a married woman and there would have been no scandal!"

Darcy scoffed in his sister's face, feeling little sympathy for her in the moment. "You believe so, do you? That society would have welcomed you back with open arms had you returned permanently attached to the son of a steward? I think not, Georgiana."

"Not everyone is so prejudiced as you!" Georgiana stomped her foot and reformed her expression into the same scowl she had entered with. "Nor are they so hypocritical!"

Darcy's anger, which he had thought already at the limits of his control, flamed even hotter. Through gritted teeth, he snarled, "I hope you are not referring to Elizabeth. If so, I would think very carefully before – "

"Lizzy is everything charming and wonderful, but, as you yourself have pointed out, she is hardly part of our 'sphere'! Why should you look down upon George when you wish to marry so far below yourself?"

"Elizabeth is the daughter of a gentleman!" Darcy roared, causing Georgiana to stumble back a step. She stared at him with rounded eyes and a countenance colored with shock. Tempering his anger took a few long moments, but once he had himself under better regulation, he countered more sedately, "You were the one to illuminate this fact over the summer – do you not remember? Elizabeth, as the daughter of a gentleman, is an equal regardless of her connections or fortune. You cannot say the same of George Wickham."

Though Georgiana eyed him warily from where she stood, now several feet distant, her response remained defiant. "George was educated as a gentleman and would have been elevated above his station by birth had you not intervened. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you defend yourself?"

Darcy's eyes narrowed at his sister. "I suppose he told you all about his misfortunes."

"Yes!" Georgiana pointed at him, her accusatory digit trembling. "You have reduced him to his present state of poverty. You have withheld the advantages, which you know to have been designed for him by our father. You have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! And yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule."

Darcy turned his back on Georgiana and rubbed a hand over his face, though the weariness would not be swept away so easily. Without looking at her, he said, "And this is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are very heavy indeed!" His tone did not lack the bitter flavor of sarcasm as he spat them out. He dropped his hand to his side, pivoted around in a three-quarter turn and returned his steely gaze to where his sister stood, mutinously glaring at him in return. "I am deeply wounded, Georgiana, that you would believe such of me – your own brother who has been your guardian and protector these five years and loved you your entire life. Tell me, what have I done to lose your trust? What sin have I committed which would make you believe that I would behave in such an unchristian way? Or is it only Wickham's words which have poisoned you against me?"

Georgiana did not respond, but her brows relaxed slightly into a befuddled configuration.

"I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood, he has imposed upon you, but his success is to be wondered at. I had expected that you would be more inclined to give me the benefit of the doubt considering our close connection, but perhaps some of the blame rests with me." Darcy sighed, an exhalation which tasted of regret. "I should have warned you about Wickham, but I had not thought it necessary to do so until recent events alerted me to the danger. Had I known that you were in contact with him...but that is another charge of neglect to lay at my door. If I had but informed you of Wickham's character, you would have come straight to me when he presented himself to your notice. You see, even though Wickham was the son of a very respectable man..."

Darcy proceeded to relate the whole of his history with George Wickham to his sister who at first listened with an air of skepticism. It seemed for some minutes that her lover's lies might continue to hold sway over her mind, but once Darcy had gotten to the portion of his tale which involved the much disputed living Wickham had rejected, and the amount he had paid the scoundrel to resign all claim to it, Georgiana's face began to take on a paler cast and she finally sank down into a chair. She winced at Darcy's further recounting of Wickham's many and various sins involving gambling, excessive drink and the ruination of young women. It pained him to treat her feelings so indelicately, but hiding the harsh truth of his former friend had gotten them to this point and Darcy would no longer omit that which she should know. He hoped that, after some reflection, it might cure her of any lingering infatuation with Wickham.

"...and Richard will tell you the same, should you care to ask him yourself. This, Georgiana, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together in the past several years, and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Wickham."

The silence which stretched between them for some minutes had a ringing quality to it, making Darcy aware of it almost as a physical presence in the room with them. Georgiana sat in the chair she had disdained upon entering, her chin drooped to her chest, and stared without sight at her motionless hands where they rested upon her knees.

Darcy eventually stepped closer to her and, in a gentled voice, inquired if she was well. "I am...I am not sure what I am, Brother," she replied in the barest of whispers. "You must think me such a fool."

Dropping down into the chair beside hers, Darcy reached out and took up one of her hands. It was cold and clammy. "I think you are young and naive. Detection could not have been in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. You have known George Wickham for your entire life and he was a favorite of our father; it is no wonder that he was able to trick you into believing yourself in love with him. It is as much my fault as yours that you were vulnerable to his silver tongue, but I am still disappointed that all you have ever been taught in regards to proper behavior was dismissed. You must have known it was wrong to consent to an elopement, Georgiana, so why?"

Now subdued, Georgiana swallowed thickly before she answered. She blinked rapidly and splotches of moisture rained down where their hands were conjoined. "I...I knew it was wrong, I even said so to Geo – him. It was why I did not go to Ramsgate when he wished me to."

Darcy, startled, sat up straighter in his seat. "Mrs Younge intimated that she convinced you out of the Ramsgate scheme in favor of going to Pemberley instead."

"She did, but I was not entirely open with her about why I agreed to change our plans." Georgiana sniffled and Darcy delved into his pocket to fetch his handkerchief. He pressed it into her open hand and she immediately utilized it to dab at her nose. "I said that I wished to spend one more summer at home as Miss Darcy before committing myself to the role of Mrs Wickham, but honestly I...I was scared. Mr Wickham had been pressuring me to consent to an elopement in April, but taking such a step was...was intimidating. Frightening. When Eugenia suggested Pemberley as an alternative, I was happy to have a way to put some distance between myself and Mr Wickham. At least for awhile."

"What changed?"

Georgiana shrugged and dropped her hand back into her lap, Darcy's handkerchief balled up within her fist. "I missed him. Well, actually, I think I more missed the attention than anything, and then you met Lizzy..."

"And you felt neglected?" Darcy squeezed the hand he still held within his possession as guilt again began to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.

But Georgiana shook her head in the negative fashion. "No, not at all; I was happy for the both of you, but it reminded me of how George...Mr Wickham...used to court me in the spring and it renewed my longing. Does that make any sense?"

Darcy nodded and squeezed her hand again. "It makes perfect sense, Dearest. I think it completely natural to wish for a life companion. But, tell me, did my willingness to marry a lady many would consider beneath me influence you to accept Wickham's overtures when you returned to Town in the autumn?"

Again, Georgiana shrugged. "I cannot say; I never quite thought of it like that. Perhaps." She looked up at Darcy and fixed him with a solemn expression. "But I do not want you to blame yourself for falling in love with Lizzy. Even if it might have influenced me a little, I was already in l…," her voice broke and she swallowed. "I was already under Mr Wickham's spell well before you met her. Truly, you take too much on yourself. And, if anything, your relationship with Lizzy should have put an end to any flirtation with Mr Wickham. You do not know this, but she once gave me some very good advice – advice I should have heeded, it turns out – about the way an honorable gentleman behaves when he has intentions toward a lady. Mr Wickham did not act that way and that should have alerted me to his perfidy, but I was too stupid and gullible to realize it."

Georgiana broke down at that moment into sobs which shook her entire body and Darcy pulled her closer so that he might cradle her against his chest. She cried into his cravat until all her tears had been exhausted and her anguish had reduced itself to shuddering hiccups. Darcy rubbed his hand up and down the length of her spine and shushed her awkwardly, unsure of what else to do.

When she had calmed enough to hear him, Darcy pulled back and tipped Georgiana's chin up to reconnect their gazes. "Dearest," he said, gently, soothingly, "you are not stupid. You might have believed someone you should not have and behaved in a way which is not befitting of your sense and education, but you are not yet sixteen. Consider this an experience to learn from, never to be repeated, and move forward. When I bring Elizabeth home, I am sure she will counsel you the same."

Georgiana winced. "Must you tell Lizzy how horrid I've been?"

"I am afraid so," Darcy replied, quietly and firmly. "I can have no secrets from her as my wife. Further, I believe she will be of great help to you as you put this behind you. I am sure that there are things you would wish to speak of that I, as your brother, am not equipped to handle well. Having a sister who knows your struggle will be of great benefit to you."

"But she will hate me, I am sure of it!"

"Elizabeth could never hate you, Dearest." Darcy further reassured his sister with a kiss to her forehead. "She is the most patient, compassionate, generous woman in the world and will likely handle all of...this better than I have done."

Georgiana straightened up and settled herself more naturally in her chair. There was still a palpable air of distress about her, but she was calmer, her tremors receding into very nearly nothing. "Why have you not brought her home yet, Fitzwilliam? I have been waiting for you to send me word of your wedding plans this past month, at least! I even tried to delay my...my plans so that I could be present."

Darcy's lip curled upwards into a sneer as the old frustrations revolving around the obstacles to his marriage to Elizabeth rose to the forefront of his mind. "It is...complicated, Dearest. Rest assured that I shall do my best to settle everything as soon as possible." Assuming that such was even possible at this point.

"See that you do." Georgiana smiled at him, a weak, crooked little hitch at one corner of her mouth, and then rose to her feet. "Now, if you do not mind, I wish to retire to my rooms for now. Shall I be allowed to join you for breakfast in the morning?"

"I would like that very much."

o0o

Saturday
November 16, 1811
Earliest Hours

Darcy jerked upright in his desk chair, his slumber disturbed by the sounds of the door to the hallway snapping closed and the approaching footsteps of a visitor. The last images of his dream – a soothing, warm image of Elizabeth waiting for him upon the arch of their bridge – dissipated like fog burned away by the morning sun.

Knowing that only one person ever dared enter his sanctum without knocking, Darcy addressed this person without turning around. And, annoyed at being ousted from his blissful escape into fantasy, his tone was curt and unwelcoming. "What do you want, Richard?"

"Is that any way to speak to your favorite cousin?"

"You would not know. Ask Milton."

"Har-de-har, Darce." There was a wooden creak and a rough exhalation as Richard presumably collapsed into a chair. "I feel as if I was dragged behind a carriage from here to Kent and then back again with Aunt Catherine on my back."

"Then why do you not go to bed?" Darcy suggested, gruffly. It was exactly where he intended to go once he dismissed his cousin. Perhaps, if he concentrated on the vision of Elizabeth with her eyes shimmering like deep green pools and her hair falling like wild rapids down her back, he could even submerge himself into that same beautiful dream he had been so rudely pulled from upon Richard's entrance. He longed to be back on that bridge where he might kiss his beloved and, while such could not currently be achieved in reality, he was willing to settle for the construct of his mind to bring it about.

"Because," Richard replied with a great deal more ease and friendliness, "it is my duty, as your favorite cousin, to drag you out of your dark mood before hitting the hay."

"I am not in a 'dark mood.'"

Darcy heard Richard snort and scoff. "And I am Queen Charlotte."

Sighing, Darcy dropped his head against the back of his chair and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "Very well, I shall be direct – go away."

"Since you have had a trying week, I shall forgive you this one time for so cruelly attempting to expel me and listen to all of your complaints."

Darcy, refusing to humor his cousin, did not deign to respond. Perhaps ignoring Richard would encourage him to take himself elsewhere. This plan only had the slightest possibility of success, knowing how persistent the colonel was by nature, but it was all Darcy was capable of in his exhaustion.

The silence was broken only by the clock's pendulum for several long minutes as the cousins persevered in their stalemate. Each tick and resulting tock rubbed against Darcy's patience like cheap, abrasive cloth upon his skin.

When Richard spoke, shattering the quiet, Darcy jumped. "I hope you are not whipping yourself still over Georgiana's mistake. It could not have turned out better, considering the circumstances."

"No. Well...yes, but it is more complicated than that."

"I see...so this must be about your Elizabeth, then. Grown men do not pout unless it is over a woman."

"I am not pouting."

"Just as you are not in a black mood."

"Go away, Richard."

"I believe we have already established that I am quite settled here," Richard said easily. There was another creak of wood and a grunt before he continued, "Would you like a brandy? I am having one. Seems the thing to do while I wait for you to unburden yourself."

Darcy snorted a little laugh at Richard's familiar attitude toward his spirits. A disinterested observer might mistake who was the master of the house with how easily the colonel helped himself to whatever he liked and played host. "No, I thank you."

"I'll just get you one, then."

Yes, well, it had not really been up to Darcy, had it? Richard, for all his finer qualities, was as meddlesome and dictatorial as Aunt Catherine.

The clinking of crystal and the splashing of liquid preceded the thunk of a glass upon the desk. A gulp, a sigh of contentment and then an invasive question. "I really am quite tired, so I shall just come out and ask you – did you break off your engagement to come to Georgiana's rescue?"

Darcy whirled around in his chair and stared at Richard with his eyes bulged out. "Of course not!"

Richard, now comfortably resettled in his chair with a full glass of brandy in one hand, grinned at Darcy's reaction. He raised the drink in salute. "Good, I have your attention at last."

Darcy clenched his face in a scowl, very much tempted to turn his back on his cousin once more. "Of all the most ridiculous – I would never abandon Elizabeth!"

"I had assumed not, of course, but since you have said that Georgiana is not the source of your disquiet, it was a reasonable guess." Richard shrugged and took another sip of his brandy. "So, if not a jilting, what troubles you?"

Darcy slumped against his chair, too weary to put Richard off any further. It might even be tolerably comforting to discuss his problems with someone not embroiled in the ongoing difficulties surrounding his engagement. "I am still somewhat out of sorts regarding Georgiana's behavior, of course, but you are correct in that there is some trouble with Elizabeth."

"Not having second thoughts about marrying beneath you, are you?"

"No. I thought you were here to listen?"

"Forgive me."

"You were away all summer, so you were not privy to the particulars of my courtship, but we have encountered some...difficulties with Elizabeth's father. You see, several years before I ever met Elizabeth, Mr Bennet promised her to his heir..." The entire story spilled out of Darcy like a heavy rainstorm bringing forth a flood. He explained about Mr Bennet's strange reluctance to sanctify his engagement to Elizabeth, the expectations for his beloved to marry Mr Collins, Mrs Bennet's attempts to force her husband's hand, the disturbing qualities of Mr Collins' personality as well as the parson's connection to Lady Catherine and the desperation he was beginning to feel the longer his betrothal went on without a satisfying solution in sight. Darcy had always thought that the difficulty in selecting a bride would lay in finding one he could tolerate, never in her father's stubborn refusal to bless their union. It was in every way frustrating and incomprehensible.

Once Darcy had concluded, Richard sat before him, glass empty and hand rubbing absently at his bristly chin. "How strange that you should both be pawns in cradle betrothals."

"Oh, yes, the irony is fascinating," replied Darcy, his testiness inherent in the thick sarcasm of his statement. "Do you have any thoughts which might be helpful?"

"Have you spoken to your solicitor?"

Darcy shrugged, a listless gesture. "What is the point? He will only tell me that which I already know – Mr Bennet's authority is absolute and cannot be superseded. Not unless we wish to make for the border ourselves."

Richard grimaced. "Definitely not. What would that say to Georgiana?"

"Such was amongst my reasons for not taking that route before she tried to elope with Wickham. That, and the inherent safety risks of traveling north so close to winter."

"As Wickham, in all his haste, forgot to account for." Richard's lips spread in a self-satisfied grin. "Dolt."

Darcy would not quibble with such a characterization and even chuckled darkly at Wickham's poor planning.

"But still, you should speak to Knightley (1); he might have better advice than you are expecting. Further, you can have the marriage articles written up. Perhaps a little glimpse at what you are able to offer will help sway Bennet's mind to the right way of thinking."

"I may as well," Darcy agreed with a sigh. "I had also thought to speak to my banker."

"Ah, an old fashioned bribe. Excellent thought." Richard toasted Darcy's idea with his empty tumbler. "Of course, Bennet is a fool if he relents for a penny less than ten thousand pounds."

"If that's what it will take, I shall gladly pay it."

Richard was watching him minutely from across the desk, calculation glinting in his eyes. "You truly love her."

Swallowing thickly, Darcy agreed, "I do. Anything that can be done shall be done in order to bring Elizabeth home. I will accept nothing less."

"And you are certain that you are not being taken in by a pretty face?"

Darcy stiffened and sat forward. "Richard!"

"I must ask because everyone else will." Richard's voice was placating.

Relaxing again into his chair, Darcy grumbled, "I suppose that is a fair point. However, I am entirely positive that Elizabeth is no fortune hunter; I was the one to pursue her. Further, all of my pretensions of pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased were proven entirely insufficient by her. You would have laughed at me, I am sure, with the stupid way I stared at her and expected her to like me for no other reason than I was rich and well connected. It was Georgiana who enlightened me to the startling fact that I was not as irresistible to Elizabeth as I had first assumed."

Richard guffawed at that. "She put you through your paces, did she?"

Thinking back on a footrace instigated by a taunting pair of fine eyes made Darcy smile. "She did, at that."

"Very well, I only wished to hear it from you directly. I am inclined to like any woman who has your seal of approval, you know that. And Georgiana, before her little escapade, could speak of little else besides her friend Lizzy and how pleased she was to be gaining her for a sister! Some of her stories were greatly amusing..."

"You will like each other, I am sure of it. Only remember that Elizabeth is mine and that your flirting is not welcome." Darcy affixed his cousin with his coldest stare to further make his point.

Richard merely chuckled at him and his attempts at intimidation. "So jealous of your handsome, debonair cousin! I cannot help it if I am so universally admired by the fairer sex, Darcy."

"Richard..."

"Fine, fine. Was there anything else I can assist you with? Ask me now before I have slept off your excellent spirits."

Feeling more energized and optimistic, Darcy decided that, if his cousin was so inclined to meddle, he might as well make himself useful. "Since you ask, I was hoping to procure a special license whilst I was still in Town..."

o0o

Tuesday
November 19, 1811

Darcy's various errands had cost him more time than he would have liked, but on Tuesday morning he was finally ready to leave for Hertfordshire with a special license in one pocket and marriage articles ready to be signed in another. In yet a third pocket, he carried a letter from Mr Knightley, his solicitor, outlining a rather bold option which might influence Mr Bennet. Darcy rather hoped that it would not come to that, but he was prepared to go to any lengths within the law to make Elizabeth his wife. He only hoped that Mr Bennet would prove himself more reasonable than he had heretofore had a right to expect and that Darcy would not be forced to make a mockery out of his future father-in-law. It would be easier, and less humiliating, if the elder man would simply take a bribe (he had yet another note from his banker for that purpose).

Excellent, he was finally ready to leave. All of the necessary documents he had spent the past few days procuring were in his possession, his trunks were packed and there was nothing else holding him in London. Richard had taken guardianship of Georgiana and whisked her away to Matlock House where the countess could keep an eye on her until a new companion was hired. Georgiana's former townhouse was closed up and a buyer was being solicited for it. Wickham remained exactly where he belonged in debtor's prison. There was nothing left to do but call for his carriage and return to his beloved Elizabeth.

How he longed to see her and ascertain that she was well. Darcy was certain that his Elizabeth had never doubted his return, that she was eagerly anticipating his arrival every moment, but her steady love and devotion did not alleviate all of his concerns. Her father, although he had shown more indolence than industry, might have been persuaded to allow any number of distasteful things in Darcy's absence. And Mr Collins had made no attempt to hide his intentions toward Elizabeth. This combination of laziness and lust had tormented Darcy in every waking moment he had not spent seeing to Georgiana's situation and he was eager for various reasons to be back at Netherfield where he could watch over Elizabeth's well being himself. His only consolation was that Bingley would have surely sent word if anything had been amiss at Longbourn.

As Darcy rose to ring for a servant and put the final preparations for his departure into motion, there was a knock on the door to his study. "Enter."

When the door was pushed open, it was revealed to be Mr Clarence, the Darcy House butler, on the other side. He was as stiffly formal as ever, but a certain subtle curl to his upper lip and an almost imperceptible furrow to his brow indicated that he was not best pleased about something or other. The thunderous screech which followed him into the room gave a hint as to what had the elderly servant so comparatively discomposed.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh to see you, sir."

Author's Note: I feel like I'm beginning to perfect the art of the cliffhanger. So sorry about that (muahahahhahaha…!).

Long chapter since I had to fit ALL of the elopement stuff into it. In deference to that, Darcy's "backup plan," as unnecessary as it now is, will be revealed in a different installment, coming up soon. Stay tuned. As a reminder, pay attention to the dates coming up because we'll be jumping back in time a bit again.

Another long chapter coming up next! Back in Hertfordshire…

!WARNING! The domestic violence mentioned/revealed in previous chapters takes center stage next chapter. It's not graphic, but it's still violence. Please do not read ahead if you are unusually sensitive to such things.

Next Update: July 6, 2020 (MONDAY)
Expected Completion: July 31, 2020

– MrsMarySmythe

Footnotes:

(1) Mr Knightley – I use Austen characters to fill in whatever blanks I can (you might have already noticed this tendency) and so I thought this was a good spot to reference Emma. You probably remember that Mr John Knightley, Mr George Knightley's younger brother, was a solicitor in London and married to Emma's elder sister, Isabella. I like to think that he'd be in Darcy's employ.