Chapter 5

Derbyshire, 1807

"Darcy, I came as soon as I heard. I am so sorry."

Darcy looked up and saw Wickham enter the door to his father's study. My study, he thought as another burst of sorrow welled up in his chest. The new master of Pemberley rose from the chair behind the desk and asked, "What are you doing here, Wickham?"

Ignoring Darcy's question, Wickham walked around the desk and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend. Darcy stood stiffly for a moment, then lifted his arms to return the embrace.

"Where else would I be?" Wickham answered after several moments.

Darcy stepped back from his friend and collapsed heavily into the chair behind the desk. "Your graduation from Cambridge is in two days. I expected you at school!"

"Nonsense," Wickham said firmly, crossing the room.

Darcy watched silently as his friend pour two brandies and brought them to the desk. He settled himself in the chair across from his friend and pushed one of the brandies across to him. "You were there for me at my father's death; I certainly wasn't going to abandon you now."

Darcy nodded his head. "Thank you. I know your graduation was important to you."

"Pshaw," responded Wickham, waving his hand. "The certificate is what matters, not the ceremony."

The two sat in silence, the brandies untouched on the desk, which prompted Darcy's mind back to those days of Wickham's rebellion.

After Wickham's disastrous first year at university, Darcy swore once again he would never allow himself to become inebriated, which led to him frequently declining even the most mild of alcoholic beverages.

Wickham's decision to eschew port, brandy, and other strong drinks did not come until the end of that summer between his first and second years at Cambridge. Darcy remained true to his convictions and revealed all of Wickham's actions, including the unpaid debts he had attempted to escape.

The reaction from Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were beyond anything either young man would have expected. Wickham originally attempted to charm his way out of the predicament when he was confronted, but the incontrovertible evidence in the form of the notes Darcy had purchased soon prompted Wickham to a petulant sulk.

"What does it matter if I claim to be Darcy's brother when none of us knows if it is false?" he burst out in anger after a quarter hour of lecturing.

Mr. Wickham turned white, whereas Mr. Darcy turned red. "That may be the case," Mr. Darcy said coldly, "but no matter your parentage, you do not get to treat the livelihoods of men so disdainfully."

Mr. Darcy turned to Mr. Wickham and said, "I believe my godson has not yet learned to appreciate the labors of those in the lower classes. Perhaps this summer can be a learning opportunity for him."

"I quite agree," said Mr. Wickham in a severe voice.

Wickham seemed to finally realize he had pushed too far, but his protests and pleas for a second chance were ignored. That very day, Wickham found himself in the cottage of Mr. Alvin Sykes, one of Pemberley's tenants who had recently broken his leg.

With only three young daughters under the age of eight, the recently widowed man had given over to heavy drinking. One day, while inebriated, Sykes attempted to repair the roof of his cottage, lost his balance, and fell off. His eldest daughter had to fetch help, and the apothecary insisted the man remain in bed for three months, without any alcohol or laudanum.

Mr. Darcy had originally planned to hire a young man to take care of Sykes's farm, and Wickham's need to see for himself what hard work entailed made him an excellent candidate. Without so much as a by-your-leave, Wickham found himself dropped off by a mule-cart. The three girls were then taken to stay with the pastor and his wife for the summer, leaving only Sykes and Wickham.

Thus began Wickham's reformation. At first, the young man rebelled at the grueling labor required to plow fields, care for livestock, and manage the household. He quickly learned, however, that if he did not work, he did not eat. Between witnessing Sykes's alcohol withdrawals and enduring first-hand the difficult life of the majority of Englishmen, Wickham ended the summer as a changed man.

Wickham's return to Pemberley the week before returning to Cambridge was a welcome relief for Darcy, who had spent his own summer studying at the hand of his father. Darcy dreaded the foul mood with which Wickham would return and feared their friendship over forever. However, when Wickham first saw Darcy after three months of back-breaking work, his eyes filled with tears and all he could utter was, "Thank you. Thank you."

Darcy's astonishment turned to pleasure and relief at the return of his friend's former behavior. It was as if the year at Cambridge had never occurred – the two young men were once again the best of friends, and Wickham's newfound maturity and humility made him an excellent companion.

Old Mr. Wickham was gratified to see the changes in his son, and they came not a moment too soon. One day, while attempting to protect a tenant's young wife from her husband's beating, he was struck on the head by the drunken man and died instantly. The man was prosecuted for his crime and hung, much to the relief of his wife, who returned to her father's home to await the birth of her first child.

Darcy and Wickham delayed their return to Cambridge in order to bury old Mr. Wickham. The two friends stood silently with Mr. Darcy as the pastor conducted the funeral service. As the casket was lowered into the ground, Wickham collapsed to the ground and wept piteously. Darcy sank to his knees and placed his arms around his friend.

The lads were soon joined by Mr. Darcy, who embraced his godson and his son as they knelt in the mud by the grave. Wickham's muffled sobs were joined by the Darcy men's silent tears as the mourned one of the greatest men they had known.

A sudden noise at the door startled Darcy out of his memories. Wickham, too, jumped slightly as the housekeeper entered, carrying a tea tray. Spying the two glasses of brandy, she said, "My apologies, Master Fitzwil – I mean, Mr. Darcy. I shall take this away."

"No, no, Mrs. Reynolds," he urged, wincing inwardly at the appellation that had belonged to his father not three days before. "Please bring it in. I doubt we shall actually be drinking the brandy. We simply made it available, but neither of us has much stomach for it. Tea and biscuits sounds much more appealing."

"I don't know why I even poured the stuff," agreed Wickham. "Why do you keep it in here, anyway?"

"My father liked being able to offer it to neighbors and visitors. He felt it was the gentlemanly thing to do, though you know he never drank it himself."

"Makes sense," Wickham said. "Probably best to keep it around, though Lord knows it will probably go bad long before either of us finishes it."

As the men spoke, Mrs. Reynolds had approached the desk with the tea tray. She frowned at the mess of papers, looking for an empty spot on which to place it.

"Sorry, Mrs. Reynolds," said Darcy, shoving some papers to the side. "I don't even know what to do with all of this. I can't make heads or tails of anything."

Mrs. Reynolds set it down and said, "And I don't see why you should. You shouldn't be worrying about this, sir. At least wait until the funeral is over."

"I can't," Darcy said glumly. "There are some things that can't wait until tomorrow. The planting needs to begin, and if I wait too long, summer's heat will come and ruin it all. It's already been delayed because I can't figure things out, and there is no time to hire – let alone train – a new steward."

"A new steward?" Wickham said in surprise. "Whatever happened to what's-his-name?"

"Mr. Gordon's mother fell ill, and he left last week to tend to her. I received a letter yesterday that she has since passed on and left him a small inheritance, so he will not be returning. He is unaware of Father's death, or I believe he would have come back to help me. He knew Father was capable of handling the planting on his own, but I don't have the knowledge."

"Then hire me."

Fitzwilliam looked up at his friend, confused. "You? But what about your Grand Tour?"

"What about ours, you mean?" Wickham retorted.

"There is no possible way I could leave now, even if I were not in mourning," Darcy said, gesturing to the desk in front of him. "Not only do I have to manage Pemberley, but I could not abandon Georgiana at this time to make merry on the continent."

"And I refuse to go without my best friend; I'd have no fun without you," Wickham said firmly. "In which case, I will stay here as steward for as long as you and Georgiana need me. I daresay I know more about Pemberley than Gordon ever did."

Relief shone in Darcy's eyes. "In that case, you're hired. Only you must stay here in Pemberley and not in the steward's house. You are more brother than friend."

"Stay in Pemberley with servants and my best friend, or live alone at the steward's house? Tough choice, Darcy. I don't know how I will ever decide." Wickham smirked at his friend.

As intended, Darcy chuckled. "It's the least I can do for ruining your graduation and your grand tour."

"Nonsense. There is nowhere else I would rather be," Wickham said sincerely. "Now, let's take a look at these papers, shall we?"

The two friends began systematically going through the former Mr. Darcy's desk. They spent the next several weeks looking over ledgers from previous years, riding the estate, and settling bills. They paused only to attend the funeral and spend time with Georgiana several times each day. The quiet twelve-year-old was rapidly approaching womanhood, and it was clear that she had taken the death of her father very hard.

Wickham and Darcy devoted hours to her amusement, and her every wish was immediately granted. She was a modest girl by nature, so it was rare for her to make a request. Her only desire was to begin taking lessons from a piano master, as she had far surpassed her governess's ability to teach. Letters were immediately sent out, and soon Pemberley was filled with hours of melodious sounds coming from the girl's fingertips.

A month after Mr. Darcy's funeral, Darcy and Wickham came to the conclusion that they would need to visit each of the Darcy properties in person in order to gain a full understanding of each estate and its needs.

"Think of it as our own grand tour!" said Wickham excitedly. "We can spend a fortnight in each location and return in time for the harvest here at Pemberley!"

Darcy had to admit that he found the idea appealing. "What about Georgiana?"

"We'll bring her with us," Wickham said. "After all, depending on whom she marries, you may choose to gift her an estate. She should be allowed to have her choice and could only do that if she sees all of them."

"When she marries?" Darcy repeated in surprise. "She is but twelve years old!"

"And that is three-quarters of the way to the age when most maids are thinking about husbands," Wickham pointed out.

Darcy let out a tremendous sigh. "I will need to speak with Richard. He has been assigned as her second guardian."

"Is he coming to visit?" Wickham asked.

"Yes, he just returned from the continent. His last battle injured his leg, and he has been recuperating at Matlock. I would invite him to join us for the summer, but I worry the travel will be too taxing for his healing."

"You could always make the offer and allow him to choose for himself which is best," Wickham suggested.

Darcy nodded in agreement, then said, "Each of the estates is in good enough state for us to stay there, except for Larkwood."

"Is that the one in Northumberland?"

Darcy shook his head. "No, Staffordshire. The entire property is in a bit of disrepair as more tenants have moved to work in the cotton factories for a more stable income, and I do not know the condition of the manor house. From my father's records, it appears as though the local steward and butler had not sent a letter in quite some time. We may need to stay in an inn, and I would not like Georgiana subjected to such an environment for a long period of time."

"Staffordshire? Hmm…" Wickham mulled over the problem, then snapped his fingers and said, "I have it! I met a young man named Charles Bingley at Cambridge this past year. It was his first year, and as his family is from trade, so I kept an eye out for him. I could write and ask if we could stay with his family until we determine if Larkwood is fit for residence."

"Would Mr. Bingley's family be willing to host a complete stranger?"

"I believe so. Bingley is of a friendly, open nature. He is eager to befriend and please those whom meets, but in a genuine manner. He is not one to look to climb the social ladder. His father has built quite the inheritance and intends his son to purchase an estate with it upon his demise."

"A man without guile, it seems," Darcy said with a wry smile.

"Actually, yes, that describes him quiet perfectly," Wickham assured his friend. "I believe he also has two younger sisters who are in finishing school but return home for the summer. He mentioned during the last week that he was eager to see them again. They would make good companions for Georgiana."

"Very well," Darcy said, "you may write your letter to Bingley. Perhaps we will have heard a response by the time Fitzwilliam arrives. We can make plans then."

The letters to arrange the travel were dispatched quickly, and soon everything was arranged for their Grand Tour of the Darcy properties. Georgiana was eager, as she had rarely gone any further than Lambton in her life. Fitzwilliam arrived, gave his approval, and left again, as he was on his way to visit a military friend in Ramsgate with whom he had served.

Finally, it was all arranged, and the time had arrived for the Darcys and Wickham to begin their trip that would last about three months. Darcy could only hope it would all go according to plan.

Two months later

Darcy sighed in relief as their carriage pulled on the Staffordshire street where the Bingley's house resided. Their journey had been one series of mishaps after another, beginning with a broken wheel axle and ending with a sudden rainstorm that forced them to stop at an inn only an hour away from their destination.

Their arrival to Staffordshire, which was to be the last stop on their Grand Tour, had the three weary travelers in extremely high spirits. Georgiana had tolerated the journey remarkably well, due to Wickham's hours of devotion to her amusement.

Fitzwilliam had taken advantage of the travel time to finalize his notes from their prior stop and organize his thoughts for the next one. In each location, he had been very well-pleased to find each manor and estate exactly according to the regular reports he received.

Larkwood was the estate that gave him the most trepidation, as there had been no report from its steward, butler, nor housekeeper in a six-month. Typically, Darcy would have sent a representative to bring back a report, but a combination of his father's ill health and death, the departure of the former steward, and the Grand Tour itself had delayed a visit. He was grateful that Wickham's friend was willing to let them stay there for an indeterminate amount of time.

The carriage pulled up in front of a well-maintained house, set comfortably amongst other fashionable houses on a street that was free of horse droppings. As the footman turned the handle to the carriage, the front door of the house was thrust open, and a young man with a cheerful grin practically bounced down the stairs.

"Wickham, old chap! I'm delighted that you and your friends have arrived safely!"

Wickham exited the carriage, then turned to help Georgiana down. "Bingley, it's wonderful to see you."

The two men clasped hands, then Wickham performed the introductions. Bingley smiled at all of them, and he ushered them inside the house.

Darcy was pleased to note that the inside of the house was decorated in the latest fashion, although a bit more ornate than he preferred. It reminded him a bit of Lady Catherine's formal sitting room, although that thought did more to unsettle him than give him any comfort.

A housekeeper began issuing directions to the maids and footmen about the luggage, just as a young woman of perhaps twenty years of age came down the hall. "Charles, will you introduce me to your friends?"

"Of course!" Bingley beamed.

Introductions were made to Bingley's sister Caroline, elder than him by one year. She had recently come out into society the prior year and remained unwed after her first season. Darcy could quickly tell that she adopted many of the mannerisms so common amongst the husband-hunting maidens in the ton.

Upon learning Wickham was merely a steward, Caroline turned her back on the handsome man to converse more fully with Darcy. In response, Darcy continually directed the conversation to his sister and his need to get her settled from the journey.

Finally taking the hint, Miss Bingley issued a few unnecessary commands to the housekeeper, who was already beginning to usher the guests up the stairs towards their rooms. Bingley and his sister followed, the latter continuing a stream of inconsequential chatter until Darcy politely excused himself and escaped into his sister's room.

Once alone, Darcy smiled reassuringly at Georgiana, who seemed quite overwhelmed by Miss Bingley and her chatter. "Do not be alarmed, dearest. I have no intention of falling prey to any machinations on this trip."

This comment startled a laugh out of Georgiana, who quickly covered her mouth and blushed in shame at having mocked her hostess.

"At the very least," Darcy said, "it will give you insight into the behaviors of many women in the ton. Although Miss Bingley is from trade, by this house and her dress, I imagine she has quite the dowry and was accepted into many houses from our circle."

"You will not leave me alone with her?" whispered Georgiana.

"Well," Darcy hesitated, "I must for at least one day when I go to Larkwood with Wickham. I do not know the state of the house, and I would not feel comfortable taking you into an unknown situation."

When Georgiana bit her lip and looked away, he added, "Perhaps you could remain in your rooms while I am out. I can explain that you have developed a headache due to the travel."

Georgiana nodded vehemently, and Darcy laughed. He kissed her brow and left her to the ministrations of her maid, while he went to his own rooms.

After assuring himself that his valet had everything in hand, Darcy went downstairs in search of Wickham. He found his friend-turned-steward in the drawing room, entertaining Bingley and his two sisters, along with an older gentleman whose appearance was so like Bingley's that Darcy knew immediately there was a familiar connection.

"Ah, Darcy!" exclaimed Wickham with a smile. "I was just telling the Bingleys about the time we snuck a pie that Cook had made for a dinner party your parents were hosting."

Darcy smiled wryly. "As I recall, you took the pie. I was the one who was unable to sit down for a week when my father was informed!"

The group laughed merrily. Bingley stood and said, "Mr. Darcy, may I present my father, Mr. Charles Bingley, Senior."

Darcy bowed. "Thank you for allowing us to stay with you, sir."

Bingley Sr. crossed the room to shake his hand. "We are glad to host you," he said amiably. "I have appreciated the help your friend has offered my son at school. We are more than happy to return the favor."

Darcy returned the man's smile, then said, "I hope you do not mind if we go to Larkwood today. It has been many months since my father or I have heard from anyone there, and I am anxious to ascertain the state of things."

Bingley Sr. waved his hand dismissively. "Of course we do not mind! We know this is a business trip for you. You are welcome to leave your sister here with my daughters."

The man walked across the room to stand behind Miss Caroline. He placed his hands on her shoulder, and she leaned away slightly, then sat up straighter and offered Darcy a smile. "We would be delighted to have Miss Darcy join us," she said with a tight smile.

Darcy looked at the man's hands. They almost appeared to be gripping the girl's shoulders tightly. But what reason would a man have to hold his daughter so tightly? Perhaps she has a tendency to misbehave, and he is reminding her to behave with decorum, Darcy thought.

"I believe she has a bit of a headache after the travels and will keep to her rooms with her governess for the day, if that would not be an inconvenience?" Darcy said.

"Not an inconvenience at all!" Bingley Sr. said jovially. "I will check on her personally later to ensure that all is well with her."

At this, Miss Caroline's eyes widened slightly in alarm, but she quickly bowed her head to look at her clasped hands. It was so brief that Darcy wondered if he had imagined the panic he saw in her face.

"I thank you," he said cautiously, "but I believe the governess has everything in hand. She will, of course, inform you if they are in need of anything."

Bingley Sr.'s eyes tightened slightly, but he smiled graciously. "Excellent!"

Darcy turned to Wickham, who had a slight frown on his face. "Shall we leave, then?" Darcy asked his friend.

Wickham nodded in agreement, and the two gentlemen took their leave of their hosts. They mounted their horses and rode towards Larkwood, discussing various scenarios of what might be preventing the steward from sending any information.

What they discovered, however, was much worse than either of them expected.