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A Wicked, White Cravat
by Anton M.

Chapter 8: Brotherly Affection

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Darcy and his sister sat in the library after the guests had left. It had been a most wonderful night. Even for two people who preferred to spend time on their own more than most people of the ton, they had enjoyed themselves tremendously. No dinner party held at the Darcy townhouse had ever been so easy, so fun, or so full of teasing and laughter.

"Do you like her, Georgie?" Darcy asked, grateful to the servant who had lit a new fire in the fireplace.

"Oh do I! I had never thought I could have a sister like Elizabeth," Georgiana gushed. "And Jane is so serene and lovely. Oh, I love them both!"

Darcy smiled, but soon pressed his lips together and leaned his elbows on his knees.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

"Do you think she— do you think she loves me?"

Georgiana sat, stunned, not having imagined that Elizabeth hadn't told her brother so. However, she was most aware of the change in her brother's attitude, and she felt that, given his history and propensity for not admitting fault, it might have been better for everyone if her brother felt a little bit uncertain for a little longer.

Also, even if her guess was right, it was not right of Georgiana to rob Elizabeth of the moment she decided to share the depth of her feelings.

"I couldn't tell you," Georgiana replied, and when Darcy let out a breath, she rushed to add, "But she must be well on her way. She would not have given you that cravat she made for you, or indeed made one, had she felt indifferent."

Darcy felt better about her last guess. Smoothing over his gift, a craft that was more precious to him than any made of silk, or, indeed, gold, he was lost in thought.

"I am afraid there is a reason she might not like me a great deal yet."

"What is it?"

"I told her I would never have proposed marriage to her had she not compromised me."

Georgiana, who had also heard his words from Elizabeth, asked, "Is it true?"

"I wouldn't have said it had I thought otherwise."

"Why do you think you wouldn't have offered for her otherwise?"

"You have not seen her family, Georgie. Her mother alone can be… impossible. Her youngest sisters have not had the benefit of a governess, and it is evident in everything they do."

"So her family is not acceptable."

"Exactly!"

Georgiana sat still, staring in her lap. "If my elopement had been a public affair, would you have wished a woman you were courting to break your engagement because of your family's unsuitability?"

Darcy blanched. "That is completely different!"

"How is it different?"

"This does not affect men in the same way."

"That is… fair. All right. How about if I had a sister who was a few years older and the man she was courting broke off the engagement because of me?"

Darcy's face softened. "If she had your character, he would be stupid to do that."

"You are kind to say that, but you are not kind to your Elizabeth."

"Georgie! I offered for her!"

"Miss Elizabeth cannot help her family, William."

"I know that."

"Yes, but it sounds as if you have not yet accepted that she is who she is because of them, and you might be resentful of having to accept it," she said, taking a breath and bracing herself for a revelation her brother would reject outright.

It would stand in stark contrast to the joyful night they'd had.

But she had to do it, for she felt as if she might burst if she did not tell anyone of it, and her brother was, even with their age gap, her closest confidante.

"If Mr. Collins had violated her maidenhood, would you still have married her?"

"Georgiana!"

"Would you?"

Darcy was so shocked by her words that he nearly dropped the fire iron in the fire that he had been adjusting. He set it on the stone and turned around.

"Would you?" she repeated. Her voice was meek but clear.

"No," he replied. "I could never have been sure that the child she carried would have been mine."

The nature of her brother's engagement to Elizabeth had allowed Georgiana to hope for his forgiveness, but she had not expected his answer.

"What if she could prove that she was not with child, what would you choose then?"

Darcy returned to adjusting the fire. "I do not know," he admitted.

"Is it because she would no longer be a woman of virtue, although through no fault of her own?"

"Georgiana."

"Yes?"

"Where are these questions coming from? It is not like you to question my choices."

Georgiana swallowed the tightness in her throat. "You would not marry a woman of lost virtue?"

"I believe so," he replied, carefully, not entirely sure that his responses were truthful for he had not spent much time thinking about them. It was not acceptable to marry a woman whose virtue was compromised, and he had never questioned the status quo.

His sister rubbed her hands together, her lips quivering but eyes staring at nothing in particular in the corner. "You would rather I not marry, then," she whispered.

"What?!" Darcy snapped around so quickly the entire carpet shifted by an inch.

"You would rather I not marry, then," Georgiana repeated, voice clear but filled with pain.

Darcy was sure he felt the Earth spin around him.

"Did Wickham force himself—"

He did not recognise his own voice.

"No," Georgiana replied, and just as Darcy was about to relax, she added, "I was willing."

"What?!"

Georgiana pulled back, grimacing, squeezing her hands and staring at them. She had always had the highest respect for her brother, she had lived for his affection and kindness, but she was also afraid of him. He could be unkind when he was angry, and although she had experienced it before, she could never quite get used to it.

This time, however, she felt that she deserved anything he might say.

Darcy sat next to her. "You are not saying what I think you are saying."

Georgiana willed herself not to lie. "I am."

"You did not— you implied— I will kill him. How could you be so reckless?!"

Darcy started pacing in front of the fire.

Georgiana wrapped arms around herself, shielding herself, and shut her eyes tightly. She did not cry. She had cried herself empty in her remorse for her mistake. She had been so in love, so certain in the knowledge that the next day, she would be married to Wickham, blissfully happy. It did not matter that they were not married yet. Although she was forced to believe her brother when he revealed Wickham's true character, Georgiana could not have the death of the man she believed to love in her conscience, even if she had only loved the idea of him.

"He must have tricked you, somehow."

"He did not."

"He must have!"

"William," Georgiana whispered. "He was the perfect gentleman."

"No!" Darcy hid his eyes in his palm. "I refuse to believe you. He forced you."

"He did not," she repeated, patiently, almost like talking to a child. "He always treated me well and it was my choice. The blame is all mine."

Darcy could not comprehend the conversation he was having.

"You are ruined, then," he whispered, not daring to look at his sister before he left the room in silence.

He walked.

He walked out of the front door, uncaring of the drizzle, and continued to walk.

He could not believe her, and yet he knew she had kept this from him, intentionally, to keep Wickham alive. Wickham laying a finger on his sister was so viscerally painful that Darcy could not imagine her being willing, but he refused to dwell on the details. He could not pinpoint his feelings but his rage gave him energy.

Darcy's younger sister, twelve years his junior, not yet an adult, had done what he, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, had never dared to do. Not for a lack of interest, but for the unwillingness to heir bastards to every corner of England. It was unfathomable that his young, naive sister had lost her innocence to a man he detested so deeply.

It did explain the relative ease with which he had managed to convince Wickham to sail to the Indies — Wickham must've known that, if the truth was revealed and he remained in England, he might have spent his entire life in hiding. Darcy was not a man who forgave easily.

He walked for more than an hour until he found himself in front of the Gardiner's house. He had not realised the direction he'd taken, but now that he was here, he discovered a desperate need to see Elizabeth.

He knocked on the front door. It was a most unusual hour for a call, most certainly cause for alarm, and the maid rushed to inform Elizabeth of his visit while Mr. Gardiner welcomed him in.

"Mr. Darcy! Is anything the matter?"

He nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

"I need to have a private audience with Elizabeth," he said, voice as level as he could manage. "We will leave the parlour door open."

Confused but worried enough about the pain in his voice, Mr. Gardiner nodded. "I shall be across the hall."

Elizabeth appeared in the dress she had worn at dinner, hair still curled up, and Darcy felt his knees almost buckle at the sight. Before she could say a word, Darcy wrapped her in his embrace. He did not care. He needed her. He pressed his lips tightly against her hair when he felt them quiver. His throat was on fire. Slowly, he grazed her spine with the pads of his fingers and swayed with her.

He had failed Georgiana.

He had failed to protect her, and she might pay for it with her future. She was his only close living relative, filled with love and kindness and trust in him, and he had failed her in so egregious a way that it had cost her her innocence. It was his fault.

Feeling Elizabeth against him, he thought about having to let her go if Mr. Collins had taken her innocence, and he could not believe his answer, but he could never have gone through with it. How could he have let go of her so easily? He shivered against her, relishing her warmth, her acceptance, her unquestioning and sweet silence against him. He cleared his throat, but it felt too hoarse to speak, and so, he held her tighter.

How had he been so alone for so long? How had he not questioned his loneliness before? Sometimes it felt like the world was on his shoulders, so many tenants, so many employees and neighbours and servants relied on him. His knowledge, his guidance, his orders. And yet, he had never felt less weight on his shoulders than when he was with Elizabeth. She was precious, and he could not imagine what he would have done with himself if she chose another man, willingly. Nausea and jealousy ran through him.

He kept his lips against her hair. Elizabeth started running circles against his back when she felt him shiver, and Darcy started feeling shame for his need of her. It was his job to remain strong, to be the pillar, to reassure and to lead.

"I am sorry," he muttered, horrified to hear his voice quiver.

"Don't be," she replied, pressing her ear against his chest. "Whatever happened, I am glad you came here. You need not talk. Just hold me."

He was in awe of his future wife, and did as he was told. He hugged her, perhaps for five minutes, perhaps an hour. Gently, they swayed, and Darcy cleared his thoughts so that he could talk to Georgiana and be less judgemental and more forgiving. He did not want to lose his sister, however big of a mistake she had made.

When Darcy left, Mr. Gardiner offered him their carriage, and to both of their surprise, he accepted. His journey back was a lot quicker.

Darcy did not admit fault easily — it might have been his biggest fault, and realising it to correct his behaviour was easier than actually doing the latter.

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Georgiana was sat in the same position in the same chair, as if Darcy had never left. He added wood to the fireplace, noticing how his sister did not seem to have cried, and called for some water to drink before he sat down in the armchair next to her.

"Do you regret it?" he asked, curious more than judgemental, in a much better state to discuss the matter.

She blinked a few times, grateful that he returned to the library, and braced herself for his anger. She deserved it.

"No," she said, unable to lie. Having swallowed her tears, she asked, "If you only got one night with Elizabeth, do you think you would grow to regret it, knowing that's all there was?"

Good Lord, he would have done it. If Elizabeth was willing, he would not have cared about anything in the world than to make her his, if even just for one night. He would not have stopped to breathe.

"I failed you," he said. "I failed you in the worst possible way, and I ask for your forgiveness for failing to protect you and for saying the things I said. It was unpardonable."

"What did you say that I did not deserve?"

"Everything," he replied. "What happened was my fault. Not yours. It was wholly mine."

"I do not accept your apology if that is what you think."

Darcy sprung up, agitated. "What do you mean?"

"I have thought about this more than you will ever know," she said, sounding much older than her not-yet-even sixteen years. "One of the things I have decided is that renouncing the fault to anyone else takes away my agency in the matter. In believing this to be your fault, you take away my independent choices. I would much rather live with my mistakes than let you imagine fault that you do not deserve."

"Of course I deserve fault. I should never have—"

"I am not a child, William. Had you forbidden me from going, it might have been much worse. I would have rebelled, and I might have returned with child had it lasted longer."

Oh dear God, he had not given the matter enough thought, for the mere idea of it filled him with rage. He took a deep, painful breath to release his feelings.

"And you are sure you did not, or are not—"

"My courses started a few days later," Georgiana said, so exhausted from having thought about it all that she did not blush at the topic. "I was lucky."

They sat together for a while in silence only filled by the occasional crackling of the fire. A maid brought them water before closing the door again behind her.

Darcy wanted to take back all the angry words he had said, he wanted to turn back time to give Georgiana back her untainted view of the world, he wanted to return her to a world where she need not worry if this would ruin her future, or how it would all get solved.

"I was wrong," Darcy said.

"About?"

"If Mr. Collins had forced himself on Elizabeth, I would not have broken the engagement. I care too deeply for her."

"You need not say that on my account," Georgiana said, more bitingly than she had intended. "You already said you would not marry a woman of lost virtue. It does not matter."

"It does! For a man in love, nothing is an obstacle."

Georgiana smiled, but it was sad. "Would you still have had her had she been with child from the attack?"

Darcy clenched his jaw. "I will not lie, it would have been tough. Tough to accept, tough to live with. But it would not have been her fault, or the child's fault, and I have to believe that I would have, eventually, done the right thing."

"Do you say that because that is how you feel or because saying it gives me hope?"

Darcy hoped it was the former but feared it was the latter, and he did not answer her.

Silence, once again, surrounded them, and Darcy wished he had better answers to assure his little sister.

"The world is filled with men who use women for their pleasure. Yet it is forbidden for a woman to have ever done the same without earning the scorn of the world. Why is that?"

It was a rhetorical question, for they both knew the answer — it was to confirm the fatherhood of the offspring. Women could always be sure they were the mothers of their children. Men could not. Society was built to prohibit behaviour that went against allowing men to be as sure as they could of their fatherhood and the legitimacy of their offspring.

"If I am to never marry, so be it," Georgiana said, and for the first time, tears filled her eyes but they did not spill. "I can be a good aunt to all the nieces and nephews in the world."

Darcy sat next to her, taking her hand. "You need not lose faith, Georgie. Am I correct that I am the only person outside of yourself and— him, who knows?"

Georgiana nodded.

"And you are not with child. There is no reason to not proceed as if nothing had happened. If you find a man you truly respect and admire, and he shares the depth of your feelings, you may choose to, one day, reveal this. Or not reveal it, however you are comfortable. But there is no reason for us not to continue with our lives as we had."

Georgiana's eyes widened, and she sniffed. "Do you truly believe someone out there will agree to marry me after hearing the truth?"

"I know so, for all a man truly needs is your future."

Georgiana's hug was so violent that Darcy wasn't quite sure how to react, but he patted her back and held her as she sniffed.

"I am sorry for the things I said. Sometimes we do not know our principles or opinions until we are challenged to uphold them, and you've certainly caused me to reevaluate some of mine. But please, give me time. I need some time to get used to this."

Georgiana pulled back and nodded. In his eyes, she looked every bit the little girl he had known and loved, with long blonde ringlets and a curious, shy look about her. And, certainly, much too young to have worries like this.

"Will you tell Elizabeth?" she asked.

"Not without your permission."

"If she must know, I would prefer to tell her myself," Georgiana said, rubbing her hands. "Do you think she will forgive me?"

"I do. She might be shocked at first, but she is sweet and insightful and, I dare say, will bear this news with more grace and understanding than I did. I believe you would gain an ally if you were to trust her with this."

Georgiana smiled. "I'll think about it."

"Do not lose hope, Georgie. You are young and full of life, and one mistake should not define the rest of your life. Besides, you have such a dowry it would be easy to dismiss any rumours as petty jealousy should anything see the light of day."

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A/N: Eager to hear your thoughts, as always. Thank you so much for your overwhelming kindness so far, you're the best.