Darcy sat in a heavy red armchair in a posh meeting room inside Hoare's bank. The summer heat made it unpleasant in his cravat and coat. As he waited he pulled the already worn letter out of his coat pocket once again, and he studied his sister's handwriting:

You shall be startled by my news. I am married, Fitzwilliam. Married to the best man in the world. You remember George Wickham, our dear father's godson. I met him again at Ramsgate, and he loves me. He loves me. It is so fresh, each time I think on it I smile and feel like to explode with happiness.

The only, only sadness I feel is that you shall not be happy with me. At least not at first. You do not approve of my dear George; it is natural as you both — though good — are so different. He is not noble and austere, but open, charming and sweet.

I know I have always disappointed you. You desired me to be as hard and stoical as yourself. I wished for life to be more like it was when Father lived. It was wrong of me to grow angry when you would not indulge my feminine weakness. I shall miss you. We both shall long for those times when you sat on the bed next to me and read until I fell asleep, or when I played for you, inspired to perform my best so you would be proud. But I believe you shall eventually be happier without the responsibility for my welfare.

Even if you are not, I cannot turn away from my dearest, dearest George. He needs me. You said he could manage on his own, away from us. But he could not. When I met him again, he had nothing. He needs to be part of the family like he was when Father lived.

I know it is wrong for a woman to marry without her family's consent. But I cannot repent because Father would have approved. I know he would have; he saw George as his second son. And now he is, like he should have been. One day we will all be a happy family again.

You shall be lonely — you must find a dearest woman whom you can love as completely and unabashedly as I do my darling husband.

I kiss this paper and hope you will feel my affection through it.

Yours sincerely,

Georgiana Wickham

Darcy rested the letter on his knee and wiped at his eyes.

It had been near a fortnight, and every time he read the letter it knocked a hole in his spirit. In the first year, before he sent her back to school, she ran to greet him with an embrace when he returned from the fields or from observing the construction of the red brick factory and the dam across his stream.

He remembered the day she was born.

She'd had the bawling red face of an infant. But she focused her eyes on Darcy when Mother handed him the new baby to hold. She smiled. During those years when he spent almost nothing at Cambridge, he had known someone would need to care for little Georgie.

Darcy rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely comforted by the gesture. Expensive paintings hung around the richly appointed office he waited in. It was hot. He wished he could pull off the cravat and splash cold water over his neck.

Had he failed or was the fault his father's blood?

It did not matter.

He loved and missed his sister no matter what. His dear sister was ruined in the eyes of society; worse, she would be terribly unhappy once she understood the sort of man Wickham was.

And he… he needed to destroy his own finances once again. He had thrown everything into increasing his income and paying off the debts. Now he needed to borrow again; she had undone years of self deprivation.

Darcy refused to dwell on the money. He would not be like Shylock unable to decide if he missed his ducats or his daughter.

Georgiana mattered, needing to keep expenses cut to the bone for years and years more did not. Not really.

Four years. Four more damned years of debt. And that was only if he could find someone to lend the money.

She was still just a child. A foolish young child who didn't understand. It had been his duty to protect her. You don't blame a child because you failed to protect them.

Mr. Hoare entered the room. He was a soberly dressed man of about fifty who wore a full wig. The Darcys had banked at Hoare's for many decades, and the genial face of Mr. Hoare was a familiar sight. This time, however, he grimaced and would not meet Darcy's eyes.

Mr. Hoare settled into his desk and opened the monogrammed leather bound folder which contained his summary of the Darcy accounts. He gazed at a spot next to Darcy's shoulder. "The weather? How was it in Derbyshire when you left?"

"Pleasanter; a touch too warm, but nothing like," Darcy waved his hand about, indicating the city itself. Mr. Hoare's manner gave Darcy an anxious chill. The banker would not lend him nearly enough. Proprieties should be observed. Keeping his voice pleasant, Darcy asked, "I am surprised to see you in London this late in the year, when will you head to your pile in Exeter?"

"I already spent August there. For those of us who are used to it, London in the summer is not so bad, at least not when the river doesn't stink." Mr. Hoare laid the folder flat and said, "Mr. Darcy, I was shocked to hear about your sister, but you should not beat yourself up about it. These things happen, they do. I fear the only reason you might be here is to find the funds to pay out her dowry."

"I am. I borrowed five thousand from friends in Derbyshire, but I need another twenty-five."

What if Mr. Hoare could not loan anything?

He would find some expedient. He always did.

The government's massive demand for funds to prosecute the war against Napoleon made it hard for private citizens to borrow. Most lenders preferred to keep the term of their mortgages at only a year or two, and Darcy had repeatedly struggled to find new money when a friend of his father's did not wish to roll a mortgage.

"Only five thousand? Mr. Darcy, I can provide something, but far less than you need. My loan book is still longer than is comfortable. Because your family has been our clients for so long I can loan you five thousand, but more than that would be unsafe for me. We have survived so long by never overextending ourselves."

"My security is excellent. You can take a mortgage against well-developed fields in Derbyshire."

"Mr. Darcy, you know it is not a matter of security. I simply do not have the money. Why did your uncle not help? Even if he is very angry about your niece's behavior, he should be concerned about keeping land in the family."

Darcy had expected his uncle to help him — his uncle always helped him. But not this time: I won't help you pay off that gamester your father raised and his block-headed daughter.

Over the past years, he had needed his uncle's support to avoid any land sales. Half Darcy's remaining debt was directly held by his uncle, and much of the rest was held by friends of Matlock's who were willing to do a good turn for the Earl's nephew. Darcy's prickly manners at university and refusal to spend more time than necessary in London for the season meant he had little acquaintance to beg outside of his own county.

"Lord Matlock thinks I should force Mr. Wickham to go to Chancery for Georgiana's fortune. The Lord Chancellor is a friend and owes Lord Matlock a favor. Apparently he thinks it would take near five years before a judgement would be made for Wickham."

"Oh. That is a sensible plan. The law is clear, and he would receive it in the end, but you would be able to acquire much of the funds needed out of your rents. To make it easy to gain a girl's portion when she marries without consent is encouragement to fortune hunters and imprudence. This Mr. Wickham cannot be well positioned to handle the costs which bringing a case before Chancery requires, and in the end his costs would come out of your sister's portion."

"Wickham is a dishonorable, vicious man lacking in all principles. But I am not. The funds are owed upon my sister's marriage. The funds will be provided. He may have taken my sister, he may have won his revenge, but he will not force me to act dishonorably."

A little voice spoke to him: That is not your only motive. Darcy looked out the window at the smoggy street. Wickham might hurt Georgiana if he was not paid.

She was just a child. She had run away, but it was still his duty to protect her. He still cared for her dearly.

"Do you know where I might find more funds? Is there any bank, or friend of yours, or someone who could loan me twenty thousand?"

The banker scratched beneath his wig. "I do not think any respectable bank will lend you much on short notice. I only will loan you what I offered because our houses have been friends for so long. Conditions are so tight. Mr. Darcy — you do not wish to hear this, but you should either follow your uncle's advice or sell outlying fields."

So Mr. Hoare could not help him. He still needed to find twenty thousand.

Darcy stood and shook Mr. Hoare's hand firmly. "Thank you for your help."

MDVMDVMDV

Darcy stepped out into the London sun from the dim environs of Hoare's bank.

He sat against one of the pillars next to the entrance and slumped with his head in his hands. Why did Georgiana need to run away? What sin was he paying for?

Perhaps he could find one of those men who preyed on gamblers and ignored the usury laws. He had no idea what rates they charged, but they must be absurdly high. Certainly they could provide twenty thousand.

Had Wickham forced him to borrow from criminals?

"Darcy! Your hotel told me you'd come here, I hoped to find you before you left. It would be a terrible bore hunting all of London."

Charles Bingley clapped him on the shoulder, and Darcy stood with a sudden smile. "Bingley, what are you doing here?"

"I heard what happened. I am so, so shocked Georgiana could act in that manner." Bingley shook his head. "Come, you must come with me to my club — we will dine together. I will absolutely hear no opposition to this."

Despite recent events, and the failure of his errand Darcy could not help but feel cheered by Bingley's company. "I would not dream of opposing you."

"You ought to have sought me out as soon as you arrived in London."

"I believed you resident in the new estate you let in Herefordshire."

"Herefordshire?" Bingley stared blankly at Darcy.

"You wrote to inform me you took an estate in Herefordshire; surely you have not forgotten letting a new estate so quickly."

Bingley's face cleared. "Drat! You misread my handwriting — I must strive to write clearer, or have Caroline write it out, if I ever have any important information to convey. My estate is in Hertfordshire. It's less than a half day's ride from London."

"Herefordshire to Hertfordshire, a leap across the country made with one inkblot — you should dictate if it is important."

Bingley laughed and pushed Darcy into his carriage. They were in motion for less than a minute when Bingley said, "Darcy… your manner was exceedingly depressed when I picked you up. If you still need money towards Georgie's dowry, it would delight me to help you."

Darcy stretched his legs out and turned to his friend. "You just let an estate, and you will purchase within a few years — this is hardly the time to strip yourself of funds. I did not intend to ask you at all."

"Nonsense! There was never a poor time to help a good friend. Besides, though I may plan to buy an estate, I daresay it would hardly be prudent to put all my resources into it. And do not say I will be better off in government funds — Boney might stop his Majesty for paying off his debts, but you'll be good for the money."

Darcy's frown showed his continued hesitation, and Bingley added "Come, I insist. What do you need."

They locked gazes, and with a shrug Darcy admitted, "Twenty thousand. So you see it is a large sum I still need to find. I can't borrow from you; it would be years before I paid you back. The term for my loan with Hoare's is only a year, and unless the situation changes, he will insist on being paid back quickly. And I have made promises to the friends I borrowed from in Derbyshire such that they will come first."

"Twenty thousand! That is a big amount, but if I cut here and there, I could make do without the income off of it." He snickered. "It shall be a fine excuse not to help Caroline out so often."

"Bingley! I am not going to borrow twenty thousand pounds from you."

"Pray tell — what shall you do to find the money?"

Darcy froze with his mouth open. Damn his uncle for not helping.

"Well?"

Darcy sighed and rubbed at a point on his forehead. "Perhaps one of those criminal types who loan to gamblers. You know, the ones who hire bravos to beat late borrowers."

Bingley laughed. "So you admit you have no good option. Darcy, I would happily give you twenty thousand. You are my dearest friend. You of course would not accept it, and neither would I in your situation. It would not be good form. We are gentlemen, and we have pride. But if someone is going to profit from your misfortune, don't you think it would be damned better for you to be paying interest to your closest friend instead of a criminal?"

"Are you certain?"

Bingley rolled his eyes and grinned. "I know you'll pay me back. It is not like I am doing you a favor."

Darcy laughed and shook Bingley's hand. "My deepest thanks."

At the club the two spoke on lights topics, resolutely avoiding Georgiana and the scandal. Bingley had saved him for now, but he owed so much money. He still owed so much money.

If his uncle ever completely removed his support, it would be impossible to raise that much money without selling part of the estate. Without becoming like Father. He needed to find a large sum of capital.

Darcy slowly relaxed as the two played billiards for an hour after the meal. He had no need to worry; Matlock would not do that. His uncle was like a second father to Darcy. He only opposed Darcy paying Georgiana's dowry because he thought it was against Darcy's best interests.

Bingley broke his losing streak by winning the fourth game, and he stepped back to watch the servant arrange the table for the next game. While he chalked his cue, Bingley said, "Ha! That was a good shot — instead of heading straight back to Pemberley you should come to Hertfordshire with me for a month or two. You've hardly taken a break since your father died, and half the purpose of having one's own estate is to entertain your friends." Bingley smirked. "Caroline will be delighted to host you."

"Do you wish to encourage or discourage me?"

Bingley raised his eyebrows. "Maybe her determined pursuit will be put off by the new scandal. But she is very determined. Don't frown in that manner. You are not a coward to be scared off from good company by my sister."

Darcy shook his head and made a face. "I am needed at home. With these new debts, it is more important than ever for me to ensure no uneeded expenditure is made."

As Bingley won the previous game, Darcy shot first. He managed to knock two balls into their pockets and grinned at Bingley, who whistled appreciatively.

While Bingley leaned over the table to line up his own shot, he said, "It's not so important for you to be there. I know your Mr. Harding and Mrs. Reynolds. They are very sharp, very devoted to you — things will not slip if you are away for a month or two. It cannot be wholesome to spend your whole life stuck on the estate, riding out only to oversee tenant matters and going over account books from dawn till dusk."

"Hmmmm."

He had taken few breaks, and all his trips away from Derbyshire had been to buy or sell goods for the estate. Maybe it was time to stop for a month. To think. He needed to understand Georgiana.

What could he have done better?

He did not want to be at Pemberley alone. He had looked forward to Georgiana's return so much. Now that the desperate search for money was over, he simply did not wish to return.

For several minutes the two took their turns in silence. Darcy weighed the proposition. He could conduct much of his business via correspondence, and his staff did not need constant supervision. He had received the letter in his office, and he did not want to return to it. He would enjoy two months of Bingley's company greatly.

He had work to do.

He would not be like his father, doing everything he wanted, with no thought to his duty. Perhaps he could visit Bingley, but the fact he wanted to so badly made him hesitate.

Was he making excuses to avoid facing how all his efforts were set back by four years?

His debts were greater than they had been when he completed the sale of his townhouses in London and Bath. Four years of his life gone.

Darcy had burned the letter Wickham sent with Georgiana's, but a single reading had stamped it into his memory. Only five words.

Pay up, brother. I win.

He could not relax now. He needed to face every painful duty.

"Is your frown because you found a real reason you need to return to Pemberley?"

Darcy sighed. He needed to face his duty, but his debts would be paid no quicker if he spent two months in Hertfordshire. "I have not."

"Remember, you owe me a favor. Hertfordshire will be far pleasanter if you are there."

Darcy laughed. "You claimed you were not doing me a favor."

The two grinned at each other and Bingley said, "Admit it: you wish to visit. We will have such fun, the hunting is excellent, and I have been told there is a family of beautiful ladies in the neighborhood, and the local gentlemen have been most friendly."

Darcy leaned over the table to take another shot. "Fine, I would be delighted to visit. But do keep Miss Bingley from hounding me too much."