The next morning, Elizabeth had dressed to take a walk along the seashore before breakfast when she heard a commotion from the entry hall. Georgiana trembled in the doorway, speaking to the butler. She looked awful: Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was half in a bun and half loose. She had thrown a shawl over her shoulders to protect against the morning chill without arranging the folds.

Her hands flapped nervously. "I must, I must, I must see Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet. I must speak to her, I know it is early, I know it is too early — please, please, please."

She saw Elizabeth from the corner of her eye and rushed up to Elizabeth and threw her arms around Elizabeth. "I ruined everything, everything is ruined. It is all wrong, it's all wrong. Oh, oh, oh."

Georgiana's voice trailed off piteously, and she cried. Elizabeth gestured with her head for the butler to leave them and sat Georgiana in one of the green padded chairs along the wall. Elizabeth held Georgiana and let her cry into her shoulder. She kissed the younger girl's forehead and slowly rubbed warm circles into her back.

At last Elizabeth asked anxiously, "Whatever has happened?"

Georgiana attempted to reply without bringing her head up, but she stuttered out unintelligible mumbles and burst into tears again. Had Wickham hurt her? Darcy had worried greatly about how Wickham would treat his sister.

"You and Bingley are right. Fitzwilliam was right. He has spent so much. Gambling." Georgiana hiccuped. "Oh! If only I had not looked. Then I would be a good wife and not deserve this."

Elizabeth patted Georgiana. "Do not be ridiculous, it is better to know."

"I doubted him," she wailed. "It would not leave my mind. I tried to push the worry away, but I did not know. I… I had some idea what we've spent on house and clothes, so I went to our banker's office to find what else has been spent. I knew I should not; I felt terribly guilty, but I was sure I would see he had spent nothing unreasonable."

Elizabeth pushed Georgiana's face up, so she could look more closely at the girl. "But he had?"

"Four thousand pounds! He has spent four thousand pounds since we married. Four thousand. My brother never spends near that amount in an entire year to manage Pemberley. Fitzwilliam is austere, certainly, but Pemberley is a huge house. I thought, perhaps… maybe he had loaned the money to a friend who would be good for it, or made some investment, or at least used it for a noble purpose."

Georgiana looked away from Elizabeth and worried with her fingers at the fabric of her shawl. "Mr. von Polder, he pitied me. I could see it. I was too unsettled to return home, so instead I walked along the promenade for more than an hour. I returned to ask Wickham, though I was not sure if I would say anything — a wife ought to trust her husband."

The young woman gripped Elizabeth's arm tightly. "Shouldn't I have trusted him? If a wife cannot trust her husband, what point is love? I wish I had — oh, I wish I had."

Georgiana continued, "Wickham had already left to visit with his friends. I waited up for him. And waited. It struck past midnight, and he had not returned. I became worried and anxious, yet… I wondered if he always stayed out so late. I did not sleep a wink. Could not sleep. I have not yet slept, not since yesterday. I had not known he stayed out so late — I knew he preferred to sleep in mornings.

"At last, when dawn had almost broken, he stumbled over the entryway. He stunk of gin. I should not have — I do not want to be a bad, nagging wife — I screeched at him. I said he hated me and had married me only for my money. I said so many awful things. And they cannot be true — he just gambles. He swears he hasn't been spending our money upon…" Georgiana gestured vaguely with a bright blush. "You know. Those… women. I did not mean it when I accused him of that. I swear I did not — I love my darling. I know he would never betray me. But I was angry, and nervous, and unhappy."

"How… how did Mr. Wickham respond?" Elizabeth's eyes scanned worriedly, looking for signs that he may have struck her. There were none.

"He apologized. He admitted he had been gambling. He said sweet things, very sweet things. He promised he would never do it again, and he swore he loved me. I know he will never play cards again — George loves me too much to break such a promise. I know that, but I kept… I kept accusing him. That's how it became ruined. I said — I know how jealous he is of Fitzwilliam, just as Fitzwilliam was jealous of him — so I said I — I said I wished he was like Fitzwilliam — I said I would run away and leave him and return to my brother. Oh, I should not have said that to him. He needs me to love him no matter what, and I do. Fitzwilliam is not better than George; they are both the best of men."

Georgiana's still unbroken trust in Wickham's goodness hurt to hear. That horrid man. Damn him. Darcy was ten times — no, a thousand times — the man Wickham was. Elizabeth did not voice that thought; it would be a selfish expression of her own emotions and only hurt Georgiana further.

"How did he reply?"

"Oh. Oh — he said nothing. He flinched and his face grew cold. He sneered at me with a look. A look such as he never has shown me. Then without a word he left the room. He locked himself in his chambers, and I've not seen him since. He must hate me now. He must. I said the most awful thing I could to hurt him. I went to the drawing room and paced and played a song. Then I came here — I have no other friends. And though we've only known each other a few days, there is no one else who I can speak to. I've been in agony. Will he hate me always?"

Elizabeth embraced Georgiana again and murmured comforting nothings as the girl cried. Her mind raced. What could she say to such a deluded — yet kind and likable — girl. If Jane had married such a man, she would have spoken as highly of his virtues. Though, her sister was too wise to be caught by such a creature.

Any need to speak something of substance was postponed when Georgiana's sobs ceased, and she began to snore lightly against Elizabeth's chest. Elizabeth hoped to not wake the poor girl, so she quietly tapped her hand against the wall until she caught the attention of a maid who silently brought the butler followed by Jane and Bingley.

Jane rushed forward and examined Georgiana with worried sympathy. "The poor girl, what occurred?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and grimaced. It was not her place to repeat Georgiana's story, but Jane rapidly bobbed her head to show she understood the essentials of the matter. The four of them took Georgiana to an empty guest bedroom on the first floor and left her alone to sleep.

They went to the breakfast room, and the maid brought a plate of food from the kitchen and set it in front of Elizabeth.

Jane said, "We ate while you spoke with Mrs. Wickham — there was no way to tell how long you would be. We had planned to walk out — should we stay until Mrs. Wickham awakes?"

Elizabeth gave a half smile and made a shooing gesture. "Go, go. I can manage to eat a few rolls and some ham alone. Enjoy yourselves. Mrs. Wickham will not wake for some time — she has not slept since yesterday night."

"Georgiana's brother is my dearest friend" — Bingley brought his shoulders back and stood tall — "if her husband has abused her —"

Jane appeared shocked at the suggestion. Elizabeth gestured disagreement. "He didn't hurt her that way. Not that. It was… I should not break her confidence. He has not hit her; he is not carrying on an affair with another woman… likely you can guess what the matter is."

"Hmph. Gambling. That damned man — I apologize, I ought not speak so in front of ladies. But that man exploited the naivety of such a sweet and kind girl as Miss Darcy — when I think how his greed hurt my friend…" Bingley clenched his teeth together. "Are you certain, entirely certain, we should not stay till she wakes?"

"It is nearly sure you will return before she does. I shall stay here since one of the family ought to be present."

"Well. I'll tell Georgiana that if she wishes protection from her husband, we'll not let him take her."

Elizabeth pushed the food away; she wasn't hungry. "She doesn't — she is still devoted to Mr. Wickham."

Jane said, "I do not believe that Mr. Wickham is nearly so bad as you think. Mrs. Wickham would not have such a sincere attachment to him if he were."

"Georgiana is very young and in love." Elizabeth shook her head. "No such person is sensible — just go. Enjoy your walk. I… I wish to think about Mrs. Wickham's story."

Jane and Bingley set off. Their faces were uncharacteristically somber. Elizabeth went to the window to watch them walk along the avenue which fronted the sandy beach. They spoke together in a frowning manner, and Bingley occasionally punched his hand.

Oh! If only something could be done to save Georgiana from that horrid man.

Elizabeth rang the bell to call the maid back in. She pointed at the plate of food on the table. "I can't — not today. It smells… Just remove it."

The maid deferentially curtsied and took the plate away.

Elizabeth retired to the drawing room. Nothing could be done.

Nothing.

Georgiana's blind faith in the virtue of her husband would not last. It had already started to break. The girl would be impoverished, and Mr. Darcy would be forced to support her again. He would give them enough to live, no matter how he hated Wickham.

Damn Wickham.

Hopefully, he would conveniently die like a character in a novel.

That was an unchristian wish, but Elizabeth was no perfect Christian. Her passions ran too hot, with Darcy and now with his sister. She'd already come to love Georgiana. The girl's foolishness was no barrier to her shy appeal.

Wickham's death was the only way Elizabeth saw for Georgiana's happiness to be established. Even that would leave her a widow with a child and a scandalous past.

Raised voices sounded in the hallway. Elizabeth stood, but before she could decipher the noises the red door of the drawing room was opened. Without making any bow, the butler introduced the grinning Mr. Wickham.

"My darling Miss Bennet, you look truly delightful this morning. The drape of that dress is perfect, and I believe it has the prettiest shade of lilac I've ever seen. Might I ask where you acquired that lace? I would like to purchase some for my dear Georgie as a gift."

His teeth were perfect. His bow was perfect. Mr. Wickham wore pants with straps beneath the feet to force them to always fall in a perfect line. He looked like he had stepped out of a fashion plate. His only imperfection was puffiness visible around the eyes. Even that was hard to see, as he'd disguised it with makeup.

The worthless gambler's eyes should be scratched out.

Elizabeth's cold stare did not take Mr. Wickham aback at all. "I have been informed that my wife is present in your delightful domicile — I swear I would've stolen it out from under your brother's feet had I known such fine apartments could be had for rent in this town — might you conduct me to Georgiana?"

"She sleeps. Her night was trying. I shall not see her woken."

Mr. Wickham hummed in response and tapped his elegant gold tipped cane softly on the floor. "I must insist. I do thank you for your concern, but Mrs. Wickham's place is with me."

"Have you no human feeling? None?"

An easy smile settled over Wickham's sharp handsome face. "I hardly can reply to such a statement without some better sense of what prompted it. My feelings are entirely human."

"They are demonic! You are a vile worthless thing that rose from a fairy tale to eat the souls of young women. You destroyed a sweet girl to steal her money and achieve vengeance against her brother for something he was right to do."

"A soul eating monster from a fairy tale?" Mr. Wickham smirked. "Why, Miss Bennet, you are wholly charming. The anger brings a beautiful light to your eyes. From your behavior, I wonder if you have developed an affection for me."

Elizabeth's fingers curled into claws, and she bared her teeth at him.

Wickham continued, "I am afraid that I must disappoint you — you are beautiful and tempting, but I am devoted to my dearest Georgiana."

"Mr. Darcy is a thousand times the man you are. She will realize that. Anyone would. You'll see it in her eyes — when she comes to despise you for being a worse man than Darcy. You'll see it every day until she leaves you once you've destroyed everything."

Wickham's face went red. "You love him. I thought so. Well he'll disappoint you worse than I will Georgie — he can't love anything but his fucking money and his fucking estate. Did you sell yourself to him as a whore? Or was he too cheap to buy you?"

Elizabeth flinched.

"Ha! He was too cheap to buy you. Or did you set too high a price on yourself? I wish his loneliness would make him miserable, but it can't because he has no human feelings. Now, where is my wife."

"I shall not bring you to her."

"She is mine. My wife. I know she wishes to see me. If you do not bring me to where you have secreted her, I shall bring the law against you."

"You are a thief. A worthless man who can only take from his betters. You stole his sister, you stole her money, you steal and steal and —"

"I took what was mine by right. There was no theft — it ought to have been mine. I ought to have been his son. Not Darcy. Not the heartless prig who always despised him — Mr. George Darcy was the greatest gentleman to ever live, and your Fitz pissed on his love and on his memory. Georgiana — our marriage, our connection. It makes things as they always ought to have been. I now am his son. He now has a son who keeps his memory alive with affection and respect."

"You married Georgiana because it would make you the son-in-law of Darcy's father? That is your excuse for seducing a defenseless girl? That you were supposed to be his son? Methinks it was the money."

"That was his money. It belongs by every moral right to those who loved him, not to one who hates his memory."

"The estate, I understand, is unentailed; had George Darcy agreed with you, he did not need to leave it to his son. He could have altered his will."

Wickham sneered. "And be made a laughing stock? He never saw what Fitz truly is. He never saw the heartless man who cared for nothing. Fitz destroyed Pemberley for money. I saw the park a year ago. He… he cut the trees for money. He built a damned mill and blocked the stream. The most beautiful estate in England is gone. All that remains is a monument to Fitz's desperate greed. If my dear, dear godfather knew what Fitz would do, he would have left the estate to me."

Elizabeth stared at Wickham, open mouthed and befuddled. He certainly seemed sincere in his affection for Darcy's father. "If you loved your godfather so much, should you not have shown concern for his daughter's well-being? You have ruined her life and now rapidly throw all of her money away."

"I care for Georgiana. I do. She is his daughter. I played with her as a child. How could I not love her? It is as her husband that I am his son, not just in heart but also in law. She is happy as my wife, and I show her every affection and tenderness."

"Yes, but… why? Why then…" Elizabeth's anger was disarmed by the sincerity in Wickham's tone. He did not feel what he ought — he cared more for Georgiana as a connection to his lost godfather than for herself — yet Elizabeth could not deny that he cared for more than Georgiana's wealth. "Why do you…?"

"Gamble, waste my father's money? Why do I follow a course which will condemn us both to poverty? You think the worst of me. Yet, even you cannot believe I wish to be poor. Look at these clothes." Mr. Wickham stepped back and held his arms out so that she could examine him freely. "My coat and pants cost the best part of fifty pounds. I like to dress well, and I know what it is like to have nothing. I hate that it shall happen again."

Wickham paced. "I cannot stop. I thought when I married her I would no longer act so. Yet one evening I played cards for a small sum and lost — I could not stop myself. I became desperate to win it back. Since then" — Wickham stopped pacing and held his hands out — "Nothing I do, nothing I say to myself, keeps me from the tables. I have tried — believe that. No matter how I despise myself after an evening, within a day or two I make a new bet with some friend or acquaintance."

Elizabeth's disdain must have shown in her expression, for he exclaimed, "You have no right to judge me. You have not felt it. You have never felt your own body turn traitor; you never have watched your determination to do right be mined under by insidious words coming from your inner self; you have not felt that endless pull. You cannot judge me. I do not accept it. You are a self-righteous prig like Darcy."

Elizabeth replied, "Darcy would not act as you have. I do have knowledge enough to condemn you as a tenth the man he is. She will too; she will learn to despise you as you deserve."

"Despise me as I deserve? Did I deserve to have this worm in my skull that drives me to destroy myself? Do I deserve to be despised for my inability to kill it? I pray every night for it to die. She will despise me. I saw it in her eyes last night when she accused me of being less than him. It is inevitable. I shall be poor again, and she will choose to run to him. To take my child with her, but I'll not allow it. I'll kill her and the babe and then shoot myself. I will die as George Darcy's son. I swear that."

The wild firmness in Wickham's eyes made it impossible for Elizabeth to doubt him. Her horror at Georgiana's likely fate stole her breath.

"Ha! I've shocked you now. Will you take me to my wife? Or must I barge through the rooms?"

When Elizabeth made no reply Wickham turned to exit. Before he reached the door, Elizabeth shouted, "Wait." When he paused Elizabeth's mind raced quickly with the beginning of an idea. "You cannot wish this to be your fate. You must desire some other path."

"There is none," Wickham's voice was dead, "I do not believe any human art can stop such beastly compulsions. It is the price of Adam's sin."

Elizabeth dismissed Wickham's words. If he truly desired to stop, he would. Yet there was an edge of doubt in her mind. Her pursuit of Darcy had been selfish, yet even now, if there had been some hope, she would not have been able to resist the deep need in her soul for him.

"Perhaps you cannot stop yourself from gambling, but you can make it impossible to do so. If you had married properly, the money would be under the protection of a settlement. It would be impossible to gamble away more than the quarterly payments. You might enter debts, but they could only be collected out of your income."

"You suggest I give my money away, lock it aside, so I cannot lose it?" Wickham's voice was half dismissive, half intrigued.

"It should have been settled on Georgiana. You claim to love her. Don't you wish to ensure her well-being? It is like an entailment to protect an estate. Your situation will appear more respectable."

"But I would no longer have the money."

"You and Georgiana are married. What is hers is truly yours." Elizabeth suddenly saw how to convince him.

She hoped she had read Mr. Wickham's mind right. "You hate Mr. Darcy, and he despises you. But more you wish to truly be George Darcy's son. If Mr. Darcy — you wish him to acknowledge you as his brother. Don't you wish Fitz would say that you are part of the Darcy family and belong? Make him the trustee of the settlement, but only if he embraces you as a brother. He will. You know he will. He always does his duty. But he will hate the need."

Wickham's cane tapped a rhythm on the floor; he leaned back in his chair, so its wooden back was supported by the card table. A malicious smile grew on Wickham's face, and he laughed. "It is perfect; it is brilliant." His laughter roared. "Fitz. I shall make Fitz shake my hand as an equal if he wishes his sister's fortune to be protected. 'Tis perfect. I will make him smile and pretend to like me. It shall burn in his stomach."

Wickham laughed again, long and loud.