Thank you for all your kind reviews. I had an idea of how I wanted to proceed, but then dear Georgiana insisted that it was time to tell her story from her POV, for she had much to say and could be of use to her brother and cousins. She said "Laina, the newlyweds should be left in peace behind their knockerless door while I have my say." Who was I to disagree? While Georgiana is a lovely narrator, gird yourself up from some George Wickham disgustingness ahead.


Georgiana's POV

46. Gaining Wisdom

After we returned to the Earl's home following our second visit to see my brother's new wife, Richard asked me if I might like a walk in the garden. I agreed. It was just the two of us, as Mrs. Annesley was attending to other things and never had any hesitation in leaving me in Richard's sole company.

I knew he wanted to talk away from listening ears, for the garden was the best place for that when no gardeners were about, but I did not expect his first words where he plainly stated, "Georgiana, I could use your advice." Truly it was a novelty to have my much older cousin, my guardian, seeking advice from me.

Richard explained, "Georgiana, I do not know what to do. I had my mind set on rescuing Miss Elizabeth Bennet from her fate, but Fitz got there first. I was angry and suspicious of his actions, at his subterfuge; I still am. But I am trying to accept what is, rather than what I was hoping would be. While I genuinely doubt she wished to marry him as she had already refused him once, that is what she did, likely in service of her family. I am praying that they might be happy together, but today he seemed all too jealous and angry, and I know she never liked him. How are they then to build a life together? How can I step away under such circumstances?"

I squeezed his arm and said "Richard, I shall not pretend to be objective when it comes to my brother and his wife. He loves her, truly, truly he does, and once she grows to understand his character, I have not a doubt that they will grow close. He may have gone about things all wrong, but a poor beginning does not mean their happiness together is forever foreclosed. You must step away and let them be. If your presence raises his hackles, you must remove yourself. Had you not planned to spend time with your Uncle Alfred after visiting Lady Catherine over Easter? Is not his time limited? Should you not go before it is too late?"

Richard nodded and then hung his head. "I know you are right, but sometimes things that are right are not easy to do."

"But is that not a measure of a good man, that he does what is right even when doing what is right is hard, painful even?"

Richard appeared pensive, contemplative. He twisted his lips and plucked at the hair at the back of his neck. "I suppose. But when did you become so wise?"

I laughed. "I am not nearly so wise as I wish to become, but after the whole debacle with 'you know who' . . . well only a lunatic would not examine things more closely after such an experience."

This was more true that he knew. Richard could only know what my brother had told him, and there were things I had not told my brother. I refrained from telling Fitz the full story of George's depravities for both selfless and selfish reasons. I justified that a small omission was better as it would prevent Fitz from some measure of pain and self-castigation. Selfishly, I had not wanted Fitz to perhaps lose all self control as he might at such a provocation, perhaps box George or even confront him with the pistol he carried to protect us against highway men. I had little doubt that Fitz would prevail against George and I didn't want George dead, for I still remembered plenty a pleasant memory about him from my childhood. Finally, I worried that Fitz would look at me differently, see me as spoilt, dirty, although I was as much a maiden as I had ever been.

I do not ever remember not knowing George. He was as much a part of my life as my brother, but much more fun. Fitz was always much occupied when home from school and later university, for he was helping my father with the tenants and the running of the estate and then took it all upon himself when father had his stroke. George did not similarly help Mr. Wickham, had no plans to become a steward, seemed to have more time to be at leisure.

I will confess that while I loved my brother, that while I yet was small I much preferred George's company. Occasionally in the afternoons when I was finished with my lessons (likely when George was bored and had nothing else to do, more frequently when I had my former pretty governess), he would saunter into the private sitting room where I spent my leisure time aside from the occasional afternoon in the garden. We played spillkins together, he took me outside to teach me hoops and marbles, and with the help of the servants we played sardines once or twice. While Fitz occasionally read to me, usually dull educational texts, histories and the like, George spun stories of princesses and the brave knights that rescued them. While Fitz made me a kite that he helped me fly twice, it was George that gave me piggyback rides in the field and climbed a tree to retrieve my kite when my governess and I lost it there.

The last time I had seen George before his ill-fated courtship of me at Ramsgate, was when he returned to Pemberley for the reading of father's will. The men were still gathering when I fled the parlor to escape from Lady Catherine. She had been speaking in strident tones "I am decided that I shall take Georgiana back to Rosings when I leave tomorrow. She is far too young to be raised by her brother and needs proper instruction to make a good match in a few years." While Lady Henrietta had been gently opposing her, I feared that Fitz would give way in the face of Lady Catherine's determination, perhaps even feel grateful to have the responsibility of caring for me (as in truth he had been his responsibility since my father's illness began) lifted from his shoulders, to be free of such a burden. While I remember not being all that confident at that moment that I had my brother's love, for given the breadth of my brother's duties sometime I only saw him just three times a week, Pemberley was all I had ever known. I was terrified of living under my scary aunt's thumb with only dull Anne for company.

As I fled to my rooms, I encountered George in the family wing. He startled and then gave me a rakish grin that portended fun which would not necessarily meet with my brother's approval (although I did not think it was so very bad to learn to play at marbles and hoops as boys do, Fitz had been horrified). Then, noting my countenance, he cried out "What on earth is the matter my dear girl?"

I ran into his arms, sobbing. I confessed against his cravat my worry that Fitz would let Lady Catherine take me away, and soaked the material with my tears before George gave me his hanky.

"Never you fear, Georgiana. Your brother would not let you go and live with Lady Catherine, not for all the tea in China."

George petted and cosseted me until I was quite reassured and then explained he had to go as he was quite late to join the men. He winked and requested, "Wish me good fortune. I have much hope that your father may have passed on one of his smaller holdings to me and some ready funds. If only it were the London house, that would suit me very well and it is not as if your brother likes the city."

I knew nothing of what my father's plans might be for his godson, so I only shrugged. I did not really care what my father's will said. I already knew about my dowry and some funds from my mother that would be mine upon my majority.

I asked, "Afterwards, George, can you play spillkins with me?"

He shook his head sadly and said, "I fear not, for while your father loved me like a son and your brother used to think me a dear friend, now Fitz as the new Mr. Darcy, Master of Pemberley, is too et up with pride to want me to remain here for long. After all, I am just the old steward's son. Past today, I do not know when I shall see you again." He made an exaggerated sad face and hung his head.

I recall grasping his hand tight and saying, "I do not want you to leave; I wish I could go with you." I was still so overcome from before that I actually cried a couple of tears at the thought of him being gone forever and was obliged to use my hand to swipe them away and then blow my nose on the only clean corner of his handkerchief.

"Dearest," said he, bowing over my hand and then kissing it before he straightened up, "I hate to leave you here with dull, boring Fitz, but he shall look after you well enough. If you were but a few years older, and I had a good income, I would take you away, marry you and keep you for my own. But undoubtedly by the time you are grown you will forget all about me and marry some cross-eyed bald man thrice your age who has a title and some large castle for an abode. You shall give him heirs and spares, grow stout eating ten courses every night and be rich as a queen."

"Never!" I declared, and with the certainty that only the young possess added, "I would much rather marry you."

George offered a wink and a bow and murmured, "I should like nothing more, my princess."

As he turned, I held out his handkerchief, but he magnanimously and romantically said (or at least I thought it was magnanimous at the time), "No you keep it, it can be my token to you, for you have far more need of it than I." (Now of course I understand that no man wants a snotty handkerchief returned).

I stored this encounter up in my heart and over the next few months dreamt about what it would be like to marry George, my own dashing knight. As I was yet an ignorant girl, when I held his handkerchief (it was of course laundered by this time, and there was nothing special about it to show that it was his except it was the only plain one I owned), I imagined the fun we would have playing games, attending balls and riding horses together. I thought nothing of the practicalities of how we should afford such a life, and knowing nothing of the marital bed thought merely of the friendship and companionship I would have with him.

In looking back upon this interaction now, I wonder if this was the very moment when George began to hatch his plan to marry me. Or perhaps it occurred to him later, as he was leaving Pemberley with his four thousand pounds, rather than as the new owner of an estate. Or perhaps it was after all that money was gone.

I also wonder what George was doing in the family wing just then (a matter that never occurred to me until after Ramsgate, when Fitz was obliged to inform me about George's profligate behavior). Had George come to steal something? Did he have some assignation planned with a maid? Or perhaps there was some memento from my father that he hoped to retrieve.

After my father's will was read and my cousin Richard learned he was my co-guardian, he began to take an interest in me. Indeed, I was privy to a shouting match that very day between my two guardians and Lady Catherine, in which they insisted I would remain in Fitz's care (before ordering Mrs. Ennit to take me away). But then Richard returned to France and his promised letters were few and far between, and some four years later after Mrs. Ennit gave her notice (she wished to take up a position closer to her aging parents), rather than engage another governess Fitz sent me away to school.

I was an ignorant ninny then. I expected the other girls to like me if I was nice to them, but for some that just earned me their scorn. If I excelled at a subject, did better than they, they teased and harassed me. There seemed to be so many unwritten rules that made no sense. While I had welcomed going initially, had thought I would make friends, I was instead bitterly unhappy and far lonelier than I had been at Pemberley.

Besides some interesting lessons and time with a music master, the only thing I really looked forward to was the receipt of my mail. While Richard's letters were as sporadic as before, Fitz wrote to me every week without fail, sharing more of his life than he ever had when we lived in the same house. Too, there were occasional letters from my aunts and even Cousin John's wife. Lady Catherine always encouraged me to diligently attend to my studies. Lady Henrietta's caring inquiries always made me feel as if I had a measure of a mother's love from her. Lady Lavinia wrote to tell me after she knew she was with child after the quickening. Oh, how much she longed for a son! I read all these missives multiple times and answered every letter, for the lack of friends meant I did not have much demand on my unscheduled time.

By the break at Christmas, I worked up my courage and asked Fitz not to go back, explaining how unhappy I was.

Most marvelous it was that Fitz listened to me and allowed that I was old enough to make such a decision. I remember he asked "Why did you say nothing about these troubles in your letters?"

I shook my head. "Did you not know? They read all the girls letters and any deemed not suitable are confiscated. After that happened once, with them scolding me most vigorously for what I said about the school and being told what I need must write instead, and receiving a switching besides," I rubbed my backside, feeling the sting in memory, "I was very careful what I wrote to any of you. I was cheerful, I praised my teachers and the school. The most I was allowed to write was that I had a touch of homesickness, and only if I countered it with explaining how well I liked being there."

Fitz's horrified expression was enough to settle for me then and there that he did care quite a lot for me. "I am so very, very sorry, Georgiana. If I had but known, I never would have sent you there, no indeed."

I was able to be magnanimous then, but from that day out Fitz tried to do all he could to make me happy, even sending me to Ramsgate with my new companion when we were due to depart but he could not yet leave due to bad weather having delayed the spring planting which he had to oversee. I had not a doubt of his love, but still I was vulnerable to George's charm when I met him outside a cafe.

Mrs Younge was all smiles and all but insisted, when I explained the connection, that he ought to join us for dinner. George began calling then, but rather than just staying for a few minutes remained for the better part of each day. We had no spillkins and so played chess instead, I knowing something of the game from Fitz's tutulege. We played other games too and he told me stories about his life in which he was always the dashing hero. If his games and stories were not as much fun to a girl of fifteen, I pretended they were, for I had been starved of friendship.

I did not think I was being courted, for he never talked of anything romantic for long. When he did, I always felt embarrassed and turned the subject to other things instead. I truly did not think of him then but as anything other than a friend. But I could not escape his intentions for long, and apparently frustrated with his lack of progress (this I have pieced together in hindsight), he decided to set and spring a trap.

After we had been in company about two weeks, one afternoon he proposed, "Would you like to play a new game? A guessing game?"

I recall nodding eagerly, for in truth I was rather bored of the amusements he offered. Mrs. Younge was not about, and increasingly she had made herself scarce, but I had accepted her excuses of headaches, letters to write and errands to run, too stupid to understand she was deliberately leaving us alone.

George told me "I shall blindfold you. The game is rather like blindman's bluff, but rather than identifying a person, you will have to guess what I place in your hands." Upon securing my agreement, he removed his coat and his cravat, using the cravat to blindfold me. I remember the cravat was sour with old sweat, but I did my best to ignore it, for I was already considering what objects of mine he would have trouble identifying when it was my turn to blindfold him.

I was seated in a chair when he gave me the first object, which I quickly identified as his sealing ring. He gave me two or three other objects which I identified by touch in short order. I recall he asked, "Are you sure you cannot see anything?"

"Not at all." In truth I saw nothing.

"I shall have to make it harder for you then. Much harder." He chuckled, and I recall thinking it to be a rather odd chuckle with an edge of something I did not like in it.

George positioned my hands together, palms up and said "Have a care with this one, my dear." It still then took some moments for the object to be plopped in my hands.

I was flummoxed, for the object was warm, as it it had been sitting near the hearth. I wrapped my hands about it, trying to determine what it might be, ran my right hand along it, while the other lightly squeezed. I noted the outside was soft, yet did not have the feel of fabric, fur or leather, and the inside was more firm. It almost felt of skin, as if it were some delicate living creature, but one that defied my understanding. My right hand felt a rounded, more bulbous end and something like loose fabric that somehow stretched. What could it be?

As I squeezed and probed the right end, I slid my left hand the other way, searching for the object's other end, and found to my surprise that the other end grew thicker until I reached hair and the thing to which it was connected. Then, somehow, I knew what it must be and jerked my hands away. Although I had not so much as seen a baby boy unclothed, I had certainly seen men's bulges before in their fitted breeches and knew them to be very hairy.

I felt myself flush as I sought to cleanse my hands by rubbing them against my skirt. Then I was tugging at the knotted cravat, eager to get away but not so foolhardy as to risk tripping.

George laughed and said, "Why stop? Dear Georgiana, you were doing so well! Oh, what fun we shall have!"

By this time I had succeeded in pulling his cravat off and had half gained my feet. When the spots from the sudden light cleared, I observed to my horror that he had not put himself away but was instead "handling" himself. I half wished to be blindfolded again!

He loomed closer and I shrank back into my chair, both disgusted and fascinated. I could not seem to speak.

"Look what you do to me, Georgiana," he cried, his hands moving faster, upon that ugly purpling thing. "Of course, I would have better satisfaction with you. We must marry now, you know, given the intimacies we have shared."

"But, I . . ."

My weak objection seemed to only spur him on more. "Come now, Georgiana, we have courted these past two weeks, all your neighbors know the many hours I spend within your house, and your hands were all over me." With a final jerk and twist of his hands, well what happened next truly horrified me, was disgusting and I shall not even think it. I was anxious to get away, gain the pitcher, basin and soap in my chambers, change my dress.

But George just grinned at my discomfort. "I love you, Georgiana, and I know you love me too. Now that I have marked you, you are mine and we must marry."

I shook my head and bolted, sliding past him and that thing which had deflated and drooped. I was glad that I heard no steps following me, expected he would soon show himself out for I certainly would not do such an office for him now.

Whatever idle thoughts I had previously about someday marrying George were wiped clean from my head, even as I feared his words were true. I was an ignorant young fool and wondered Is this what they mean when they say a girl is ruined? If it had gotten in my mouth, would I be with child even now?

Perhaps it is not surprising that I pondered such ridiculous thoughts, for I had no mother, no sisters and my only girl cousin was Anne if I did not count Lady Lavinia. My reading material was carefully vetted and I had no friends. I knew married couples kissed, but little else.

Mrs. Younge found me standing in my shift and stays as I furiously scrubbing at my dress with a piece of flannel. She took it from me and leisurely scrubbed at the spot. "Mr. Wickham has told me that you are engaged. I knew it would be so. Tomorrow we must take leave of our acquaintances, sharing the good news and then set off for Scotland."

"But . . ."

"Come now, it was no mystery why he was spending so much time with you. Given everything that has happened, you must marry and soon."

I was truly, truly embarrassed, my stomach rolling and jumping like I was stuck riding a horse fleeing the pain of a bee sting. "He told you?"

I felt hot, cold, on the verge of being sick.

"But of course. You should be proud of being able to rouse his passion so."

I sank to the floor rather than swooning, my breath huffing in and out. "There must be another way."

"There isn't. Calm yourself down. All will be well."

No one could fathom the depths of my relief when Fitz arrived early the next day, before George. I told him straight away, "Mr. Wickgam has been calling upon me, he says he loves me and we are engaged."

My brother's smile upon greeting me turned to a snarl. "No, Georgiana, you shall not marry that man."

He yelled "Mrs. Younge, attend me now." She scurried hither, the whites of her eyes looking large with her fear.

With his iciest low tone he asked, his eyebrows swooping low, his face marred by his evident disgust, "How can it be, Mrs. Younge, that you have been letting my sister be in the company of George Wickham? Pack your bags, you are dismissed without a reference."

"But . . . they must marry now."

"I don't care if he has bedded her and she carries his child, I do not want that profligate anywhere near her again. Go, or rather bring him here right now."

Amazingly she obeyed, but I was uncertain as to whether she would return with Mr. Wickham or not. While we waited, my brother was pacing and snarling like a great cat in a cage. He paused some two minutes later and asked, "Did he touch you, did he hurt you?"

I said truthfully, "Only my hand and my pride. Truly, I did not know what he had in mind."

At this, Fitz blew out a large sigh and settled somewhat. He asked nothing further as he continued to pace (but less frantically now).

Mrs. Younge did in fact arrive with a disheveled and barely dressed Mr. Wickham, his hair a mess, his cravat is undone, his waistcoat unbuttoned and his coat missing, some five minutes later.

"What have you done?" Firz roared at him, punctuating each word with a vicious pointing and jabbing of his finger. If it had been a knife, it would have slashed Mr. Wickham four times.

"Just proposed to my love and been accepted," he squeaked out. "Nothing else of note, I swear it."

"Your word means nothing to me. Now tell her you have changed your mind and you shall take your knowledge of this ill-fated courtship to the grave with nary a word to anyone."

George raised his hands in surrender and told me "Georgiana . . ."

"Miss Darcy," my brother corrected.

"Miss Darcy, I have changed my mind. No one shall hear anything about it from me."

"Go, now!" My brother hissed through gritted teeth, giving Wickham and the Mrs. Younge an icy stare. Both of them hastened to obey. I had never seen my brother so angry and I found it rather frightening.

But when he looked at me he softened and said, "I should have spared you such ugliness. I am sorry."

I threw myself into his arms and exclaimed, "Thank you for coming today."

In the carriage ride home, I asked Fitz what the word "profligate" meant and he gave me what I am sure was an edited version of what it meant as applied to Wickham. Thus I learned that he ran up debts wherever he went, gambled, drank to drunkeness, kept company with disreputable woman and men, and ruined innocent women. I wondered then if he did to them what he had done to me, but I certainly was not going to ask.

I did, however, after half a day's journey, work up my courage to ask what "bedded" meant. At this, Fitz reddened, looked away and said something vague about "marital intimacies" which left me no less perplexed than before.

In the interim between now and then, I had attempted to correct my ignorance, had begun paying more attention when my uncle discussed arranging for stud fees from lending out his stallion, had approached yowling cats to see how exactly they were joined, had even sneaked a few inappropriate books into my chambers and found in one a reference to an evil count attempting to lift a woman's skirt before her love (long feared dead), had reappeared and battled the dreaded count for attempting to steal her virtue. I was certain by now, in assembling all these bits of information, that what George had done upon me, while disgusting, was nothing to be feared for it was the joining of his part with mine that would have ruined me.

I did not like to think of Fitz doing that to Mrs. Darcy, of him having a part like to George. I had not told my brother, but I did not think I ever wanted to marry. I had seen Lady Lavinia grimace when John came near her and guessed at the cause. I never wanted to have to submit myself to a husband in such a way.

When Richard and I reentered the house, he told me he needed to settle a couple of matters before returning for dinner, but then planned to leave at first light. I told him "I will miss you," but I was quite relieved that he would not be around to interfere with my brother's marriage further.


A/N: Up next, a dinner and Georgiana takes calls with Lady Henrietta and Lady Lavinia. What do you think will happen when Caroline Bingley attempts to call on them?