Chapter 27
For a brief moment upon waking Elizabeth felt the promise of a new day, it was swiftly intruded upon by recollections of the previous evening. It was barely dawn, she had not enough rest, but nor could she hope to fall back asleep. She rose, took the letters from salver, and paged through the greetings that were precisely what she had come to expect from her nearest relations.
Her father mocked Mr. Collins' letter announcing her change in situation, encouraging her to revel in the glory of the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh's society. Her mother insisted she not turn down any proposals of marriage, she was not to return without a serious suitor, and begged she would not forget to mention her sisters 'for the well-situated gentlemen might be inclined to travel to Hertfordshire for a pretty wife.' Elizabeth must prevail upon Lady Catherine to include Jane in her amusements, for she was not the sort of girl to turn down a good offer. She must also write at once on the topic of lace, if her girls were to marry men from town, Mrs. Bennet must know the latest fashions so as to not disgrace them at the wedding. She would still have three daughters to marry when they returned home, the gentlemen must be prevailed upon to invite all their rich friends to the wedding. Perhaps Mr. Bingley could be persuaded to lone them the use of Neitherfeild, for it seemed he could be counted upon for nothing else and might mean to quit the neighborhood entirely. Her aunt could procure the lace, if only Elizabeth would write of what she ought to ask for.
"Oh, mama," Elizabeth muttered putting the letter down and picking up the next.
Lydia had troubled herself to compose her own missive declaring that if she were the one to go to London, she should surely return engaged. She insisted Elizabeth return with all the current fashions, tell her of all the officers she's flirted with, and do everything in her power to entice handsome redcoats to follow her home. Lydia carried on, and on, in a spoilt, selfish, senseless tone while lamenting that she was not the one to go to Town, and then finished her missive by bragging about her triumphs amongst the officers as though that made her somehow more deserving. Elizabeth felt at once the imprudence of Lydia and Kitty having so much liberty while she and Jane were away, leaving no one to check them, except perhaps Marcy, who was ignored by everyone anyway.
Finally, she recalled the letter in her reticle, doubting Kitty or Mary had been the first to write, and doubting they would be troubled to write at all. As she turned it over, she did not recognize the hand, and wondered if Miss de Bourgh had written, worried she might soon be united with Darcy. Elizabeth felt a brief pang of guilt and broke the seal, flipping to the last page to check the signature. It was Miss Darcy! What could she possibly have to say that could take up three pages and upon such a brief acquaintance?
Dear Miss Elizabeth,
I must beg your pardon for troubling you with this letter and upon such a brief acquaintance. Shortly after having been introduced to your notice, I became aware of the circumstances that would have given you and your sister every just cause to treat me uncivilly. It was a credit to both your characters that you were so kind and generous in your treatment of me. I admired your spirit greatly and hope to take it as an example when I come out, if indeed I do.
My purpose in writing you is so that you might place the blame where it truly belongs, and as you will see, it sits squarely with me. Though I was unaware of the scheme with Mr. Bingley, you will see it was my unfortunate and ignorant actions that set all of these events in motion, my brother was merely trying to protect me though I am ashamed to be so undeserving.
Elizabeth huffed, and thought, there is nothing a girl of that age and temperament could have done to be undeserving! It must be her brother's ridiculous expectations that make her feel the need to censure herself. She returned to the letter, hoping she could find a way to reassure the girl.
I suppose I should first tell you that my brother has assured me he will by no means force me to marry, nor would he ever do anything to make me unhappy. I could never overcome my misery if I were to cause such unhappiness to your sister and Mr. Bingley. I feel nothing for him, other than to think well of a friend of my brother. Colonel Fitzwilliam, my other guardian, is admittedly against the match. Your sister need not worry about any further interference, my brother is quite repent of what he has done for my sake. He is the most generous and honorable man in the world, and I am sure he would not have done it, had he known it would harm your sister.
Nor would I do anything to separate a couple so in love, even if it were in my power. After having met your sister, I doubt very much anyone of sense could be persuaded from her once sure of her regard. She is everything a young lady ought to be! Beautiful, gracious, and kind, I doubt very much anyone who has met her, and is not in need of a fortune, would take a second look at me. Where I am timid, she is reserved. Where there is awkwardness, she steps in with confidence and makes others feel at ease. When confronted with a situation where she had every right to act with contempt and spite, she acted instead with serenity and kindness. I think I may have truly taken ill with discomfort and humiliation had I been in her shoes the other day. I envy her confidence but cannot despise such a kind creature for all of her advantages.
Miss Darcy's account of Jane could not have been better formed to ingratiate Elizabeth to the writer, she was now even more sure the young lady was nothing like her brother, and even less like Mr. Wickham described had described her. She wondered at how he had been so wrong as to her character as she continued reading.
Though I know my next words might cause you to think very ill of me, I hope, at least, they will cause you to acquit my brother of cruelty and assign the blame where it ought to be. I was silly, foolish, impetuses, as well as deserving of a very different fate. Yet, my brother is determined that I shall not suffer as I ought.
I am not sure I begin at the right place, but, last summer Mrs. Younge, my new companion, convinced me that going to the sea was just the thing. I, in turn, convinced my brother with my excitement to see the ocean, and the ships, and the other young ladies promenading. Though I am shy, it always gives me great pleasure to see others interacting. I had hoped, I told him, that observing the other young ladies without the requirement to participate, would help me be more confident when it was finally required of me. I was easy enough, he never denies me anything, if something can be done for my pleasure, it is done at once. He has never returned home without a present or failed to pause his work if I wished for his time, or has had a cross word for me, even when I deserved it.
We had begun shopping the very next day, and in no time at all he had taken a house for me. He encouraged me to take every chance at amusement, to spare no expense in my enjoyment, to write him at once if anything could be done for my happiness. I cannot describe the joy with which I departed town for my great adventure, it made me feel so grown up to have my own establishment, and I knew my brother would visit as soon as he was able. That time of year he is so busy with his steward I thought he would hardly notice my absence.
Even Elizabeth had to admit that Mr. Darcy seemed to be an excellent brother, what then, had happened to cause him to make her feel so undeserving? Had someone attempted to comprise her? If so, she should hardly be made to feel ashamed for it! Elizabeth read on, anxious to know, but unwilling to skip ahead to find the answer before it was revealed. She felt it too important to understand Miss Darcy's perspective leading up to the event that was alluded to.
Nearly as soon as we arrived, indeed, I believe it was the morning following our arrival I came upon my late father's godson in a sweet shop. I had just composed a letter and wished to post it myself. I had to thank my brother for what was truly an establishment perfectly suited to my enjoyment. It was so close to the ocean I could hear the waves at night! Anyway, as I had not seen him since just prior to my father's death you can imagine my joy in renewing the acquaintance. Pemberley use to be so filled with happiness and laughter when my brother and Mr. Wickham would return from school, their visits could always be counted upon to cheer my father up. Though my father was always kind to me, the gentleman brought with them a certain sort of good cheer that I could never quite provoke on my own.
Mrs. Younge accompanied me, of course, and I spent the entire day in Mr. Wickham's company. We spoke primarily of the past, the happy memories, and silly children's pranks. In every childhood memory of my brother and father, Mr. Wickham was also. How they indulged me when I was young! Fitzwilliam, though more than a decade my senior, never treated my company as in imposition. He always immediately stopped what he was doing and made time for what ever I felt important. He would explore the garden with me on a whim, help my dolls take tea, listen to ridiculous stories about the lives of my figurines. Not once did he ever make those adventures feel silly, or unimportant.
Since my father passed away, my brother had done his best to see to my happiness, but I could see the strain upon him. He was always very serious, but he used to have such joy and good humor. The grief at the loss of my father, combined with so many responsibilities that are rarely shouldered by someone so young, created this sort of weight upon his shoulders that I have not the right words to accurately describe. He is still honorable, and kind, but there is this sadness that I cannot quite be the remedy for. I thought Mr. Wickham might be just the person my brother needed to see. As we parted, and he asked to call upon me tomorrow, I told him my plan. I must have my brother join me! We could, again, have the fun we use to. I would write to him at once.
Mr. Wickham had a sad look upon his face, and assured me that though he regretted it, they had not parted on the best of terms. I inquired what could have happened. Mr. Wickham insisted he was fully at fault, his bitterness, due to grief, had gotten the better of him. He could not explain it but he felt such anger at the loss that he had said something he ought not have to my brother. I told him he ought to apologize then, and he agreed, and begged that he would be the one to write my brother when he found the words. He said he was so ashamed of how he behaved in his grief that he could not blame my brother if he never forgave him. I assured him my brother never failed to accept an honest apology. Mr. Wickham agreed, declaring he wished for nothing more than the closeness that was once between them. I foolishly agreed he ought to be the one to write.
Mr. Wickham continued to call, and life felt much like it was when my father was alive. Only one ingredient was missing to make my joy complete, my brother. Though I knew him to be busy seeing to his responsibilities, I just knew he would come as soon as he was able. The more time I spent in Mr. Wickham's company, the more convinced I become that nothing could make us happier than for us all to be together again. I was remiss in writing my brother at this time, though I felt guilty for it, I believed it to be for the best. Early on, Mr. Wickham was earnestly and often sought my council, on this phrase or that, in his apology to my brother. Foolish, foolish me, I thought his desire for perfection proved his sincerity, I see now it was just a delay. He begged that I would delay any mention of him until my brother received his letter, and so I did. When he finally felt ready to post it, I breathed a deep sigh of relief. It felt awful to deceive my brother, even for the best of reasons. I wanted more than anything for Fitzwilliam to have the joy of Mr. Wickham's friendship again to ease his burdens.
As he continued to call, he always found a way to make me feel more grown up than I truly was. He insisted my advice was indispensable, that I had grown into a lovely woman, and I began to feel the complement of his calling upon me for my own sake, not merely for the connection to my family. He was handsome, charming, my father loved him, and surely, whatever their disagreement my brother still loved him too. Nothing could have been more perfectly contrived to capture my heart than were his attentions toward me. He spoke often of my mother, something that brought my brother and father too much pain. I, therefore, had previously contented myself to know little of her, to spare them the ache of remembering her loss. He assured me, most admittedly, that mother would be pleased with how I had grown up, ready for my own family now. That nothing could bring her more joy that to see her children happy and settled with their own family. We often spoke of how wonderful it would be if we could all be settled at Pemberley forever. I shared with him the grief I felt that I would have to someday leave my childhood home, I am convinced there is nothing closer to heaven this side of glory.
Sometime weeks later, he came to me in tears, saying my brother had written him back, refusing even to see him! It sounded so unlike Fitzwilliam, but Mr. Wickham insisted that was entirely his own fault, and that he should not be forgiven the harsh words he had spoken to my brother. I found out later that he had never send the missive to brother, so naturally, nor could he have replied. But at the time, it was the humility that Mr. Wickham seemed to act with that caused my heart to break for him. I offered at once to write my brother and intercede on his behalf. Mr. Wickham insisted that would only make my brother angry with me, and he would not have me suffer on his account. I assured him Fitzwilliam had never expressed displeasure with me, he had always given my opinions due consideration.
Mr. Wickham looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Who could not forgive you anything, and everything. My dearest Georgianna, it is worse still to lose you."
Elizabeth gasped; Georgianna could not have been more than fifteen! And for a grown man, who had lived in the world to so exploit her grief for her mother and her father, and even to exploit her love for her brother. It was not sound, there could be not excuse for it and that Mr. Wickham had then slandered the girl to a stranger as being proud! There could be no honest mistake after he had spent so much time in Miss Darcy's company. And that companion, she should have written Mr. Darcy immediately upon hearing they had a falling out, and that sort of attention ought not be paid to a girl not yet out, she must be in on it! Livid with Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Younge, her heart breaking for Miss Darcy, Elizabeth read on, hoping nothing had been done that could not be undone.
It struck me then, that if Mr. Wickham and Fitzwilliam did not make amends, that I would lose Mr. Wickham too! My heart was already quite touched, though you must think me silly for it. It had only been a few short weeks, but it brought me so much happiness, and so suddenly, it was almost like everything that our family lost had at once been restored to me. Any time I had away from Mr. Wickham's society I had spent imagining us all happy at Pemberley. Mrs. Younge quite encouraged me, reminding me of how much my father approved of him, pointing out how he was the perfect gentleman, and nearly already like a brother to Fitzwilliam. It was, after all, not unlike brothers to have spats, and grief did odd things to our tempers. We would chat endlessly about how handsome and romantic he was everyday as soon as he took his leave.
When Mr. Wickham turned to me that day and said his heart could bare to lose me, I was fully convinced I felt the same. So, when he asked me to marry him, elope, and force the reconciliation with Fitzwilliam, I felt there to be no other happy choice but to say yes. I felt I could not lose him again. I felt my brother would be happier in the end to have Mr. Wickham restored to him, even if he could not like the means. If I could not find my courage, then I and Mr. Wickham would lose the love between us and Fitzwilliam would remain sad, and serious, and without his sincerest and oldest friend. I truly, and stupidly, believed it would be a sad, cold, and lonely future for all three of us if I could not keep my nerve long enough to become Mr. Wickham's wife. As you might imagine, it was extremely out of character for me to make such bold plans, only my concern for both gentlemen could so move me to persist on such a course. Every time I doubted if I could go through with it, I reminded myself how unhappy it would make both of them.
Before you feel sorry that we were separated, pray, allow me to tell you how grateful I am that it was so. To my eternal relief, Fitzwilliam showed up unannounced to ensure my happiness. My letters had grown short, due to my guilt for concealing matters from him, and he was worried from my sake that I was suffering in some way and did not wish to worry him. Seeing the concern in his eyes, and not wishing him to be distressed, I told him all, except my concerns for his sadness. Fitzwilliam sat there shocked, as though he did not comprehend at first, and then was livid, and as I soon realized, not with me. Mrs. Younge returned just in time for the sound of the door to punctuate my last plea.
Before Mrs. Younge could even greet him, Fitzwilliam told her if he was satisfied that she had confessed the whole truth she would receive three months' severance before she could pack. If she attempted to deny it, she would be thrown from the house without a penny, but on no account would she have a character. She needed not ask to what he was referring. I sat there in shock and horror as Mrs. Younge relayed the whole of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham. He had met her in a brothel, she was once a gentleman's daughter a was lured away from home (she thought for an elopement) by a reprobate, to escape an engagement to a much older gentleman she did not wish to marry. Wickham had promised her a new life, procured the references of the real Mrs. Younge who had passed away of an illness in a boarding house while in between charges, and they set their plan in motion to separate me from my brother. Her reward would be the sum of five thousand pounds to settle herself into a life nearer what she should have had. Wickham had claimed such a sum would be nothing, as once he had power over Miss Darcy, her brother would stop at nothing to ensure her safety, her dowery was just the beginning of what he could demand. All of Pemberley's wealth would be at his disposal. Wickham had assured her there would be no chance the dowry would not be promptly delivered, nor would my brother stall for an annulment. Mr. Wickham promised her that when he sent his letter demanding my fortune, he would threaten to use me like a back ally whore to earn coin until my funds were delivered.
Forgive me for writing so plainly, I wished for you to understand why I am so grateful my brother arrived when he did. I know not was said next, I fainted. When I awoke, my brother would say no more on the topic, only that he was so very grateful that I was safe. He insisted none of it was my fault, it was Wickham's revenge for no longer covering his debts and that his childhood friend's perfidy had been known to him for some time. He, however, did not wish to grieve my father or myself by relaying the details of such sordid affairs. He did, however, make me come to understand that Mr. Wickham's debts (both gambling and to merchants) were many, as were his misdeeds toward woman.
I kept to my rooms in grief and shame. Some hours later Mr. Wickham called, unaware of my brother's arrival. I heard their argument though I made every effort not too. I had heard more than enough from Mrs. Younge to stifle my regard. As horrible as what Mrs. Younge had said was, what Mr. Wickham said was worse still. He taunted my brother that he came to ruin me, and that I would have gladly let him. Oh, the shame I felt then! I beg you not to believe it of me! I am so grateful that after what had done, my brother still did not believe it. The man downstairs cursing and taunting my brother in no way resembled the man who had been courting me. I lack the words to describe the fool I felt. The signs that he was not what he seemed had been there all along. The way he made me feel guilty and disloyal to him every time I asked if he had mailed the letter yet. The way he made feel silly every time I set a proper boundary, like when he called. I wished for everything to be properly done, and respectable, and he would make me feel a child for it but would speak to me with reverence when I bent the rules or made exceptions for him. I was completely blind to the manipulations. Even Mrs. Younge, she would make me convince her to grant some allowance because he was my father's godson, all the while she was scheme to draw us together. It convinced it me it was my idea!
As badly as I felt for myself, I felt much worse for Fitzwilliam. During the course of their argument, it became apparent this was not the first time Mr. Wickham had convinced someone to betray my brother. Fitzwilliam was mocked mercilessly by Mr. Wickham, he insisted everyone favored him, first our father, then a great list of people I'm not acquainted with, and then finally he said I had chosen him over Fitzwilliam too! That is when I found my courage, I felt as though I had committed treason against the one person I could trust. I was instantly done the stairs declaring that I choose Fitzwilliam, he is the better man! Mr. Wickham snarled at me, and declared my only value was in my thirty thousand pounds. Fitzwilliam could have me. Mr. Wickham finally left and I fell into Fitzwilliam's arms weeping and apologizing. I thank God, I have not seen him again. I am disgusted with myself, but I am afraid of him.
You can imagine my grief when I discovered your disagreement with my brother was rooted in the actions he took to protect me, though Fitzwilliam denies it is in any way my fault. Had I not behaved so foolishly he would not worry so for my future. I believe he would have never interfered with your sister if he was not afraid my misdeeds would somehow be exposed. As you can imagine, I easily believe Mr. Wickham would be careless with my reputation. If it ever became known that I had consented to an elopement with the son of my father's steward, society would never forgive me, though Fitzwilliam has. In seems at the heart of his plan was to put me in the care of someone who would not abuse me, should it become known. For that purpose, your sister's feelings did not receive the consideration they so deserved. I beg you would forgive my brother, his dealings were not, as you now see, unkindly meant. I am ashamed that I have brought so much unhappiness on so many. Not least of all, my brother, who I think must be in love with you. He wrote often of you both in Hertfordshire and Kent. In his last letter from Aunt Catherine's, I could feel the joy in his words as a read them, he was so looking forward to introducing us. I think he must have meant to ask for your hand. I breaks my heart to know that after everything he has done for me, I might be the cause of him losing the woman he loves. He has never before written me of another woman, aside to tell me who was in his company, but never with so much detail, and never with praise. I felt I knew you before I met you. He is the best judge of character that I know, as he trusts you, so do I.
Pray, do not let my misdeeds be what separates you. I could never forgive myself if my actions lead to his unhappiness. Please know I would never behave so badly again. I have learned my lesson, and it was a hard one. I understand if you still think very ill of me, but I beg you would not fault him for attempting to protect me.
Yours,
Miss Georgianna Darcy
Elizabeth closed the letter, shocked. Poor Miss Darcy. Elizabeth could hold no part of this against her, nor could she fault Mr. Darcy as a brother. She could not fully acquit him of cruelty towards Jane, but he was not entirely unpardonable now. Miss Darcy was in every way deserving of Mr. Darcy's protection, many older brothers would have married her off immediately, and washed their hands of her. Elizabeth was grateful for Miss Darcy's sake that he had not, she wasn't ready wed and would have suffered even more had she been thrown into a marriage of convenience. She knew not what to make of Miss Darcy's assertions that Mr. Darcy loved her, he had claimed no such thing, but neither had she let him finish what he had meant to relay. Hunsford felt so long ago, yet only a few days had passed.
A knock at the door startled her, hiding the letter, she answered it. A maid was at the door to deliver a message that Lady Catherine required her company in breakfast room in one hour. Elizabeth sighed, thanked the maid and asked her to return in one quarter of an hour to help her dress.
Knowing she had little time, she sat to quickly compose a letter.
My dear Miss Darcy,
I apologize most profusely for my late reply and pray it has not caused you undue concern. I am not, at present, situated with my relations in Cheapside, though I hope to soon join them. Your letter naturally took some time to reach me as I am currently staying with your Aunt Lady Catherine. Please be assured, in this your brother is quite right, you are not in any way to blame. I could not be brought to think ill of you for all the world. You may rely upon my discretion; indeed, I mean discreetly return your letter to you when next we meet. I thought at first to burn it for your sake, but I would not have you suffer the anxiety of wondering if it was truly gone from this world. You may see to the task yourself. You may rely upon my friendship, and if you choose to include my sister in your confidence, know that she would never betray you.
Most Sincerely Yours,
Elizabeth Bennet
She had no intention of ever addressing Miss Darcy's presumptions about her brother's feelings. It could only embarrass them all. Whatever he had felt then, he could surely not feel now, and she thought it likely the shy young girl had read too much into her brother's missives. She remembered with regret her words as they danced, how he must fear for his sister right now! She now understood what he was about, to what his questions tended, he must have known something of the content of his sister's letter. How strange their conversation now seemed! Even after what he had done to Jane, Elizabeth could not wish further heart ache on the brother described in Miss Darcy's letter. She rang for the maid and requested a servant be dispatched to deliver the note at once. The servants should think nothing amiss with a letter being sent from one young lady to another, and of two houses so closely connected, it would be assumed they were acquainted. If Lady Catherine became aware of her note, she could confess Colonel Fitzwilliam's introduction and nothing more.