Author's Note: I started this story over because I was struggling with where/how to go next. I felt like it began in the middle and needed to flesh out the beginning better before I could continue. It is obviously a work in progress and I welcome helpful feedback. Please let me know what you think.
Also, yes, I write for publication. At some point, I will finish this story and it will eventually come down off this site and be published on Kindle and in Kindle Unlimited. I appreciate the community of readers who help me figure out the story, give suggestions and commentary, and generally help me write a better story. I feel it's a win-win situation: you the reader get to read my story as I'm writing it and hopefully enjoy it, letting me know what you think. As the author, I get feedback on what works and what doesn't and suggestions to help me improve. If you don't like that I do this, then you have the power of choice and can simply choose not to read what I've written.
Chapter 3
Darcy arrived home from Cambridge for the summer only the day before. He had worked with his instructors to finish early so he would read for his exams in the following November instead of waiting until May. His father had been unwell for much of the last year, and Darcy wanted to finish as quickly as possible so he could be at home with his father and provide what assistance he could.
That morning, Darcy had already argued with his father. Wickham had run up yet another large debt in Lambton, and Darcy was trying to convince his father to stop enabling his godson's reckless behaviour. Wickham had a habit of accumulating debts he had no intention of paying and ruining the lives of servants and tradesmen's daughters. Darcy knew of two women left with child, abandoned and cast off from their families. He had managed to help them find decent men to marry, but his father remained unmoved. Nothing Darcy said could convince him to cast off the scoundrel.
Since his father still refused to listen, Darcy stormed from the house in frustration. Naturally, he turned to the stables and saddled his horse without asking for help, intent on a bracing ride to work out the frustrations which would no doubt grow as the summer progressed.
He had ridden for perhaps forty-five minutes when he heard a woman's cry. Stopping, he quickly dismounted, discovering Wickham attempting to force himself on a young woman. Judging from her clothing, she appeared to be a gentlewoman, and she was obviously not a willing participant. Darcy was a little surprised at how fiercely she fought against Wickham, and he was horrified to realise his former friend actually seemed to be enjoying her struggles.
Without a word, he struck Wickham across the jaw. Wickham fell away from her, leaving her legs exposed, which she quickly attempted to cover. However, Darcy immediately looked away when Wickham tried to return the strike.
For a moment, Darcy's focus narrowed solely on Wickham. They exchanged several blows, each striking the other, but soon Darcy landed a decisive blow to the man's temple, causing him to black out.
"Come, miss, I will take you to my home where we can explain to my father what has happened and then see about returning you to your family. I promise you, my father and I will say nothing of this, but I admit, as much as I am sorry for what has happened to you, perhaps it might be enough to finally convince my father of Wickham's misdeeds."
Darcy did not think she would respond for a moment, but slowly, she nodded. He led her toward his horse, intending to help her onto its back so she would not have to walk. He knew his servants would be discreet, and she appeared young enough that no one would assume the worst.
Elizabeth shied away from the horse. "I … I cannot."
"I will ride behind you, Miss. I will keep you safe. There is no need to worry."
"I cannot mount."
"You must. Otherwise, Wickham will wake and arrive at Pemberley before me. If he does that, your reputation will be ruined, and mine will likely be ruined along with it."
Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Elizabeth nodded. "Very well."
He assisted her into the saddle and quickly mounted behind her. They promptly returned to the house—they had not been that far away, and Darcy led her directly to his father's study. He had stopped only once, speaking to the housekeeper in low tones to briefly tell her what had happened and to ask for her assistance. Mrs. Reynolds wanted Wickham gone from Pemberley almost as much as Darcy himself.
"Father, I found this young lady being assaulted by Wickham. I asked her to tell you for herself what happened, praying you will finally believe me and come to realise the menace he has become."
The elderly man stared at his son for a second. "I cannot believe you would go this far in an attempt to make me believe you. What is the meaning of this farce? Have you found a woman to lie for you to persuade me?"
"Mr. Darcy, I do not know what lies between you, your son, and this other man, but I can assure you, this young man, who I can only assume is also Mr. Darcy, did not harm me. He protected me, striking the man he referred to only as Wickham, who had introduced himself to me as Fitzwilliam Darcy, stating that he was the master of this estate. I was sitting by the lake, and he attempted to assault me when I refused his offer of assistance. If this gentleman had not come upon us when he did and struck the other man across the face, he would have ruined me completely. I fought as much as I could—see the blood under my nails from where I scratched him. This man has no injuries on his face or arms from my scratching him. The other man will have these injuries. That should tell you who the culprit is, even if you refuse to believe me or your son. I do not know what is happening here, nor do I want to be a pawn for any of you. No one paid me anything to make me tell this story. You can choose to believe me or not, but I was promised assistance and safe passage back to my relations in Lambton."
Both Darcy men were amazed at this woman's standing up to them in this way. The elder Darcy had a hard time believing that Wickham was as evil as his son always tried to claim, but he could not deny what this girl had said and her appearance. Even now, she was pale and despite her bravado had obviously been frightened. A bruise was already developing on her cheek and her arms and her gown was torn. Instead of facing the bigger issue of Wickham, he decided to ask the easier question for now. "Where are your relations?"
"We are staying at the inn in Lambton. My aunt is the former Madeline Chambers, the daughter of a former rector there. She now lives in London with my uncle. We travelled to Derbyshire this summer so she could visit some old friends. I apologise if I was on the estate in a place where I should not have been. Apparently, young women alone are not safe on Pemberley lands. I was assured that it was so, or that I would have never strayed so far from my relations."
Mr. Darcy rang the bell pull, and Mrs. Reynolds bustled in a moment later. "Please help this young lady. Ensure the servants do not gossip about her state, but let me know if she needs to be seen by anyone." He gave his housekeeper a pointed glance and she nodded in understanding. The housekeeper quickly bustled her off. "Did you get her name, son?"
Darcy laughed. "No, we never got that far, but she certainly is an interesting sort of girl. Do you believe her? Or me? You must know I would never force myself on any woman, much less a mere slip of a girl, but I will show you that I have no scratches anywhere on my person. My knuckles bruised because Wickham and I fought, but I am not scratched."
"I find myself convinced without going to such extremes, Fitzwilliam. I intend to hear George out, but I am inclined to believe the young lady's account of events."
"But not mine? Had I not convinced her to accompany me and tell you what happened, would you still be convinced I was 'mistaken', as you have claimed so many times before?" Darcy's voice rose with frustration.
"No, Fitzwilliam, it is … it is …" He trailed off, uncertain how to continue. Before he could collect his thoughts, his son spoke again.
"Father, I cannot understand why, for all the years we have been in university, even before really, you have always been willing to believe everything that reprobate says to you, always claiming that I misunderstood the situation or I was mistaken in some way. I have shown you the debts in both his name and my own—the young lady just informed you that, yet again, he used my name in an attempt to blacken it. Would you have thought me the villain had she gone back to the village and claimed I assaulted her? Time and time again I have shown you the forged notes he has written, claiming that I had authorised him to borrow in my name, and you have never believed the proof I brought you. Why is this girl's story so much more believable than mine? You met her once. I am your son!"
His father's head dropped, shaking it for a moment, but he made no answer. Still angry, the younger Darcy stalked from the room, glad to have finally convinced his father of Wickham's true nature but unable to understand why his word had not been trusted in this matter.
He had not gone far before he ran into the girl. "Excuse me, miss. Did Mrs. Reynolds take care of you?"
"I am well, but I am ready to return to Lambton. The servant stepped away and I thought I would attempt to find my way to the entrance, but this house is much larger than I realised," the girl responded, her voice and tone indicating she was still affected by earlier events.
"Allow me to show you the way and arrange a carriage to take you into the town. Do you need me to accompany you to explain what happened to your aunt?"
She sighed. "Perhaps it would be best. I am Elizabeth Gardiner, by the way." She stuck out her hand in a way more common to gentlemen than ladies and surprising him, grinned pertly at him. He took it and, returning her grin, raised it to his lips instead.
"I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss Gardiner. As you have no doubt already realised, my name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. The other man you met is George Wickham, my father's godson. I believe you have finally convinced him of what George really is; I have been attempting the same for years. I suppose I should applaud you for managing to do what I have long attempted."
"I am sorry."
"For what?"
"That your father did not trust you enough. I … I understand a little of what you must feel."
"Truly?"
Elizabeth hesitated for a moment before she continued. Seeming to recognise that this young man faced similar struggles to what she had experienced as a child, she found herself telling him far more than she ought to confess to a stranger. "My mother never believed a word I said. I was … I was sent to live with my uncle after my mother blamed me for causing my sister an injury. It … it was why I was unwilling to ride your horse; my father's horse was to blame. Well, that and us being where we should not have been. But my mother believed it was my fault. She … she did not love me, did not even like me. She called me a changeling because, apparently, I should have been born a boy but was a girl instead." He watched tears form in her eyes. "Forgive me again. My aunt and uncle have encouraged me to leave it behind, and I have taken on their name instead of my father's. I am no longer that girl. I have been blessed by being placed in my aunt and uncle's home and have benefited from it far more than had I remained at Longbourn."
"Your father is a gentleman? But now you live in London?"
"Yes, my uncle is in trade. He does very well, and I was fortunate that he took me in when my father ordered me cast out from my former home."
"While my father always seemed to prefer Wickham and never would believe what I said about him, I have never believed him capable of replacing me with another, whatever Wickham may have said. I cannot imagine casting off a child or despising her for not being a boy."
"My father's estate is entailed. My mother bore five daughters; I was the second. I am not certain why I was hated in particular. My elder sister, Jane, is blonde like my mother, while I have the darker hair of my father's family. I supposed that was part of it. I was also considered troublesome since I preferred the outdoors to sitting quietly inside."
Suddenly, they arrived at the front hall. Darcy spoke: "Here we are. Let me ask for a maid to join us. I assume from your clothing that you are not yet out, but it is still necessary to protect your reputation, and mine."
"My uncle will appreciate your thoughtfulness."
The two engaged in lighter conversation during their journey into Lambton, the presence of the maid limiting the topics they could broach. Darcy accompanied Elizabeth in the inn to meet her aunt and uncle.
After exchanging pleasantries, Darcy took Mr. Gardiner aside and spoke to him about what had transpired earlier. He explained the situation with Wickham and how he had intervened to protect the young woman from harm. Mr. Gardiner listened attentively, his expression grave as he took in the details of the encounter.
"I am grateful for your intervention, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner said solemnly. "It seems we owe you a debt of gratitude for protecting our niece."
Darcy waved away the thanks, his expression serious. "I could not stand by and allow Wickham to harm her or anyone else," he replied. "I only hope she is unaffected by this event moving forward."
Mr. Gardiner nodded, his eyes flickering with concern. "We will see to it that she receives any assistance she may need," he assured Darcy. "And I trust you and your family will make sure Wickham faces the consequences of his actions."
"My father has finally come to realise that Wickham is not what he portrays. I have attempted to convince him for years that he needed to withdraw his support, but have been unable to do so. Your niece was most convincing. I think my father has finally realised that Wickham is a menace."
Gardiner clasped his hand on Darcy's shoulder. "It is sometimes hard for a man to admit when he has been wrong and that his inaction has harmed another. Give your father some time to accept what is right in front of him."
Darcy sucked in a deep breath."It is difficult, sir, but I appreciate the advice. My uncle has said something similar before; that one day, Wickham would show his true colours in a way that even he could not brush it aside. I am uncertain what will happen to him, but at the very least, I think my father will withdraw his support at Cambridge."
"Would he accept my call tomorrow to discuss what happened to my niece? If your father is protecting him, perhaps being confronted by the guardian of one of his intended victims could help. I am uncertain if I would be able to bring charges against him without harming my niece's reputation, but since she is not out yet, and frankly, of no importance in society, it could be done. She is a gentleman's daughter, and he is not a gentleman," Gardiner suggested.
"Wickham's actions are well enough known in Lambton that it might be easy to protect your niece from harm should you press charges against him. May I think on it and speak to you tomorrow when you visit? If your wife and Miss Gardiner would like to visit, we would enjoy having you all, though I realise Miss Gardiner may not want to be seen in public for a few days." Darcy was nearly holding his breath, hoping the gentleman would accept. Miss Gardiner was far too young to think about seriously, but something about the young lady drew his attention.
"I will ask my wife and send a note in the morning to let you know if just I will call or if we will all come. Elizabeth is a brave girl and may not wish to hide, especially as your staff already knows what happened today," Gardiner replied.
Feeling a weight lift from his shoulders, Darcy thanked Mr. Gardiner once more before rejoining Elizabeth and her aunt, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude for the unexpected turn of events. After only a few more minutes, he took his leave, first from the gentleman, and then from the ladies. His eyes lingered on the young lady for a few minutes, trying to assess for himself if she were well, before he finally departed.
He rode back in the carriage, wishing he had his horse with him so he could ride. After all that had transpired, he needed a hard, bruising ride for the second time that day and he briefly wondered if the entire summer would be this way. Though, if Gardiner pushed this idea of holding Wickham accountable legally, then perhaps his father would be forced to do something.