Page 31 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

“Georgiana had written to me,” I continued, “that she had been courted by a man who professed to love her, but was of much lower status—being the son of a steward. She was sure Mr. Darcy would not approve of their marriage.”

“And the express? Mr. Darcy appeared extremely vexed.”

“Georgiana’s dowry is thirty thousand pounds, a veritable fortune! It was certain that the man was a fortune-hunter. Who else would court a fifteen-year-old girl and suggest they elope and marry in Scotland? The express was sent to his son Fitzwilliam to have him immediately go to Ramsgate, where Georgiana was staying with her companion.”

“An elopement which certainly did not occur,” said Mama. “I can see why the girl was so emotional upon meeting you. But I am surprised she was not angry that you had betrayed a confidence to her father.”

“I truly did not know how to act, but then I thought of what you would do. If Georgiana had been Jane or me, you would have counselled caution and prudence: that a man who truly loved us would fight for his love; and then, no matter how long it took, convince her father that he was a proper, respectable gentleman, able to support the daughter irrespective of his humble origins. I felt it was my duty to inform Mr. Darcy, for I could not countenance the young girl throwing away her life on such recklessness—though I feared in doing so, that I would lose Georgiana’s trust, likely forever.”

“Oh, Lizzy. I am so proud of you. You saved the girl from a very improvident union. Yet, there are some things that puzzle me: you said he was the son of a steward. But how did he discover Miss Darcy’s dowry? Such things aren’t spoken of in polite company, and she is a most proper young lady. And how did he gain her admiration so quickly, especially with a companion present?”

I had never thought of it; indeed, it was very strange. “Perchance he was already acquainted—maybe a family friend.”

Mama’s expression grew troubled. “Did she describe him in her letters? Perhaps she didn’t name him, but used an initial instead?”

“She called him G. She said he had a good figure, pleasing manners—like a gentleman.”

Mama looked at me with disquiet, putting her hand to her mouth. “Who do we know, Lizzy, who fits that description, the son of a steward, comes from Derbyshire, and seeks out young women of fortune?”

The answer came in but an instant. “George Wickham!” I exclaimed. “Surely not! But, I confess, the similarities are too close to be dismissed.”

“On the morrow, I shall speak with Mr. Darcy,” said Mama, her manner emphatic. “If it truly is Wickham who attempted to seduce Miss Darcy, then the good people of Meryton must be warned immediately of his manipulative and deceitful nature. Miss King is certainly in danger. I will have Mr. Darcy send an express to Sir William—let us hope the young lady remains safe.”

We dressed in our night rails and climbed under the coverlets of the bed. The evening was mild, and the bed cosy.

“Lizzy, before you drift off to sleep,” Mama said softly, “today, above Loughrigg Tarn, you drew the most beautiful sketch. You certainly have a talent which I never suspected.”

Tears moistened my eyes. “Oh, Mama,” I cried, rolling over and embracing her. “I never meant to disappoint you. But it was not me, it was Kitty who drew the scene—she has such skill, so much more than me.”

Mama was silent for a long while, then pulled me into a close embrace. “Dearest, you can never disappoint me. If little Kitty lives on inside you, that is a miracle in itself: that she, who never saw the world, can now see through your eyes and bring such joy to this world. Truly, my darling, it is a gift you must treasure. Your talent—because it is yours, Lizzy—is so very, very special.

* * *

Chapter 14

Windermere

“Yes, Mrs. Bennet, it was Wickham who tried to elope with Georgiana.” Mr. Darcy was already seated at breakfast when we joined him at the table. The rest of his party had not yet come down. “Let me tell you of him. George Wickham was the son of a most respectable man, who managed the Pemberley estates for many years. His loyal service naturally inspired me to look kindly on his son. I was, in all honesty, too generous to the boy, who was also my godson. Pemberley paid for his schooling and later his years at Cambridge—no small gift, since his own father, always in straits thanks to his wife’s extravagance, could never have afforded him a gentleman’s education.

“To my cost, I enjoyed Wickham’s company. His manners were always pleasant; I thought highly of him and hoped he would enter the church. I intended to provide him a living. My son Fitzwilliam warned me about his character, but in my pride, I ignored him. Where Fitzwilliam was reserved, Wickham was outgoing; where my son was cautious, Wickham was open and charming. At the time, I took Fitzwilliam’s hesitation for jealousy, since Wickham was always quick with a compliment and could enliven any gathering.”

“I rather think,” I interrupted, “that I might have fallen under his spell myself, if he hadn’t first set his sights on Mrs. Bennet. I suspect his mercenary nature betrayed him—my own fortune, modest as it is, might have tempted him to try his arts on me, were not my mother’s larger.”

I caught a look on Mr. Darcy’s face that I’d never seen before. Mama blushed at my mention of Mr. Wickham’s attempts to flatter and flirt with her. The extra colour suited her, her lace cap glowing in the morning sun streaming through the windows, her golden hair softly framed.

Mr. Darcy gathered himself. “I offered Wickham the living at Kympton—when he had completed his terms at Cambridge and been ordained—but he refused rather bluntly, saying he wished to study law instead. He insisted the thousand pounds I’d promised wasn’t enough to support him. By then, I’d come to see his true character, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut him off, with all his father had done for Pemberley. Against Fitzwilliam’s advice, I gave him another three thousand pounds, thinking that would end our connection.”

“You are truly generous, so like my Mr. Bennet,” Mama murmured, squeezing my hand.

“I should finish the story,” said Mr. Darcy, refilling his coffee. “For three years, we heard almost nothing of him. Sadly, he failed to attend his father’s funeral, though we sent word to his last address. When he finally reappeared, he was in dire straits and came to beg for more money. Four thousand pounds gone in three years! He claimed the law was unprofitable and now wished to be ordained. But I sent him away—Pemberley was finished with him.”

“I imagine he meant to revenge himself on you, Mr. Darcy,” I said. “His anger at being turned out must have matched his desperation. Mama, to think we welcomed him into our home! And poor Georgiana. But what about her companion?”

“Mrs. Younge. She was the one who proposed Georgiana go to Ramsgate—and Wickham soon followed. There was a prior acquaintance between them, which we only discovered too late. With Mrs. Younge’s encouragement, Wickham made love to Georgiana, who always remembered him fondly from her childhood.”

Just then, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered. “What’s this, Uncle?” he asked, sitting down. “What of Wickham? Fitz and I lost track of him after he left Ramsgate.”

“He’s in Hertfordshire,” said Mr. Darcy. “He’s joined the militia stationed at Meryton, where he’s spreading his stories and charm. Fortunately, Mrs. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth saw through him. We didn’t tell you, but it was Georgiana’s correspondence with Miss Elizabeth that warned us of his attempt to persuade her to believe herself in love and agree to an elopement.”