Page 20 of Dear Friend

Richard ran a hand through his ginger hair, as though it might somehow help him make sense of the matter.

“And Mrs. Younge?” he asked at last. “Surely she did not permit all this beneath her own eye.”

“Mrs. Younge is dismissed.” There was something in Darcy’s voice which caused Richard’s expression to harden before anything further had been said.

“She knew?”

“She did considerably more than know. She was party to the whole scheme. She arranged their meetings and provided Wickham every opportunity he required to press his suit without interruption.”

Richard uttered something under his breath which Darcy did not ask him to repeat.

“I have since discovered that most of the references she presented were false.”

“False?” Richard leaned forward. “But they answered your enquiries. I remember you telling me how highly she was recommended.”

“That was precisely the difficulty.”

Darcy rose again, unable any longer to remain still, and crossed towards the window.

“I never met any of those families myself. I wrote to them, and they replied. Every answer confirmed precisely what I wished to know of her character and experience.” His mouth tightened. “Mrs. Younge confessed enough at Ramsgate for me to understand how it was managed. Wickham supplied names respectable enough to satisfy the agency’s enquiries and contrived matters so that my letters received the proper answers. Whether he provided false directions, had someone within those households watching for my letters, or managed it by some other means, I do not know. Nor can I say whether he wrote the replies himself or employed another to do it.”

Richard stared at him. “Then this began before Ramsgate.”

“Long before.”

“How long?”

“Mrs. Younge claims Wickham had been looking for some means of placing a person near Georgiana since I last refused him assistance.”

The significance of that silenced Richard.

Darcy turned his gaze towards the empty grate. He remembered with painful clarity the satisfaction with which he had spoken to Richard the previous autumn. Mrs. Younge had answered every requirement. Georgiana liked her. The arrangement had appeared to prosper beyond expectation.

“I congratulated myself upon having chosen well.”

“Darcy.”

“I placed that woman beside my sister.”

Richard shook his head. “You cannot lay this entirely at your own door. We both interviewed her, remember? I saw nothing in her manner to distrust any more than you did.”

“The decision was still mine. I engaged her.”

“Wickham deceived you.” Richard held his gaze. “He deceived us.”

“And I afforded him the opportunity.”

“He has known you nearly all his life,” Richard said firmly. “He knew what you would require. He knew which assurances would satisfy you and how respectable references ought to appear. If he spent months arranging the deception expressly for you, then you were not careless merely because the deception succeeded.”

“It affords me very little comfort, however reasonable it may sound.” Darcy pressed his fingers briefly against his eyes before dropping his hand. “I ought to have met those families myself. I ought to have made further enquiries. Georgiana might have paid for my mistake with her whole future, Richard, and she is but fifteen.”

Richard settled back in his chair. For some time he said nothing, and Darcy was grateful for the silence. His cousin was angry, that much was plain, but whether with Wickham, Mrs. Younge, or himself, he did not attempt to discover.

At length Richard spoke again.

“What do you mean to do for Georgiana now? She cannot remain without a companion.”

“I have sent for Mrs. Reynolds. She will come from Pemberley and remain with Georgiana until something more permanent can be settled.”