Page 2 of Master of Himself

Of course, Georgiana knew nothing of Darcy’s past disputes with George Wickham. However, recalling his most recent confrontation with his former friend, he suspected some scheme was afoot. The last he’d heard, George hadn’t a feather to fly with. How had he secured the funds to travel to Kent and pay for lodgings? “Does he have friends in Ramsgate?”

“None that I know of, except for Mrs Younge and me.”

Darcy couldn’t fathom how the head mistress of a seminary for young ladies could be acquainted with the likes of George Wickham, the scourge of Derbyshire.

“I knew you wouldn’t mind my seeing George, especially since Papa loved him like a son.”

An ominous chill crept into his core. This sounded eerily similar to the argument Wickham had used to coerce Darcy into cancelling a previous agreement. “Do you have plans to see him again?”

“Oh yes, and I hope you’ll join us. We’re betrothed to be married,” she said with a radiant smile.

“Betrothed?” he said in a sharp tone. “How is this possible without my consent?”

She flinched and hung her head. “George was afraid you would disapprove.”

“I certainly do not approve, nor should any respectable man offer marriage to a young lady without her guardian’s knowledge.”

Keeping her focus on the floor, she wrung her hands. “That’s precisely what he thought you would say,” she said in a meek voice. “But sometimes when two people love each other, and the world is against them, there’s nothing else to do but elope to the border.”

“Elope! Dear God, don’t tell me you agreed to this scheme,” he said, aghast at her imprudence. “It’s scandalous. You would be in disgrace for the rest of your life—to say nothing of the degradation to the Darcy name.”

Georgiana sniffed into her handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam. Please don’t be cross with me.”

Clenching his jaw to regain control of his temper, he gently held his trembling sister in his arms. “This isn’t your fault, Georgiana. George Wickham is well aware of the unseemliness of Gretna marriages and is perfectly willing to subject you to the scorn of the world to secure your dowry. He’s unworthy of you.” What’s more, he suspected her companion had conspired with Wickham and arranged for him to meet Georgiana.

Now in a rage, Darcy called for Mrs Younge. After a brief interview, his suspicions were confirmed – she and Wickham had persuaded Georgiana to agree to the elopement. He discharged her immediately and had her removed from the house. He then composed a letter to advise his former friend that there would be no elopement and sent a footman to deliver it to Wickham’s lodgings. An hour later, he had the satisfaction of learning that Wickham had left the area.

At first light the next day, he set out on the road back to London. Georgiana wept all the way home.

***

A Warm September Evening

Possessed of a large inheritance and educated at the finest university in the kingdom, Charles Bingley longed to live the life of a gentleman on an estate of his own. Despite his roots in trade, his fortune now opened doors that had been closed to his late father.

Although he currently resided at his brother-in-law’s house on Grosvenor Street, he liked to imagine himself sitting at the head of the table, entertaining his friends and hosting grand parties at his own manor house, just like his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Nothing prevented him from realising his dream, except that he had no idea how to go about finding a suitable property. Fortunately, Darcy had plenty of connections to assist with that endeavour, and Charles intended to ask for his friend’s advice at his earliest opportunity.

This evening, however, he put that matter aside to devote himself to the pursuit of an angel. Miss Destiny Haversham had graced him with the honour of sitting beside her at an open-air performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Vauxhall Gardens. Although Shakespearean plays were far from his favourite pastime, they were deuced dull in all honesty, being in this fair maiden’s company had made it all worthwhile. The lady’s spinster aunt had been a bit of a bother, but since she was Destiny’s chaperone, Charles had endured her frequent interruptions.

After the theatre company had taken their final bows, he escorted Miss Destiny through the crush of the crowd towards her waiting conveyance. “Did you enjoy the performance, Mr Bingley?” she inquired.

“It was entirely delightful.” Truth be told, he hadn’t paid much attention to the players. Instead, he had spent the evening admiring Destiny’s charms. Just eighteen and recently out to society, this fair-haired, blue-eyed beauty had thoroughly captivated him.

“Will I see you at the assembly tomorrow night, Mr Bingley?” Destiny asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. “May I reserve the first set with you?”

“Oh, Mr Bingley, how thoughtful you are.”

In the next moment, they came upon Darcy, his sister, and her new companion, Mrs Annesley. Charles introduced the party to Miss Destiny and her aunt, Miss Haversham. “What a splendid performance this evening,” he said.

Darcy agreed. “We were just saying the same.”

An elderly man with a long, white beard stepped forward, blocking their progress. Since the man wore a flowing black robe with a hood over his wildly unkempt white hair, Charles assumed that he must be an actor in tonight’s play, although he couldn’t fathom why the man hadn’t changed out of his costume on such a warm evening.

Shaking a gnarled fist, the old man glared at Darcy. “You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, with meekness and humility; but your heart is crammed with arrogancy, spleen and pride.”