Page 51 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

Darcy looked to his cousin. “Richard, what am I to do?”

“We must first learn whether she is expecting. If she is not, she will live with you and your family for the rest of her days. If she carries his child, you must do as you have done for the other women he ruined. You must find her a husband.”

“That is too cruel. She is a child and was deceived. To compel her to marry a man she neither knows nor loves, a man who would accept her only for the financial advantage, seems too heartless.”

He tossed the letter onto a table and crossed to the hearth.

“Perhaps we could emigrate to America. I have read of New York and Boston. I could purchase land and build a house. We might live there four or five years, then return with her child and say she had been widowed.”

“You need not go so far. Take her to your estate in Scotland and wait it out there. You have often said the place requires improvements.”

“I could. I could make it known that the soldier she married was killed in the war and left her a widow.”

Richard said, “This marks the end of any prospect of an attachment to Miss Ramsbury.”

Darcy stared into the fire as disappointment over his own lost hopes mingled with his grief for Georgiana's ruined life.

After a time, he said, “She is a rarity, Richard. A woman without peer, for she is as amiable as she is beautiful. I have never met a woman of good family, generous dowry, and beauty who was not also proud and arrogant. But Miss Ramsbury has a kind heart, a generous spirit, and a ready laugh. It is as you say. As things stand now, I cannot marry for another three or four years, not until this lies behind us and I know the truth has been buried. I have no wish to burden my wife and children with the stain of ruin.”

* * *

Darcy stood by the graveside, his head bowed.

“What are you thinking, Cousin?”

Darcy raised his head.

“Wickham has brought so much sorrow and trouble upon us through the years. There has always been something to repair in his wake. Now he has ruined the life of my innocent sister. I should have sent him to the debtors' prison years ago so that he could never again darken our lives. But I did not. He had been my father's favorite, and I was too forbearing where Wickham was concerned. My weakness has cost my sister dearly.”

The two men remained in the churchyard of St. George's Parish Church for another hour, speaking of their former friend. They reflected upon how they had gradually grown apart, the conduct that had estranged them from him, and, at last, how he had preyed upon an innocent child.

“Darcy, Wickham has met his own justice. Let us go, or we shall not reach London before dark.”

Darcy put on his hat and followed his cousin from the churchyard.

Chapter 22: Reunion

The carriage door opened, and Darcy stepped down onto the pavement before Darcy House, Richard close behind him. Two footmen began unloading the trunks as the men entered through the front door. Darcy had just handed his greatcoat and hat to the butler when he heard a small shriek.

“Brother! You are here. Richard!”

He looked up to see Georgiana hurrying down the stairs. She ran straight into Darcy's arms and burst into tears.

He led her into the drawing room while Richard quietly closed the door behind them.

Darcy held her as she wept without restraint. Over her head, his eyes met Richard's. Both men looked grave.

After several minutes, Georgiana drew back and accepted the handkerchief Darcy held out. He led her to a couch and the two men settled on either side of her.

“I beg your pardon. I am really quite well, considering.” She dabbed at her eyes. “That monster might have beaten me. He was in such a rage. But Mrs. Younge hurried me upstairs, and we each packed a bag, then slipped down the servants' stairs and escaped through the back door. She used my money to hire a post chaise. We reached London in the evening, and she left me.” Georgiana dried her eyes and blew her nose.

“But you were not here, and I did not know what to do. When I learned you were on your way to Ramsgate, I sent an express and prayed Mr. Wickham would not intercept it.” She raised her large blue eyes to her brother.

“It was all so horrible, Fitzwilliam.” Her voice trembled. “We married at a chapel in a village near Ramsgate. It was such a charming building, the weather was fine, and Mr. Wickham was everything amiable and loving.” She began to weep again, her face buried in her brother's handkerchief. Richard wiped at his eyes, while Darcy sat motionless as tears slipped silently down his cheeks.

“But it was not three days later that we were fleeing from him. He had been drinking, and he was violent and enraged. And now I am ruined, and perhaps I even carry his child. I had never seen him in his cups. It was disgusting. Terrifying. He pushed me so hard that I struck the sideboard and fell to the floor. That was when Mrs. Younge helped me to my feet, and we fled up the servants' stairs, though we did so quietly lest we draw his attention. I feared he would come after me and drag me back.” She sniffed, then stifled another sob.

“And to think, I believed myself bound to that monster for the rest of my days. But when we arrived here, I read Mrs. Younge’s letter to you and learned the full depravity of what he had done to me. Instead of being shackled to him, I am ruined and condemned to a life of shame and disgrace.”