Chapter Text
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my beta readers Betty Jo, Steeleo, and Brooke who read the manuscript and provided extremely valuable feedback on it. I also want to thank my editor DJ Hendrickson. Their help was valuable, important, and made this a better novel. I am deeply grateful for the time they spent reading and for telling me what they thought.
Pemberley, November 1811
Georgiana’s eyes were red. Her tears had come and gone many times and left a salty residue on her cheeks. “Please, please. Don’t make me marry him, don’t make me marry anybody. I beg you — anything, please, anything but that. I don’t want—”
“Georgie—” Colonel Fitzwilliam snapped harshly, “you ought to have considered that before you let your father’s beloved pleb get a child on you. Mr. Carteret will accept Wickham’s child. You shall marry him, and marry him fast.”
Georgiana knelt on the rug and embraced Darcy’s trousers as she broke into fresh sobs and begged again not to be made to marry. She trembled, and her posture hid the small bulge in his sister's body which grew more prominent day by day.
This was his fault. Darcy could not let Georgiana suffer for his failing. But what to do? He wanted to rip at his hair. Darcy took her hand and softly pulled Georgiana up to stand again. He saw his cousin’s annoyance at how softly he treated the girl, but Colonel Fitzwilliam had not been the one stupid enough to trust Wickham’s cousin Mrs. Younge with stewardship of Georgiana. The woman had always lived on Darcy’s land and appeared of good character, but he should have known.
Never again. He must never again fail to ensure Georgiana’s happiness.
But how?
Until today he had assumed Georgiana wanted her reputation restored and protected by marriage to a respectable man. It had not been easy to find a trustworthy man who would accept a fifteen-year-old bride pregnant with another man’s child.
Mr. Carteret had four healthy sons, the youngest of whom would enter Oxford in a year, from a previous marriage and his estate earned a little more than a thousand a year. He would have been a barely allowable match for Miss Darcy, the debutante with thirty thousand pounds. Miss Darcy, the ruined and shamed girl, had different expectations. Darcy distantly knew Mr. Carteret, who was the much older brother of a friend at Oxford. They had been acquainted almost a decade and Darcy had little fear of him mistreating his sister.
Reason said he should make Georgiana marry him, now that Colonel Fitzwilliam had convinced Carteret to accept his sister.
“Stop crying. You will marry. You will be happier than you deserve, and you will no longer be our problem.” Colonel Fitzwilliam wrinkled his nose and flapped his hands as if wafting the air coming from Georgiana away from him. “You gain far better than you deserve.”
Darcy pressed his hand over his eyes. He could not look easily on her pain. “Georgie, what do you want? What do you expect if you do not marry Carteret?”
“Don’t—” Fitzwilliam’s face screwed up savagely. “By God, don’t let her tears make you an idiot. She needs to marry.”
Georgiana’s pale blue eyes were wide and shot with red. Darcy ignored his cousin and brushed the tears off her face with his fingers. “Georgie, we will not force you — Fitzwilliam, we will not — but what hope do you have for the future if you do not marry?”
“I’m scared — he was so unkind after we…and it hurt, I never expected it to hurt so much — Fitzwilliam, I am so scared. Don’t make me face another man like that. He only wants my fortune as well. Maybe…maybe some far-off estate, and…and I would live there alone forever and never bother anyone again.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes and sneered. “You are a child living out fantastical notions.”
Fitzwilliam was right. Just as they had proven incapable of caring for her, Georgiana had proven incapable of caring for herself. But she had once chosen wisely.
When Georgiana and Wickham arrived in Scotland two days ahead of Darcy’s pursuit, Georgiana had thrown herself at the knees of the vicar Wickham found to do the ceremony and begged all of the witnesses to keep her away from Mr. Wickham until her brother arrived.
Darcy hoped at first the damage from her elopement would be modest. Georgiana was gaunt and cried for weeks. She did not play her music anymore — though due to his anger at her, Darcy may not have permitted it during the first weeks. During those simpler days, he alternated between rage at his sister and a fiercer, deeper and truer rage at himself. He had decided they would go to Matlock so Georgiana could stay with her aunt and uncle for a few weeks, and be lectured about her bad behavior by a person who felt less guilt than he did.
Then Georgiana’s courses came late.
Now the situation was pregnant.
Darcy sneered in amused disgust at his pun. Georgiana had said nothing, so he had not thought her to be violated. Until Colonel Fitzwilliam returned from the continent with his regiment and a harsh new look in his eyes, Darcy’s prickly and proud efforts to find a husband for his sister had borne no fruit.
And now she did not want one.
“Georgie” — Colonel Fitzwilliam sneered again — “it surprises me not one damned bit—"
“In front of a lady?” Darcy cut his cousin off.
“Weeell…” Colonel Fitzwilliam dragged the word out. He curved his mouth into a hard smirk. “She abandoned such designation.” He patted Georgiana’s shoulder, and though usually affectionate, Georgiana flinched away. “An illegitimate child! Lady is not the word customarily used.”
“I know I am no lady — but don’t make me marry. Please.” Georgiana looked at Colonel Fitzwilliam’s stony face.”
“It surprises me not a damn that Wicky proved a bad lover. No woman ever accused me of such. A man can act with his tongue and fingers to make the act ecstatic for the woman. I will give Mr. Carteret advice on how to properly please a woman — with so many children from his first marriage, I doubt he needs it — we shall write into the marriage settlement that he must use that advice to enjoy the income from your fortune.”
Georgiana’s eyes and mouth popped wide. Darcy exclaimed, "Do not speak so crudely in front of my sister."
“God’s sake! No longer a child, and she wishes to not be a gentlewoman.” Fitzwilliam grabbed a decanter from the card table. He poured himself a stiff tumbler of brandy and swallowed it in a fast jerky motion. His hands trembled the way Darcy had seen several times since he’d returned from his long sojourn in the Peninsula. “You damn fools with your home disputes. I found a blasted husband for her, and now you plan to waste my effort out of a stupid desire to let a child have her way.”
That was the core of the matter, was it not? Georgiana was still a child.
Darcy said firmly, “No, Georgiana, you need not marry Mr. Carteret. I will make no further effort to convince you, and the entire effort was mistaken from the first. As our cousin has repeated, you are yet a child, and a child is not fit for the duties of marriage.”
Darcy’s eyes fell to the bulge in his sister’s belly. A child was not fit to raise a child either. But she would have him to help her and care for her.
He would make her happy.
“Damn, Darcy! Damn. You are determined.” Colonel Fitzwilliam spat. He poured brandy into the thick-bottomed cup again. “My God, people are dying out there.” Fitzwilliam waved his hand vaguely in all directions. He drank the amber liquor in a single swallow. “Enjoy your way. Choices, Georgie, Choices. Respectable society will ostracize you, no woman of fashion will speak to you, and that stain will settle on your brother and my family. I cannot care. I'll be killed when I return to the continent, and I am damned tired of wasting what time I have in England on you. Darcy won’t make you marry, and I can find other disreputable woman whose company I will enjoy enormously more. Goodbye, to both of you, and I am damned sure you’ll enjoy the adieu.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam slammed the crystal tumbler so hard it cracked. He frowned at it for a long time. He took the bottle and drank a long swig.
“Richard, do not leave like this— you are not well. You have been like this since you arrived. I have been absorbed in my own worries, and—”
“Damn you, Darcy. I wasted two weeks of the time I have before they throw me back into that furnace finding your slutlike sister a husband, and you could not be…be…deuced to use my effort. Damn you.”
The door slammed as the officer left the room. Darcy sat down and pressed his long fingers against his forehead. He should pursue his cousin. He already missed Colonel Fitzwilliam. But he felt too sick to argue or beg with him — and he was right. Darcy was throwing away the respectability of them all, and of his ancient name, for his sister.
Georgiana looked between him and the door as she continued to cry.
Deep in his soul Darcy knew he had made the right choice. Georgiana was his ward. She depended upon him. It was his duty to care for her, no matter what.
And he loved her.