Sudden Awakenings (The Other Paths Collection)

Chapter 38

Dear God, have mercy on them both, Darcy prayed as his horses hooves pounded the pavement. Let Elizabeth live, and help me to rescue Georgiana from Wickham’s clutches.

Darcy rode all night, only stopping to change horses. It was morning by the time he reached Gloucestershire, and not a moment too soon. The servants at Culpepper Manor told him that the family– and Georgiana– were all at the church.

“If you hurry, sir, you might make it in time for the wedding,” they told him. They gave him direction to the village church.

They expected him to be pleased, but instead, he ordered them to send for the local magistrate and have him come to the church.

Please, God, do not let it be too late.

Though the horse was tired, there was no time to exchange it for one of the Culpepper’s. Darcy kicked his heels against the animal’s side, urging him on towards the village.

The church yard was empty, save for a single carriage, with a groom standing nearby to mind it. Giving the horse over to the care of the servant, he pressed a few coins into the lad’s hand and promised to return.

Ascending the steps of the church, Darcy pushed open the heavy oak doors .

Georgiana and Wickham stood before the minister at the altar, both dressed in fine clothing. In the pews sat Mrs. Younge, along with the Culpepper family, whom Darcy recognized from the time he had met them at Georgiana’s former school.

The minister was in the middle of his address. “If anyone has reason that this man and woman should not be united in holy matrimony, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace.”

“I do.” Darcy’s voice echoed off the high ceilings of the church. Georgiana’s head whipped around, as did everyone else’s.

“Brother! You have come.”

Darcy strode forward and addressed the vicar. “I oppose this union. This child is my ward, and does not have my permission to marry. In fact, by law, this marriage cannot take place.”

Georgiana’s smile fell. “What do you mean, Fitzwilliam? We have a letter of permission in your hand, approving of the match.”

“Perhaps we had better take this to my office, so we can discuss,” the vicar suggested. Leaving the Culpeppers and Mrs. Younge behind, they followed him to a small room adjacent to the sanctuary. Georgiana took the seat facing the minister’s desk, while Wickham and Darcy remained standing.

“Reverend,” Darcy addressed. “Are you aware this lady is underage?”

“I am, sir,” he replied.

“And you are aware, I am certain, that under Hardwicke’s Law, she is unable to marry in England without the express permission of her guardians?”

“Good sir,” the vicar said to Darcy, “I can see by the lady’s reaction that you are who you say you are. However, she and her intended presented me with a letter, stating your intention to allow her to be married to this gentleman.”

“Yes, that is right, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana nodded. “I wrote to you, asking for your permission, and received a response granting it. ”

Darcy’s brow furrowed. “I never received such a letter from you, nor do I remember writing one in response. May I see the letter?”

The vicar retrieved a letter from his desk and handed it to Darcy to read. Wickham shifted his feet noticeably, and his expression appeared nervous.

Darcy scanned the letter, which did appear to contain a signed statement indicating his approval of the match between Georgiana and Wickham, however he did not recognize it.

“I never wrote this,” he declared. “This letter is, in fact, a forgery. The hand, though resembling mine, does not match. If you like, I shall prove it. Hand me that pen and paper, if you will.”

The minister complied. Darcy penned his signature, then showed it to the vicar to compare. The pen strokes spelling out “FITZWILLIAM DARCY” in Darcy’s bold hand appeared similar to that of the signature on the letter, but Darcy’s “F” appeared larger, more confident, and there was a flourish to the “Y” which was missing altogether.

“Heavens! I have almost been hoodwinked.” The minister exclaimed. “The pair of you had better explain yourselves,” he eyed Georgiana and Wickham.

“Oh, I think it is obvious who the guilty party is.” Darcy glared at Wickham, who turned pale.

Wickham gulped. “All right, I admit, it was me. I did it because I knew you would never grant your permission for one as lowborn as I to marry your sister.”

“Fiend! I will have you locked up for trying to evade the law and deceive a clergyman,” the vicar cried.

Georgiana stood up. “Oh please, sir! Do not do that. Brother,” she urged, turning to Darcy, “I did not know George had forged the letter, but I know that if he did so, it was only because of his great love for me. I know that I am still young, but if you grant us your permission, we can still be married. I love George exceedingly, and he loves me. Please do not deny us your happiness out of disgust for George’s origins.”

“Georgiana, if it were merely that, I would not stand in your way. Do you truly believe I would withhold my blessing and my permission simply because you wished to marry beneath your station? But unfortunately, there is another obstacle, which prevents you from marrying George Wickham, even if you were of age to do so without my blessing.”

Darcy withdrew the packet of letters from his breast pocket and gave them to the rector. “These letters prove that George Wickham is, in fact, the natural half-brother of Georgiana Darcy and myself.”

“Our brother?” Georgiana’s mouth hung slack. She looked at Wickham, but there was no surprise on his face. “You knew? You knew you were my brother, and you still attempted to marry me– how could you?”

“My plan would have worked if you had not shown up, Darcy,” Wickham spat.

The vicar adjusted his spectacles as he looked up from scanning one of the letters. “Well, I must say, this is most unusual. First time I have ever come across this in all my years.” He glared at Mr. Wickham. “You will most certainly face charges for this, young man! Attempting to deceive an ordained minister of the Church of England is no small matter, especially given your relationship to the intended bride.”

Georgiana burst into tears before throwing herself into Darcy’s arms.

Wickham used Darcy’s momentary distraction to push past him and dash out the door.

Darcy released Georgiana and pursued him. Wickham tore through the sanctuary, past the Culpeppers, who were clustered together, likely whispering about the whole ordeal, and into the church yard, where the magistrate and the local constabulary had just arrived on horseback. Wickham saw them and made for a nearby field .

“Apprehend that man!” Darcy shouted to them. The magistrate gave his signal, and the men surrounded Wickham before he had gone far. They escorted him back to where the magistrate waited. The magistrate listened to the testimonies of Darcy and the vicar in regards to the fraud Wickham attempted to perpetrate before taking him away in shackles.

S

Mrs. Younge, they discovered, had been in on the plot with Wickham from the start. As soon as Darcy arrived and declared that the marriage could not take place, she had slipped away and stolen the horse that Darcy had left with the Culpeppers’ groom. A search of her belongings revealed two tickets for passage on a ship to India.

Wickham confessed that he knew the marriage would not likely hold up once it was made public. Their plan had been for him to marry Georgiana and travel directly to London, where Georgiana’s dowry was being kept. He and Mrs. Younge hoped that by undertaking swift action, the fraud would not be discovered until after he had withdrawn all of Georgiana’s money from the bank. Afterwards, he and Mrs. Younge would flee to India. Darcy was grateful such a plan had not succeeded. Georgiana would have been left utterly ruined; her fortune gone and her reputation in tatters.

“I still cannot believe the lengths he would go to do this to me,” Georgiana cried. Darcy had returned with her to Culpepper Manor, where Georgiana immediately took to her room. Darcy remained with her while Mrs. Culpepper and her daughter hovered nearby.

“Why did you not tell me that he was our brother?” Georgiana asked him. “I deserved to know such a thing, Fitzwilliam. ”

Darcy sighed. “You are correct, Georgie. I should have told you. I hoped to spare you from the knowledge that our father was not everything you believed him to be.”

“But George is older than I am, that would mean…”

“Yes. Our father was unfaithful to our mother before you were even born. I was small at the time, but I will tell you what I later learned.”

Darcy shifted his position on the bed so as to be more comfortable, then began his story. “Shortly after I was born, our mother entered a deep despair, and was not herself.

“During that time, our father turned to her maid for comfort, and the maid fell with child. Wishing to provide for her and the child, he sent them both away to some forgotten village in the north, where he regularly sent funds for their care. The maid fell in love with a man by the name of Wickham, and married him, but then she became ill and died.

“It was about this time that scarlet fever was spreading through the country, and I myself was gravely ill. Not knowing whether I would survive, and having learned that his other son was at that time bereaved of his mother, our father sent for George and his father to come to Pemberley. Mr. Wickham senior became the estate’s steward, and he and George lived in a cottage nearby.

“I, of course, recovered, and shortly after, Father introduced me to George, as a playmate. I had no idea of his real connection to us. It was not until I was a young man, and I observed Father’s indulgence towards George and the lack of concern for any foolhardy behavior he displayed, that I challenged him about the true nature of their relationship. He presented me with the letters, the same ones I showed to the vicar, between him and George’s mother, which proved the relationship between them and confirmed George’s parentage. George later learned the truth as well, which is why I believed, despite his deep desire to lay his hands on a fortune, he would stop short at you. I was wrong.”

Mrs. Culpepper spoke up. “You must believe, we never would have allowed that man to enter our house and to court Miss Darcy if we had known what he was capable of, or that you would disapprove of the match. We had assurances from Miss Darcy that you both knew of his coming to Gloucestershire, and that you approved of his desire to marry her.”

“There were many letters exchanged,” Georgiana said. “I wrote to you almost daily, and George featured regularly in the tales of my adventures. In your replies, you seemed not only to condone, but to encourage his presence and courtship of me. So much so, that when he proposed marriage, I felt certain all that was wanting was your permission, and that you would readily grant it. I should have known the letters I received were not in your hand.”

“Wickham has known me long,” Darcy said. “He must have practiced my hand until he could copy it with near precision. Enough, at least, to fool you, my darling. But in all this time, I only received two letters from you; the first, stating your arrival, and another, which, I confess, did not sound like your usual style.”

Georgiana nodded. “Mrs. Younge must have kept all the letters I sent to you which would have given away anything indicating George’s presence. I suppose the last letter you received, she either rewrote herself, copying my hand, or she took out some of the pages which mentioned his name.”

“It was a clever plan, and it nearly worked. Had you not hinted at your marriage to Wickham in your last letter to Lydia, which she shared with Kitty, it might have come to pass. It was Kitty who saw the danger, and sent an express to Darcy House, although she believed you were planning to elope, which would have ruined your reputation even further. ”

Georgiana’s tears began to flow again. “I feel such a fool! I believed myself to be in love with him!”

Julia Culpepper, who had been watching silently, trying to contain her own surprise over the whole affair, drew near to Georgiana and embraced her. “We were all fooled by Mr. Wickham. I myself thought he must be in love with you. I thought it was especially romantic that he should follow you all the way from Derbyshire. I should never have encouraged you, my friend.”

“I do not blame you, dear Julia. I have no one to blame, except myself.”

“No, the person to be blamed is Wickham, and his cohort, Mrs. Younge. Heaven knows I wish I had never let either of them darken my doorstep!” Darcy exclaimed.

“I hope it is the last time we are so betrayed by anyone close to us,” Georgiana said.

“Unfortunately, my dear, there is another betrayal I must tell you about.” He explained Elizabeth’s present state, and Lady Catherine’s devilry in poisoning her.

“No, not Elizabeth!” Georgiana cried. “Fitzwilliam, why did you not tell me sooner? We must go to her at once. Why did you leave her and come to me?”

“Because, my dear, her fate is out of our hands, and I knew I had only a prayer in heaven’s chance of reaching you in time to prevent your being ruined by Wickham. Now that you are safe, yes, we must return to London.”

Not once had Elizabeth left his mind, even for a moment, not even during the confrontation with Wickham. The image of her lying there in her bed, delirious from fever as the poison wracked her body, could not be extricated. Would she even be alive by the time they returned? No, he could not succumb to such thoughts. She would be alive. She had to be. His happiness, his very heart, depended on it .

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Elizabeth drifted in and out of consciousness. The horrifying nightmares gave way to strange dreams, bewildering, but also beautiful. She saw herself once again in the labyrinth of corridors, trying every door, seeking to find something…someone?...but never finding what she sought. Then, she opened a door, and suddenly, she was in a meadow of flowers, pinks and blues and yellows, all mixed together. She heard water flowing nearby, and the rustle of trees in the distance.

Someone was walking beside her, and she instinctively knew it was him , the person she had been searching for. She reached out her hand, and he took it, held her fingers tightly in his, and whispered her name. A warmth invaded her senses, coming from his hand. A name. What was his name? She struggled to form the name with her lips, that of this person beside her who seemed so familiar, yet her consciousness fought against her, denying her what her heart told her she must know. A light appeared, even brighter than the sunlight around them, drawing her towards it. It was so beautiful, so warm. Much warmer than the hand of this person who held hers. She let go of him and began to walk towards the light, its pull growing ever stronger with each step. She heard the man call her name once more, urging her to come back to him. She turned towards him. As she did, his face came into view, and she recognized him. Darcy. The words fell from her lips, followed by another name. Fitzwilliam. The light faded away into total darkness, and she felt herself falling backwards, until her body shook and her eyes snapped open.