Richard grimaced. “I was a fool. A fool that was not thinking with my head, it’s true. But I did discover she is still a virgin, so—”

  “Why is she sending you letters begging you to meet her?”

  Richard sank a hand into his hair. “I thought you spoke to her.”

  “I did.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “So you can match her story, whatever it may be?”

  “She is still a virgin.”

  “What have you done?”

  “Too much,” he said, glancing at Darcy. “You want all the details, then? It’ll only pain you.”

  “Yes,” said Darcy, and it was a hiss.

  “You should have a drink,” said the colonel.

  Darcy went to the barkeep and was back with two ales. Richard reached for one, but Darcy said, “These are both for me. You’re quite drunk enough, aren’t you?”

  Perhaps he was. He lounged in the chair at the tavern, feeling loose and ashamed, but also relieved to be confessing it all. “I thought she had been terrorized by Wickham and that all she needed was to experience pleasure with a man so that she wouldn’t be soured on the entire idea of it. That was the plan, anyway. I don’t know why I thought I could do that with her and she wouldn’t fall in love with me, because it’s what happens when you’re not… jaded and hurt and all of that. You go to bed with someone and it just…”

  “You said she was still a virgin.”

  “I made her come,” said Richard, throwing back his head and addressing the ceiling. “I took off her stays. I put my mouth on her breasts. I put my mouth on her cunny. I—”

  “Quieter,” said Mr. Darcy, looking around. “Her reputation matters still.”

  “No one knows who we’re speaking of,” said Richard, but he lowered his voice. “Anyway, you needn’t worry, because I have requested to be sent away, and I asked to go to the front, in fact. Thickest part of the fighting. You don’t have to kill me. I shall do my level best to get myself killed, you see.”

  “You cannot get yourself killed, you idiot,” said Mr. Darcy. “You have to marry her.”

  Richard was stunned, but his reaction time was delayed, so it took him too long to look up at Darcy in shock. “What?”

  “What were you thinking? You don’t engage in those sorts of activities with a woman like her, the daughter of a gentleman—”

  “Well, she is not really the daughter of a—”

  “Yes, well, we are trying very hard to conceal that, aren’t we? Or were you not? Did you find out about it and then think it didn’t matter what you did with her, that she was now simply your plaything?” Darcy drank his ale and glared at him.

  “No,” said the colonel, but he could not stare into that glare.

  “You have to marry her,” said Darcy.

  “And that’s just fine with you, after everything?”

  “Don’t you wish to marry her?”

  “Obviously, but with you, and with this, I could not—”

  “Don’t make it about me, if you please, Richard. We both know that if you managed to get her undressed, it was never about me. You did not give one bloody thought to me when you did that. It was selfish.”

  He didn’t have a retort.

  Darcy spoke again. “If we were competing over her—”

  “We both had sworn her off—”

  “Well, yes, we were lying to each other, to ourselves, I don’t know. But you didn’t fight fair. Now, she’s yours.”

  Richard’s lips parted. “I thought…”

  “What did you think? Your plan was to so kindly and helpfully introduce her to sexual pleasure for my sake?”

  Richard sighed. “No, it sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?” A pause. “It’s only that you wouldn’t have done it, you know. You could have married her and kept your hands off of her if she professed not to wish it. You wouldn’t have even attempted. And I thought—”

  “You thought to hurt her worse,” said Darcy. “To use her and abandon her—”

  “I didn’t really use her. I mean, she got more out of it than I did—”

  “I do not believe you.” Darcy’s voice was iron.

  Richard crumpled, clapping a hand on top of his head. He groaned. “Yes, but you still wish to marry her, and I know you do—”

  “In point of fact, I do not,” said Mr. Darcy coldly.

  Richard slowly sat up. “No?”

  “No. You think I wish a woman that’s been this used by this many different men? I don’t. My wife will be pure and mine and she shall desire me.” He got up from the table. “Marry her. Now.”

  “Wait,” said Richard. “I can’t actually marry her, Fitz.”

  Darcy turned away. “I’m telling you, you can. I am being quite, quite plain when I say that I do not even want her anymore. She is soiled. You have soiled her. She is yours.”

  Richard got up. “You don’t mean that.”

  He rounded on him. “I mean it.” His eyes flashed.

  Richard swallowed. “W-well, how am I supposed to marry her, because where are we supposed to live and—”

  “This is your own problem, Richard,” said Darcy.

  Richard dragged a hand over his face. He supposed it was his own problem. It was only that he might have to face up to the fact that he had been incredibly impulsive when it came to Elizabeth Bennet, and that he wasn’t certain he did wish to marry her.

  MR. DARCY HAD put off his conversation with sister for long enough. He had a number of invitations to houses in the country for the summer. Last summer, he had left Georgiana alone, but this summer, he wished to bring her along, to integrate her back into society and to prepare for her coming out next spring.

  Before they did this, however, he would need to explain to her that she was not, in fact, ruined.

  At least, he thought it would go that way, but he steeled himself for the knowledge that it would go differently. It would be best for them both to clear the air, however.

  They had not had much discussion since he had tried to convince her that Wickham’s demise was not her own fault, and he realized he’d been overly obsessed with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and not spent nearly enough time thinking about his own sister.

  Well.

  That was over.

  No reason to give any thought to that woman ever again.

  He approached the conversation with Georgiana with care and trepidation, telling her that he wished to have a serious conversation with her and asking if there was a time that would be convenient for her. He meant to do this in order to give her time to prepare, but it had the effect of making her even more nervous.

  “I am at your disposal, of course, whenever,” she responded.

  “How about on the morrow in the morning?” he said.

  “Oh, I must wait until then?” She visibly quaked.

  He realized his error. “We may speak now if you are amenable. I wished to give you time to prepare, but—”

  “I don’t need time to prepare, I need it over with!” she cried.

  “Of course,” he said. “Let us go somewhere to speak where we shan’t be overheard or disturbed.”

  He took her to his study, and she perched nervously on an easy chair, eyes wide, hands clasped together in her lap.

  He realized he was ill-prepared, for he had thought to practice how and what to say to her in the interim between now and the appointed time for the discussion. Now, however, he was left unsure of how to begin.

  She piped up, “Can you not tell me what it concerns?”

  “Mr. Wickham,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, shrinking into her chair. “But I thought you said it was all his fault.”

  “I do think it was,” he said.

  “Well, what else is there to discuss?” she said. “If I am going to have a Season, I suppose I am meant to simply conceal the truth from my husband when I marry, and I shall do so. Cousin Richard says there is absolutely nothing altered about me, so my husband won’t be able to tell.”

  “Let’s leave our dear cousin the colonel out of this,” he muttered, nostrils flaring.

  Her eyes got even wider.

  He sighed. “Terribly sorry, my dear. That is nothing to do with you.”

  “You two have been on edge for some time, however,” said Georgiana. “Is it about me? Is he lying? Is there something altered about me after what Mr. Wickham did?”

  “This is not about Richard. It is about you. I wish to speak of what Mr. Wickham did,” said Mr. Darcy. “I wish you to tell me what it was, in plain language.”

  She hunched up her shoulders. “Oh.”

  He waited.

  She said nothing.

  He sighed. “All right, all right, this is not the way. Er… let me see. I shall tell you, in plain language, the way a woman’s virtue is taken, and you will tell me if he did that or if he did something else.”

  Her lips parted. “You mean he mightn’t have… and then lied to me?”

  “He has done so to another woman, yes, so I think it quite possible.”

  “Well, then,” she said, smiling. “Yes, do tell me.” She waited, rapt, gazing at him.

  He opened his mouth to speak. Couldn’t. Closed it. Gestured with his hands. Then, finally, he nodded. “You know that men and women have different things between their legs?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Right, well, the male part fits into the female part,” he said. “And there’s a bit of…” He coughed. “In and out,” he said, and he was blushing, and he could feel it. “And then, the male part spills seed into the woman’s part and then it’s over.”

  “Oh,” said Georgiana, blinking. “Well, I think there are ever so many jokes I’ve heard a number of times at the theater that make a great deal more sense now.” She looked into the distance, thoughtful.

  “So, then, he didn’t.”

  “Oh!” She turned back to him. “No, no, nothing like that. He kissed me and he touched my, erm, my chest? But otherwise… nothing else. There was no fitting into anything or in and out or—”

  “Good,” he said. “Good.” Now, he felt incredibly uncomfortable.

  Georgiana furrowed her brow. “Well, wait a moment, Fitz, this means I was never in any danger of being with child, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She sat up straight, her expression going irritated. “So, he told me things and they weren’t true, and I have spent all this time thinking that I am some sort of scarlet woman for allowing him liberties and giving over my virtue, but all I could think was that I didn’t know that was my virtue, and it all seemed rather too easy and very strange, and how was I supposed to have a child gotten on me from kissing? I thought that was wrong, but he—” She clenched her hands into fists. “He lied to me.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Darcy. “I told you he was not a good man.”

  “So, all this time, I’ve been… not ruined.”

  “Not even close,” he said. “You have nothing to conceal from any future husband, in fact.”

  She stood up, her hands still clenched. “I’m glad he’s dead!” She unclenched them, shaking herself. “No, I suppose that’s an awful thing to say, and—”

  “I am too, if it comes to that,” said Mr. Darcy.

  IN THE END, Richard went to his father.

  The earl heard his request and laughed. “You’re not marrying this woman, no. I’m certainly not intervening to get you a special license.”

  “Well, I’m leaving,” said Richard. “I’m going to France, and I don’t have time for the banns to be read and I don’t have time to go to Scotland, so if you won’t do this for me, I can’t marry her at all, and she is my responsibility.”

  “She is her own responsibility—”

  “You do not understand. I manipulated her when she was not in a place to make decisions, and, also, she didn’t have knowledge—neither of us had knowledge—about her virtue being intact or not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, she thought she had been ravaged and it turned out, she had not. Exactly.”

  “How could that be?”

  “Women of a certain breeding are kept rather ignorant,” said Richard. “And she was not sure of the particulars. She even thought she could have been with child and there was no chance of it.”

  His father wrinkled up his nose. “This is all very convoluted, isn’t it?”

  “I have to marry her,” said Richard.

  “Do you?” said his father. “Because she doesn’t sound like the sort of woman you ought to be marrying. Your mother won’t be pleased.”

  “Well, she’d be even less pleased to hear how I conducted myself, which wasn’t very honorably, and if I simply abandon this poor woman, it looks even worse.”

  “How much money are you asking me for?”

  “I’m not asking for money at all.”

  “You pay her whatever sum you think—”

  “She is not a whore, and I’m not paying her. I just want a special license.”

  His father folded his arms over his chest. “If you marry this woman, where are you going to live?”

  “I am going to go live in France,” said Richard. “I suppose, when I get back, I’ll sort it out.”

  “Is she going to come to my door and ask to be admitted?”

  “No, she has a house, actually, it’s just not… she is of gentle birth, but she is not entirely well connected, so—”

  “This is insanity, my son,” said his father, amused. “I shall give you… I don’t know, a thousand pounds. You give that to her and wash your hands of it.”

  “No, I am telling you—”

  “Your choice. The money or the special license.”

  “Then I want the special license,” said Richard firmly.

  His father regarded him, shaking his head.

  “Was that a true choice or no?” demanded Richard.

  “Very well,” said his father. “You are a grown man and you are allowed to make your own choices. But if you marry her, this may be the last conversation we ever have, you know. Your mother may say we can no longer speak to you.”

  Richard squared his shoulders.

  “Still want to marry her?”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ELIZABETH CEASED SENDING letters to the colonel after Mr. Darcy’s visit.

  Two weeks passed away, and there was no word from either of them.

  Jane and Mr. Bingley still continued on together, and there was talk of an invitation to the country, and that the Bingleys were going to bring Jane along, though there had been no proposal from Mr. Bingley. Jane would be traveling along, however, and the Hursts were going, so it would all be proper enough. Elizabeth had not been invited, and she knew that she could not stay here with her aunt and uncle forever.

  She must move into Weythorn, as she had planned.

  Jane fretted over it, saying Elizabeth couldn’t live there on her own, but Elizabeth didn’t see anything for it.

  One night, she was awakened by a tapping on her window late at night.

  Jane heard it, too. They both stirred in the bed, looking about in a fright.

  Then, the window opened, and she heard the voice of the colonel. “Lizzy? Are you in there?”

  She sprang out of bed and went to him. He was here, finally, after all of this time with no word, and her heart soared, even as it twisted on itself painfully, for she felt as if he had much to answer for, also. Why was he here? She forced herself to sound airy and disinterested, as much to preserve her pride as anything. “Is this how you got in the other time, when you hid in the wardrobe? Opening windows from outside?”

  He smirked at her. “Perhaps.”

  “Why are you here, Richard?”

  “I got a special license,” he said. “The clergy is waiting for us at Weythorn. Come out the window with me now.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, who had been proposed to twice and refused both times, and who was now going to get married to a man who was apparently not going to propose at all, just spirit her out a window in the dead of night. “You do wish to marry me?”

  “Of course I wish it.”

  “A special license,” she said. “You are… your father is titled, so…” She licked her lips. “But you don’t wish to do it in any other way? You don’t wish to come and call upon me or to meet my family or anything of that nature?”

  “It’s only that there’s no time. I leave on the morrow. I am going to France.”

  “Because you’re a colonel,” she said faintly. “And you are going to the fighting. Because we are at war.”

  “Lizzy?” called Jane from the bed. “You have told me none of this.”

  Yes, she had kept a number of things from her sister. It had become easier and easier to be secretive as the time had passed. “I must go, Jane.”

  “But Lizzy, why?” said Jane.

  “I shall explain it all when I can,” said Elizabeth. “You must cover for me if I am not back in the morning? Say that I am ill, in bed, something of that nature? Just until I can get this all sorted out.”

  She felt strange, both excited and eager and full of a wariness, a trepidation.

  “You will explain all of it when you are able,” said Jane firmly.

  “I swear it,” said Elizabeth. She got a pelisse from the wardrobe but she did not dress, she only shrugged it over everything.

  And then she allowed herself to be assisted as she climbed out of the window and into Colonel Fitzwilliam’s waiting arms. He kissed her, pulling her close, and she remembered the fire and sweetness of his kisses, and that buoyed her up.

  They traveled in his carriage to Weythorn, where a clergy was, in fact, waiting for them both. The ceremony was conducted quickly, just the two of them and the witnesses, who had been brought by the clergyman. They exchanged their vows and repeated their words, and it was over in moments.

  She was married.

  She was only wearing her bedclothes with a pelisse carelessly thrown over them.

  The clergy departed in his own carriage, and then she and her new husband ascended the stairs to the bedchamber where they had begun all this.

 

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