Page 6 of A Most Beloved Sister
The hate-filled words caused bile to rise in Darcy’s throat, and his father’s irate face was replaced by his mother’s pale one in his memory. “You must look after your sister, Darcy. After I’m gone, you’ll be all she has left.”
Those were the last words he heard his mother speak; she had been confined to her bed after giving birth to Georgiana, and his mother’s strength never recovered. Darcy had made his farewells before returning to another school year, unaware thatit would be the last time he would see her. The news of her passing wasn’t sent until after the funeral and burial.
His uncle, the Earl of Matlock, had been infuriated when he’d heard of his sister’s treatment at the hands of her husband. The earl had been unaware of the situation until his son, Richard, had written to ask if he knew why Darcy hadn’t been informed of the death. The earl descended on Eton to demand that the younger Darcy tell him everything. He then went to Pemberley immediately to confront his brother by marriage.
By then, however, there was nothing anyone could do. Lady Anne was dead and buried, and her lastborn child had been handed over to a wet nurse in the village until she could be weaned.
Lord Matlock had returned to Eton to personally inform Darcy that he would be remaining at the school, on the orders of the boy’s father.
“I don’t know why he is making these decisions, my boy,” the earl had said, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “It was bad enough that he insisted you attend Eton two years earlier, but to deny you the comfort of saying your farewells…”
His voice trailed off, but he patted Darcy reassuringly. “Just know that you’ll always have a home with us, if you wish it. You may write to me—or have Richard write, if you prefer—with anything you might need. I can only pray that your father comes to his senses.”
That prayer was never to be answered. The elder Mr. Darcy did not allow his son to return to Pemberley until he graduated from Eton some six years later. Instead of a Grand Tour, the young man was put to work in his father’s study at the house in London, learning the specifics of estate management.
The only bright spot during that time away at school was the letters he sent to and received from Georgiana. Disguising his handwriting, Darcy wrote to his childhood nurse, who had takenover duties in caring for the babe. With her assistance, he was able to build a relationship with his sister. From her very first months, his letters were read aloud to the girl, though she was too young to understand what any of the words meant.
As she grew, Georgiana responded to the letters with pictures from her own hand, accompanied by short summaries of her days written by Nurse. He treasured those letters and still had many of them in a box with a ribbon tied around them.
Darcy then went on to Cambridge to complete his education, but he was summoned home each holiday and summer to assist his father with estate matters. It was clear that the senior Mr. Darcy was of declining health; he took frequent afternoon naps and occasionally fell asleep while at his desk. Thus, Darcy was able to sneak time with Georgiana when not ensconced in the study with their father. It was no effort to go down the hill and around the garden to the dower house on his way to visit tenants.
When the master of Pemberley died at last, it was as though a dark cloud had been lifted from Pemberley. Reynolds—who had become Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, at some point during Darcy’s school years—was at liberty to bring light and cheer to the public rooms.
But most importantly, Georgiana was finally free to leave the dower house where she had been banished from her father’s sight and live at Pemberley.
Darcy never allowed her to go to the nearby town of Lambton, however. He had seen at school how many of the young men treated those persons—especially the girls—who were simpleminded or of different appearance.
In the beginning, he had tried to stand up for the simpletons and disabled. He quickly learned, however, that it would only lead to a sound thrashing for himself and even more torture for the victims.
One experience, however, changed all of that. It was his sixteenth year, and his frame had finally become proportional to his height. As one of the older students at Eton, and as the heir of one of the wealthiest estates in the kingdom, he commanded a certain amount of respect.
While out with some of the other lads, they came across a young woman whose face and legs were twisted. She hobbled down the path with a walking stick while struggling to carry a basket. One of the boys elbowed another. “What do you think she’d give me in return for her basket?”
His friend made a crude gesture, and the two laughed and walked towards her. The girl’s eyes widened in fear, and she looked frantically around as the richly dressed youth circled her.
Darcy had ignored the bullying in the past, but the thought of what these young men were going to do made him feel sick to his stomach. To his mind, the girl’s face became Georgiana’s, and he knew he had to stop what was about to happen.God, help me help her.
“Stop!”
Everyone paused and looked at the tall young man. He knew he was outnumbered by several young men far into their cups, and his mind froze. Then, almost as if by magic, Darcy suddenly knew exactly what to say and do. He carefully made his face blank and looked down at his hands in boredom. “Really, Matheson?”
The first young man who had elbowed his friend startled. “What do you mean, Darcy? You trying to ruin my fun?”
“Certainly not,” Darcy replied in a disinterested tone, examining his fingernails. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun though.”
“It’s not?” one of the drunk boys asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Darcy said primly. “You don’t know where this girl has been or who she’s been with. Just look ather! Ugly—and filthy to boot. I wouldn’t be caught dead having anything to do with someone like her.”
The girl’s eyes filled with tears at these harsh words, and her head dropped even farther to her chest. Darcy’s heart broke at the sight, but he forced himself to continue.
“If that’s what you can see on the outside, just imagine what she looks like underneath those rags she’s wearing! You can do what you’d like, but as for me, I doubt I’d be able to do much of anything with such a hideous hag. Not even closing my eyes could make me unsee it.”
With each word, the girl’s shoulders slumped farther until she was practically cowed on the ground. Ignoring the laughs and jeers, he continued loudly, “Now, I’m going to go find a wench more worthy of my attentions. Do what you will, but know that I will think less of you if you stay here with her.”
Darcy turned his back, ignoring the anguish written across the girl’s face. He then strode away, fists clenched and stomach churning. After a few moments of silence, the clattering of pebbles told him the boys were scrambling after him.
Darcy would never be able to undo the damage his harsh words caused that girl, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he had prevented a far worse fate for her than a rich man calling her ugly. The next day, he sent his valet to find the girl, along with a bag of coins and a note that told her they were for her dowry or to spend as she pleased.
