P&P Prelude to Pemberley: Darcy’s Scathing Letter to Wickham

Welcome to our Pride & Prejudice prequel! P&P: Prelude to Pemberley tells the story of the time leading up to the events of Pride & Prejudice, including what Darcy and Elizabeth were doing and thinking, Georgiana Darcy’s story, the events of Ramsgate, how Mr. Bingley came to lease Netherfield, and much more! Join us on our journey as the Austen Variations authors post the events of 1811 in real time on the date they happened – 214 years in the future.

Darcy’s Scathing Letter to Wickham

September 23, 1811

My blood boiled with a rage such as I had never felt before. Yet I had no immediate outlet for my anger, with Wickham having got away! And Mrs. Younge apparently fled as well? Blast! My mind teamed with violent thoughts of what I should have done if I had caught up to either of them.

But only my beloved Georgiana remained at hand, and I would not vent my spleen against her. She was, after all, still a child of fifteen, and therefore not fully accountable for her part in the unfortunate affair. I would need to have a serious talk with her at some point – that did not admit a doubt – but not immediately. Not when she looked so downcast already, so crushed in spirit. Wickham had deeply wounded her; I would not add insult to injury.

For the time being, I simply wished her to know she was safe and loved.

At least, I reminded myself, I had arrived in time to prevent the elopement. Thank God for that! I could not bear to even think of the misery that would have overtaken my dear sister if Wickham had succeeded in his evil plan. That is what I tried to remember whenever the rage built up within me – that he had not succeeded!

I gently put Georgiana into the coach, followed, and gave the order for Chatham Street.  Collecting her things from the house where she had been staying with Mrs. Younge was the first order of business. Then, I wanted to be off for London at once, for I had developed a sudden disgust of Ramsgate. But since it was too late in the day to commence the journey, I took Georgiana to a lodging house I was familiar with, where we could spend the night. From there, I sent off an express to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had a right to know what had transpired.

All this time, Georgiana had barely uttered a word. Quiet tears were all she produced, and those in a never-ending river. She would not speak. She would not eat – that night at our lodgings nor the next morning before we set off for London. I led her by the hand and spoke kindly to her, but she moved about as one in a daze.

It was clear to me then that I had been wrong. I had not arrived in Ramsgate in time, as I had thought. I might have prevented the elopement, but I was much too late to save my sister from harm. My anger at Wickham kindled hot again.

Since Georgian would not speak, I was left mostly to my own thoughts on the journey to London that next day, two questions occupying my mind. What could I do to help my sister recover from this blow and move into a secure future? Secondly, how might I exact some retribution against those who had injured her?

My first instinct, of course, was to find Wickham and call him out. I thought well of my chances of besting him at either swords or pistols, and what satisfaction I would have taken in inflicting on him some pain to match my poor sister’s. But taking such an action would mean the end of any hope of keeping the business quiet. Unfair though it was, a man could act the scoundrel but it was his female victim who would suffer most if the affair came to light. He could go on with his life, but she would be ruined forever.

No, I would not take my satisfaction at Georgiana’s expense! I would have to keep my head, I decided, to act with quiet subterfuge instead of violent bluster, applying pressure through other channels to make my displeasure felt by him.

It was a relief when we at last arrived at Darcy House, where I hoped the familiar surroundings would lend both my sister and myself some comfort. I did finally persuade her to take a little wine before she retired early to her room and to bed.

Once I was sure she was settled for the night, I sat down  at my writing desk. I would open by wielding my pen as my weapon of choice. Time would tell if anything more would be necessary. I wrote:

You are a rogue and a scoundrel, sir, and if I could do so without harming others, I would immediately expose you as such to the censure of the world, or cut you to pieces myself. But I swear that nothing in all of creation will constrain me if anything else of a similar nature should occur. Be advised that you will be followed and watched wherever you go. I have ways and the means to enforce what I say; you know that I have. If you value your safety, therefore, you would be wise to keep out of trouble and out of my sight henceforth. For I shall not be responsible for my actions if I ever catch you within ten miles of a certain person again. I trust I make myself clear.

A private inquiry agent that I hired located my nemesis and delivered this letter. Though it was unsigned, I expected Wickham could be in no doubt as to the identity of the sender.

Read all the scenes in Prelude to Pemberley here!