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.
Wickham Runs into Georgiana at Pemberley and Gets and Idea
January 22, 1811
If anybody had caught him poking about in Pemberley’s stable block, George Wickham would have been hard pressed to give an explanation of what he was doing there, for he scarcely knew himself.
He had originally come to have another go at persuading Fitzwilliam Darcy to give him the Kympton living. However little a clerical life appealed to him, he happened to be in desperate need of funds. And after all, a curate could be got to do the work cheap enough.
But Darcy, the wretched man, had refused even to see him. “Not at home,” Wickham had been told at the door. He knew better, though. The servants had so obviously been instructed to turn him away on sight. And so he had gone away. But he had not gone far; he had remained on the premises under a vague intention of doing Darcy some kind of mischief. As to what…? Well, he was still looking for inspiration.
Then he heard someone coming. Wickham quickly ducked out of sight to watch who it was and what might happen next. It was not one of the stable hands, though, as he had expected. A grin spread across his face when a slight female figure came into view instead. Georgiana.
Georgiana Darcy stopped a mere ten feet away at Pandora’s box and practically sobbed out her favorite mount’s name. The mare responded at once, nickering softly and reaching her head over the door to receive her mistress’s affection and whatever other treats might be in the offing.
“Oh, Pandora,” said Georgiana dejectedly, stroking the dappled gray’s soft muzzle. “If only you could carry me away from here – far, far away. You would do that for me, would you not?”
As if in true understanding, the mare seemed to nod her head.
“I knew you would. You, at least, would listen to me. You would pay heed to my wishes, though no one else does.”
Wickham saw his chance. Stepping out into the open, he said in a soft, low voice, “I will listen to you, Georgiana, and I will gladly do my best to make all your wishes come true as well.”
Georgiana gave quite a start and took half a step backward, quickly mopping her eyes. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Mr. Wickham, you frightened me.”
“I do apologize, my dear, but you need not be afraid. We are old friends, after all.”
“Of course. I was only surprised, for I did not see you standing there.”
Wickham drew a few feet nearer. “I could not help noticing how very distressed you seem to be, dear Georgiana. Is there anything I can do?”
“How kind you are, Mr. Wickham, but no; there is nothing you can do, not unless you have any influence over my brother.”
“I am afraid not. I have been unable to persuade him to do what is right by myself, so I doubt that I could successfully prevail upon him for your sake either. What is it that your brother has done this time?”
“He insists that I return to school, though I have begged and pleaded against the plan.” After a short pause, she went on. “What has he done to you?”
“Oh, he has refused me the living promised me by your father.”
“How unfair! I am sorry, Mr. Wickham.”
“Never mind that now. It is you that I am concerned for. Is this school of yours such a very bad place?”
“It is a pure misery to me! The teachers are demanding and the other girls are so cruel, always laughing at me when I am too nervous to recite my lessons properly. I have not one friend among them.”
“Poor child.”
“But I am not a child, Mr. Wickham! That is the part my brother cannot seem to understand.”
“You must forgive me, dear Georgiana, if I remember you fondly as you were when we saw each other nearly every day. But you are quite right; since that time, you have become a beautiful young lady who is old enough to think and act for herself. But alas, some men are so jealous of their own power that they cannot bear that others should exercise any freedom of thought or decision. Your brother tells me I should not make a good clergyman, and he tells you that you must endure a situation you hate.”
“So you do understand, Mr. Wickham.”
“Of course, I do, and I sympathize. I think we are very much alike, we two. And sadly, we both find ourselves sufferers under the power of the same unfeeling taskmaster. Oh! Pardon me, Miss Georgiana. I should not have spoken so freely about your brother in your presence.”
“You need not apologize, Mr. Wickham. Although I love my brother – most of the time, that is – there is no one, I suppose, who is more aware of his faults than I am. Just now in particular.”
“The thing is, I cannot bear to think of your being so unhappy. I only wish that I could rescue you from imprisonment at this school of yours. What is the name of it, by the way?” he casually inquired.
“Miss Dalrymple’s Seminary,” Georgiana said in disgust, “the most hateful place in the world.”
“Hmm,” Wickham mused, his eyes lifted heavenward and a finger to his lips. “I have an idea. Should you mind very much if I were to write to you there? Or even call in to see you on occasion? Then you would be reminded that you do have at least one friend in the world.”
“I should like that very much, Mr. Wickham, only do you think it would be allowed? Would it be entirely proper? Miss Dalrymple is excessively attentive to the rules of propriety.”
“I should think you are old enough to judge matters of propriety for yourself, as we have been saying. If you believe there is anything improper in our conversation today, for example, say so and I will leave you at once.” He moved as if to go.
“No! Do stay, Mr. Wickham!” Georgiana implored. “We are only two old friends exchanging a few words together in a respectable manner.”
“You have spoken wisely,” he praised her with a smile, “and so we should be if I were to write or visit you at school. If any of your unkind teachers questions it, though, you could tell them I am an old friend of the family – or perhaps a cousin – with your brother’s permission to correspond. But, no. That is not entirely true, is it? Your brother would not approve of your telling even such a harmless falsehood. And I know you could never be so bold as to defy his wishes. Alas, I suppose the plan must be entirely given up.”
Georgiana puzzled a moment and then came to a decision. “You misjudge me, Mr. Wickham,” she said defensively. “I do not do everything my brother wishes, I can decide things for myself, remember? Besides, if I must stretch the truth a little on this occasion, it is his own fault for making me miserable in the first place.”
“Good girl! I admire your independence. Then may I write and call for you at Miss Dalrymple’s?”
Georgiana lifted her chin and said with self-assurance, “Yes, Mr. Wickham, you may.”
Wickham left Pemberley that day without doing any of the sort of petty mischief he had envisioned before, for now he had a much better plan formulating in his mind – something that would pain Darcy far more than a horse deliberately lamed or a barn burned to the ground. He would strike where it would injure his nemesis most, dealing a blow of a kind Darcy would never recover from. What was more, George Wickham intended to enjoy himself doing it.
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