Prelude to Pemberley: The Net Closes Around Georgiana Darcy

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.

The Net Closes Around Georgiana Darcy

13 March 1811

Mrs. Edith Younge strode through the halls of Miss Dalrymple’s Seminary, struggling for a façade of calm. She had been called into the headmistress’s office, with no reason given. That was not overly odd, for a summons to appear before Miss Dalrymple did not normally arrive in conjunction with an explanation, simply with the expectation of being obeyed. On other such occasions, however, Edith had done nothing wrong, and so had no cause to fear Miss Dalrymple’s wrath.

This time felt decidedly different. Each step down the long, marble-floored corridor felt like a step closer to the gallows. Not that she had done anything yet for which she could be hanged, but being cast from her place at the seminary would ruin her plans with Mr. Wickham, and that would be nearly as bad as forfeiting her life. It would leave her without recourse.

If only her sister had not died. If only Edith’s brother-by-marriage were not so horrible, or if he had died, as Edith’s husband had. It seemed wholly unfair, after all, that she should lose both the husband she’d esteemed and her sister, while Mr. Clayton lived on, and threatened to sell his wife’s half of their boarding house to the worst sort of property owner. A man who would cram whole families into the smallest of rooms, turning the boarding house Edith’s parents had left their two daughters into a veritable rookery, and running it into the ground until it was worth little even to debt collectors.

Edith rounded a corner and started down the final hall, the door to Miss Dalrymple’s office nearer with every step. The headmistress must have discovered that Edith was smuggling letters to and from Miss Georgiana Darcy. Miss Dalrymple would not know to whom, but that hardly mattered. The smuggling alone was an extreme breach of school policy and would result in termination, and Edith did not yet have the funds to purchase her sister’s half of the boarding house from Mr. Clayton. If she could not, her retirement would be gone, and right when she most needed it, for her post here, and any chance of a reference, were about to be taken from her.

Reaching the door, Edith smoothed her skirt and patted her hair, which she wore twisted into a tight bun. Perhaps she’d been called here for a different reason. Perhaps the headmistress knew nothing about Miss Darcy’s secret correspondence with George Wickham, a rake and a scoundrel if ever Edith had set eyes on one.

Her hand trembling, she knocked.

“Enter,” the voice of Miss Dalrymple’s assistant called.

The door was heavier than usual as Edith pushed it open. Or maybe panic robbed her of strength. She struggled for calm as she approached the desk that stood sentry to Miss Dalrymple’s inner office.

Her assistant looked up, her face as pinched as always…or was it even more pinched than usual? “Please sit, Mrs. Younge. I will inform Miss Dalrymple of your arrival.”

Edith nodded and took one of the seats against the wall. She clasped her hands in her lap as Dalrymple’s assistant gathered a sheaf of papers, then stood and went into the headmistress’s office.

Through the single, narrow window across from Edith, a long rectangle of light slashed into the room. Far from illuminating the cramped space, it only served to emphasize how dark the little front office was outside of that stripe of light. Tracing the line of brightness with her gaze, Edith took in how it ended an inch before her feet, as if loath to touch someone as guilty as she was.

She should never have agreed to assist Mr. Wickham in corresponding with Miss Darcy. Even if, at first, Edith had held some slight hope that his intentions were honorable. That he simply sought to assist a young miss who was so terribly awkward, so caught between shyness and anger, girlhood and womanhood, as to be a complete, muddled disaster. A disaster who everyone knew had no mother. No sisters. Only an older brother who likely knew little of what it meant to be a female, especially one in her teenage years.

And Edith definitely should not have agreed to forgo more payments from Mr. Wickham in exchange for a greater sum later.

Guilt shot through her, for Edith had helped him concoct the next steps in his plan. One that would see Mr. Wickham married to Miss Darcy, and in possession of her thirty thousand pounds. At least, twenty-five thousand of it. He’d promised the remainder to Edith.

How she wanted that money. Longed for it. Such a sum would solve all her troubles. Forever. She would not even need the pittance she had left to raise to buy her sister’s half of the boarding house from Mr. Clayton. She would no longer need her parents’ occupation to see her through her later year. She would never need to work again.

Dalrymple’s door opened. Edith started. She’d been so lost in imagining what five thousand pounds would do for her life that she’d forgotten where she was, and that their plan was about to come crashing down.

“Miss Dalrymple will see you now,” her assistant said, gesturing to the still open door.

Edith stood on shaking legs. She smoothed her skirt again, then stilled her hands. It would not do to seem overly nervous. There was a chance this summons had nothing to do with the letters she’d smuggled to and from Miss Darcy.

Shoulders back, she marched into Dalrymple’s inner office, then curtsied to the head mistress.

“Ah, Mrs. Younge, thank you for coming so promptly.” Dalrymple gestured to the chair across from her painfully neat desk. “Sit.”

Edith slipped into the chair, her heart hammering.

“You may suspect why I have called you in, Mrs. Younge?”

She shook her head, not trusting her voice. This was it. She would be let go, without reference. She wouldn’t be able to see Mr. Wickham’s letters into Miss Darcy’s hands any longer, or to find a way to insinuate herself into the girl’s life, a thing both key to their joint plan and to Edith’s efforts to ensure that Mr. Wickham paid up when the time came.

Nor would she be able to find other employment. Not honest employment, leastwise. Her life was ruined.

“You, by the reports I have received, are Miss Georgiana Darcy’s favorite instructor.”

Edith blinked. How to interpret that? It did not sound like an accusation… Yet.

She cleared her throat. “Am I?”

“Indeed, that is what I have been made to understand. You seem, in fact, to be the only person, instructor or student, with whom Miss Darcy speaks unless deliberately forced to do so.”

“I am honored, then,” Edith ventured. When would the accusations begin? Would Miss Dalrymple shout? Would she have Edith thrown off the property with all haste?

“You are, I assume, aware of the…incident involving Miss Darcy and Miss Cecilia Lloyd, which took place on the nineteenth of last month?”

“I am,” Edith replied, hope blooming within her. Was this meeting not about the letters after all? “A terrible occurrence.”

One for which she and Mr. Wickham had been waiting. He had been, for some time, subtly encouraging Georgiana to violence, just as Edith had been working to win the girl’s trust. Their plan would never come to fruition here, at the seminary. They needed Miss Darcy to be removed from school, and to ask her brother to allow Edith to accompany her, as her instructor or chaperone.

This last part of the plan was the most important to her. Edith had no delusions that Mr. Wickham would stand by any obligation to her if she did not manage to remain part of Miss Darcy’s life when she left school. He would abandon Edith in an instant, then wheedle his way into the graces of someone else in Miss Darcy’s life.

“Yes, it was a terrible occurrence.” Miss Dalrymple’s already lined features crumpled into a grimace. “One which would normally result in the quiet removal of a girl. Letters have been exchanged, however, and Mr. Darcy, along with his relations in the peerage, are insisting that Miss Darcy remain.”

“Perhaps that will be best for her,” Edith dared to suggest. “She is obviously in need of guidance.”

The corners of Miss Dalrymple’s mouth tipped up in a smile. “You have hit upon why I have called you here.”

She had? Edith shook her head. “I am afraid you give me too much credit, Miss Dalrymple.”

“Nonsense. You said the girl needs guidance, and that is what we will provide.”

“Yes, Miss Dalrymple.”

“You are her favorite instructor. You must know what her favorite subject is. Not which she excels at, for I have those records, but what, in your opinion, brings the girl joy. If anything does. I wish for her to begin special classes. Preferably over luncheon. That will help keep the little monster away from the other girls.”

“Monster?” Edith could not keep a note of protest from the word. “She is a shy, reticent girl.”

“She knocked out one of Miss Lloyd’s teeth, forever ruining the girl’s smile, broke her nose, and pulled out enough of her hair to leave her bald on the right side of her head. Have you not noted the peculiar style she has adopted? That is, after the wig she attempted proved so unflattering. The poor girl has been scared for life, and her prospects undoubtedly diminished. Miss Georgiana Darcy is, indeed, a monster, and I would not still have her here were her uncle not an earl.”

Edith blinked, taking in Miss Dalrymple’s anger. Mr. Wickham had done that. Spurred Miss Darcy into attacking another girl with his false sympathy and ever-escalating lies about how she should go about asserting herself in society.

And Edith had helped him.

Pushing down the guilt that threatened to well free in the form of a confession, Edith concentrated on thoughts of her parents’ boarding house. Her future. Her life, which held just as much value as Miss Darcy’s and a great many more obstacles. Ones that no earl would trouble to fix.

So Edith would fix her own life, and she would begin by selecting a subject that would ensure she spent more time with Miss Darcy. “Pianoforte is her favorite subject,” she said, pleased with how even her voice came out.

“That will do nicely, as you are our paramount instructor in pianoforte.”

“That is kind of you to say,” Edith murmured, as if Miss Dalrymple did not speak simple fact. In truth, while she’d noted Miss Darcy’s competence at the instrument, Edith had no idea if pianoforte was the girl’s favorite. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that Miss Dalrymple had unwittingly provided the perfect opportunity.

“Very well, then. You may inform Miss Darcy that she will, beginning tomorrow, receive special instructions in pianoforte over the lunch hour. I will order meals be brought to the two of you in the music room.” Miss Dalrymple’s expression twisted with disdain. “At least this will keep that creature away from the other girls so they can lunch in peace. I cannot imagine how terrible it is for them to attempt to enjoy their meal with her in attendance.”

Sympathy for Miss Darcy threatened Edith’s calm but she managed, “I will do my utmost to mold her, Miss Dalrymple.” Though perhaps not in the way the headmistress hoped.

“You are doing this school a service, Mrs. Younge,” Miss Dalrymple said with apparent satisfaction. “You can expect an extra half sovereign at the end of the semester. You are dismissed.”

Edith stood, tamping down an elation that threatened to make her tremble just as much as her earlier fear had, the emotion having nothing to do with a paltry half sovereign in extra pay. “Thank you, Headmistress.” She offered another curtsy and saw herself from the room.

As she marched back down the hallway, which seemed far brighter and not nearly so long as it had not a quarter of an hour ago, a slow smile curved her mouth. Why, with such singular, unfettered access to Miss Darcy, she would be able to ensure that the girl either prevailed upon her brother to remove her, or was finally expelled. More than that, Edith would now be able to all but guarantee that Miss Darcy would request her as a personal tutor and chaperone.

When Miss Georgiana Darcy next departed Miss Dalrymple’s Seminary, Edith would depart along with her. She would be the girl’s dearest friend. Her closest confidant. Her most trusted source for advice, to be heeded above all. Even Miss Darcy’s own morals.

Read all the scenes in Prelude to Pemberley here!