Chapter 15
The moment Elizabeth closed the door, Darcy started pacing the apartment. Not a moment ago she was there, with him, in his arms, he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. How could everything have changed so much in only minutes? How could it possibly have ended the way it had? All that softness, that sweetness suddenly transformed into anger and rejection and he still couldn't understand why.
'Take your respectability back and thrust it up your ass' she said. This woman certainly didn't know what was good for her. She didn't deserve him. What kind of woman would prefer George Wickham over him? What kind of woman would choose being someone's mistress instead of his wife? Neither John nor George, nor anyone else would be able to give her what he was willing to give her: fortune, name, love, respect. And she didn't want it; she didn't want him!
Angry, with his pride beaten and consumed by jealousy, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat in front of his computer. Like it or not, Elizabeth Bennet would learn who she was dealing with.
Never in her life had Elizabeth had a more terrible waking up. The phone was ringing loudly, piercing her aching head like a pneumatic drill. She rolled over on the bed and growled an angry 'hello'. It was her mother, asking for a report about how her previous night's 'drinks with work mates' had come out. Elizabeth adored her mother, though sometimes she could have horrible timing. Without opening her eyes, Elizabeth told her that everything came out fine, that she was quite tired and that she probably would not be going home for the weekend. Her mother teased about her apparent hangover and then she came up with a probable romantic attachment with one of her mates that left her in such a horrible state in the morning. For ten minutes, Amanda admonished Elizabeth for being unfaithful to dear George, saying that she shouldn't be partying around while she was dating him.
The conversation ended with a long and tedious advice about how to cure her headache, birth control methods were recommended -just in case- and as a way of punishment for not coming home this weekend, she told Elizabeth that from now on, she should find a nice, cheap place in Kent where she could take her laundry. When she hung up the phone, Elizabeth wanted to die.
After being tortured by her mother for nearly half an hour, Elizabeth changed into a jogging outfit and went out for a walk. She needed space, fresh air and her apartment seemed to be shrinking around her, suffocating her. Could it be September already? How could everything change so much in such a short time? In February, she lost her job, in March she was in Derbyshire, in April in Africa, in May she was back in Hertfordshire, unemployed again and in June, working in Kent. Three jobs, two continents and two suitors in six months. That was too much for her. She only wanted some stability, some peace, for once.
For an hour, she walked around, without paying attention to anything around her. She stopped in a cafeteria to have breakfast and found a small park where she sat and watched the ducks swimming on the lake.
Presumptuous pig. As if she would need him to become respectable. She was a respectable person, what was he talking about?
Growing up without a father had been tough enough, but dealing with the others' intolerance had been worse. There was always a kid at school that would hurt her with an evil comment or Thomas Bennet's humiliating remarks. And now, many years later, someone that claimed to care about her was judging her for that same reason.
How could he love her if he couldn't live with her origins? Didn't he know that, marrying him or not, her birth certificate would always say 'father: unknown'? Why would a man, of sense of education, who had lived in the world, despise her because of that? This was the 21st century for Christ's sake!
So George was right in the end. He had warned her about Darcy. He told her what he was capable of doing, he said that he was going to disappoint her sooner or later and it happened. Pity it was not only that. William Darcy didn't just disappoint her, he hurt her beyond limit.
Sunday was made to rest and that day the girls were determined to do exactly that: nothing. They had given up their usual whore outfits -extra tight jeans and heavy metal accessories- and had chosen to wear less provocative and more comfortable clothes. They disposed their rebellious and confrontational attitude and they became the pair of young teenagers that in fact they were. Today, they even gave up the TV as Lydia, after arguing with her mother because of an unauthorized escape from classes on Friday, chose to stay in her bedroom with her friend, avoiding Amanda's rambling for the rest of the day.
"Did you study for the math test?" Mary King asked from the big cushion she was lying on.
"Not much," Lydia replied while polishing her toes, "but I don't have any problem with that one, so I don't need to study that much."
"I haven't. Mom said that if I failed math again she would forbid me from going out for a full week."
"Then why don't we study a little? I can help you." Lydia offered.
"I hate math." Mary pouted.
"I know that." She started polishing the nails of her other toes.
"Your mother is really nice, Liddy, I don't understand why are you always arguing with her."
"Because she's always telling me what to do."
"Well, can't be that bad. She did allow you to go to Dina's party dressed like that."
"She didn't." Lydia lowered her voice. "I changed clothes at Julia's. I wasn't going to that party dressed like a bloody nun."
"And you were looking fabulous. All the guys were drooling on you. Though I still think your mother is very nice. I tried to color a blue strand on my hair and my mum didn't allow it. At least yours did."
Lydia smiled. "She almost dropped dead when she saw me. I think she knows I'm only provoking her, that I wouldn't do anything that is really wrong."
"Yeah, I know it."
"And none of the guys is worthy of the try." She snorted.
"Hey, I saw George the other day at school. He went for you again?" Mary said after a while.
"Yeah." Lydia smiled in self-satisfaction. "He drove me home."
"Only that?" Mary asked suggestively.
"Just that. He was only being gallant."
"It's odd, your sister said that he was away in Italy until the end of the week."
"Maybe he made a quick trip back and popped by to say hello."
"Without seeing your sister?"
"Why not?" Lydia shrugged.
"I think he likes you."
"Yeah, maybe he does. He's so nice. Do you know something? He said he would love to take me to London and show me around. He told me he has this huge TV at home that he wants to show me."
"Would you go?" Mary said lustfully.
"I think I would. He's hot. I like the way he looks at me."
"Even if he's your sister's boyfriend?"
"I'm not sure about that. I don't think they are even sleeping together."
"Why would you say that?"
"I don't know, just guessing." Lydia shrugged again.
"And would you sleep with him?"
Lydia closed the nail polisher and looked at her friend with a wicked smile. "If there is one guy with whom I would love to lose my virginity to, be assured that that man is George Wickham."
"Lydia!" Mary gasped in horror and both girls started giggling.
For Elizabeth, Sunday passed in a similar fashion as Saturday. She spent the entire day outdoors, observing the first leaves falling from the trees, the families playing with their children in the park and feeding her anger and resentment towards the man she was kissing passionately only two days ago.
What he did to Jane was despicable. Why did he have to do that? What harm had she done to him? Jane was the sweetest creature on earth and now she was alone, pregnant and unable to contact the father of her child because of him.
And what he did to herself? Firing her because he loved her! She never expected to hear something so ridiculous, so egotistical. And this man claimed to be in love with her. What kind of old fashioned idiot would think in that way? The same kind of idiot that would lock his sister in a mental institution, she thought. William Darcy was the one that should be locked in a mental institution, the man was crazy.
She walked back to the apartment and stopped to buy some take out. She dined, in bed, alone, watching the sales channel. The phone rang and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Not her mother, please, not again.
"Hello?"
"Hello, lovely."
She sighed. "Hi George."
"Hey, what's wrong? Why did you stay in Kent for the weekend?" he asked smilingly.
"Nothing, I'm just a little sick."
"Oh. Nothing serious, I hope."
"No, just something I ate." she lied. "Where are you?"
"I'm leaving for France in a little while, but I wanted to say goodbye. I went to your house but you weren't there."
"I preferred to stay here."
"No problem, darling."
"I thought you were in Italy."
"I arrived yesterday noon."
"And you are leaving again so quickly?"
"You know how this job is."
"Yeah, I know." She replied without interest.
"I'll be back in only a few days. Why don't I visit you in Kent after my return?"
Elizabeth felt something very strange when he said that, like repulsion. Her brain immediately compared George's kisses with Darcy's and she knew then that she couldn't go on with George, that she never wanted to. The problem was that she couldn't break up with him right now, on the phone. She didn't have the strength or the courage to do it tonight. "You know I have to work, you'll be bored here all day on your own."
"Maybe I can go for the night and come back to London during the day or maybe I could go for you and drive you back in the morning. Or for the weekend. We'll see."
"Yeah."
"Have to go, sweetie. Bye."
"Bye." She hung the phone. The next time they would see each other was to say goodbye.
George hung up the phone returned his attention to the table in front of him.
"Checking on a girl?" Danny asked. "That is really unusual."
"Sometimes one must. It makes them feel important." George shrugged.
"But, France? Don't you think that's a little pretentious?"
"She'll never find out."
"She must be very important if you are calling her in the middle of a poker game." Kurt snorted.
"Great ass. And the woman has not been satisfied in ages. She's still thinking about it. I'm just warming up the sheets, helping her to raise her self-esteem. I want to get her hot and needy for our next meeting. She made me wait, now I'll make her beg for a little sex."
"Oh, come on, George, I thought you never waited for sex," Danny cried. "Since when do you have any consideration where women are concerned?"
"Since they have the most curvaceous, horny, easy and, if I'm not wrong, virginal sixteen year old sister I've seen in my life. A nice, proper relationship with her sister is my best passport into that house."
The other three men at the table left the game aside for a moment and looked at the cameraman.
"Are you planning to film her? Asked Kurt.
"First I must convince her."
"I thought you said she was horny and easy."
George chuckled. "You know how they are at that age. All provocation and no action. That will come at the appropriate time. The girl lives in Hertfordshire and I'll have to bring her to London if I want to obtain a good video. It's not that easy, I can't just kidnap her and force her to come here with me."
"George Wickham, the king of amateur sex videos." Kurt chuckled.
Elizabeth was dreading what Monday would bring. How would she react to Darcy's presence at the office? How would he handle hers? Act naturally, unaffected, professional, that's what she should do. They were both grown ups, they knew how to behave so there was nothing to worry about.
She hoped so.
It was already noon and Darcy hadn't arrived yet. She was relieved about that. She learned from Jeff that Darcy was in another wing of the building, working in sound. Miramax hadn't postponed the release and the countdown had already started. Darcy would be directing sound effects and supervising the recording of the soundtrack from now on and that, fortunately, would keep him away most of the day for the following month or so. Good. It would be better if they were as far away from each other as much as possible.
Darcy arrived at the office when it was almost time for her to leave. He only said a stern 'good afternoon' and went directly to the editing room without even looking in her direction. Elizabeth had tensed up the moment she saw him opening the door and, looking at her computer intently, replied to his greeting mumbling a cold 'hello' herself. Thank God she was leaving in only in only ten minutes.
Her phone rang. It was Richard, begging for some coffee, for him and for Darcy. Drat.
She took a deep breath and went to the kitchenette. Black for Richard, with milk for Darcy. Or maybe she should serve him his coffee strong and black, the way he drank it before she started caring about his stomach. Yes, she should provoke him with an ulcer. Strong and black.
Elizabeth entered the editing room with two coffees, one black with lots of sugar, the way Richard liked it and the other one light, with a little milk, the way he drank it since he returned from Canada. The editor thanked her, the director didn't look up.
"Well, Lizzy," Richard addressed his cousin with a teasing voice, "I think we'll get rid of Darcy here for some time, he'll be in sound from now on."
She glanced quickly in the director's direction and nodded. "All right. I'm leaving, Richard. See you tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow," the editor replied.
Darcy was stirring his coffee and lifted his eyes to her for a fraction of a second. The coldness in his stare could freeze hell. "Good bye, Elizabeth."
Day two passed in the same fashion only that Elizabeth had to endure Darcy's presence three times that day. Though the moments he was in the office were brief and he didn't talk to her, his unexpected arrivals only served to increase Elizabeth's tension and nervousness. She never knew when he was going to show up, she became so attentive to the door that she couldn't concentrate on her work and the knot that grew inside her stomach when she saw him was becoming insupportable. She ended the day stressed and tired, not knowing if she could go on like this.
Though her real problems started on day three.
Elizabeth was turning on her computer that morning when Darcy came in with an unfriendly 'hi' and headed directly towards his office. If he was not going to the editing room, that meant that he would probably stay there for a while. His presence there, though behind a closed door, was enough to make her uneasy. What was she going to do now? Should she serve him coffee as she always did before their fight? No, she couldn't do that. She was too angry, too upset with him to go into his office. She knew she would go and start some kind of argument, telling him again what a bastard she thought he was, and she would have to quit her job. No, she would not risk her job because of him.
Mid morning she went to the kitchenette for a glass of water. She didn't like to leave her desk when Richard was editing, he could need her, but she just couldn't handle Darcy's door in front of her anymore. She had been dreading that it would open at any moment and see would his arrogant face again. She drank a full glass of water, she filled a new one and turned to go back to her desk.
The collision against a man's chest was hard enough to make some of the contents of her glass spill all over his shirt. Elizabeth didn't want to look up because she knew whose shirt she had just soiled. Embarrassed and mortified, she apologized.
"I'm sorry," she went for a cloth to dry him, "I wasn't looking, I ..."
"It's all right," Darcy took the cloth from her hand. "Nothing happened."
Elizabeth had never felt so bad in her life. The man would surely think she did it on purpose.
"I'm sorry, really, I didn't see you coming." She repeated. She saw him turn away from her and walk towards the coffee machine while drying his shirt with the cloth she gave him.
"Don't worry, it's OK." He had his back to her, pouring himself a coffee.
His tone, his whole attitude bothered her. She didn't do this on purpose, she was apologizing and she was the one supposed to serve coffee in this office.
"There's no need for you to come all this way. I can bring you some coffee whenever you want. You only need to ask." She addressed him in a cold voice.
Darcy glanced at her and replied with the same coolness. "Yeah, right."
"Milk is under the counter." She said.
"I'll have it black, thank you." He passed by her and went to his office.
To make her day more miserable, Ann de Bourgh was pre-presenting the marketing campaign for the movie that same afternoon. Elizabeth's presence was required a couple of times in the meeting room, mainly to serve them coffee and again, as it happened every time they were in the same room, the couple avoided each other's eyes. Their communication was practically monosyllabic and the tension between them was growing to the point of becoming unbearable.
Elizabeth's only wish at that moment was that the bloody meeting would end soon so Darcy would leave and she could work in peace again. Unfortunately, two minutes before that happened, the most unexpected call came in.
"Hi, lovely." A masculine voice greeted her.
Oh, no. This couldn't be happening. "Hi, George."
"Listen, I'm back, why don't we see each other tonight?"
Elizabeth's mind began to reel. What was she going to do now?
At that moment, the door of the meeting room opened and Darcy, Ann and company emerged from it. They were speaking loudly about the presentation and Ann went directly to Elizabeth's desk.
"Elizabeth, call my secretary and ask her to tell my five o clock that I'm on my way."
She covered the speaker with her hand and nodded.
"Are you busy?" George asked from the other extension.
Darcy was very close, speaking to Ann. Elizabeth replied while trying to look busy. "Sort of."
"What?" George asked. "Can't hear you."
"It's too noisy," she said louder.
It was obvious that it was a personal call and Darcy's eyes were on her more often than not. Elizabeth felt hot and cold at the same time and her breath became shallow.
"I was saying, why don't we see each other tonight? I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon and I would like to see you," said George.
She was so tense that she couldn't think clearly. George was supposed to be in France. "When did you arrive?"
"Today. What do you say, do you want me to come for you?"
"No, I can't, I have work to do, and I have an early start tomorrow." She said quickly. She couldn't see him, not tonight, please.
George sounded irritated when he spoke. "Listen, Lizzy, I would really like to move ahead, though it's impossible if you are always saying no. We haven't seen each other for more than two weeks and I think that if you are not interested in doing it soon you should rethink if you still want to go on with this."
The last thing she needed now was George pressing her. Everything was quite stressing as it was now. "I'm not the one that is travelling constantly around the world," she spat angrily. Darcy's eyes were fixed on her the moment she said that.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh, babe," George's tone softened, "but I really wanted to see you tonight. I miss you."
"Elizabeth," Darcy walked closer and left some papers on her desk. "When you finish your call, make me a copy of these, please."
"Yes, sure," she replied to the director. The tension in her voice was obvious.
"Really, I want to see you." George replied with the same coldness. He thought she was talking to him and he didn't like the way she sounded.
Elizabeth looked down and rubbed her forehead nervously. She was about to explode. One man was standing in front of her and the other on the phone. Couldn't they come one at a time? "I wasn't talking to you, I ... I'm busy right now, could you call me home later?"
"Yeah, maybe." George said, offended.
At this point, Elizabeth's stress about this call was so intense that she didn't give a damn if George was upset because of Darcy or if Darcy was upset because of George's call. She just wanted to go home.
"I didn't mean it that way ... I ..." She sighed heavily when George hung up the phone without saying goodbye.
When she raised her eyes, Darcy was turning off the lights of his office and walking towards the elevators, looking as angry as ever. She thought she heard him saying a strained 'goodbye' though she wasn't sure about that. This was all she could take for the day. She turned off her computer and left.
Darcy left the parking lot at full speed. He just couldn't go on with this. Who was she talking to on the phone? A man surely. Was it George? Was it John? It couldn't be John, he was in LA until the following week, signing the contract with the distributors.
Maybe the right question was 'what right did he have to know?' Who was he to inquire about her private affairs? He had no rights over her, Elizabeth made that clear the other night. The thing was how he was going to live with that notion, because he was still madly in love with her.
A red light made him stop his frantic ride. In the silence of his car, he reflected on what he did, on everything he said.
He was the greatest hypocrite that existed. He was never over that. He thought he was, he said he was, but he wasn't. Blinded by the most irrational jealousy, he had forgiven her for doing something he had no right to judge her for and decided he would love her in spite of that. In his selfishness, he had abused his position as her boss, asking her out when she couldn't refuse, trying to start a relationship that maybe she didn't even want. He never considered her feelings, if she was even interested in him or if she was involved with someone else. Claiming he was doing this for love, he decided to save her from disgrace and to bring her respectability back. What was he talking about? Elizabeth was the most genuine, upright and wonderful person he had ever met. She was respectable, with or without his help.
She was right, he had been playing God. An omnipotent, selfish and presumptuous God who thought he had the power to decide what was wrong and what was right, to judge, to condemn or to forgive someone for what she did or what she didn't do. He didn't respect her past, her future, her choices or her wishes. Not even today, when he imposed himself during that phone call. No matter what Elizabeth had done before knowing him, it was her decision, her choice and he should respect it and accept her the way she was.
The light turned into green and the car behind him reminded him that he should move on. He would need to do some serious thinking about himself.
Many images played in Elizabeth's head as she walked back to her apartment. As she recalled those minutes when she was on the phone with George, all that tension, all that nervousness was back with the same intensity. The need to end her relationship with George and the fear that Darcy would guess who she was talking to.
The moment she had both men confronted, one on the phone and the other standing in front of her, she knew she was playing a very dangerous game. She had been accepting the attention of two men at the same time, being unfaithful to both.
She couldn't go on with this. She couldn't handle his presence any more, her disappointment, his contempt. All that she knew now, was that she needed to go home.
"Good morning, Elizabeth," It was mid morning when Darcy, tall and calm, entered the office. "Is Richard in?"
"Yes." His tone was polite, there was a hint of a smile on his face and that only increased her uneasiness at having to see him. "He's in the editing room."
"Thank you."
He went directly to the editing room and closed the door behind him. "Richard, I made some comments on the material you gave me yesterday, I think we'll have to cut a few scenes differently ..."
"Leave them over there," Richard said harshly, "I'll see them when I'm finished with this."
Darcy raised an eyebrow at his cousin's unusual bad mood. "Tough day?"
"The worst. I ruined two sections, Ann wants the trailer by four and Elizabeth quit, now you tell me if it's a bad day or not."
The director looked at Richard's assistant, as if Jeff would confirm him that he had heard him wrong. Jeff only shrugged. "Elizabeth quit?"
"You heard me. She said she has some kind of problem at home and she has to go back." The editor spat. "Now, I must finish this or I'm not going to make it. I'll look at your notes later."
Before Richard could finish his phrase, Darcy was out of the room.
"Elizabeth, could you come to my office, please?" He stopped in front of her desk.
The moment she saw the director entering the editing room, Elizabeth knew that this moment would come. "Yes?"
Darcy waited for her to enter and closed the door behind her. "What's going on?"
She looked at him with forced calmness. "Nothing, I'm quitting."
This was his fault. She couldn't sacrifice herself because of him. "Elizabeth, it's ridiculous, you need this job," he protested.
"I must go back home, my mother needs me," she replied.
"Listen, you can't quit. I know you are doing this because of me, I ..."
"Forgive me, William, but you have no right to tell me what I can and I can't do. And believe me, you are not so important in my life as to force a decision of the kind." She said angrily.
That was the lowest blow he ever received in his life. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, you are right." He swallowed hard. "I'm very sorry."
Elizabeth felt a lump growing in her throat. "Never mind."
Darcy frowned and looked down. If this had ended the way it did, he was the only one to blame. "Just one more thing." He went to his jacket and pulled out a paper from one of the pockets. "I would like you to read this letter. It explains certain things. Please, read it."
She looked down at the paper in her hand. "I will. Anything else?"
There was a moment of complete silence. He was standing two steps away from her, feeling that one million things needed to be said. When he was able to speak, his voice came out low and hoarse. "Take care, goodbye."
Darcy took the keys to his car from the desk and left the office.
Concentrating on her work was practically impossible. All through the day, neatly folded, those papers Darcy gave her were there, waiting for her to read them.
Five o'clock she was grabbing her purse and rushing home. In the privacy of her apartment, she sat on her bed and unfolded the letter. Two sheets of printed paper. From the date, she realized that the letter was written the night of their fight.
Elizabeth,
I'm writing this letter not to continue with a discussion that should never have happened and that was equally painful for both of us, but to clarify some points about that argument that need to be explained. Two major accusations were bestowed on my person tonight. One is concerning Jane and Charles, the other one, about George. In both cases, you accused me of being responsible of their present misery. As you are completely unaware of the reasons why I made certain decisions and of some things that occurred in the past, I would like to enlighten you of with facts that will help you to understand why I did what I did. I hope that, with this information, you can arrive at more appropriate conclusions and reconsider your point of view about certain matters.
First, I would like to explain to you why I tried to separate Jane from Charles as this was the subject that provoked the entire discussion.
I've known Charles Bingley for several years and, from the beginning, we became good friends. I think I don't have to tell you much about his reputation with women, I'm sure you already heard quite a lot about it, you even witnessed it yourself during the filming, but nothing you read or heard can be compared to what I know about him.
While we were in Africa, I noticed Charles' interest in Jane. As the filming progressed, this interest grew to the point of becoming almost harassment and Jane's discomfort about it became noticeable. Being the one responsible for everyone's welfare in that location, I felt it was my duty to put some order on the set and stop that situation immediately. Charles was called to attention, Jane was protected and everything seemed under control.
When the location was moved to Canada I was forced to decide what crew I would have to work with. Hiring local people is a lot cheaper and with the limited budget we had I preferred to do what was best for the project: working with a Canadian crew, taking with me only the people whose absence would affect the movie artistically. The rest of the staff was relocated in other projects and I was especially careful about Jane. Knowing that, perhaps, in her case, I was being unfair with her because of Charles, I hired her to work in a TV show that I'm financing that not only would assure her long term continuity but because of the technical requirements would also represent an interesting challenge for her, professionally. So, as you see, though my decision of not taking her to Canada wasn't completely objective, I didn't leave her unemployed as you said I did.
The point in which you are right in being upset is not passing Jane's message to Charles. Though it was wrong of me to interfere, it was done with noble intentions. I was trying to save her from a sure disappointment for becoming involved with someone like Charles and ignoring completely the reason why she was trying to contact him. As I told you before, I know my friend, and it's highly improbable that he would take her -or any other woman- seriously. Unless Charles had made a radical change in his ways, I still consider that his rakish nature and his celebrity lifestyle would only make her suffer sooner or later. Of course, the current situation now requires a different course of action and the situation will be rectified as soon as possible.
Another subject was brought up during our discussion and that is one of very delicate nature, it is the one concerning George Wickham. Just for you to know who you are dealing with, I would enlighten you with some details about this man and his connection with my family.
As George himself told you, there was a time when we were step-brothers. That unfortunate situation occurred when my father decided to marry Myrna Younge, George's mother, when I was nineteen years old. During the time they were together, my father became quite fond George and treated him like his own son. That is how he supported his studies in Cambridge and because of my father's generosity, George was able to share, use and abuse of all the benefits of being part of the Darcy family.
George's manners are as engaging as they are deceitful. For months, he succeeded in concealing his true nature from my father. Only I, the one that was closer to him -our apartments were situated in the same building while in college- was able to learn who George really was. Parties, sex and drugs were his only interest and he was particularly fond of interacting with younger girls.
Fortunately, my father's second marriage didn't last and he divorced George's mother nearly three years after his marriage. Though their prenuptial arrangement left her in a good position, my father agreed on continuing to pay for George's education until his graduation. He didn't know that that was never going to happen as George, while having an acceptable academic performance, was exhibiting a conduct that was jeopardizing his continuity at the university. That is how, not much later, George was expelled from Cambridge for introducing drugs into the dorms.
Soon after his divorce, my father became seriously ill and died one year later. In his will, my father stipulated that George would receive a sum in cash as inheritance and maintained his promise about paying for his education until it was finished. Studying wasn't in George's plans so he asked for an amount equivalent to the payment for an education he would never receive. The money was given to him and I was happy that he finally was out of our lives. Unfortunately, that didn't last and he came back when I least expected and under the most painful circumstances.
As you know, I have a sister, whose inheritance you also accused me of keeping by placing her in some kind of institution. This is accusation is particularly painful to me as, as her guardian until she turned twenty one, I made some decisions that not only affected her emotionally but that brought some undesirable consequences that I still feel responsible for.
My sister Georgiana, due to an infection during my mother's pregnancy, was born with a disability that required special education for her to have a normal life. While my mother lived, that education was provided in specialized schools and her life was practically normal. When she died in a car accident when Georgiana was only 6 years old, for some reasons I will not explain, my father decided to continue with her education at home, with private teachers. This situation provoked several confrontations between my father and myself as I wasn't agreeable with his decision of raising her in such a secluded environment. During the time I was home I did my best to compensate her isolation and integrate her to the outside world, taking her out with me whenever I could but when I left for Cambridge, those outings together became more sporadic. Her isolation was accentuated during my father's second marriage as his wife wasn't fond of my sister and didn't care much about her welfare and needs.
I was twenty-four when my father died and at that young age I became Georgiana's guardian. It was then when I was forced to make one of the toughest decisions I have ever made in my life. By recommendation of her doctor and therapists, who insisted that this was the best solution to cure her shyness and improve her social skills, I sent my little sister to a specialized boarding school. The change was very traumatic for her at the beginning as she was very unused to interacting with people outside the family but, with time, though still living in a semi-protected environment, that decision proved to be fruitful and her so delayed adaptation to the world was finally happening. Her skills improved, her happiness returned and her life became the normal one for someone with her limitations.
At the time I was making my first steps in the movie industry and sometimes my work would take me away from her for longer that I would have wished for. She was making enormous progress at school, she was even thinking of studying a career and I finally thought she was growing up the way she should.
One day, the production I was working on was cancelled unexpectedly and I flew back home to visit her. I was thinking of surprising her with a weekend in France so I went directly to school to pick her up. There, I found her in the company of the most undesired visitor: George Wickham. In her innocence, Georgiana told me that George was a frequent visitor at school, that he had confessed to being romantically attached to her and that he was waiting for her to reach the appropriate age to establish a relationship. You must imagine my reaction to that situation and the disappointment of this sixteen year old girl when she learned that George's supposed affection was only designed to obtain more money from the Darcy family. I pressed charges against George, I took her home to live with me and then put her into a new school. Again, time cured her wounds and we both worked it out, though I still feel responsible for what had happened and for placing her in that situation.
I don't know the nature of your relationship with George Wickham and you may think I have no right to give you any kind of advice, but as someone who truly cares about you I can only ask you to be careful and not to trust everything he says. He is not the person you think he is. If you have any doubts concerning this subject, please don't doubt in asking Richard, who can give you an accounting of everything where Wickham and Georgiana are concerned.
There is one last subject that I feel the need to explain and that is the one concerning my departure to Canada without taking you as my 1st AD. I know that that decision gave you great pain, I'm still regretting it, but it was made with the only purpose of protecting my friendship and partnership with John Lucas. For that I'm the only one to blame and I'm very sorry that my inability to deal with that situation made you lose a job you liked so much. I tried to rectify it later, asking Richard to hire you to work at Rosings, though I must confess that that was done under selfish pretensions too. I was in love with you and I wanted to see you again. But then, my selfishness once again put your job at stake when I tried to have a relationship with you disregarding your wishes. For that, I will be forever sorry.
I know I had no right to judge you the way I did and you have every reason to hate me for doing that. I want you to know that I respect your past and your choices and no matter what has happened between us, my love for you will always be the same. Life has been tough on you and I admire your strength, your integrity and how you reversed all those adversities you faced since you were born and that made you the extraordinary person you are now. Please don't let anyone take that away from you.
With Love,
William