First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 38.1

It would have been wrong for him to say he could never remember being so helpless. He could. He could even give you the date, the time, the day of the week... He found it very difficult to look at Elizabeth. The moment she mentioned Wickham's name, he felt a tightness in his chest. Wickham's name associated with such emotional carnage was too familiar to be shocking. After she told him where they were staying, he drove on muscle memory alone.

His head was too full of not-thoughts that presented only as static buzzing or the uncomfortable harshness of thunder and gray. There was little room for anything else.

When he pulled up to the curb, Elizabeth made no motion to move as he turned off the car. He pushed himself out of his seat and strode around the other side of the car to help her out. Apple looked up at him, his eyes wide and innocent, but his tail wasn't wagging; it had curled protectively around the side of Elizabeth's leg. Darcy pursed his lips before commanding, "Apple, down."

He unwillingly crawled out of the car, trying to curl away from Darcy as soon as his paws were on the pavement. Darcy gripped his collar firmly as Elizabeth slowly followed. She looked at him for a moment and then hopped up over the edge of the curb. She stepped closer, her hand clasping around his wrist. When she spoke, her words were a hurried whisper. "Darcy, please apologize to Georgie for me. And don't... I mean, if she doesn't have to know—I don't want to make anything worse for her. About... You know."

"Yes. I'll make sure she understands. And that she hears your apology."

"Thank you." Her fingers lingered on his skin, five points of tingling warmth that pressed hard once before slipping away.

When he heard her feet on the steps, he turned away, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the task ahead of him. He was as unwilling as Apple to leave, but it would be far less socially acceptable for him to run after he than a dog. He would have sworn he could feel her eyes on his back, but he didn't dare turn to find out. As much to keep himself in check as Apple, he continued to force the dog back into the car. His glare was almost knowingly mutinous. If he hadn't been so preoccupied, he might have worried for his personal possessions.

But he was far more focused on his sister as he drove home, slightly below the speed limit to give himself as much time as possible to think. First, he considered the last time he had seen Georgie and Wickham together. It had not been a pretty sight. Then, the month, the second month, the third month after. Perhaps even worse. He thought of her and Apple, how she finally had some expression other than extreme malaise. The spring had been difficult. There were hours of therapy he hadn't seen, didn't ask about, but also long walks and nights in. She had been confident enough to send him off for the summer, nearly forcing him out the door when he threatened, last-minute, to stay. She had survived a semester and a half in a city without him.

By the time he pulled into the garage, he had settled on the only proper response; he would have to tell her the truth. He had hoped he would have a few more minutes of preparation, though. As soon as he stepped through the door into the house, she was calling out to him. "Fitz! Is Liz here yet? I didn't mean to sleep so late, but I guess I was—what are you doing with Apple?" she asked, her tone changing at his expression, her eyes dropping to the dog who had trotted into the room after him. Apple flicked him hard with his tail on the way over to his girl. Just retribution.

"She... She had to leave. There was an... Emergency," he said slowly, picking his words with care.

"An emergency?" Georgie's eyes widened. Her words came out in a squeak. "Is she okay?"

"A family emergency," Darcy clarified, still uncertain how to broach the subject.

His sister's eyes were growing by the second, reaching quickly towards the region of saucer.

"I—" He heard a sound upstairs and paused. "Come into the library with me?"

She followed rapidly without a word. Apple had glued himself to her side as securely as he had to Elizabeth's. He tried to use his time to scramble some semblance of thoughts together, but his head was still full of the meaningless gray fuzz. Pausing in the hallway, he held the door open for her and then shut it softly behind him before he went to his desk. He leaned against the front of it, his hands clasped along the edges.

Darcy closed his eyes briefly and then opened them to meet Georgie's curious expression. He exhaled. It was going to be just as difficult as he feared it would be. "Elizabeth came this morning and her phone worked. But... There were a lot of missed messages.

"I didn't tell you because I wasn't... totally sure if you—well, it didn't matter at the time. That's why I didn't mention it. But last summer, George Wickham was in Meryton." It felt more like the words fell into the air than that he had uttered them. He scanned her expression minutely, trying desperately to find any signs of panic or consternation. Her eyes remained wide and her mouth pressed together in a firm little line, but she made no other reaction. She did not attempt to speak. He hurried his way through a mostly true, but still slightly garbled, explanation of the nature of his and Wickham's encounters before skipping lightly over Elizabeth's quasi-relationship with him. There was no need for Georgie to associate the two.

Throughout, her expression was a tight bundle of concern. She was always better at reading faces than he had been, so he could only guess at her emotions. When he reached Lydia's predicament, her expression remained concerned, even alarmed, but not upset in the manner he had some to associate with a period of muteness or worse. She waited until he had finished to say in a firm, but entirely self-possessed, voice, "Fitz, you have to help them. You have to help Lydia!"

"I—yes. Yes, I know." He hadn't known, not really. Not until she said it. But of course, he did. The path was clear in front of him. He knew exactly where Wickham would be; he had found him there before; he could find him again. "I'll probably have to leave soon."

"That's fine. Do what you have to!"

"You're going to be here alone with Chip and his sisters," he warned.

She shook her head. "I don't care, Fitz. Really. This is much more important."

"I'll have to make some calls, I think. Before I go anywhere. To make sure I can help." He sighed. "I'm sorry I'm ruining your spring break."

Georgie reached out and put her hand on the back of his. Her fingers spread across the skin to graze his wrist. He paused for a moment, teetering on the edge of a great well of guilt. He thought intensely on the other had that had been holding his earlier in the day. "You're not the one ruining my break and you know it." She squeezed tightly and let go. "Good luck. Let me know what you know—when you figure it out, I mean."

She left him alone in the library; Apple followed after her, but he glanced back, once, towards Darcy. His previous animosity had lessened as Darcy's mood worsened. He knew when people needed his help. But Darcy made no move towards him, so he followed Georgie out into the hall.

Darcy waited for a minute, motionless, his head bowed. She was right, of course, he tried urgently to convince himself. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. George Wickham's touch was a creeping poison, a reverse Midas. He ruined everything he could lay his hands on with a child's glee.