by Zoë Burton
“We do.” Richard stood when Forster did and bowed. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“No, thank you. ‘Tis a difficult enough task to keep townspeople happy with a unit such as ours stationed in their towns. Misbehavior of the kind this man is capable of will lead to nothing but trouble for all of us.” Forster strode to the door and, opening it, gestured to the ensign who sat at the desk in the other room. He spoke quietly to the man, then returned to his visitors. “Wickham should be here shortly, if he is where he is supposed to be at this time of the day.” The five men spent a few minutes finishing their tea and discussing the situation on the continent while they waited, but when the ensign brought Wickham to the room, Colonel Forster bowed to the group and left, shutting the door behind him with a snap.
Wickham had been cleaning his rifle after a morning of firing practice when Ensign Barton had come to fetch him. He wondered at first at the summons, but then shrugged his shoulders and followed the ensign to the colonel’s office. It was not unusual for one of the officers to be asked to relay messages to London and elsewhere. Wickham put on his most charming smile as he greeted his superior, not immediately noticing the others in the room. He was surprised when Forster brushed past him with barely a nod, and he looked after the colonel, brows creased, wondering what on earth was the matter. A voice he recognized snapped Wickham’s attention back, and his eyes grew wide for a moment to see Colonel Fitzwilliam standing in front of him.
“Wickham,” Richard murmured. “How good of you to come.”
Wickham returned the greeting, eyes darting from Richard to Darcy and back. Drawing himself up, he reminded himself to not show weakness, no matter how wary he was of the colonel. “What is this about, gentlemen?” Wickham swaggered past Richard, intending to claim a seat when Richard stopped him cold.
“You, Lieutenant, were not given permission to move.” Richard’s voice was cold, his scowl menacing. Wickham stopped immediately, sensing the anger that filled the room. He nearly sagged in relief when the colonel retreated to his own chair.
“I-, we-,” Darcy gestured to his friends, one of whom Wickham recognized from their encounter in Meryton a fortnight ago. “Have a proposition for you.”
Darcy did not affect Wickham the same as did his cousin, and Wickham knew that if Darcy was involved, there was a good chance he would be offering Wickham money to stay quiet about something. He wondered if Darcy knew that he was the instigator of the rumors floating around about Elizabeth Bennet. Though he threw another cautious glance at Richard, Wickham could not keep from baiting Darcy a bit. Turning on the charm, he smirked at his childhood friend. “What sort of a proposition?”
Darcy, whose lips had been tightly closed and whose face wore a familiar scowl, spoke in a tone cold enough to freeze the room, explaining his offer to Wickham. He held back details about the manner of man the lieutenant’s new commander was, thinking it would be easier to gain Wickham’s cooperation if he did not know.
Listening intently, the lieutenant thought it was worth the effort to try and squeeze more funds out of Darcy, especially given where they wanted him to go. “How important is it to you that I join this other regiment?”
Darcy’s eyes flicked up and down Wickham’s person before settling once more on his face. “It is important, I assure you. However, it is not for you to know the relative value it has to me. I simply want you gone, and the only other alternative is to see you dead. Given my father’s favor for you, I could not in good conscience do that.”
Wickham sneered. “So now you want to honor your father’s wishes. A little too late, do you not think? You are too cowardly to kill me.”
He was brought up short when Richard rose from his seat, face dark and menacing and hand on his sword. “Darcy’s conscience may be bothered by seeing you dead, but I assure you, mine is not. Watch your words, Lieutenant.”
Wickham startled, and took a step back. He swallowed before stammering, “I will! I will!”
“See to it that you do.” Richard caressed the hilt of his sword once more, his serious gaze boring into Wickham’s eyes. Then, he gracefully reseated himself, and left his hand resting on his weapon.
Wickham swallowed again as he turned his attention back to Darcy, keeping one eye on Richard as he did so. Wickham knew that Richard had seen war, and any threat from him was as likely to be followed through with as not.
“You were compensated for that living, and you signed away your right to it. I do not want to hear any more on the subject, from you or anyone else.” Darcy’s eyes blazed.
Wickham felt another taunt rise up in his throat, but a glance back at Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded him of the wisdom in restraining himself. He said nothing, waiting for Darcy to continue.
“It is far more important to you that you comply than it is to me.” Darcy had a sudden inspiration, and while not generally inclined to impulsiveness, decided to follow it without thought. “For, if you do not accept my proposal, I will allow my cousin to do what he will with you.”
Though Wickham tried to mask his reaction, he knew the other men had likely seen the widening of his eyes and noted his sudden stiffness. “Let us not be hasty, Darcy. What you have offered is intriguing. I might consider it for a higher sum. Say, three thousand pounds? And, the ability to withdraw it wherever and whenever I wish.”
Darcy shook his head, his clenched jaw and dark scowl still gracing his features. “I have anticipated you, Wickham. Your methods are the same as they have always been. I will not give you a penny more than a thousand pounds. Combined with your militia pay, you should be able to live quite comfortably. Why, it’s at least as much as you would have earned if you had accepted the living.” Darcy paused and looked at Wickham for a long moment, before continuing. “As far as allowing you unlimited access to the principal, the answer is no. I have not lived so long as I have and been so familiar with your proclivities to not have learned that you have a hole in the pocket of every purse and suit of clothes you own. Your options are to be all in, or to go out with Richard. Which is it to be?”
Wickham thought about it for a few minutes as Darcy and his friends watched. He has not mentioned Miss Elizabeth. Does he not know? I heard that Goulding fellow’s stories when I was in town last evening. Surely word had to have reached his friend’s estate by now. Should I say something? He looked once more in Richard’s direction and made note of the wicked, almost evil, grin on the gentleman’s face and the loving manner in which he rubbed his hand over the sword hilt. No, I do not think I should mention it. If they do not know, I can get away before they discover it. Looking at Darcy, Wickham assented. “I will accept your offer.”
“That is very wise of you,” Darcy replied, pulling the written agreement out of his pocket and laying it on the table for everyone to sign.
Chapter 9
By the time the gentlemen were finished with Wickham, the day was growing long. Once the papers had been signed, the lieutenant had gone back to his apartment to pack his belongings. He had protested the guard that was sent along with him, but Colonel Forster was adamant that he wanted Wickham gone, and he intended to make sure he got to his destination. Once he was ready to go, Wickham was introduced to his escort—four armed militia men whom he had cheated at cards. With a sigh, the lieutenant gave over any thoughts of trying to escape. He could use the money Darcy was giving him, anyway, and was positive he could turn his meager pay into something far better at the gambling tables.
Darcy and Richard remained at the militia headquarters long enough to see Wickham ride off. Bingley and Hurst had gone back to Netherfield. There was a dinner they were to attend that evening, and the two gentlemen went ahead to get ready.
Darcy noticed the gathering dusk and pulled out his watch. Noting the time, he sighed.
“Something wrong?” Richard looked at his cousin with his head tilted.
“I would have liked to visit Miss Elizabeth today. As I said this morning, I am concerned by the lack of response to my not
e yesterday.” Darcy grew quiet for a moment as he remembered the events in the breakfast room earlier in the day. “You were preparing yourself a plate and did not see it, but when I asked Caroline about the post, she got a strange look on her face. Twice, actually. The first time it was gone before I could make it out, but the second time seemed like … I do not know … triumph or smugness or something.”
Richard’s brows rose. “Do you suspect her of taking your mail? Do you think you did receive a note, and Miss Bingley confiscated it?”
“It would not surprise me in the least.” A young soldier brought their horses to them, and Darcy paused speaking so he could mount up. “She is very angry at all the gentlemen of the house. Hurst would not allow her to leave after she heard some gossip, Bingley refuses to give up Miss Bennet, and I informed her of my intention to support her brothers. You, she has never liked anyway, so you may not have noticed her altered personality, since she is treating you as she always does.” Darcy’s lips lifted into a small smile.
Richard threw his head back and laughed as they urged their horses into a trot. “You are correct; I never noticed.” He shrugged. “I care not that Bingley’s sister dislikes me. She is not the kind of woman I wish to grace my household every day for the rest of my life.”
“She comes with a nice dowry,” Darcy reminded him.
“I have sufficient income from my father’s allowance, and I have made some wise investments with the inheritance my grandfather left me. I can live quite comfortably on what I have, plus I have the added knowledge that my family is willing to host me for however long I wish to reside in their homes. I can be choosy in regards to a wife, to a point.”
Darcy nodded. “You are correct. Forgive me for pushing.”
“I take it as a signal that you care about what happens to me, and I cannot resent that. No forgiveness is required,” Richard replied as seriously as Darcy had ever known him to do.
“Well, then, shall we race back?” Before his cousin could reply, Darcy spurred his mount into a gallop, laughing as he heard Richard’s yell.
A quarter hour later, Darcy was joining the rest of the Netherfield party in his coach for the trip to dine at the home of a local family. He still had not received replies to either of his notes, and he was becoming increasingly concerned. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Bingley’s sister had either taken his notes from the servants assigned to deliver them, and destroyed them, or had done the same to the replies he had received. He was torn about what to do. He did not wish to insult his very good friend by accusing the man’s sister of something so terrible, but neither did he want to worry about his betrothed. We have not had time to announce our engagement to the world. I wonder if Caroline would behave differently if she had that information? Thinking it over some more, Darcy realized that, no, it likely would not change her behaviour and might, in fact, make it worse. Shrugging, he realized he could not change what had already happened. Hopefully, he would see Elizabeth tonight at this dinner. Regardless of whether he did or not, he intended to be at Longbourn as early as possible tomorrow morning. Two days without seeing her was two days too long.
When none of the Bennets appeared at the home of the Longs, where the dinner was being hosted, Darcy’s concern deepened. It was not until the ladies left the gentlemen to their cigars and port that his worries grew larger.
As usual when ladies were not present, the gentlemen in the room lit up cigars and enjoyed a few glasses of port. They chatted with those around them, alternately telling jokes and discussing the news of the day. The table was a long one, and Darcy found himself seated near Bingley and Richard, as well as some of the younger local men. Conversation had quieted for a minute or two as one topic of conversation had wound down and no one had yet introduced a new one. Seated across from Darcy and two seats down from Bingley, a young gentleman leaned forward and spoke in a low tone that Darcy might have missed, had he not been paying attention.
“Sad about the Bennets, is it not?”
Immediately, the ears of Darcy, Bingley, Hurst, and Colonel Fitzwilliam perked up.
“What do you mean, Mr. Long,” James Goulding asked.
“Have you not heard?” Harold Long’s brows rose in surprise. “My valet heard it, and if the servants have, the gentry have.”
“I have not heard a thing. I am quite certain there are others who do not know. Perhaps you should enlighten us.” Goulding was an older gentleman and rather brusque. He gestured to his son, who blushed a deep red. “You are as bad as my son. Robert came home deeply in his cups a night or two ago, spouting a bunch of nonsense. The ale had such a grip on him that we could not make heads or tails of his words.”
“What I am trying to tell you is that Miss Elizabeth Bennet is sharing her favors while she is out on those walks of hers.” Long looked into each gentleman’s face to make certain his words sank in. “Rumour has it, she only does so with gentlemen, but I am quite certain she cannot have limited it to those of a higher social rank. Anyone who flirts as much as she does cannot have the self-control to turn down any offer. And you know that what one sister does, they all likely do. They had to have learned it from that mother of theirs.”
Darcy had heard enough. He slammed his fist on the table and stood. “That is a lie. Who are you to be repeating such salacious gossip about one of the finest ladies I have ever met?”
Harold Long did not reply for a full minute. He swallowed loudly, his eyes large in his head. “I said I heard it from my valet. It must be true, for they are not here tonight.” He looked to his father, seated at the head of the table.
“It is true they are not here. Mrs. Long heard the news, as well, and sent a note ‘round to Longbourn, asking them not to attend. Shame this had to be exposed in such a manner, but we cannot be having loose women around our sons.” Bradford Long looked down his nose as he spoke, lips pinched.
Darcy had grown more and more red as the other gentlemen spoke, his fists clenched tightly and his lips compressed into a tight line. Richard and Bingley recognized the danger and stood, trying to gain Darcy’s attention, but could not. Darcy was incensed at the disparagement of his betrothed, who he knew full well would never do something as heinous as what had been described to him.
“I do not know who started such horrible rumours, but I can tell you that they are lies. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is an honourable woman. She is virtuous and kind. She is also my betrothed, and I would be well within my rights to call you out, Mr. Long.” Darcy glared at the younger man. Feeling someone grab his arm, Darcy glanced to his side to see his cousin. Shaking Richard off, Darcy looked up and down the table. “And when I marry her, I am taking her away from this miserable, benighted, back of nowhere town. How all of you, who have known her your entire lives, could think such a thing of my Elizabeth I will never understand. I had wondered why none of the gentlemen in the area had snatched her up already. Now I know. None of you deserve a woman like her.
“I am going to look into this, I promise you. I will find out the source of the rumours and when I do, woe to that man. Or woman, for that matter.” With a final look of contempt, Darcy turned from the table and stalked out of the room, not stopping until he was outside.
There he paced until the rest of his party followed him out and the carriage came around. Stepping back to allow the ladies to be handed up by Bingley and Hurst, Darcy grit his teeth at the sound of Caroline’s non-stop commentary as she berated her brother.
“I apologize, Darcy. She was in the midst of spreading her own gossip about Miss Elizabeth when I arrived at the drawing-room door. I spoke out against it and was rather sharp in my tone of voice. She feels I have embarrassed her in front of people she views as inferior.”
“I appreciate that you defended my betrothed, and by extension, me.” Darcy glanced at the carriage. “I will bear it, but please forgive me for not speaking as we travel back to Netherfield.” He began to turn and enter the equipage, but then turned back. “There i
s something I wish to speak to you about on the morrow. It concerns your sister.”
Bingley’s brows rose in surprise. “Very well. I shall make time for you whenever you are ready.”
Darcy nodded, then stepped up and into the carriage, not acknowledging the ladies and Hurst. When Bingley followed and tapped the roof, the driver spoke to the horses and with a lurch, they were off.
~~~***~~~
The next morning, Darcy was up at dawn with dark circles under his eyes and a haggard mien. He paced the room like a caged animal while he waited for hot water to bathe. Darcy had tossed and turned all night, turning the gossip he had heard over in his mind. Hurst had told him of the rumours that Caroline had tried to use to get them all to leave Netherfield, but Darcy had dismissed it as the ramblings of an unhappy and interfering female who would use whatever method available to destroy a relationship. If I had understood the severity, had known that it was not all in Caroline’s mind, I would have delayed dealing with Wickham and instead gone to Elizabeth’s side. How she must worry that I have abandoned her! Darcy’s stomach turned at the idea that he had hurt the woman he loved above all else, and thoughts of Wickham led him to speculation about who could have spread the rumours in the first place, and why.
Darcy allowed his mind to list everything he knew, all the facts he had in his possession. He listed the tales he had heard the previous night, and considered all that he had seen. He remembered the elder Goulding’s words, and the red face of the younger. He recalled the glee with which Harold Long shared the vicious tales and the disdain in Bradford Long’s expression. Then, at the edges of his conscious, intruded the image of George Wickham and the sound of his enemy’s voice declaring he intended to ruin Elizabeth. Can it be? Darcy knew in an instant that Wickham was at the root of the scandal.
“Sir, your bath is ready.” Darcy’s valet, Smith, stood quietly beside the dressing room door, his eyes averted downward.
