Colonel Foster frowned, “I would prefer to see him dead on the duelling field for certain than take a chance on him returning a hero.”
“Gentlemen, remember that Mr. Wickham has deserted his post in time of war. He left his camp sometime yesterday and at sundown tonight, he will be a deserter. A firing squad will make short work of him if ever we catch him,” Fitzwilliam told Darcy and Foster.
Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Denny once more and asked, “Where in London did you last meet with Wickham.”
“At a tavern called the Laughing Pony in Bayswater,” Denny replied.
“Then that is where we shall begin our search,” Darcy said. “If we move quickly, perhaps we can catch him there this very afternoon.”
In agreement, the gentlemen parted to settle their affairs in Meryton with mutual commitment to meet at the blacksmith shop within the hour and then ride into town to find the Laughing Pony.
++**++
Later in the morning, Lt. Denny rode to Netherfield to deliver a note to Mr. Bingley.
++**++
White Pig Inn
Meryton, Hertfordshire
Bingley,
Mr. Wickham has abducted Mrs. Lincoln and carried her to London. You cannot lay more recriminations at my feet than I already have for not pressing Colonel Foster to confine him to the camp. This morning, Foster, Fitzwilliam and I in the company of a few of Foster’s troops ride for London at noon to begin the search for Miss Lincoln’s mother.
I have no clue why Wickham has begun this misadventure – there is no connection to his previous misdeeds. In fact, Colonel Foster had been agreeable to Wickham and favoured him over his other officers – perhaps he must always bite the hand that feeds him.
Please share what you think appropriate with the ladies at Longbourn and assure any of them who inquire that I shall return as ever I have resolved the issue with Mr. Wickham.
Fitzwilliam Darcy
++**++
Mr. Darcy allowed Colonel Foster and Colonel Fitzwilliam to lead the troop of soldiers riding toward London. The roads were muddy and there were wagons and coaches passing in both directions. Darcy held his gelding back, thankful that he was not trying to ride Zeus this morning.
After one hour on the road, they came to spot where a wagon filled with hay had stopped and the farmer waved for the army officers to stop. Riding up to the front just as Colonel Foster signalled his men to halt, Darcy heard the farmer explain saying, “My boy heard a horse neighing like it was hurt. We stopped and he went down into the brush and found it. Terrible sight, sirs!”
“What did he find?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam. Colonel Foster was already dismounting and directing his troops into the brush.
“It’s a small carriage – the kind that gentlemen use to race along the road in dry weather. Anyway, the gentlemen must have been driving too fast for this muddy road and the horse went off the road and down into the brush. The carriage flipped over and landed a-top of the man and the woman. My son and I pulled them out of the carriage but they were dead.”
Leaving the horses under the watch of three soldiers, the gentlemen followed the farmer back into the brush along the side of the road to find the phaeton and now dead horse lying tangled in the saplings and limbs. To one side lay the bodies of Mrs. Lincoln and George Wickham.
Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped closer to examine the bodies which he did quietly and without ceremony. He came back to the others and reported, “I think they both died very quickly if not instantly. Mrs. Lincoln’s neck was broken and George’s chest is caved in. He must have taken the full weight of the carriage when it landed on him. The horse lingered all through the night and morning until the farmer put him down.”
Foster lead his men back to the road where he sent one man back to Meryton to tell the blacksmith where to find his dead horse and wrecked phaeton. Darcy stood staring at the bodies for a long minute before silently walking closer to look at Wickham for a moment.
“I wonder what I should feel at this moment,” Darcy confessed to his cousin. “I do not remember being friends with George when we were children – he would torment me even then. He hurt Georgiana so badly and yet I could not take revenge – could not seek justice without announcing to the world what he had done to her.”
“I feel sorrow for Miss Lincoln for the loss of her mother,” Fitzwilliam said from Darcy’s side. “And I feel sorrow for the horse that lingered in pain for many hours, but for George Wickham I feel no sorrow except that he did not linger in the dark before his soul went to hell.”
Darcy glanced at his cousin but then nodded in agreement. “I shall tell Georgiana that he has died and that we have both seen his corpse. I hope it brings her some peace.”
Returning to the road, Darcy found Colonel Foster attempting to force the farmer to dump his load of hay on the roadside to use his wagon to convey the bodies back to Meryton. Intervening, Darcy pointed out the bad feelings such a requisition would have made with the local landowner, Lord Peterson, who would lose a load of hay for his horses just before winter set in.
“I know the man with the farm just up the road, sirs,” the farmer told them. “He’d have a wagon you could hire to move the bodies.”
Agreeing to this plan, Colonel Foster sent one of his men to the farm with some of Darcy’s coins as promise of payment for use of a wagon, horse and driver for the day.
Within an hour, an empty farm wagon arrived at the side of the road and the soldiers carried the two bodies to the wagon. They used Wickham’s coat to cover his face and a blanket the farmer had for warmth over Mrs. Lincoln’s face. Turning the horses and wagon back to Meryton, they met Mr. Black shortly thereafter coming with a large wagon and several men.
One of the soldiers returned to the site with Black to show him the location of his horse and phaeton but the others rode on toward Meryton, reaching the town about four of the clock. The fall day would soon be over and they quickly made arrangements for the bodies to be placed in caskets purchased at the cabinet maker’s shop – the man kept a small number prepared at all times of the year – and then used the farm wagon to move the caskets to the small church at Longbourn.
Mr. Fallows met with Colonel Foster and the other gentlemen, and he agreed to conduct funeral services after the Sunday services for George Wickham and on Monday for Mrs. Lincoln. Colonel Foster then left to tell Miss Lincoln of her mother’s death and funeral arrangements.
Fitzwilliam and Darcy returned to the White Pig for beer and some supper. They both retired early.
++**++
Following church services, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy attended the funeral of Captain George Wickham. While in the churchyard, watching the gravedigger and his son throw the dirt on the coffin, Mr. Smyth from Longbourn approached both gentlemen with an invitation for tea from the ladies residing in the house.
“Mr. Fallows called at the house last evening with the news of the death of Mrs. Lincoln and Mr. Wickham. As the family that patrons the church and it being so close to the house, Mrs. Bennet wanted to invite the gentlemen who attended the service for Mr. Wickham to come to the house for refreshment after the service.”
“That is very kind, Mr. Smyth,” Darcy replied. He joined Smyth with his cousin and the rector in walking to the manor house. Along the way he asked, “Does Longbourn feed the gravediggers as well?”
“I am certain they do, Mr. Darcy but I will ask Mrs. Hill,” Smyth replied. Once he had escorted the gentlemen to the front door, Mr. Smyth did inquire with Mrs. Hill and he was assured that a basket of food and drink was sent to the cemetery along with payment for their services.
Thus ended George Wickham.
++**++
The following morning, Longbourn hosted Miss Lincoln as Colonel Foster and the other gentlemen attended the funeral for Mrs. Lincoln. When the service was over, the ladies of the house welcomed the gentlemen once again. Joining them this time were several of the officers as well as Mr. Bingley.
Mr.
Fallows spoke at length with Colonel Foster and Miss Lincoln to assure them that they could move forward with their plans to marry in another week’s time. It would be a private wedding, with witnesses, and no wedding breakfast. Colonel Foster would move into the house with Miss Lincoln after the wedding and in the spring, when the militia relocated to Brighton for training, the newlyweds would have their honeymoon.
++**++
Chapter 33.
The Fox Hunt at Netherfield
It was a few mornings later, that the date set for the fox hunt dawned. The weather had cleared and though cold would be sunny. Fitzwilliam Darcy stood at the window in his room at the White Pig inn and stared at the bare tree branches in the clear morning air. Behind him, his valet set the room to rights after shaving and dressing his employer.
“Harris, I am sorry to be difficult this morning,” Darcy apologized. “But why have you dressed me in the blue coat for the fox hunt.”
“You should stand out sir,” the valet replied. “In the chase, it will be possible for others to recognize you from some distance with the blue coat.”
“And who will be watching me today?” Darcy asked.
The valet bowed before he said, “The ladies following the hunt will be able to find you in the crowd.”
“I shall be at the head of chase,” Darcy replied.
“Of course, sir, your mount always leads the pack. But today, I believe Mrs. Hamilton will lead her sisters as they follow the hunt.”
“Mrs. Hamilton?” Darcy asked confused by his valet’s use of Elizabeth Hamilton’s name.
Nodding his head, Harris explained. “Before this fall, you never mention any young lady in our conversations sir but since we have been in Hertfordshire, you have mentioned Mrs. Hamilton almost every day.”
“I have?”
“Yes sir. And I selected the blue coat in particular. The other night, I spoke with one of the footmen from Netherfield and he repeated Mrs. Hurst’s remarks on the fashionable outfits worn by the ladies from Longbourn to tea in the last week or so. He also repeated tales from the maids that Miss Bingley was more difficult than usual that evening.”
“Continue,” Darcy commanded.
“Mrs. Hamilton’s riding habit is a fetching blue from all reports. I imagine Mr. Bingley’s valet has convinced him to wear his brightest red coat to match Miss Bennet’s red riding habit.”
“And what else have you learned talking with the servants here about?” Darcy asked his valet as he considered his reflection in the mirror.
“At Netherfield, the housekeeper, Mrs. Hobbes has to rotate the maids serving Miss Bingley because the lady mistreats the girls terribly and they threaten to quit. Mrs. Hobbes fixes Miss Bingley’s hair herself so the lady will not have another reason to yell at the maids.”
“What about Miss Bingley’s lady’s maid?”
“There is no lady’s maid in Miss Bingley’s chambers. The story that Mrs. Hurst’s maid tells is that Miss Bingley’s maid quit the day the family left London to move to Hertfordshire.”
“Another lady’s maid quit?”
“Yes sir, that’s five maids what quit Miss Bingley in the last two years.”
“The man reports that Mrs. Hurst’s maid says that Mr. Hurst refuses to allow her to help with Miss Bingley’s gowns or hair at any time.”
“And what do the servants say about the local families, Harris?”
Smiling broadly again, the valet reported, “The locals say very favourable things about the Bennet family sir. Mrs. Hobbes remembers Mrs. Hamilton in particular before her marriage – the lady was a bright girl who helped with the sick and infirm, and she brought baskets to the elderly even when it wasn’t required of the manor house.”
“And what of the absence of Mr. Bennet?”
“Well sir, their stories vary greatly about Mr. Bennet. He sailed away to find a fortune and became a pirate to hear the maids talk. The butler and housekeeper say that he went across the ocean about an inheritance but that he is past due to return.”
++**++
In the course of the afternoon, the gentlemen from the surrounding houses gathered at Netherfield to follow the hounds as they chased the scent of a fox poaching from the chicken coops and barns at Netherfield. Mr. Talbert and his eldest son would manage the hounds on the trail, while riding sturdy ponies through the brush without taking any of the fences and hedges as the gentlemen did. The youngest Talbert would remain at Netherfield to kennel any of the hounds that lost the scent and returned home early.
In the parlour overlooking the front lawn, the Bingley sisters waited for the hunt to begin. “I think Charles should have sent for a horse so that I could ride today,” Caroline told her sister. “I have a very fetching riding habit in green.”
“It is very becoming on you Caroline but I don’t believe you have ridden a horse in over a year,” Louisa replied.
“Imagine it though; riding with Mr. Darcy through the woods in intimate conversation while chasing a fox.”
Louisa’s right hand reached up to adjust her hair for a moment. “I am certain Mr. Hurst told me that a fox hunt is a mad dash across the countryside. There is no intimate conversation.”
“What is the purpose of the hunt then, if not to have conversation?”
The elder sister did not bother to answer as Mr. Darcy entered the room at that moment; Louisa was forgotten and Caroline approached her brother’s friend. “Mr. Darcy, welcome to Netherfield this morning. You look very dashing in blue! I don’t believe I have seen you wear this colour before…”
Louisa caught Mr. Darcy’s eye, smiled and nodded her head in approval of his choice of colours. “I must give credit to my valet. Harris picked this coat out for me today and I was persuaded to follow his suggestion.”
“You look much better in your blue than Charles does in his red coat, I must say,” Caroline observed. “With his fair hair, I think he would have done better in the blue and you in the red.”
On the front lawn, Charles and Mr. Hurst were greeting the gentlemen and comparing horses. Everyone in the parlour and on the lawn turned their head when the three Bennet sisters arrived, riding side saddle, their horses perfectly behaved.
“It certainly is not proper for young ladies to ride out without a chaperone or male companion,” Caroline complained to her companions. “They should have had a footman ride as an escort.”
“But Caroline, Mrs. Hamilton acts as their chaperone,” Louisa explained.
“Yes, with a young child to rear,” Caroline reminded Darcy and her sister. “Any man courting her would bear the expense of another man’s child as well as unwed sisters….”
“Miss Bingley,” Mr. Darcy interrupted the lady. “I believe that I can state without qualification that if a man were so fortunate as to win the hand of Mrs. Hamilton, he would have no cause to repine.”
He bowed to the ladies and said, “Thank you for inviting my cousin and I for the hunt, Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley. Now if you will excuse me, I shall welcome the other riders.”
“Mr. Darcy!” Caroline called but the gentleman ignored her and was gone. Stamping her foot in anger, Caroline walked to a bell pull and jerked the cord so hard it fell to the floor. When a harried footman entered the room, Caroline told the man, “Tell Mrs. Hobbit I wish to see her in the parlour now!”
“Very good Miss Bingley,” the footman said without any expression on his face.
Louisa said nothing and Caroline turned to her silent sister. “Well, are you not going to comment on my latest attempt to discourage Mr. Darcy from chasing Mrs. Hamilton?”
“No, my dear sister,” Louisa replied. “You do not hear his words and you do not listen to me so I shall save my breath to cool my porridge.”
“Louisa, that is one of the sayings hereabout,” Caroline complained. “No one uses such language in London.”
The door opened and Mrs. Hobbes entered the room in a hurried manner. “You needed me Miss Bingley?”
“I wish to change
my gown before the guests return for refreshment,” Caroline said. “Send Mary to my dressing room…”
“No,” Louisa interrupted. She took the broken pull cord from her sister and handed it to Mrs. Hobbes. “Continue with the preparations for the refreshments for our guests and do not concern yourself with my sister this afternoon. And have the footman repair this bell pull again.”
“Very good Mrs. Hurst, thank you,” the housekeeper replied as she curtsied and fled the room.
“Louisa!” Caroline fussed. “How dare you interfere?”
Louisa sat on the sofa before the fireplace and motioned for her sister to join her. Reluctantly, Caroline stalked across the room and sat beside her quiet sister.
“Mr. Hurst and I are leaving after Twelfth Night to return to Hampshire. We are going to spend the winter and most of the spring at Clear Meadow with his family.”
“I will not join you!” Caroline insisted. “I do not care for Mr. Hurst’s family, Louisa.”
Nodding her head, Louisa agreed. “No, you are not invited to accompany us. Mr. Hurst and I wish to be spend time without company.”
“How will you find any privacy at Clear Meadow? Mr. Hurst has three younger sisters at home and two brothers from the army who use the house as their barracks when not in camp.”
Louisa inclined her head in agreement and then explained, “Mr. Hurst and I shall have our privacy in the dower house.”
“The dower house?” Caroline asked. “Will it not be rather small?”
“I believe it will suit us just fine Caroline,” Louisa said. “Once I am gone, Charles will not make you his hostess again and if you do not curb your tongue, Charles will send you to our aunt in the north and her household does not entertain anyone except the clergyman from her church.”
Follies and Nonsense Page 28
