“I wanted to thank you for rescuing my daughter,” Mr. Bennet said once greetings were exchanged and refreshments declined.
“I felt I owed it to her. My reserve kept Mr. Wickham’s true character from being known,” Darcy said.
“I doubt whether your reserve, or anybody's reserve, can be answerable for the event,” Mr. Bennet replied. His clipped words revealed his anger. He ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry that my family has participated so willingly in the spread of the lies Wickham told about you.”
Darcy shrugged. He’d long since learned to ignore people gossiping about him. With his wealth, it was a fairly common occurrence and to be expected when he entered a small community such as the one in Hertfordshire.
“I don’t know if anyone else will tell you, so I feel I must, indebted to you as I am,” Mr. Bennet said. “Wickham’s been defaming you from his cell. He claims you are incapable of doing anything yourself and use your father’s money to cover your incompetence.”
“I heard a version of that,” Darcy said with another shrug, knowing Wickham felt he should have a large chunk of Darcy’s father’s money.
“Well, if Forster’s or Pratt’s description of events are true, you certainly weren’t incompetent.”
“Everyone contributed,” Darcy said. He was not being modest. His wealth had allowed frequent changes of horses, but others had contributed to the rescue as well.
Mr. Bennet looked uncomfortable. He coughed into his hand. “He’s also trying to malign your sister, claiming she agreed to elope with him.”
Darcy surged to his feet. “He’s what?” he demanded. It was one thing to spread rumors about him and to try to bring down his character. He could defend himself. It was quite another matter to harm Georgiana in any way. Maybe he would reconsider dueling the man.
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Bennet said. “No one believes it, especially since you were seen driving into Brighton and riding out of it. His obvious lies on one subject call into question the validity of his other claim. He doesn’t even say that he was ever out of the sight of a chaperone with your sister. He’s saying it was in whispered conversations while the chaperone was across the room and on walks when she walked behind them. No one here is taking him seriously.”
“That’s good to know. I would not like that story to get out,” Darcy said, retaking his seat. “Forgive my reaction.” With its truth, that story was more dangerous than Wickham’s lies.
“Think nothing of it,” Mr. Bennet said. “I don’t believe you have much to worry about, truly. After I received Elizabeth’s express, I sent a note to Mr. Phillips asking him to check with a few local merchants. He sent me a reply before I left the next morning. Wickham owes money. Phillips checked discretely, but the fact that questions were asked will probably make the merchants go public. I don’t think Wickham’s credibility will be high in Meryton, since his credit is so poor.”
“I still don’t like the idea of rumors floating around.” Darcy felt compelled to give this man more truth than he likely should. “Miss Darcy took a holiday in Ramsgate and Mr. Wickham spent some time with her. I came unexpectedly and Mr. Wickham left the area with a certain alacrity.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him in silence. Darcy hoped he wouldn’t ask for any more information.
“In that case it is obvious what happened,” Mr. Bennet finally said. “Mr. Wickham hinted at elopement and Miss Darcy or her chaperone decided you should intervene.” Mr. Bennet cocked his head to one side. “Miss Darcy?” He paused. “Her chaperone?” Apparently reading something in Darcy’s expression, he continued, “Miss Darcy wrote you and told you she knew Mr. Wickham was a close friend of the family but she wasn’t happy in his company. After receiving her letter, you came posthaste. Relieved that you were there to keep her from the unwanted attentions of an old family friend, she was absolutely delighted that you removed her promptly from his presence.” A twinkle lit his intelligent eyes. “I have this from an unimpeachable source that isn’t you. I assume I can say the chaperone was removed for not handling the situation herself.”
“I would prefer you not say anything to anyone,” Darcy said stiffly. He wouldn’t condone a lie, even to mislead people about what he wanted concealed.
“Oh, I only plan to tell one person,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Your wife?” Darcy guessed, narrowing his eyes.
A slow smile came to Mr. Bennet’s face. He shrugged.
“I don’t approve of that,” Darcy said.
“Fortunately, I don’t need your approval. You should know,” Mr. Bennet hurried on, not allowing Darcy to speak, “that Lydia is now Mrs. Pratt. They were wed this morning. I understand I have you to thank for the expediency.”
Darcy dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Pratt made the request of me. I saw no reason not to assist. Congratulations on your daughter’s marriage.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Bennet said. He regarded Darcy for a long moment. “You seem quite willing to assist my family. I imagine you have your reasons, of course.”
Darcy nodded again, hoping Mr. Bennet wouldn’t press for them. How could he tell the man he would do anything to spare Elizabeth pain, including make sure her foolish youngest sister didn’t bring disgrace to the family? Darcy had no intension of sharing his innermost thoughts, especially when Mr. Bennet would surely construe too much. Nothing was sure between him and Elizabeth, and perhaps nothing would ever come of his regard for her.
“I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” Mr. Bennet said, standing.
Darcy stood as well. They shook.
“Thank you again, sir,” Mr. Bennet said and quit the room.
Darcy retook his seat, mulling over their conversation. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to Mr. Bennet’s lie. Or had he agreed? What he hadn’t done was insist that Mr. Bennet not spread the story. He could have been more forceful, though he had no hold over Mr. Bennet other than one of gratitude, and Mr. Bennet thought he was doing Darcy a favor.
Once Mrs. Bennet got the story, a version of it would be all over Meryton in days. Darcy found himself hoping that the version was the one Mr. Bennet had given him. There was a certain irony in the lie as it was like Wickham’s lies: surrounded by truths. Darcy didn’t approve of Mr. Bennet’s tactic, though, and knew rumors could take on a life of their own and become something even more harmful. As he hadn’t done enough to stop Mr. Bennet, he supposed there would be justice in that happening, but it was Georgiana who would truly suffer.
Georgiana did not deserve to suffer. The only thing his sister had done wrong was agree to an elopement. She had not eloped. She was never alone with Mr. Wickham, by her word and Mrs. Younge’s. Although both had reason to lie, he believed his sister. Suddenly, the truth didn’t seem so bad. The truth was that whatever his sister had briefly agreed to, she’d changed her mind. If the scandal got out, the harm would not be great. People would forgive her, especially if he secured a strong willed, intelligent, likable sister for Georgiana to help smooth the way to acceptance.
The odd thing was, Mr. Bennet’s falsehood was very nearly the truth. His sister could have agreed to the elopement to stall Mr. Wickham while waiting for her Darcy’s rescue. It wasn’t the wisest move, but no outsider could deny that was the case. Of course, he knew she’d never written him, but no one else did.
Darcy shook his head, casting aside the temptation of letting Mr. Bennet’s story stand unrefuted. He would not lie. He would not stoop to Wickham’s level. If the story came up the next time he was in Meryton, he would correct it. His conscience was such that he may even journey there expressly for the purpose.
In truth, Wickham didn’t know the harm he’d done his reputation by putting the story out. In the past, one of the main reasons Darcy hadn’t warned people about Wickham’s true nature was concern that Wickham would retaliate just as he was. Wickham knew that Darcy would go to lengths to protect Georgiana from having to endure the repercussions of what had happened in
Ramsgate. Now that Wickham had spoken about it, it was no longer a weapon. Darcy was free to speak the truth.
He would have to warn Georgiana, of course. She would be embarrassed, but not truly harmed. He worried it would exacerbate her shyness, but there was little to be done in the regard. His mind returned to the notion of the help a new sister could be to Georgiana in enduring what was to come. In spite of his worry for her, he found himself smiling as he once again pictured the perfect woman to bring into their lives. His life.
Darcy looked up at the sound of the parlor door opening. Richard stuck his head in. “Darcy, there you are. I told Forster I’d fetch you. He’s about to interview Wickham and he asked if we would come.”
“Of course,” Darcy said, standing. He didn’t relish the thought of seeing Wickham, but he imagined there would be some satisfaction in telling the man how they’d arranged to stop what amounted to thievery from the merchants of England.
They returned to the colonel’s, neither his wife nor the new Mrs. Pratt in evidence. Darcy assumed the latter was now safely with her husband. They were shown into Forster’s office by a lieutenant Darcy didn’t recognize.
“Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, thank you for coming,” Forster said, standing to greet them. He gestured toward two chairs, which now stood on one side of his desk, facing an empty stool in the center of the room. “If you’ll kindly be seated, we can begin.”
“Let’s get to it,” Richard said, sitting.
Darcy joined him, nodding to Forster in greeting.
Two soldiers brought Wickham in and pushed him down onto the stool. He was unshaven, but still maintained his customary air of nonchalance. He saluted both colonels. He glanced at Darcy and nodded, a lazy smirk on his face.
“Wickham,” Forster said. “You’re here so that I can decide what to do with you.”
“Do with me, sir?” Wickham said. He leaned forward, his face eager. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Actually, while you’ve done nothing illegal, I can’t say it wasn’t wrong,” Colonel Forster said. “No officer in my regiment can be permitted to run off with a girl, especially not one under my personal protection.”
“I realize I must put that right. I’ve reconsidered my earlier words, spoken in haste,” Wickham said. “I would be happy to marry Miss Bennet. She may be angry with me now, but if I’m given a chance to talk to her, I’m sure she’ll change her mind.”
“That option is no longer on the table,” Richard said. “The former Miss Bennet married Captain Pratt this morning.”
Wickham almost fell off his stool.
Darcy kept his face impassive, but he was grimly pleased to see Wickham’s shock.
“Captain…” Wickham trailed off, looking about in a slightly frantic manner.
“Pratt,” Colonel Forster supplied.
“Pratt is a captain now? How were they able to wed so quickly?” Wickham bit out, scowling. He shot Darcy an angry look.
Darcy was sure he could follow the other man’s thoughts. If Wickham had known he could get a captaincy out of it, he would have begged to marry Lydia Bennet from the moment they were caught. He could tell from the anger in Wickham’s gaze that he also suspected Darcy of obtaining a special license, and likely of paying for the captaincy, though Darcy hadn’t had to do that.
“There is a ship leaving for Spain in two days,” Colonel Forster said, recapturing Wickham’s attention. “You will be on it, with the rank of ensign.”
“I don’t think so,” Wickham said, his smile back. “I think I’ll resign my commission and leave Brighton.”
Darcy stood up and handed Wickham three of the prints with his picture on them. “I had fifty made for the first run. I intend that every shopkeeper has one in any town you visit.”
Wickham looked at the fliers and blanched. “I’ll never be able to buy anything again. You can’t do this to me.” He hesitated, and then said with a smile. “It’s libel.”
“It’s only libel if I’ve lied.” Darcy said. “I hold all of your bills from Lambton. I bought your tailor’s bill in Brighton, to make sure I have evidence. That should be enough to defend me against such a charge. It isn’t as if you can’t buy anything. You can go into any shop in England and pay cash. No one will stop you.”
“Cash?” Wickham cried. “I have no cash.” He surged to his feet to glare at Darcy, his fist clenched at his sides.
Darcy eyed Wickham, whose attempt to stare him down was made much less effective by the nearly five inches Darcy had on him. Darcy allowed himself a slight smile. He could tell Wickham wanted to hit him. He half hoped the man would try.
Wickham took a step back. “If you put those out, everyone will realize I’m not coming back to pay them. I’ve left debts from here to York.” He looked to Richard and Forster beseechingly. “They’ll throw me in debtor’s prison.”
“They can’t reach you to put you in debtor’s prison if you’re on that ship,” Richard said.
Wickham cast a beseeching look about the room again. He took another step backward, sitting down hard on the stool when his legs came up against it. With a groan, he covered his face with his hands.
Two days later, Darcy stood on the docks with Richard, Mr. Bennet and Colonel Forster. They watched in silence as the ship they’d put Ensign Wickham on sailed out to sea, headed for Spain. Once it reached a spot that was too far away for someone to jump off and swim to shore, they turned to face one another.
“Gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done,” Mr. Bennet said. “I knew Lydia wouldn’t be happy until she embroiled herself in some sort of scandal. I’d no idea she would select one which might have had such far-reaching repercussions for her sisters. Having known Lydia her entire life, I still underestimated the extent of her foolishness, and selfishness.”
Darcy looked to Richard and Forster, uncomfortable with both the thanks and Mr. Bennet’s frankness.
“Always happy to help, of course,” Richard said. “I’m afraid I must be off now. I’ve business in London.” He bowed to Mr. Bennet and shook Forster’s hand. “Till next time, Darcy,” he said, turning to stride away.
Darcy watched him go, thinking it would be a much quieter ride back to Kent. He’d offered to accompany Richard to London, providing his cousin the comfort of a carriage, but Richard had declined. The one thing they’d agreed on was that there was no reason for both of them to return to Kent. Rosings was well in hand. Darcy’s return was merely a formality. At least, that’s what he’d told Richard.
“Are you returning to Hertfordshire tomorrow?” Colonel Forster asked Mr. Bennet.
“By way of Kent,” Mr. Bennet said, to Darcy’s surprise. “My daughter wants my permission to marry someone she met there and I haven’t yet been introduced to the man.”
Darcy stared at Mr. Bennet. How could the man have made no mention of that? Surely, he didn’t mean . . .
“At least this one asked,” Forster said with a good-natured grin.
Mr. Bennet winced slightly. “Yes, she did. She appears to be more responsible than her sister.”
“Mr. Whitaker?” Darcy asked abruptly, hoping the other two men didn’t hear the strain in his tone. It would not do to ask which daughter, but Elizabeth was the responsible one.
Mr. Bennet nodded. “That is the gentleman’s name. Do you know him? Will he be suitable for Kitty? I can’t imagine he will be, as he must be silly to ask for her hand.”
“I know him,” Darcy said. His relief was so strong, he could almost ignore how Mr. Bennet always disparaged his younger daughters. “He’s a worthy gentleman. Not that it is my place to observe such things, but I think you’ll find Miss Kitty somewhat changed for the better by her time in Rosings.”
Forster shot Darcy a look that clearly conveyed his agreement that Darcy had no right to speak to Mr. Bennet in such a way or on such a topic. Darcy ignored the colonel.
“I can only hope you are correct,” Mr. Bennet said. His tone was amused, not reprima
nding.
“I am returning to Kent,” Darcy said. “Would you care to share my carriage?”
“Thank you,” Mr. Bennet said, nodding.
They bid Colonel Forster farewell and selected an hour at which to depart. Darcy left the dock well pleased with how their solution for Wickham had worked out, and even more pleased that he would see Elizabeth again soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth perched on the edge of a couch, watching Kitty read a letter from Lydia. It was all she could do not to snatch the note from her sister’s hands. A glance told her Anne wore an amused smile on her face, though Miss de Bourgh kept her eyes on her book.
“I would have thought you’d be a faster reader by now, Kitty,” Anne said. “It’s a good thing Elizabeth is so very patient.
“It’s hard to read Lydia’s handwriting,” Kitty said, looking up from the letter. “It’s always abysmal.”
“Be charitable,” Anne said. “When you arrived here, your handwriting was not so fine as it is now.” Anne’s insistence that Kitty practice her handwriting was the most recent way she’d decided to improve her guest.
“What does Lydia say?” Elizabeth blurted. Didn’t Kitty understand how important it was that Lydia had been stopped from ruining them?
Kitty handed her the letter, looking a bit startled. “You needn’t yell at me. All is well.”
Elizabeth shook her head. She would make that assessment herself. She dropped her eyes to the page.
My Dear Kitty,
So much has happened since I last wrote! Do you know, I did run off with Mr. Wickham, just as I told you I would, and I am married, just as I said I’d be, but not to Wickham. Isn’t that a lark? I bet you never could have guessed I’d do it, especially after you warned me.
I must say, in regard to that, that for once you were completely in the right. I should have listened to you, but I was wholly taken in by Wickham. I thought he loved me, but he didn’t. Why, he wasn’t ever going to marry me. Can you imagine? How dare he run off with me with no intention of being honorable about it!
A Death at Rosings: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 15
