“Can I offer you pen and paper, Mr Darcy? I believe you have a letter to write.”
“Several, actually,” Darcy seized gratefully upon the offered opportunity. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Richard Fitzwilliam whistled tunelessly to himself as he let his horse pick its own way along the muddy lane. At least the rain had stopped, but the temperature was dropping and it was very cold in the early morning light. Frost glimmered white on the grassy fields; he wondered if Hertfordshire ever saw much snow. He doubted it, somehow. The weather had clearly taken a turn for the worse, though, and London might not even be a possible option even if Georgiana did somehow become magically fit enough to travel in the next few days. The roads had been quite rotten enough for he and Darcy on horseback; a carriage journey would be well-nigh unbearable.
He still couldn’t quite believe his sweet, innocent little cousin had actually crept into Darcy’s office once he and Darcy had turned in for the night, raided Darcy’s cash box for every bank note he had, sneaked out of the house before dawn and somehow made her way to catch the mail coach to Hatfield. He wouldn’t have thought Georgiana had the faintest idea how to buy a ticket on the mail coach, or even realise that such a thing was possible! The chit was a great deal more resourceful than he and Darcy had ever given her credit for. Yet, thank God that Mrs Bennet and her daughters had been there to overhear Georgiana trying to hire a chaise to take her to Meryton!
An involuntary shudder crawled up Fitzwilliam’s spine. So many awful things could have happened to Georgiana on her mad escapade, many of them worse even than if she had succeeded in getting to Wickham. He and Darcy had sheltered her too much, evidently. She needed a sharp wake-up call, exposure to some of life’s more unpleasant realities, because the next time she took it into her head to do something as ridiculously ill-advised as this, she might not be so lucky.
His horse turned the corner and the first houses on the outskirts of Meryton came into view. Gathering up the reins more firmly, Fitzwilliam turned his horse towards the doctor’s house, his first port of call. The gentleman was already up and about, fortunately, and promised to set out immediately for Longbourn as soon as Fitzwilliam mentioned Elizabeth’s name and the urgency of his errand. It seemed that Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s opinion carried a good deal of weight here, for which he was thankful.
He had no idea where Wickham’s lodgings were, or even if Wickham was still there, so he turned his horse towards Colonel Forster’s abode once he left the doctor’s house. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to roust Forster out of his pretty young wife’s bed to deal with the matter.
There were a few people out and about already, a farmer’s cart rumbling by, a boy sweeping the steps outside the butcher’s shop. He received a few curious looks, but in his plain coat not so many as if he had been in uniform, he thought. Reining in outside Forster’s house, he knocked on the door, his horse’s reins still in hand.
Colonel Forster himself opened the door, just fastening the last button on his jacket. “Ah, Fitzwilliam! Good morning,” he said jovially. “I was just about to go and check on Carter and Woakes, make sure that Wickham behaved himself overnight, hmm?”
“I certainly hope so! Where can I leave my horse, sir?”
“I’ll have one of my men take him. Just this way, if you please.”
They turned a corner and came to an inn yard where several soldiers were milling about uncertainly under the command of an impatient young lieutenant.
“Lieutenant Denny,” Forster gestured him over, and the young man hastened to his side, saluting respectfully.
“Good morning, Colonel Forster sir!”
“Who is the other officer rostered to be on duty with you this morning? No, do not tell me, it is supposed to be Lieutenant Wickham, is it not?”
“Uhhhh,” Denny’s eyes darted about, and Fitzwilliam thought that the man was debating trying to cover for Wickham. A friend, and therefore someone to be watched. “Yes, sir,” Denny said finally. “He hasn’t arrived yet, sir.”
“He won’t be available. I’ll see if I can find someone, but in the meantime just give the men a good drilling. And find someone to take care of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s horse, please.”
Startled, Denny saluted again. “Beg your pardon, sir,” he said politely to Fitzwilliam.
“I’m not in uniform, you could not know.” Fitzwilliam excused the young man, handed over the reins and followed Forster across the inn yard and up a flight of rickety wooden stairs to an upper storey, and a narrow hallway lined with doors.
Rapping sharply on one of the doors, Forster waited a moment, frowned when there was no answer. Lifting the latch, he pushed the door open and cursed roundly.
Bound tightly together and gagged with strips of torn sheeting, Captain Carter and Major Woakes stared up at the two officers standing in the doorway.
Fitzwilliam didn’t waste time on curses. Drawing a knife from his boot, he strode forward and sliced the men’s bonds, snapping “How long ago?”
“Almost as soon as we got here,” Woakes admitted shame-facedly. “George seemed perfectly amiable, suggested we play a hand of cards. He even had a jug of wine to share. Except, he must have put something in it because the next thing we knew, we were waking up bound and gagged.”
Forster was spluttering, puce with rage as he undoubtedly devised punishments for the officers who had failed in their sworn duties. Fitzwilliam put a steadying hand on his arm.
“Easy, man. I need to know what he would have taken with him, and what he knew… and you’d best send someone to check on the whereabouts of the young lady he was supposedly affianced to. Miss King, was it?”
“Dear God, you don’t think he would…”
“Colonel Forster, Wickham is a thoroughly despicable individual who is capable of all manner of depraved acts. Abducting a young lady of means and compromising her in order to force a marriage and get his hands on her assets is certainly not beyond the scope of his ambitions.”
Captain Carter had turned quite pale at the suggestion. “Let me go to check on Miss King, please, sir,” he begged urgently. “If that miscreant has harmed a hair on her head, I… I…”
“Worry about that later, Captain,” Fitzwilliam advised, “although I think you may have to join quite a queue of gentlemen lining up to discuss the matter of their ladies’ honour with Mr Wickham.”
“Go, go,” Forster gestured and Carter rushed out. Major Woakes stood shame-faced in the middle of the small room.
“How well were you acquainted with George Wickham, Major?” Fitzwilliam requested. “No, no, I shall not fault you for it. He is more than capable of charming those who are not acquainted with his vices, as many will attest. I wish only to know if you would be able to guess what should be in this room, and therefore what he has taken with him.”
“Oh… well yes, I have been in here before.” Woakes looked around, frowning. The room was lightly furnished, an armoire in the corner the only real piece of furniture beside the bed. Crossing to it, Woakes checked inside. “Well, wherever he has gone, he has not done so in uniform.” He pulled out Wickham’s red uniform coat and held it up.
“Too easily spotted,” Forster said with a nod. “A lone officer in uniform is a curiosity and sure to be remarked upon.”
“If he has left Meryton without orders, he is a deserter,” Fitzwilliam realised, satisfaction settling over him. “Dear me, Wickham. Far better to stay and take your punishment than run.”
The other two officers nodded, understanding his meaning. The worst that Fitzwilliam could do to Wickham was to see him taken up for debt, but if Wickham deserted from the militia it was a hanging offence.
“Why, you must quite detest him, sir!” Woakes said. “Whatever insult could he have done you, that you would gladly see him hanged?”
“He grievously insulted a lady of my acquaintance, sir,” Fitzwilliam said sternly, “and if it duelling were not strictly prohibited between His Majesty’s
officers and civilians, I should have challenged and shot him down like the dog he is long hence. Come to think of it, since he is now an officer, that prohibition no longer applies…”
“I do not abide duelling among my men, Colonel,” Forster cut off that line of thought sharply. “From everything you have told me, Mr Wickham may be handled perfect adequately within the law, even if he is found not to have deserted his post. Mr Woakes,” he turned to the major, “raise the alert. If Mr Wickham does not present himself at my office by noon today, he will be considered a deserter and I shall sign a warrant for his arrest.”
Woakes saluted before leaving them alone. Desultorily, Fitzwilliam searched the armoire and looked under the bed, but he already knew that Wickham would have taken anything of value. There was nothing left apart from the uniform. Wickham had no intention of returning.
“I should have insisted on taking him up last night,” Fitzwilliam muttered in angry self-recrimination.
“Come now, you were not to know he’d trick Woakes and Carter and run off,” Colonel Forster put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Let us adjourn to my house and wait for news. Have you broken your fast yet this morning?”
Longbourn’s housekeeper had pressed a bread roll warm from the oven into his hand as he left the house, but that had been a meagre enough breakfast and nearly an hour ago, besides. “Only lightly; I should be glad of something more substantial.” He needed to arrange a carriage to go to Longbourn and collect Darcy and Georgiana and take them on to London, if Georgiana was well enough to travel, anyway. Fitzwilliam himself would have to stay until Wickham was apprehended, of course.
Colonel Forster frowned when Fitzwilliam mentioned the need for a carriage. “The most comfortable one in the area is to be found at Longbourn, to be sure; can you not ask Mr Bennet for the use of it for a day or so? I assure you there is nothing worthy of Mr Darcy’s sister to be hired in Meryton.”
That was an inconvenience, to be certain. Fitzwilliam suspected that they had already imposed on the Bennet family enough, but the only alternative was to send to London for one of Darcy’s own carriages to come and collect them, and that must necessitate their staying another night, which he was quite certain Darcy would be adamantly opposed to. Reluctantly giving up the idea of breakfast, he decided regretfully that he had best return to Longbourn and consult with Darcy as to what his cousin wished to do. Hopefully, the doctor would have assessed Georgiana’s condition by now too, and they could determine their best course of action with that knowledge at hand.
Colonel Forster promised to send a rider out directly should any news of Wickham come to light, and Fitzwilliam in turn declared that he would return in time for the noon deadline anyway. The thought of hearing Wickham declared a deserter, his life forfeit, was really quite pleasing, he acknowledged to himself as he mounted his horse and turned back towards Longbourn.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Despicable, despicable man!” Elizabeth was pacing the floor in her bedroom, her fists clenched, when Jane returned from their father’s study. Georgiana slumbered peacefully in the bed, Jane saw at a glance.
With a weary sigh, Jane slumped to sit in the chair beside the fire. “Will you not sit, Lizzy?” she pleaded. “You’ll wake Miss Darcy, with all this pacing and ranting.”
That statement made Elizabeth glance towards the bed and then finally sit down, though she kept her fists tightly clenched upon her knees. “That poor girl; with a brother like that, no wonder she ran away!”
“With Mr Wickham?”
“Jane, I have still heard no evidence that Mr Wickham is anything but the wounded party here!”
Jane sucked on her lower lip for a moment, considering that, glancing over at the sleeping girl in the bed with a frown. “Lizzy… a fifteen-year-old girl believes she is engaged to Mr Wickham. That makes him guilty of something, I am quite sure.”
Elizabeth was about to make another retort, but Jane’s quietly-voiced comment silenced her briefly. Her fists unclenched slowly, and she smoothed at her skirt uncertainly.
“That is odd, to be sure. Especially since Mr Wickham told me it has been some years since he last saw Miss Darcy. Maybe… maybe it was some childhood promise she remembers. He told her that he would marry her when she grew up, perhaps; I can quite believe that. Her brother is cold and distant, after all, and George Wickham was likely her only friend.”
“I think you are reaching, dear Lizzy,” Jane said. “The way Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam looked last night,” she shook her head. “Their concern for her… I do not think that can be explained away by some childhood crush. They both looked positively murderous at the mere mention of Wickham’s name!”
Georgiana shifted and sighed; for a few moments the sisters froze, watching until she stilled and fell back into a deeper sleep.
“I overheard Mr Darcy and his cousin talking last night,” Elizabeth said unwillingly at last. “Mr Darcy said there was some unpleasant truth about Wickham that he needed to reveal to Georgiana today. Of course, he did not know at the time she had fallen ill, so I daresay whatever it is will have to wait until she is recovered.” She sighed, fidgeting with a pulled thread in her gown. “I do not know what to make of it, Jane; I suppose it is possible that they are both awful.”
“Lizzy!” Jane reproached with a shake of her head. “What a dreadful thing to say!”
Elizabeth’s jaw firmed. “Jane, Mr Darcy behaved despicably in the matter of removing Mr Bingley from you, and then the way he spoke of our family - I am glad I slapped him!”
Jane sighed. “I will not deny that the words I overheard hurt me deeply, but he also made me a very handsome apology downstairs, saying he understands that he grievously wronged me. He offered to write to Mr Bingley, if I wished it.”
Surveying her sister’s face, Elizabeth asked quietly “What did you say, Jane?”
“I told him that he must do as he sees fit.” Jane chewed on her lower lip, her eyes cast down. “Mr Darcy is not wrong about our family’s station, you know,” she said quietly. “We could never move in the circles I suspect he frequents in London.”
“I should not wish to!” Elizabeth declared fiercely, “and you are very wrong. You could move in any circles you wish; your grace and charm would put any duchess to shame.”
Jane smiled at that, shook her head. “You are always my most staunch defender, Lizzy. Mr Darcy gave me a message to convey to you, if you wish to hear it.”
“I want none of his apologies,” Elizabeth snapped harshly, lowering her voice when Georgiana stirred again.
“That is as well, for he did not offer any,” Jane whispered. Elizabeth frowned at her, confused, so she continued. “He asked me to convey to you his awareness that he has grievously wronged us, and to tell you he intends to do his best to make amends.”
Georgiana began to cough then, a terrible wracking sound which had both sisters rushing to her side. She seemed disorientated, not knowing where she was or who they were. Gently they did their best to comfort her, Elizabeth persuading her to take a few sips of the tisane Hill had sent up while Jane wiped her hot brow with a cool cloth.
“You have a fever, Georgiana,” Jane soothed her. “Your brother is nearby; he trusts us to take care of you. You must lie down and rest.”
Tears ran down Georgiana’s fever-flushed cheeks. “I feel very ill,” she sniffled. “My head aches and my throat feels as though I have eaten stinging nettles.”
“Hush,” Elizabeth held the cup to her lips again. “Just a little more, Georgiana. It will help you sleep and you may feel a little better when you wake.”
Georgiana rested her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You’re very kind,” she said drowsily, “and so pretty. I am sure Will must be in love with one of you; which is it?”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped open. Jane smothered a chuckle. “You are mistaken, Georgiana,” she said kindly. “We are not so close as all that with your brother.”
“I’m sure he could fall in love
with you, if you gave him a chance,” Georgiana sighed and lay back against the pillows as Elizabeth urged her. “I should so like to have a sister.” Her blue eyes closed.
“Poor girl,” Jane said softly, stroking Georgiana’s fair curls back from her hot forehead. “She is quite desperate for affection.”
“Which maybe explains her attachment to a certain gentleman,” Elizabeth said equally quietly, with a meaningful lift of her eyebrows. “She has perhaps imagined something where there is nothing.”
“Or perhaps there is no smoke without fire.” Jane sighed, stood up and walked away to the fire, putting another log on. The room was cool, and while neither of them believed in keeping the room hot to treat a person with a fever, neither did they wish Georgiana to become chilled. “Perhaps it is best that we simply reserve our judgement and abstain from speculation until more information is vouchsafed to us, Lizzy.”
“Dear Jane,” Elizabeth said. “Once again, you demonstrate that you are both wiser and kinder than I.”
The sound of a trotting horse sent them both to the window to peek through the closed curtains; seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam returning, they both looked at each other.
“You go,” Jane said, but Elizabeth was already shaking her head.
“I refused to see Mr Darcy already, you must go. Inform them that Georgiana has been begging for our help, telling us that she needs to get to Mr Wickham. We are a part of this and it is both unkind and unfair to keep us in the dark!” She shook her head, a wry smile touching her lips. “I am not sure I could be in Mr Darcy’s presence without losing my temper at the moment, anyway. Better that you go.”
“Very well,” Jane conceded with a sigh.
Shown once again into Mr Bennet’s study, Fitzwilliam was a little surprised when the eldest Miss Bennet slipped into the room after him, closing the door and moving to sit on a small footstool beside her father’s desk. Mr Bennet looked at her quizzically but said nothing; Fitzwilliam assumed by this that Jane knew what his errand had been, at least.
A Christmas Miracle At Longbourn (The Darcy And Lizzy Miracles Book 1) Page 8
