“Wickham has absconded,” he came straight to the point.
“Damn!” Darcy expostulated, before turning and bowing to Jane. “My apologies, Miss Bennet.”
“I have heard the word before, Mr Darcy.” To his surprise, she gave him a very small smile. “From my sister Lizzy’s lips, more than once, when events have not transpired as she might wish.”
That was a little surprising; Fitzwilliam gave her a curious look, but continued with his report. “Wickham probably made his escape even before we arrived at Longbourn last night. He tricked the two officers set to watch him into drinking some drugged wine.”
He could almost see another curse hovering on Darcy’s lips, but his cousin restrained himself with a visible effort.
“Colonel Forster has set his men to searching for Wickham; if he does not report to the colonel’s desk before noon today, he will be declared in desertion of his post.”
Mr Bennet blew out his breath in a low whistle at that; clearly he was well aware of the penalty for desertion, though Jane looked a little confused. Darcy’s expression was almost hopeful.
“I enquired about hiring a carriage to take Georgiana back to London, but the colonel informed me there is nothing suitable to be had in Meryton…” he was about to suggest that he head for London himself, once Wickham had been declared a deserter, to carry the news. Once there he could easily enough order Darcy’s carriage come to Meryton to collect the brother and sister. Darcy, however, was shaking his head.
“We cannot depart at the present time anyway. I’m afraid Georgiana is not fit to travel.”
Jane spoke up to confirm Darcy’s words. “She is very ill indeed, I’m afraid. Lizzy and I took it in turns to sit up with her overnight, and Doctor Jones has been to her this morning. Miss Darcy has a very high fever. She woke a little while ago and seemed quite disoriented, not knowing who we were or where she is, though we were able to settle her again.”
Fitzwilliam thanked Jane for caring for his cousin. She gave him a small smile.
“It is nothing less than our Christian duty, sir, even if Georgi - Miss Darcy - were not the sister of a friend.”
Darcy seemed to startle as she named him a friend, looked at Jane in some shock. She cast her eyes down demurely, but then seemed to steel herself and looked back up.
“I do have some questions, though. In her delirium, Miss Darcy has spoken several times of Mr Wickham, entreating our aid to go to him.”
It wasn’t a question, but Fitzwilliam knew exactly what she meant, and so did Darcy, by the way his fists clenched.
“Miss Bennet deserves to know, Darce,” he said quietly. “They already know too much.”
“I can assure you that neither Jane nor Lizzy are given to gossip,” Mr Bennet put in. “Whatever you tell Jane she will share with her sister, but it will go no further, is that not correct, my dear?” He put his hand down to Jane and she took it in hers and kissed it affectionately.
“Of course, Papa. You have my word, Mr Darcy, that no matter what you tell me, I will never share it with another soul - apart from Lizzy, of course.”
That, Fitzwilliam thought as he watched Darcy stand up and begin to pace, was precisely the problem. For Elizabeth Bennet to hear of Darcy’s failing to protect his sister was unpalatable to Darcy’s pride.
“I do not see that we have any choice,” Darcy said at last, seeming to gird himself. “Very well, Miss Bennet. Allow me to provide to you a true account of my family’s dealings with Mr Wickham, and I will trust you to convey the sorry tale in its entirety to Miss Elizabeth.”
Fitzwilliam watched Jane Bennet as Darcy laid out the story, watched her blue eyes go wide with shock and her lips part in a soundless O. She looked profoundly horrified, as though she had never suspected that such wickedness might exist in the world.
“And it appears I have erred yet again in not telling Georgiana the truth, in seeking to protect her from the knowledge of Wickham’s true nature,” Darcy concluded at last, with a bitter note to his voice. “For she has cast me in the role of over-strict guardian and Wickham as the noble knight rescuing her from her enforced captivity.”
Jane rose to her feet, went to Darcy’s side, and took both his hands in her slender ones. Stopped in his pacing, Darcy looked down at her in surprise as she spoke.
“Mr Darcy, I think you have acted quite admirably. Your love and concern for Georgiana is everything that a girl could want in a brother. Desiring to protect the people you love is a perfectly natural instinct and I wish you would not berate yourself for it.”
“That is very generous of you, Miss Bennet,” he managed to get out finally, a lump in his throat, “but I know where the fault lies in this matter, and it is not with the teenage girl desperate only to be loved.”
“No, it lies with the degenerate who attempted to take advantage of her,” Fitzwilliam said, “as I have been trying to tell you these last few months.”
“Wickham is to blame for a great many things, but my neglect of Georgiana is not one of them.”
“Mr Darcy, you must stop.” Jane’s clear voice startled him again; he looked down into her blue eyes. She was still holding onto his hands, squeezed his fingers firmly now. “We cannot change what has happened in the past. Miss Darcy’s future is what you must focus on now, and ensuring that Mr Wickham can never again be a threat to her. I will let you know the moment I believe she is well enough to hear the truth about his character.”
“You will?”
“I promise,” Jane said with a final press on his fingers. “I will return to her now, by your leave, and tell Lizzy all of this. She… well, we have both been very confused. Learning the truth about Mr Wickham clears up a good many things we have been curious about.” She smiled at him before releasing his hands and quietly departing the room.
Darcy was left to wonder exactly what she meant, and to ponder what Elizabeth might make of the revelations Jane was about to impart. Fitzwilliam and Mr Bennet began to talk quietly, discussing likely avenues of escape Wickham might have attempted, as Darcy stood and stared out of the window at Longbourn’s winter-bare gardens.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Say something, Lizzy,” Jane pleaded after several minutes of silence. Elizabeth just sat, her lips slightly parted, her eyes glazed with shock.
“How did Mr Darcy restrain himself?” was what Elizabeth finally said.
“I don’t understand what you mean?” Jane blinked, bemused. Elizabeth had said not a word while Jane rapidly recounted everything she had learned in the study, just drinking it all in silently.
“When Mr Darcy came face to face with Mr Wickham here in Meryton. How ever did he restrain himself? I think if I had been in his place, I would have done my very best to punch out Mr Wickham’s teeth!”
Jane had to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle at the mental image of Elizabeth trying to punch out Mr Wickham’s teeth. “You have changed your tune, Lizzy! You believe Mr Darcy, then?”
“I cannot doubt it; why would he lie? The risk to his sister’s reputation would far outweigh any possible gain he might hope to make. Mr Darcy has his faults, indeed, but a lack of care for his sister is not one of them, despite what you say about his feelings of guilt.”
“He blames himself for everything,” Jane nodded. “I felt so very sorry for him; it is clear that he wants nothing more than to whisk Georgiana away from here and take her somewhere safe where Wickham cannot possibly find her.”
A clatter of hooves outside sent them both hurrying to the window to peer out.
“That’s Captain Carter,” Elizabeth identified the red-coated officer handing his horse to John Coachman before approaching Longbourn’s front steps. “I wonder if Mr Wickham has been found?”
“Go and listen at the top of the stairs, see if you hear anything,” Jane gave her a little push.
“Are we reduced to eavesdropping, now?” Elizabeth frowned.
A squeal from outside the bedroom door made them both startle.<
br />
“It is Captain Carter, Kitty, he must have come to see us! I shall rush down and see him at once…”
“Oh, no!” Elizabeth dashed for the door. She was just quick enough to intercept Lydia at the top of the stairs and send her back to Kitty’s side, though Lydia pouted and stomped her foot.
“Captain Carter is most definitely not here on a social call, Lydia; he is come with important news for our guests and no doubt will be off again directly.” Elizabeth turned Lydia around and pushed her, protesting, back into the room she shared with Kitty. Mrs Bennet came out of her room at that moment and nodded approval of Elizabeth’s actions.
“Lizzy is quite right, Lydia, the captain is most certainly not here to see you. You are not fit to be seen, besides, have you even brushed your hair this morning? Back into your bedroom, at once!”
Elizabeth gave her mother a grateful look, and Mrs Bennet flapped her hand towards the stairs. “Well, go on then. You look as though you are waiting for news. Go and find out what is happening.”
She hesitated before creeping down the stairs as quietly as she could manage, hoping nobody saw and greeted her. An accidental meeting with Mr Darcy was the last thing she wanted. Fortunately, nobody was in the hallway and she was able to slip into the dining-room and close the door quietly. The room’s fireplace shared a chimney with that in her father’s study and Elizabeth had long ago learned that if she crouched low beside the fireplace, she could clearly hear what was spoken in the other room.
“So Miss King is safe?” She thought that was Colonel Fitzwilliam’s voice.
“Yes, sir.” That must be Captain Carter. “She was quite unaware of any goings-on and appears rather distraught over Wickham’s apparent disappearance.”
“She will realise what a lucky escape she has made soon enough.” Mr Darcy’s voice seemed very close; Elizabeth flinched back before realising he must be standing right beside the fireplace. “I am glad to hear she is safe, though; I should not wish any unsuspecting woman in Wickham’s power.”
“Will he have headed for London, do you think?” Mr Bennet spoke up.
“Undoubtedly,” Darcy replied. “I am assuming the pursuit set out in that direction?”
“On all the roads, sir,” Captain Carter sounded offended. “Colonel Forster would not leave anything to chance. Still, it seems that you may be correct; the other news I bring is that there was a disturbance at Haye Park this morning, an estate just off the road from Meryton to London.”
“The Gouldings!” Mr Bennet exclaimed, his voice distressed. “Pray, is all well at Haye Park, Captain?”
“Yes, Mr Bennet, nobody has been harmed, but it seems that in the early hours of the morning somebody broke into the house. Mr Goulding was awakened by a hooded man in his own bedchamber, threatening him with a pistol and demanding cash and valuables.”
“Good God!”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure who the loud outburst had come from; possibly all of the other men at once. She had to press her fingers hard against her own lips to stifle a cry of shock.
“Where did he get a pistol?” Fitzwilliam asked then. “You said earlier this morning that he did not own one, and could not get one from the militia’s stores without a signed authorisation from a senior officer.”
Carter sounded a bit shame-faced as he spoke quietly; Elizabeth struggled to hear his words. “I’m afraid that once Wickham had incapacitated Major Woakes and myself, he went to our rooms and helped himself to our belongings. The pistol is likely mine; it, along with the gold watch my father left me and a few other trinkets of some small value are missing.”
“Christ,” Darcy muttered. “I suppose he raided your purses as well? How much did he get?”
“Some six guineas, from Woakes’ purse and mine combined.” Carter swallowed audibly. “At Haye Park, he forced Mr Goulding to open his strongbox and took a further one hundred and twenty pounds, plus what I understand to be quite a sizable amount of jewellery.”
“Indeed; Mrs Goulding is young and pretty and her husband likes to adorn her with expensive baubles,” Mr Bennet said darkly. “If Wickham claimed all that, he will have several hundred pounds to line his pockets with once he manages to find a buyer for it.”
Darcy cursed more crudely; Elizabeth’s ears turned pink, but she was not about to back away now.
“He can evade us for years with that kind of money,” Darcy growled.
“Us, perhaps, but not His Majesty’s Army,” Fitzwilliam said in tones which were clearly meant to be reassuring. “Wickham has cooked his goose this time, Darcy. The army does not deal kindly with deserters, and having stooped to robbery as well, his fate is sealed.”
“I should point out that Mr Goulding never saw the face of his assailant,” Captain Carter said. “When questioned, he did say that the man was about Wickham’s height and build, but unless he is caught with the jewels there is no proof of his guilt in the matter.”
“It matters not.”
The clock in the hallway began to strike the noon hour at that very moment; the men in the study fell silent until the chimes had finished.
“Colonel Forster will even now be signing the papers that name Wickham a deserter,” Carter said. “Unless he returns to Meryton within the next day or so with an extremely good explanation for his absence — one which I cannot conceive of at this moment, particularly considering his probable guilt in the robbery at Haye Park — his life is forfeit.”
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her chest. Nothing so shocking had ever happened in Meryton, she was quite sure. The men had fallen silent, so she stole back out of the dining-room and scurried up the stairs, eager to share with Jane all that she had learned.
Oblivious to the fate being determined for him, at that very moment George Wickham was whistling tunefully to himself as he rode along a quiet country lane. He had indeed been heading for London, and had made quite some headway on the trip on foot when he came across a rider who had paused on his early morning sojourn to relieve himself behind a tree.
Relieving the unfortunate man of his horse and his purse took a mere few minutes and then Wickham was on his way again, a good deal more swiftly. Still, it occurred to him that he was leaving quite a trail for the authorities to follow, when they inevitably came after him. He still wasn’t sure what had tipped Colonel Forster off, but sending Woakes and Carter to secure him rather than two enlisted men spoke volumes; whatever they had on him was serious. From interfering with the baker’s daughters — delightful wenches, all three of them — to the fact that he owed gambling debts to other members of the militia totalling more than five years’ worth of his salary, to the forged letters of recommendation which had helped him to get his commission in the first place, it could have been any one of quite a selection of things, really.
So once he’d seen the serious faces on the other two men, Wickham had moved into action. He was shaking Meryton’s dust from his boot heels less than a half-hour later, his pockets considerably heavier than they had been. Passing Haye Park two miles down the road, a flash of brilliance had inspired him to take a diversion. How many expensive gewgaws had he seen gracing Mrs Goulding’s plump neck, while the woman gave him come-hither eyes behind her ageing husband’s back? He’d been tempted to indulge, but he’d been hoping to fit in for a while, maybe even find a rich wife.
Mary King wasn’t pretty, but she was nicely dowered with expectations of plenty more when her wealthy uncle died, and as an added bonus she was stupid. Wickham knew he would have no trouble carrying on behind her back with whatever schemes and willing women he wished.
Sparing a moment to sigh for the loss of the comfortable future he’d envisioned - if only he’d managed to walk Mary down the aisle before Forster found him out! - Wickham kicked his purloined horse into a trot. He changed his mind about London when he passed a turning signposted for St. Albans, and made a snap decision to turn the horse’s head westward. London was, after all, the first place they would look for him, and really, the
re was nothing there for him. He’d worn out his welcome in the gaming hells long ago.
Bath, now. Bath was full of opportunities for a personable young man with money in his pocket. Wealthy old dowagers with failing health and pretty granddaughters ripe for the plucking. A name change might be in order, and perhaps a few alterations to his appearance. If he took his time on the journey, perhaps stopped in Oxford a night or two and paid a visit to Bristol to sell a few of the jewels he’d taken from Haye Park, he’d have time to grow quite a healthy moustache. He’d always thought he would look quite dashing with a moustache. Thumbing his upper lip, Wickham rode on, trying out new names for himself.
“James. James is a nice regal name. Or William? James Williams. No, Williams sounds Welsh. Watson, Walsh, Wilson…” he sighed, shook his head. “No, a complete change, I think.” Looking at a mile marker as he rode past, he said thoughtfully, “Albany. James William Albany. Of… Harrogate, I think?” That would explain the faint northern accent which tinged his speech at times. Harrogate was a large enough town that not everyone knew each other, and he had been there several times, was familiar enough to bluff his way through. He could always say that he had been travelling for a while, visiting with relatives.
Whistling happily to himself, the new James William Albany rode on towards his shiny new future, mentally calculating the prices he expected to achieve for Mrs Goulding’s jewels.
Once Captain Carter had departed, Darcy and Fitzwilliam excused themselves from Mr Bennet’s study and adjourned to the parlour to converse privately.
“What do you wish me to do, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam came right to the point. “We could still buy up Wickham’s debts in the area, but frankly I think there is no longer a need. Considering everything else that has occurred, debtor’s prison would be the least of his problems. He’ll be lucky not to get his neck stretched.”
A Christmas Miracle At Longbourn (The Darcy And Lizzy Miracles Book 1) Page 9
