by Wells, Linda
“Colonel?” A boy appeared, a brush and curry comb in his hand. “Good to see you, sir. You know the master’s gone home?”
“Yes, I do.” He stayed on his horse, undecided what to do. “Is any of the staff about? Mrs. Hutchins or Lowry?”
“Yes sir, nobody’s been let go. I hear Mrs. Darcy sent a note that Mr. Bingley and his new wife might be coming to stay for a bit of a honeymoon if they can get away.”
“Is that so?” Richard smiled. “They are to marry? Mr. Bingley is marrying Mrs. Darcy’s sister.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy smiled. “So I hear.”
“I suppose that you hear a great many things, Joey.” Richard studied him. “Do you remember Mr. Christmas? He was calling on Mrs. Hutchins for a time.”
“Yes, sir. I was with Mr. Henry, bless him, one time. We was taking the carriage down to be worked on in Cheapside, and we saw him coming out of a boarding house. ‘There’s Mr. Christmas’, I said, and Mr. Henry agreed, and I tell you sir, it was the oddest thing because he was talking to a man I swore could have been the master, but what he’d be doin’ in that part a town is beyond me.”
“Was it Mr. Darcy?”
“Nah, just tall like him.” He smiled. “Is there anything I can do for you, sir? I’d give your mare a rub down, but her coat’s so shiny I can see myself in it!”
Richard laughed. “Well, I do have many grooms looking after her. I’ll tell you what, you run into the house and warn Mrs. Hutchins that she may have a house guest and to lay in some port if the supply is low. I’ll be by in a few hours.”
“Not staying in Grosvenor Square, sir?”
“My heart’s not in it.” He fished out a shilling from his purse and tossed it to him. “See you in a bit.”
“Thank you, sir!” Joey set down his brushes and took off running.
“Good lad.” Richard smiled and putting his purse away, found Darcy’s letter again. Ignoring the rain, he looked at the address Wickham had provided and curious, he turned his horse out of the mews and went riding back out onto Park Lane and away from his father’s home. “Now, where could this be?”
After making a few inquiries along the way, he found himself outside of a tobacconist’s shop. “Curious.” He said softly and swung down from his horse. Instantly a boy eagerly appeared and offered to hold her for him. He gave him a shilling and promised another, then casually strolled into the shop and breathed in the pungent air. “Good day.” He nodded to the man seated at a bench rolling cigars.
“Good day, Colonel, what can I get for you?” Wiping his hands, he got to his feet and stood at the counter.
“How is your snuff?”
“Ah, the finest!” He brought down several jars and opening the lids, went over the virtues of each. Richard drew out the jewel encrusted snuff box Darcy had bought him and the shopkeeper’s eyes lit up. “My goodness sir, now that is a thing of beauty!” Richard laughed and handed over the woman’s leg for him to admire.
“I’m quite fond of it myself.”
“Don’t let your wife catch you with it.”
“Ah.” Tapping his nose, Richard took it back. “No wife.”
“Good for you, sir.” The man said fervently and then looked at the jars and Richard.
“Ahhh, this one I think.” As his purchase was bagged, he looked around the store. “This may seem an odd question, but I have to say that I was surprised to find your shop here.”
“It’s been here nigh on twenty years, sir.” He laughed.
“I must be mistaken then. A friend gave me this as his address?”
“Oh … I take in the post for a number of men, sir. They move around frequently so they use me as their fixed address.”
“So there is no way to find the man himself?”
“Depends on who you want? Some are near and I can point them out to you?”
“Wickham?” Richard asked and casually drew a half guinea from his purse.
“Well, I … shouldn’t really be saying, sir …” A second half guinea was placed on the counter. “Just across the street, sir. He just picked up a letter a little bit ago.”
“Really? If only it had been this easy nine months ago.” Richard tucked his sack of snuff in his coat and nodding, wandered outside and looked thoughtfully up at the apartments over the row of stores at the ground level. “Well, let’s see if you are at home, old boy.”
WICKHAM HELD THE LETTER in his hands and stared at the imprint of the Darcy seal. That alone confirmed Darcy had received the note. “Good girl, Georgie.” He smiled and thought of her. My sweet little girl. He sighed and looked back at the note. “Well … let’s see what he says …” With a combination of eagerness and trepidation, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. “FD?” He stared, turning the paper over and back again. “FD!”
“That is all? It cannot be!” Running his hand through his hair he rose up to pace around his chamber. “He said no? How can he say no? He never says no … I didn’t expect him to give me ten, but … something! Five at least, is that too much for his sister’s good name? Now what can I do?” He closed his eyes. “Damn it!” His eyes opened and he stared around at the room. “He would not even negotiate, he … he knows that I will not expose her.”
Pacing the floor, he stared angrily at the letter. “FD … Fucking Darcy! I should be your brother now! I should be your brother, and Georgiana should be my wife … with my legitimate baby!” He stopped. “Wouldn’t that be rich? I would be married to her, she would have the baby and then maybe I would have the courage to kill you. I could have fulfilled the madman’s plans, well, some of them … A Wickham, my son, master of Pemberley …”
Sinking onto the bed, he held his head in his hands. “You coward, you won’t kill Darcy, you won’t expose Georgiana, you would never hurt her again … But if Darcy isn’t afraid of me anymore how am I to survive? Join the militia?”
Outside in the hallway, Richard stood with his ear pressed to the door. Already he had heard things that both pleased and alarmed him. And as far as he was concerned, he was just going to let Wickham keep talking.
“Why isn’t he afraid of me?” Wickham wondered. “Why has he changed? I was sure that he would be desperate to keep it all quiet. No, he is desperate, but he …” Completely at a loss, he bent down and picked up the paper. “If he knows that I will never hurt her again, then I cannot threaten him. But … I could threaten the judge. Surely he would not want Darcy to know what he tried to do.” He swallowed nervously and nodded. “It could not hurt to try.”
Richard’s brow creased. The judge? Is he this madman? Straining to listen, he did not notice the drunken man stumbling down the hallway until it was too late and he tripped hard over Richard’s boot, throwing him off-balance and into the door. It burst open and Wickham jumped to his feet and stared.
“Fitzwilliam!” He said with a strangled cry, and before Richard could untangle the other man from his legs, Wickham had snatched up his coat and thrown open the window. Climbing out onto a narrow ledge, he grabbed a downspout and slid to the ground. By the time that Richard reached the window, Wickham’s tall form was zig-zagging through the traffic on the cobblestone road.
Richard swore and struck his palm on the window sill. “Slippery as an eel the damn bastard!” He turned and seeing the drunk passed out on the floor, he kicked him into the hallway and slamming the door, proceeded to search the room. All that he found were clothes, Darcy’s letter, and most disturbingly, a lock of blonde hair tied with a pink ribbon. That, he pocketed along with the letter. Scanning the room once again, he lifted the mattress and then noticed a floorboard with scratch marks on it. He pried it up and found a crevice. “What did you keep hidden here, I wonder.” Richard sank onto the bed and opened Darcy’s letter, and laughed humourlessly at the initials. “Well, you called it correctly, Cousin. I will give you that.”
Rubbing his face, he thought over everything that he heard and a sick feeling welled up in his breast. “I hope that I am wrong �
�” Madman, judge, and then Joey’s cheerful words about a tall man who resembled Darcy speaking to Mr. Christmas. “Good God.” Slowly he stood and looked around the room once more. “I will catch up with you Wickham.” He said bitterly. “But it seems that I’ll be spending my fortnight of leave at Pemberley.”
“THEY LOOK VERY WELL.” Lady Matlock said behind her teacup as she pretended to take a sip. “Do they not?”
Lady Catherine made no pretence of surveying her pale daughter seated beside her even paler nephew on the other end of the drawing room at Matlock House. “I certainly do not see sparks flying between them, but then I never expected to.” She cleared her throat. “Speak up, Nephew!”
“My conversation with my cousin is private, Aunt.” Gladney said tonelessly. “Mind your business.”
“Well, I never!” She cried.
“Sobriety has not changed him.” Cathy noted.
“Albert!” Lady Matlock admonished.
Anne smiled. “That was nice.”
“Are you being sarcastic?” Gladney turned back to face her.
“No, I can think of a great many people who never had the courage to address her that way.”
“It is not courage, merely lack of patience.”
“Fitzwilliam would just suffer in silence.”
“Our cousin is a gentleman.”
“What are you?”
“The farthest thing from it.” Gladney looked at her and glanced back at their mothers. “They want us to marry, you should know that I am not in good health.”
“Neither am I.”
“I do not believe that.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “I believe that your mother has declared that you were poorly all of your life and it gave you an excuse not to do things that you disliked, and it brought you sympathy and attention. You did not have to attend school, take lessons, make friends … which is all fine when you are a girl, but now you are a grown woman who has no accomplishments and no companion other than one who is paid to sit with you.” Anne protested but he continued. “And you thought that you had Darcy in the bag, so what was the point of making an effort to be handsome or interesting?” His head tilted. “If you are doing it to show up Elizabeth that is frankly the most foolish idea I have ever heard. You are already above her by birth, why would she be impressed because you have a longer title?”
Anne blushed unbecomingly, “You are one to speak of being foolish! Look what your behaviour has brought you!”
“Yes, but I certainly enjoyed myself becoming this way. I never claimed that my behaviour was the best. And I make no promises that I will not return to my old habits.”
“No, I will not be married to a drunk or abuser of … whatever you abused.” Anne lifted her chin. “If you are my husband you will have to behave as you are expected.”
“And what is that?” His head tilted and he watched her. “You realize that your mother has been practically proclaiming us married already, do you not?”
“She did that with Fitzwilliam and nothing came of it except now she likes her.” She muttered. “I would marry you just to stop Mama from controlling every moment of my life.”
“I will not enter this marriage if it is to be a never ending diatribe against Mrs. Darcy. Now I can appreciate your wish to be out from under your mother’s thumb.” He stood. “However, I think that you are still too bitter to consider marriage to anyone yet.”
“Where are you going! Sit down!” She ordered.
“Did you not just proclaim resentment of your mother demanding things of you?” He looked to the alarmed women at the opposite end of the room. “I will put to you the same question that Richard put to me. What do you want?”
“I will tell you what I want.” Richard entered the room. “I want someone in this family to do something responsible for a change besides me.” He surveyed the occupants. “My General informed me that he knows of the financial crisis Matlock is facing. He offered me a new position, one that is very likely life-threatening but could lead to promotion and a long military career, if I live. He has given me two weeks to decide …” He pointed his finger around the room. “When I return I want to know what you people are doing or I will take his offer and leave Matlock to be inherited by some … unknown troll living in the hinterlands of Scotland since my brother is determined to die by one means or another.”
“Now that was dramatic.” Gladney noted sedately.
“You. Come with me.” Richard crooked his finger at him and went across the hallway.
Curious, Gladney followed and closed the door behind him. He watched his brother staring out at the traffic in the square and crossed his arms. “What is it, Richard?”
“Tell me how you felt when you took the laudanum.”
Surprised, he snorted and wiped his nose. “Are you planning to start?”
“Answer me!”
“Very well.” He sat down and crossed his legs. “Bloody fantastic, like I could … do anything. Euphoric.”
“Did you have delusions?”
“Lord, yes.” He laughed. “Indescribable and … unfortunately, rarely memorable.”
“What do you mean, that they weren’t worth remembering or that you were not capable of doing so?”
“Not capable.” His brow creased and he uncrossed his legs, “Who are we talking about, Richard?”
“Did it ever give you violent tendencies?”
“I believe so.” Gladney said softly and Richard turned to face him. “I told you that I retain impressions of doing things..”
“And when you were withdrawing … what was that like?”
“A nightmare, but I only really did that once.” He smiled a little. “And awoke to Pritchard’s Preachings thrumming in my ear. Now I can anticipate Anne’s whining instead. It almost drives a man to sniff opium.”
Ignoring his remark Richard jumped in again. “I have heard that withdrawing makes one suicidal and depressed?”
“You know that already, I told you that, too.”
“Are you still?”
“Yes.” The brothers looked at each other until at last Gladney spoke seriously. “What is this about, Richard?”
“Did you ever feel envy so strong that you would kill for it?”
Gladney stared at the ceiling. “Perhaps.” He looked back to Richard. “You have killed. Have you ever felt the weight of taking a life so heavily that you wished to blot it out with … outrageous behaviour? I know that you do not use my method, but you are fond of your port … and your women.” Richard’s eyes widened and Gladney nodded. “All of us have our methods.”
“What does Darcy do?”
“He broods and rubs his chest, just like Uncle George did.” He tilted his head. “Haven’t you noticed?”
“No. Why did you?”
“I am not sure. Funny the things that you remember and dwell upon. I think that his wife will help with that habit of his.”
“And what of you and Anne?”
“I will let you know when you return.”
“What if I do not return?”
Gladney laughed. “Where are you going?”
“Pemberley.”
“Ah. Dangerous ground, that.” He smiled and it fell. “What is wrong?” Richard shook his head. “Very well, then … I am going to demand an interview alone with Anne … if it goes well …”
“Why would you marry her?”
“Because I think that it would be great fun to … see what lies beneath her layers of bitterness.”
“What if it’s only more bitterness?”
Gladney shrugged. “My loss. Matlock’s gain. There, I have done my part as you demanded. Are you satisfied?”
“No.” He sighed.
“I have decided that I will not return to Matlock, Richard. Does that help with your decision?”
“It might.” He smiled a little. “I am sorry to interrupt your courtship.” Gladney rolled his eyes. “Or whatever that is in there.”
“I hope that when you find yo
ur lady that it is equally enjoyable.”
“Now that was a curse.” Richard smiled and held out his hand. “Take care, Brother.”
“And you.” Gladney watched him open the door and speed off down the hallway. “Good luck.”
DARCY LAY DOWN on his stomach and hugged a pillow, listening to the sounds of the busy inn while Elizabeth prepared for the night. Rising from the tavern he could hear the sounds of a drinking song performed by appropriately inebriated men. Down the hallway he heard the sound of a giggling woman and running feet, and closed his eyes when a door shut and a lock was turned. Soon enough the bed in the next room began creaking steadily, accompanied by shrieks and moans. He took Elizabeth’s pillow and clasped it over his ears. “Never again will we stop here. Lord, I want to go home. I want my quiet home.”
“One more night, dear.” He felt the mattress move as Elizabeth lay down beside him. She snuggled against his side and lifted the pillow from his head to peek at him. One blue eye opened. “Despite your attempts to hide, I know that you are here.”
“And we know every other person who is here, too. It was not as busy when I came searching for Georgiana.”
“When was that?”
“I do not know, it is all a blur now.” Removing the pillow still covering his head, he settled his cheek comfortably and looked at her nose to nose. “I hate Gretna Green.”
She caressed his brow. “What if we had married here?”
“That is different. In that case there would be a shrine built in your honour and a permanent rainbow would arch over the blacksmith’s shop where we were wed.” He smiled a little when she laughed, and gathered her closer to him. “I am sorry dear. I am in a bear of a mood. That maid at dinner offering Georgiana tea to settle her stomach did not help.”
