by Leenie Brown
Chapter 8
The next morning, Darcy was again assisted by the same footman who had helped him the night before.
“The master has requested you attend him in his study,” said the footman as he helped Darcy into his boots and jacket. “He has had some tea and muffins made ready there.”
Darcy thanked the man for the message and made his way to Mr. Bennet’s study.
“Ah, there you are. I figured you for an early riser.” He put down his pen and motioned to the tea on the corner of his desk. “I prefer a quiet cup in here before facing the rest of the house.” He took his cup and settled back in his chair. “On occasion, I am joined by Jane and Lizzy. Mary rises just as early, but she prefers to find a corner near the window in the drawing room, so that she can read before her mother finds her and sets her about her tasks for the day. I imagine, from the soft footsteps I heard just a few minutes before you arrived, that she is there now.” He raised his brows and a smile played at his lips. “My wife and two youngest are not late risers by any means, but they are not early either.” He placed his cup on the desk. “You slept well?”
“I did, thank you.”
“Very good. I did not.” He sighed. “Lizzy warned me of the danger that sending Lydia away might pose, but I did not think it so bad a thing. Colonel Forester seemed a respectable sort of fellow, and he assured me he would hold her to the rules of propriety,” he sighed again, “at least as far as a high-spirited young lady like Lydia can be held to them.”
He picked up the paper that lay on the desk in front of him. “I am sending an express to Colonel Forester this morning and will depart today for Brighton to retrieve Lydia.” He sighed for a third time. “It will not be a pleasant task, I assure you. Between the wailing that will occur before I have left my door to the wailing that will accompany me from the shore until I return –” He shook his head. “It is no more than I deserve. I should have listened to reason, but I did not.” He folded and sealed his letter.
“It seems a reasonable plan.” Darcy was relieved that Mr. Bennet had come to the conclusion that action needed to be taken immediately. Even so, he still felt a small measure of trepidation that even with such swift action, it might be too late. But he knew also that other than riding through the night, the trip could not have happened any sooner. “Will you allow me to return your hospitality by spending the night at Darcy House?”
Mr.Bennet smiled sheepishly. “Gardiner has already departed for Derbyshire, so I had hoped you would offer,” he admitted.
Darcy smiled at the admission and made one of his own. “My motives are not so pure as you might assume.”
Mr. Bennet raised a questioning brow.
“I expect to see Bingley this evening.”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “I shall stand by your side, but I’ll not be your second.”
Darcy laughed with him. He hoped that having Mr. Bennet there might soften the response he knew he faced — and rightly so — from his friend. Bingley was amiable to a fault, but he was not without a temper. More than one chap at school had had an eye blackened or a lip split by Bingley, usually over some comment concerning his connections to trade and, often, followed by the comment, “Ah, tradesmen, ruffians, the whole lot, is that not right?” The injured would assuredly agree, which was as Bingley planned, so that he might then add, “I should hate to have anyone think you a liar, so you may thank me for keeping your point valid.” All this he shared with Mr. Bennet.
When Mr. Bennet had finally stopped chuckling over the information and had repeated “thank me for keeping your point valid” for the fourth time. He took a sip of tea and commented, “I hadn’t thought him to be so quick with a quip.”
“He is not, but occasionally, he will surprise you,” said Darcy. “He is, however, quick with his hands, so if you would stand in front of me, I should feel much safer than if you stand beside me.” Darcy smirked as Mr. Bennet raised his brows in surprise. “No need to fear, sir. Although I have become well-versed in the art of teasing through my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do not engage in the activity very often. Often, the moment has passed before I have thought of a reply.” He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “My nature is more serious, I suppose.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled again. “I doubt you will remain so serious for long.”
Darcy returned Mr. Bennet’s grin. “I am not opposed to change — at least not completely.”
“Just not quick to make it?” Mr. Bennet raised a brow, peering over his cup, as he finished his tea.
“Guilty as charged,” said Darcy with a small bow of his head. “However, when a change is for the better and a reasonable explanation has been given, the alteration is made posthaste.”
“Nothing by halves, is it?”
“Very little.”
“You and my daughter are very similar in that way.” He stood, his sealed express in his hand. “I shall send this off and then inform my wife of my plans. You are welcome to take refuge in here for as long as you wish. Breakfast will be spread out in about a half hour’s time, and we can leave quite soon after.”
Darcy thanked him and poured a second cup of tea. Then, selecting a book from one of the shelves, sat down to enjoy it and his beverage in relative peace as voices were heard above stairs and a servant or two scurried to answer.
~*~*~
Finally, when all the details necessary before a trip had been seen to, Darcy allowed Mr. Bennet to climb into the carriage and arrange himself comfortably before entering the coach and taking the seat opposite of the gentleman. They were just moving away from the front of Longbourn, and Mr. Bennet was complimenting Darcy on the fineness of the carriage when a rider entered the drive.
“What can that be?” asked Mr. Bennet as Darcy tapped on the roof to get the carriage to stop.
“Ho, there!” Darcy heard his coachman call to the rider. “The master be inside the carriage if ye be looking for him.”
“Indeed, I am,” returned the rider as he slowed his horse and swung off in a fluid motion, landing next to his mount as it stopped. “I’ve a message for ‘im.” The rider pulled a letter from his bag and approached the carriage as a footman opened the door. “Mr. Thomas Bennet?” The rider looked between the two gentlemen in the carriage.
“That would be me,” said Mr. Bennet, accepting the letter and thanking the rider, who was gone nearly as quickly as he had appeared.
Darcy watched Mr. Bennet’s eyes grow wide and his skin pale as he read the message. “Is something amiss?” he asked quietly.
Mr. Bennet replied by passing him the letter.
Sir,
I must inform you of some unfortunate news and my failure. Miss Lydia went out to the shops this morning with her maid, and neither has returned as of the time of my writing this letter. (It is now six o’clock.)
We have searched the area, to no avail. However, I have heard that she was seen boarding a mail coach bound for London. I wish this was the extent of my news, but I must inform you that the mail coach also carried three of my men, who are enjoying a period of time away from their duties. One of these men, Lieutenant Wickham, has paid particular attention to your daughter and she to him. It is rumoured that they do not intend to stop in London but continue on to Gretna Green. I have no evidence to support this claim save the departure of both, but I could not in good conscience omit that information whether substantiated or not. There are men already on their way to London to try to apprehend Miss Lydia before it is too late to do so.
I must humbly beg your forgiveness in this matter…
Darcy scanned the remaining few words of apology before handing the letter back to Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Had I listened to Lizzy,” he muttered.
“Had I told you of Wickham earlier,” said Darcy.
“Ah, we are a sorry pair, are we not? Sitting here regretting what cannot be undone.” Mr. Bennet tucked the letter in his pocket. “I’ll not make mention of this to my wife just yet. It
would be best to see if we can find out anything once we get to town. However, if we might take a few moments for me to write a reply to Forrester and then have it posted at the first stop along the road?”
“Of course,” said Darcy. “Time is of the essence.”
“Indeed,” agreed Mr. Bennet. “I shall be mere moments.” He climbed down from the carriage as quickly as he could.
Darcy climbed out and stood next to his carriage, watching as Mr. Bennet met his wife, who was fluttering on about what the rider could have wanted. “Just some business that needs attention. Nothing to worry about at present, my dear,” he said as he took her arm and wound it around his.
Darcy was glad when just a few moments had passed and Mr. Bennet once again appeared.
“All is well within,” Mr. Bennet assured him. “None the wiser.” He settled into his seat. “I do not like the idea of being away while she is in a state.” He peered out the window toward the house. “But I spoke to Mary, and she will care for her.”
The tone of the comment took Darcy by surprise. He had expected a less worried tone or perhaps a funny quip about nerves and females. But from the way the man looked back several more times, Darcy got the feeling that though the man across from him may not act the part of a smitten husband or a doting papa, he was far from the unconcerned husband he portrayed.
Once Longbourn was well behind them, they traded a few pleasantries and then each indulged himself in a book. It was a quiet trip, but not uncomfortably so. It seems that each man respected the need of the other for solitude. There were a few moments of friendly discussion at each stop and occasionally as something came to the mind of Mr. Bennet that he felt needed to be pondered, but aside from those few and well-dispersed interactions, the remainder of the trip was silent within the carriage, save for the shifting for comfort in seats and the turning of pages.
Mr. Bennet closed his book and placed it on the seat next to him. “I do not know where to begin,” he said looking out the window toward the city that was before them.
Darcy also closed his book. He could well imagine the concern that ran through Mr. Bennet’s mind. “I may know of a few places to check if Wickham still associates with the men he once did.” He smiled ruefully. “They are not pleasant places, so I will send someone to inquire before venturing out myself. That should also make the search swifter.”
Mr. Bennet nodded thoughtfully. “I admit I know little of London besides Cheapside and Gracechurch Street. I leave the exploration of shops to the ladies.” He chuckled lightly. “Aside from the occasional foray into a bookshop.”
“You shall have to allow me to show you the sites on some visit.” The carriage was winding its way through the streets. “I imagine the museum would be of interest to you?” He nearly laughed as the gentleman’s eyes could not hide his delight at such a thought. “But for tonight you may have to content yourself with my library.” This, of course, prompted one of the longest discussions of their journey as Mr. Bennet inquired about particular authors and books, and Darcy delighted in telling him of all he asked plus a few of his prize acquisitions.
“I believe you shall be my favourite son,” declared Mr. Bennet. “And to think I thought it might be Mr. Bingley since he is so amiable.” His lips curled into a small teasing smile and his eyes twinkled. “I mean him no ill, but he is not the most studious of men.” The smile grew. “And I may not even gain him as a son unless he, or one of his friends, can convince Jane he is not fickle.”
Darcy shook his head, a small smile curling his lips. “Indeed, I hope that if your daughter’s happiness depends upon it, it can be accomplished. However, it must be noted that this particular friend, though he may do all he can to convince Miss Bennet of Mr. Bingley’s worth and innocence, is not known for his eloquence with the Bennet ladies.”
Mr. Bennet reached across the carriage as it drew to a stop and patted Darcy’s knee much like a solicitous father might. “Ah,” he said with a wink, “but you are learning.”
Chapter 9
London
Lydia folded her arms and stood in front of Wickham, blocking his path to the establishment behind her. People bustled in and out of the inn. One young gentleman paused for a moment, looking curiously at the pair before moving on. A maid slowed her steps as she passed them, and Wickham’s lips curled in a smile as he winked at the young girl. Lydia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Staying here as Wickham had suggested would not do.
“You will take me and my maid,” Lydia waved a hand at the poor frightened servant, who stood fidgeting behind her mistress, “to Derbyshire. My sisters are there, and I wish to join their fun.”
“I will do no such thing,” he said, taking a step to the side.
She placed herself between him and the inn once again. “I cannot stay here.”
He shrugged. “Where you stay or where you go is none of my concern.” There was no way he would willingly go to Derbyshire. Mr. Williams had told him that to show his face again in the area would likely lead to unpleasantness, and old Williams was just the man to ensure it happened. He might be the constable, but, rumor had it, he was not above seeing justice fulfilled outside of due process. His men had appeared rather suddenly after Tolson’s accident last spring. He shook himself. No, Williams was not a man with whom he wished to trifle. Wickham appreciated life and wished to keep his.
And then there were Darcy and his cousin, Fitzwilliam. After last summer’s botched play for Miss Darcy’s inheritance — well, it was best if he stayed clear of those gentlemen. Darcy would likely not kill him, but he could not guarantee the good colonel would not find a way to follow through on the threats he had snarled at Ramsgate. He had been enduring the constant glares and sudden appearances of that man at Brighton. More than one amorous rendezvous had been scuttled due to him. Wickham was looking forward to a few days without supervision.
Lydia matched Wickham’s step to the side again. He could not leave her here on the streets of London when she needed to find her way to Derbyshire! He simply could not. She had expected a bit more cooperation from him than a flat refusal. He had always willingly done what she asked before. It was not an eventuality for which she had not prepared, but it was not exactly what she had expected.
“I cannot go to Derbyshire,” said Wickham. “Town is my destination, and I’ll go no farther.”
Lydia fluttered her eyelashes and smiled. It was a technique that had worked before. Perhaps it might be more effective now than just demanding. “Oh, but you must.”
He shook his head. He was not going one mile closer to Derbyshire unless forced, and he doubted very much that the feather-brained chit before him would be able to force him to do anything. He smiled as her smile turned to a frown before becoming something of an indifferent pout.
Well, if it must come to that, it must be done. Lydia flicked a piece of lint from her sleeve. “I am afraid you are wrong, and you must see me to Derbyshire.”
“I do not see why I must,” he replied, trying once again to slip around her and being thwarted by her matching his move. Agitation showed plainly on his face.
“Well, you see,” Lydia began, smiling lightly while watching Wickham’s face carefully. That look of displeasure was certain to deepen in a moment, and she must watch for signs of anything more than words being hurled at her. “I know that you cheated Saunders out of money last week.” Her smile widened. “I have it in writing. Not your own, mind you, but a very close representation. The signature, however, is yours.”
Wickham’s brows drew together, and his mouth dropped open slightly. “You forged a note?”
She shrugged and fluttered her lashes again, feigning as innocent a look as she could. If her expression were to be honest, it would have been one of delight at having surprised someone who thought himself so clever. “Forged is such an ugly word. I prefer created. It really is not hard to do, you know. I can copy all my sisters’ writing.”
Wickham answered her charming smile with one of h
is own as he glanced around their surroundings. “I could just take it from you,” he said quietly while eyeing her reticule.
She held her bag out towards him. It was an action that once again startled him according to his expression. Although she had not expected to have to use her full plan, she was finding it quite delightful to do so. There was something exhilarating about matching wits with another. Perhaps this was why Elizabeth was always debating? Lydia wished to spend a moment contemplating that startling idea, but there was not time. She needed to convince Wickham to take her to Derbyshire and the sooner the better. Since he had not taken her reticule, she pulled it back, opened it, and looked inside. “Oh, I do not have it with me.” She closed her bag. “But then having it with me would be foolish, would it not? It could get lost or stolen.” She giggled. “Kitty has it.” Her smile faded as his scowl darkened. It was time to tell him the whole of just how much he should wish to assist her. “Along with the note about your cheating, she also has two letters of distress from me accusing you of threatening to harm me that she is to give to my father and Mr. Darcy.”
“Darcy?” Wickham’s brows rose in surprise.
“He did not seem to like you.” She had not seen anyone look at another with such hatred as Mr. Darcy had looked at Wickham when they met him on the road from Meryton. And, knowing Mr. Darcy was a wealthy man and more than a little enamoured with Elizabeth, she doubted he would spare any expense in seeing to her rescue. She might not enjoy the man’s grave countenance, but he was a true gentleman, no matter what Elizabeth might say to the contrary.
