In a few weeks’ time, you will see my letters come from London. I abhor the summer weather in town, but as part of my birthday gift of the pianoforte, which you were able to try while here, my brother has paid for private lessons with a master from Vienna visiting England for a limited time. It would please me for you to join me in London then with Mrs Annesley as our chaperone. I cannot offer the further inducement of my brother’s presence as he has not expressed an idea of travelling with me. Perhaps, if he knows you will join us, he might be tempted. I fully comprehend that, if matters are not settled with your family, you may not wish to visit me in town, so do not feel compelled to give an answer to this invitation now. Let us consider this an open thing — respond when you know more.
As for my brother, I would wish you to know I was with him when he gathered the flowers and fruit you left him in the stillroom. I still do not know why you were there or why I was not told, but that is a discussion for another time. He tried to carry too much — a constant metaphor we may apply to his life in general, I fear — and I was the one who picked up the nosegay when it tumbled from its vase. Do not cut the stems so short in future, I pray you! — and it was I who failed to notice the little red chrysanthemum had come loose. Do not assume he was unobservant; that prize goes to me. I am doubly sad for it as he repeatedly expresses the mortification he feels since you must have been confused by his actions — or their lack — once you knew he had received the nosegay. I must apologise, too, to both of you. And here, I had just been preening over my fine matchmaking success with Charles and your sister. Now I know better. Please extend my fondest regards to dear Jane.
I expect you will have news from Colonel Fitzwilliam as soon as, if not sooner than, we will here at Pemberley. I do so hope anything he learns will be of material use to help your family.
I am writing this from the stillroom, and Mrs Reynolds, who just looked in, asks to be remembered to you. How singular! She has never asked after any of our guests before — not ever. My brother and I linger in the stillroom often since you are gone and have even taken a meal here. You are very much in our prayers.
Your dear friend,
Georgiana Darcy
Darcy read the letter early the next morning as he shared breakfast with his sister before departing. “Did you truly write it in the stillroom?”
“I did, indeed, and Mrs Reynolds saw my candles.”
“You write a fine letter, Georgie. Thank you.”
“You needn’t thank me, Brother. I will do whatever I can to persuade her back to Pemberley. Perhaps I should propose to her myself?”
Darcy was not in a mood to laugh, but he did smile. “Silly goose. You are no longer my little gosling. You are now a full grown goose.”
Georgiana patted his arm. When the meal was completed, they rose to part. “I shall post this tomorrow, and in my next letter, I will tell her when I will leave for London. Be careful on your way, Fitzwilliam. I love you and God speed.”
“I love you, too, and I will take care, Georgie. I’ll send an express when I arrive with any news from our cousin.”
Darcy left in a carriage, taking a different route than that of Bingley and the ladies. On the morrow, he would proceed on horseback to shave precious hours from his time. Efficiency would at least allow some semblance of being productive.
* * *
An express to Georgiana reported that he had arrived unscathed and their cousin Fitzwilliam had come to Darcy House several hours later. As Darcy feared, the colonel reported that Wickham paid Lydia Bennet no special attention, nor she him, until she had a letter from her mother with tidings of Elizabeth being in Lambton.
The letter from Mrs Bennet was found amongst the haphazard jumble of clothes and personal effects left behind in the bedchamber Lydia occupied at Colonel Forster’s lodgings. Mrs Bennet revealed the early surmises of her brother as he observed Darcy’s very particular civility to Elizabeth, paraphrasing the letter Mr Gardiner had written to Mr Bennet. After Lydia made a joke of this to Wickham whilst they were at a party — stating she thought Mr Darcy ridiculous to pursue the sister who liked him least — all of that vicious man’s attention focused on the hapless youngest Bennet.
Lydia Bennet was no match for the insinuations of George Wickham. Unbeknownst to her, he was in debt, and she made no secret of the gift of funds sent by her mother in celebration of her sixteenth birthday. Wickham was truly intrigued by Elizabeth, even though he found that lady’s interest had cooled after she returned from six weeks in Kent. That Elizabeth might develop a better regard for Fitzwilliam Darcy was seen as a betrayal worthy of punishment, which could easily be carried out by ruining Lydia. Darcy’s infinite pride, as Wickham saw it, would demand an end to all contact with Elizabeth when he saw her family brought to disgrace. If Darcy was in love with Elizabeth, so much the better for Wickham to dash his hopes by blackening the name of Bennet. Thus were the assumptions of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and he was correct in every part.
It had taken only a few days of concerted flattery to ensnare Lydia. She knew nothing of Wickham’s debts of honour, debts to tradesmen and the sullied reputation of another officer’s sister. She only knew Wickham had fallen violently in love with her and was generous with his affection. It mattered not to her that, when he suggested elopement, she must pay their way. She was thoroughly deceived.
Wickham let it be known, when in his cups amidst his fellows, that he had no intention of marrying Lydia Bennet. He would enjoy her favours until he had spent her little money, grew tired of her or got her with child — then he would disappear. That all the Bennet sisters would suffer from the ruination of one was rather more his point than not. They served merely as his means to exact revenge upon the Darcys.
This, Colonel Fitzwilliam related to Darcy with brandy in the Darcy House study. Over dinner, taken in that same room, the cousins composed a letter to Mr Gardiner explaining the situation in its plain truth with the final draft written in the colonel’s legible military hand and signed by him alone. He told Mr Gardiner he could be reached through messages sent to Darcy House and he would gladly call on Mr Gardiner and Mr Bennet at Gracechurch Street, should they so wish. He apologised for not having any clues as to Wickham and Lydia’s whereabouts. The letter brought its recipients no comfort but let them know exactly the sort of man with whom they were dealing and confirmed their worst fears. A brief note of thanks was sent by return post.
The first morning in London saw Colonel Fitzwilliam chasing leads given him by officers to whom Wickham owed money. Darcy learnt through his butler, who seemed, at times, as much a spy for the family’s interests as a majordomo, that Mrs Younge had lately been given management of a boarding house in a not wholly reputable part of town. With his father’s miniature likeness of Wickham in his pocket, Darcy made inquiries in that neighbourhood and was able to obtain an address. He had confirmation from a wine merchant that Wickham attempted to establish an account, appearing first in his regimentals and returning later the same day dressed as a gentleman. The wine merchant was not as gullible as Lydia Bennet.
Of Lydia, Darcy was able to learn little except that Wickham had a young woman, well-cloaked, with him at an inn near to Mrs Younge’s establishment. Clearly, Lydia and Wickham were not lodging at Mrs Younge’s but were in the area.
On the second morning, Darcy and Fitzwilliam set themselves up in an alehouse that afforded a view of Mrs Younge’s front door, and they took turns nursing flagons of ale, eating coarse bread and cheese, and watching her lodgers come and go. These were men on the rough end of respectability, probably new to the city and working in the trades. It was Darcy’s hope they might intercept Wickham without having to apply to Mrs Younge, who would exact a toll for any information. The day was wasted, but during his turn at the table by the window, Darcy wrote to Georgiana, letting her know of the progress and asking whether she and Elizabeth had ever spoken of Wickham. It would help in his possible negotiations to know whether Elizabeth had been truly
smitten as much as it would hurt Darcy to know that particular truth. He also entreated his sister’s silence about the worst details of the affair; if Elizabeth was to know the depths of Wickham’s evil and the desperation of Lydia’s plight, let the information come to her through her relatives and not from a Darcy. He sent the letter by express and asked Georgiana to respond as soon as possible.
When the sun set with no sign of Wickham, Darcy at last and very grudgingly approached the boarding house of Mrs Younge. A servant girl answered his knock, and he stepped inside the vestibule to await the servant’s mistress rather than wait upon the step outside.
“A gentleman to see me?” Darcy heard Mrs Younge ask. “Why did you not tell him we have no rooms to let at present?”
“He didn’t ask for no rooms, ma’am. He asked to see you.”
The servant was shocked at the wrath Darcy’s appearance produced on the face of her mistress, and the girl ran crying from Mrs Younge’s glare. Darcy was not surprised that Mrs Younge had a vindictive reputation amongst the servants. She was a mean and weak-willed woman, but her nature could be used to his advantage.
Mrs Younge was no actress and did not try to hide that Wickham, with a girl, had applied to her for rooms. Darcy suspected there was something of a woman scorned in Mrs Younge, and she held an unrequited tenderness for Wickham, which often gave distress with every fresh evidence of his preference for very young maidens — a description she could not claim, although she was not ill-favoured. Yes, Wickham had asked for rooms as a favour! The girl with him seemed in no state of alarm, looked about the place curiously, and produced giggles at anything Wickham said that might be construed in the least bit as humorous, especially if it was vulgar.
“She seems a silly, vacant little chit, and in spite of her fine figure, Wickham won’t keep her long. He prefers sleighs with new runners,” Mrs Younge stated, giving her embittered view of the matter.
“Her family is known to me, and they are respectable people. They do not deserve to be at Wickham’s mercy for their honourable name. If you know where they have gone, I would appreciate the information.” Darcy eyed Mrs Younge carefully, wondering how much loyalty she might extend to Wickham, and if she had lent him any money.
“You might as well know, Mr Darcy,” she began, pronouncing “mister” in a highly insolent manner, “Wickham and I had words. I do not know where he went after they left here.”
Darcy could see she was lying. “If you do not know, then I have no use for you.” He rose to leave. “I would just mention; I hope you have not lent him any money. He left Brighton owing nearly £1,000 to his fellow officers. They will not like to be left with debts of honour and will be paid before you ever will, madam.”
Mrs Younge was genuinely surprised. “As much as that?”
“I hope you have not depleted your savings or dipped into the income of the one who owns this establishment on a promise of rapid repayment.” Darcy thought the last very likely, given the woman’s character and history.
Mrs Younge lowered her gaze. “He intends to sell his commission, and he always pays me first.” She was a little too strident.
“Then your best hope, Mrs Younge, is that peace with France does not break out anytime soon, or Wickham will find his commission difficult to sell. But this is nothing to me. His lady’s family can offer him little monetary inducement to make her an honest woman, so you mustn’t expect remuneration of his loan from that quarter.”
Mrs Younge grumbled, “He never succeeds half so well with the rich ones as the poor ones.”
“I will take my leave, Mrs Younge, since you have no knowledge of their whereabouts, and that is the only information of any consequence to me. You know where I can be found should you learn anything I might value.” Darcy stressed the last word and saw a glimmer in Mrs Younge’s eye.
The wretched woman would have the last word. “You will wait a very long time, sir, if you think I will sink so low as to betray a friend.”
Darcy turned his back to hide his smirk. “Let us hope in matters of loan repayment your friend is as kind as you.”
Darcy reunited with his cousin at Darcy House and related his evening’s activities. “I expect to have a note from Mrs Younge requesting I visit again within 24 hours, Richard, for I am sure she has lent him more than she should — probably out of the accounts of the lodging house. She must hope the owner does not audit her soon.”
“I have found the record of who owns the building, Darcy. Sadly it is no one we know, but you might let slip the name if it would be helpful.”
“Richard, you are a brilliant fellow to think of it. If I do not hear from her tomorrow, I shall seek her out armed with that knowledge.”
* * *
As Darcy assumed, a scruffy young lad knocked with great trepidation on the door of Darcy House as they sat down to breakfast at eight-thirty the next morning. Mrs Younge would see him at ten o’clock if he could spare the time.
Heliotrope
“Devotion”
Chapter 11
Sorting Out Wickham
Wednesday, 5 August, 1812
By noon, without having to mention the building owner but after lining Mrs Younge’s pocket with £50, Darcy was in possession of the name of the sordid inn where Wickham and Lydia were lodged. It was in a part of town where even the confident Darcy was loath to travel without an armed escort. Rather than proceed there immediately, he returned to Darcy House to ask his cousin to join him. The colonel agreed to stay with the carriage, along with one of the larger Darcy footmen.
Darcy stepped to the desk of the inn and noticed a public house adjoined the vestibule. He enquired whether George Wickham was in residence and whether there was a private place they might have a conversation. The innkeeper informed Darcy the use of a private room would add to Wickham’s bill, but a bright sovereign erased the innkeeper’s cares. Darcy wondered whether the innkeeper already suspected Wickham was the sort to steal away in the night, leaving behind an unpaid bill and possibly a young, foolish country girl. Wickham was fetched.
“Darcy! I wondered whether you might come looking for me. Tell me, do I have something you want?” His manner was as overly familiar and insinuating as ever.
Darcy found it in himself to smile a little. “Indeed, you do, Wickham. Something that is of no real value to you: the Bennet family honour.”
“Ah…honour. Intimate acquaintance with the youngest Miss Bennet has taught me there is not much honour to be protected there, Darcy.”
Darcy looked away. “Nonetheless, that is why I am here.”
“I was not aware you had any friends amongst the Bennets. There is one lady of the family who thinks nothing of disparaging you. She has been very” — Wickham smirked — “shall we say ‘candid’ with me.”
“Yes, I know perfectly well of whom you speak, and she did not scruple to disparage me to my face when I gave her the chance of it. You are producing nothing that is news to me.”
“But now you entertain her at Pemberley?” Wickham raised his brows with leering mock surprise.
“Do not assume I entertain her as you are entertaining her youngest sister, here in one of London’s finest establishments.”
“Believe me, I do not.” Wickham laughed at Darcy derisively.
Darcy would not be ruffled. “May I ask what your intentions are towards Lydia Bennet? She left a letter implying a wedding between you is imminent. Is it?”
Wickham scoffed. “It most decidedly is not. I needed to leave Brighton on urgent business matters, and she was ripe for adventure with birthday money burning a hole in her pocket. So you see — we were of one mind about leaving Brighton.”
“That I do doubt. I would speak with her.”
“What? With Lydia? Why?”
“If she can be convinced to leave you, I shall take her away at once, and that will be an end to it unless she is with child already.”
Wickham started to make a caustic reply, but paled and was silenced by Co
lonel Fitzwilliam’s entrance into the room.
Darcy was surprised. “Who guards the carriage, Cousin?” he asked.
“The burly footman your butler sent to add to the one we brought. I am glad we told Mr Lesley where we were going as he has forwarded orders to me from General Bagbey, endorsed by Colonel Forster.” Fitzwilliam held out a document. “It seems I am empowered to take one George Wickham into custody should I deem it necessary or advisable.” The colonel caught Wickham’s eye with a malevolent nod that nearly sent him scampering back up the stairs to Lydia’s arms. “He is charged with desertion, dishonouring a superior officer and owing debts of honour to fellow officers in excess of £800. I thought you would like to know, Darcy. If you see fit, he will start out in a stockade, and when the military sentence is served, he can then move on to a debtors’ prison to repay the tradesmen he owes.”
Darcy raised his eyebrows and smiled a little. “Happy news, Cousin, happy news.” He turned back to Wickham. “Back to the matter at hand then, Wickham. If Lydia Bennet can be convinced to leave you, I shall take her to her aunt and uncle straight away and my cousin may do as he likes. If she thinks she must marry you, then we shall have a further conversation.”
Wickham sneered. “I have no intention of saddling myself with Lydia Bennet. Absolutely not. There is another Bennet I would consider, but never Lydia. Had I been able to secure the little heiress, Mary King, as my bride, I surely would have returned to Hertfordshire to make a mistress of Elizabeth Bennet. Now there is a Bennet worth some effort.”
Instantly furious, Darcy turned away, but Wickham continued, “Such a challenge but such a potential reward. Lively, buxom — I’m a tit man, you know, Darcy, always have been. Oh, Elizabeth will be a delight for the mind and body. You prefer a well-turned leg, do you not? I would be a happy man, indeed, if I could report to you on that score. Would you let me trade Lydia for her, do you think?”
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 19
