These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Nicole Clarkston

  “Mrs Wickham,” Darcy interrupted quietly, “how do you feel?”

  “I wish I could sit up,” she confessed, “but I have been forbidden to move, for I’ve the most abominable ache in my shoulder, and my head is throbbing something fierce. I am hungry as well, but George says I’m not to have more soup just yet,” she pouted.

  “That is wise,” he concurred. “Madam, I must borrow Mr Wickham for a moment. I trust you will be comfortable?”

  A drunken alarm widened the girl’s eyes, and she tightened her hand in her husband’s.

  “Never fear, my dear,” Wickham soothed, “I shall return to you as swiftly as ever I may.”

  She relented, after a few words from Elizabeth, as Darcy locked eyes with Wickham. Without another word, he turned and walked to his study. A few paces behind, Wickham followed. The last time they had sat thus—Darcy behind the desk, Wickham just before it—was the day Darcy had given him a bank note to sever their acquaintance. Much good it had done.

  Darcy laced his hands before him and tapped his thumbs together. “I understand you attempted to shield my sister,” he began.

  “You needn’t sound so stunned. You used me as a decoy,” muttered Wickham.

  “If you mean to imply that I expected a full invasion of my house and departed, leaving two ladies defenceless, your assumption is incorrect. I did have twice the footmen on duty as a precaution, but I had not foreseen tonight’s events.”

  “Then why place me in gentleman’s attire in the study?”

  “I had intended that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam and I would pay a call on the Earl of Matlock after learning what we could from Senhor Vasconcelos. His testimony and yours would have provided sufficient evidence against my cousin the viscount to compel my uncle to take some action. I did not anticipate that I would be delayed in my return.”

  “So, the wine was merely to loosen my tongue?”

  Darcy smiled.

  Wickham stirred with agitation, straightening his jacket front with a jerk. “You nearly got me killed, Darcy.”

  “A pity,” Darcy commented drily, leaving Wickham to wonder what was the pity—his accidental endangerment, or the fact that he had survived. “I would have a full account of the night’s events, if you please. Were there any faces you recognised?”

  “Contrary to your opinion, I do not associate with such rabble. I prefer gamers with something to show, but those men must have been at their last farthing to have taken employment invading this house.”

  “And they were looking specifically for me?”

  Wickham snorted. “They had a miniature of you, likely from someone’s personal collection. Here it is,” he drew it from a pocket. “It is fortunate for me that I am fair where you are dark, or they would have slain me without a moment’s hesitation. As it was, they thought little enough of my life.”

  “That is interesting about the miniature. Please, do go on.”

  Wickham sighed and related all the events in which he was involved, until he stumbled at the point when the young girl, heavy with his child, had thrown herself before a loaded pistol on his account. He halted there, and seemed to have developed a mild cough.

  “And afterward?” Darcy probed.

  “Well,” Wickham cleared his throat, “that Irish footman cornered the last two in the drawing room with the sword from above your chair there,” he flicked his eyes over Darcy’s head. “Don’t be angry with the lad, Darce, for you ought to have seen how swiftly he replaced it. After that, I know little else, for I was carrying my dear Lydia to a bed. I thought her dead at first, until I tried to lay her down and she held my neck.” He fell silent then, staring at the desk, then unconsciously brushing a red stain on his shirt.

  Darcy permitted the moment of silence, gazing thoughtfully. “Wickham,” he resumed after a moment, “after we speak to the earl in the morning, I am to deliver you to the nearest regiment.”

  Wickham’s eyes raised, then lowered in defeat. “I understand.”

  “Of course,” Darcy continued casually, “my attention will be diverted somewhat. There are any number of ships waiting in harbour at this very moment; some bound for the Continent, some for Africa, some for Canada or the West Indies.”

  Wickham narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What are you offering, Darcy?”

  Darcy leaned forward. “Three thousand pounds. You board a ship and tell no one where you are going and you never return. So long as I am quite rid of you, I shall be content.”

  “And my wife? What of her?”

  “Assuming she recovers, she and the child will be looked after. In a few years, you will be presumed dead, and she will be free. That is my condition—you never trouble her again.”

  Wickham swallowed and drew a shaky breath. He blinked rapidly, then resolve formed in his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Wickham’s shoulders raised. “No,” he repeated, in a firmer voice. “I cannot… cannot just leave her.”

  “It is likely death if you are delivered to a regiment. How does she profit from that?”

  “I will not have abandoned her a second time. No, Darcy,” he gulped another draught of air, closed his eyes, and repeated himself. “I shall not leave. You are not rid of me quite so easily this time.”

  “You will accept the judgment of a court-martial rather than freedom and independence?”

  Wickham gazed at his hands. “Darcy, what she did this night… no one has ever cared enough for George Wickham to risk their own life. I should have died tonight, but she, who of all people in the world has the most reason to despise me, would have given herself for me. How could I betray her again? No, I never shall, and I have cheated death already. You may place me before the firing squad, Darcy, and I will die if I must, but my last words will be of devotion to her. She deserves no less.”

  “You think my betrothal to her sister will purchase you favour in this house? Remember, Wickham, that I hold all your debts, or enough of them to condemn you. A near relationship to me will bring you under closer scrutiny, not the reverse. I will see you in debtor’s prison at the first infraction, should you survive your court-martial.”

  “I have made my pledge, and I shall stand by it,” he vowed. “I am not afraid of you, Darcy. Should I be granted a second chance at life, I intend to spend it proving myself worthy of a woman such as she.”

  “Many vows are made in the passion of the moment,” Darcy scoffed. “A year from now, when the babe is squalling for bread and your wife is heavy with a second child, the bloom will fall from this heady romance you have conceived. The first moment an empty-headed miss happens upon your path, or you see an opportunity to cheat someone out of a hundred pounds, you will fall back to your old ways.”

  “Care to wager on it, Darcy?” the other countered.

  Darcy lifted a brow. “Upon what stakes?”

  Wickham smiled. “Nothing. I expect nothing from you ever again. If I am still alive after the army has had its way with me, I will seek employment as a shopkeeper, if I must, to repay my debts and care for my wife. That would be a nasty blow to your pride, would it not? A brother-in-law in trade?”

  “Mr Gardiner is in trade, and somehow I have survived my acquaintance with him. What do you offer if you should fail in this scheme?”

  Wickham spread his hands. “As you say, Darcy, you hold my debts. What is the worst prison you can think of? Of course, you will have to shelter my family, for I know you would not condemn your own wife’s sister and her gentle babes there. I think I should like five daughters. Does not that sound a lovely number?”

  Darcy’s mouth quirked. “I fail to see what I gain in that circumstance.”

  “Why, the honour of victory, of being right about my failures. Is that not sufficient?”

  “No, but it is likely all I can hope for. Very well, Wickham.”

  “Does this mean,” Wickham asked with a hopeful expression, “that I p
assed your little test, Darcy? You will support me against the army’s charges?”

  “It is Fitzwilliam you must convince. I will support whatever he deems fitting.”

  Wickham sagged. “Then I am a dead man.”

  68

  It was four more hours, and the sun had begun to rise before Fitzwilliam returned to the house. He dragged himself through the door, wearily shrugging off his coat and staring in haggard wonder at Georgiana, who still bustled about the house with the brisk efficiency of a battlefield commander.

  “Richard!” she ran to him like the girl she still was. “What news of Mr Gardiner?”

  “He will mend, my sweet. Where is Darcy?”

  “He is in the library, with Elizabeth. They only just came back down from Lydia’s room.”

  “And how is Mrs Wickham faring?”

  Georgiana laughed. “Apart from being somewhat intoxicated still, she is tart as ever when she wakes. She asked me to have the dressmaker come measure her for a gown to wear to her sister’s wedding.”

  Fitzwilliam gave a fatigued chortle. “Provided she can fight off infection, she may recover well. See that the surgeon attends her regularly. Have the man move into the next room, if you must. Excuse me, Georgie, but I must speak to Darcy.”

  He found Darcy collapsed at one end of the sofa. Miss Bennet was curled beside him with her head on his shoulder, and her little slippered feet tucked up on the cushion. Both appeared to be soundly asleep, but at the creak of his foot upon the floorboards, Darcy awoke with a jerk.

  “I say, Darcy,” he grunted, “I do hope Mr Bennet is a generous sort.”

  Darcy stretched his neck and turned it to admire the woman nestled at his side. “On the contrary, I was hoping that he would rush us to the altar. If you were to have a word with Mrs Bennet, I would count it a very great service.”

  “I do not dare. She still has two other daughters.”

  Darcy began easing himself from under Elizabeth’s body. She mumbled something in her sleep, and Richard was certain that her eyes opened just a fraction when Darcy spoke her name, but she allowed him to settle her against a pillow. Darcy rose and walked quietly to him, motioning with his head toward the study.

  “What is the surgeon’s evaluation?” he demanded quickly.

  “It is as I thought. The knife did not penetrate deeply. It has been a few hours, and he can find no signs of internal bleeding, so it appears your future uncle had a lucky escape. It is fortunate that Vasconcelos was in a hurry, for the bump to the head seemed to have incapacitated the gentleman enough that he thought him dead. Gardiner is rousing now and he has taken some broth, so I think he will recover well.”

  Darcy released a tense sigh. “That is well… very well, indeed. How are Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Vasconcelos?”

  “Mrs Gardiner will have that bruise to her face for a month, at the least, but it does not appear that anything was broken. Amália… forgive me, Darce, I simply cannot call her by her proper name. I offered to escort her here, and she felt her presence had been enough burden to the Gardiners, but Mrs Gardiner would not hear of it. When I left, Amália was taking her turn watching Mr Gardiner while Mrs Gardiner tried to sleep.”

  “And the body, I presume, was collected?”

  “Yes,” Richard frowned, “but not by Manuel Vasconcelos. It was men from the ship; in fact, I understand that its departure was delayed for that purpose, but they could not tell me where their master was to be found. We ought to have gagged him and dropped him with the regiment. I hate that he escaped.”

  “Escaped, perhaps, but not victoriously. He has lost a great deal tonight. Perhaps we should stop by that apartment once more to see if he left the larger part of those papers in his haste. They might reveal where else he had been, and perhaps yield some evidence of his corroboration with the viscount.”

  “Perhaps. When do we speak to my father?”

  Darcy sighed. “As soon as we can be made presentable, I am afraid. Wickham will attend us.”

  Richard tilted his head and gazed speculatively at his cousin. “You have gone and done it, I see.”

  “Done what, may I ask?”

  “Trusted Wickham again. I see it, you have bought his lies for a fine price, and he shall string you along once more.”

  “If he does, he shall have a greater force than I to reckon with. I believe his wife may make him suffer far more than I ever could.”

  Richard grumbled and rolled his eyes. “That means I must vouch for the filthy blackguard. Perhaps I shall recommend assignment to Spain.”

  “And you? Will you be throwing yourself away on the front lines as well?”

  Richard turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “She is still a Catholic, Darcy, and I am still a penniless second son.”

  “The Prince Regent is feeling considerable pressure for emancipation. I expect it will become a popular notion.”

  “Not for the sons of earls,” Richard retorted. “She would be ridiculed, Darcy. Mocked, belittled, and abused. It is worse even than you marrying a country girl, for my father is a peer and she is a foreigner. I will not subject her to that.”

  “She seems the sort of young lady who would care little what anyone said of her.”

  “Aye, but matters are about to become rather ticklish. This tale of Reginald’s betrayal will be a fine handle for all those in the House of Lords who would destroy my father. The family can little afford another such scandal.”

  “Are you saying,” Darcy interjected testily, “that this woman you have loved in vain for years is finally free, and you will not do something about it? You are a damned fool. If you had seen what I came upon tonight when I first entered the room—”

  “I know what you saw!” Richard whirled, his hands raking his hair. “And I have no intention of letting her go.” He dropped his hands and paced before the fire. “She will have to mourn the bastard for a year. That should be more than enough time. Father will not like it, but I trust you might still come to visit me once or twice.”

  “Visit you where?”

  “Portugal, of course. And I don’t give a damn if her father objects. I’ll ask for permanent assignment to Lisbon. We will marry there, and she can be a little nearer her home.”

  Darcy met this declaration with silence. Richard to leave England! He paced to the window and leaned upon it.

  “I know what you think, Darcy,” Richard began.

  “No, I would imagine that you do not.”

  “You think I have lost my head, that I would give up everything on a romantic whim.”

  “I was thinking,” Darcy replied quietly, “that I would have done no less. You will never find another of half her worth. I know, for I have spent five years searching, and another coming to understand what it is to love such a woman.”

  Richard blinked. “You do not think me mad?”

  “No.”

  “I have virtually nothing to offer her, save my soldier’s pay, and my father and mother would die before acknowledging her. Still, you do not think me heedless and rash?”

  “I daresay the lady will have resources of her own. I had intended to give her this,” he withdrew the deed from his breast pocket, and handed it to Richard. “It is but a small token of my gratitude toward her. It is fitting that you should help to steward it, and I think she would prefer to hear the news from you, rather than from me.”

  Richard took it in trembling hands, glancing back to his cousin in wordless shock.

  “And,” Darcy continued, “you shall not be utterly abandoned by the family. I think perhaps Elizabeth would like to see Portugal one day.”

  Richard’s arms dropped to his sides and a happy smile grew upon his face. “You are the last man I ever expected to advise me so, Darcy. Bingley, now there’s a chap who would have happily gone with the scheme, but you! It means a deal to me, Darcy.”

  Darcy smiled and was about to suggest that they retire to dress for their visit wi
th the earl when a knock came at the door.

  “Enter,” he summoned.

  “Excuse me, sir,” the butler extended a tray with a note. “This has just come from the Earl of Matlock. The messenger said it was urgent, and he awaits a reply.”

  They traded apprehensive glances, and Darcy opened the note. He scanned it quickly, then read it again, more carefully. He felt himself beginning to tremble, and made his way to a seat.

  “What is it?” Richard demanded. “What has Father done?”

  Darcy shook his head vaguely. “You said that the viscount had been missing for a few days?”

  “Yes, left town, so Father said. I assumed he went to Matlock.”

  “Did your father mention that he had men searching for him?”

  “Yes, now that I think of it. He was beginning to wonder if there was something to all this nonsense, and wanted to learn more for himself. They found him in London?”

  Darcy extended the note, his face white. “Not before Vasconcelos did. It would seem, Richard, that you are no longer the second son.”

  “What?” Richard snatched the note and read. When he had finished, he dropped into the seat beside Darcy, his eyes shocked and staring. “Reginald has been strangled in his sleep!”

  ~

  Matlock House, London

  “Darcy, my boy, you are a sight.” The Earl of Matlock, his face aged ten years since Darcy had last seen him, clapped a limp hand on Darcy's shoulder. “At least you are come back to us, if not….” He broke off with a weary sigh and shook his head.

  “Sir,” Darcy answered, “may I express my deepest condolences.”

  The earl seemed still too dazed to comprehend, and he waved lethargically. “Never mind that now, Darcy. Too many things to condole over. Richard,” Matlock placed a hand in his younger son’s, and then his haggard features crumbled. His great shoulders shook, his head bowed with shame and grief. Richard put an arm around the aging earl and led him to the privacy of his study. Darcy followed and closed the door as Richard eased his grieving father into his leather chair.