“It was a good notion of yours, to find a local man to marry the Kympton girl,” David broke the silence abruptly. “But of course, it gets Wickham off the hook again.” He glanced up. “Do you have any evidence of bigamy, or attempted bigamy? If so, I am thinking it might be better if he was convicted of the crime and transported, and thus unable to court publicity to your embarrassment in future.”
“No.” Darcy cleared his throat. “I would not like to see him transported. He has a winning way and manner to ingratiate himself, and I think that he might yet wreak much misery on other poor devils trying to scratch out a living in the colonies.” He shrugged, hoping Richard had not mentioned the attempted murder in Hertfordshire.
He got up from the table. He could have another drink. There was a foul taste in his mind, thinking of this man.
“All right. I understand your reluctance, Darcy.” David looked at the papers on the table. “And thank you for arranging to get the further papers sent down from Pemberley. It is to your advantage that you have been so meticulous in retaining evidence from the original creditors, stating that Wickham promised them reparation, and did not mention your name to them.” He looked up. “It is evidence of fraudulent intent.”
“Indeed.” Darcy slumped back into the chair. He wanted to be back in Hertfordshire. No he didn’t, he wanted to talk to Richard, and see if he could find a reputable man to marry Lydia Bennet, so that Elizabeth did not have to be anxious for her honour.
Wickham was his uncle’s concern now. The Kympton embarrassment had been resolved, and Darcy’s job was to solve the same issue in Hertfordshire. If Uncle Henry was determined to buy up Wickham’s debt and imprison him, why, that would free up the money for further support of those on his estate.
He smiled to himself. And begin to build up a fortune for Elizabeth and their younger children.
“What are you laughing at, Darcy!” his uncle barked, and Darcy jerked back to attention.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Henry, I was thinking of something else.”
His uncle grunted. “Yes, well. You must sign the debts over to me, and David will lay the complaint this afternoon.” He glanced at Darcy. “I suppose you will then return to Hertfordshire.”
“I will.” Darcy wondered if his uncle knew more about his reason for that than he was asking about. He took a deep breath. He needed to get this resolved as soon as possible, before any Fitzwilliam family member discovered the truth.
Chapter 40
Elizabeth stepped outside the front door and breathed deeply. She was so much better, now that she could get out of doors. A rare warm day in this unusually cold year, and her father had relented.
“But you must stay in the gardens, Lizzy. I do not wish you to walk out alone just yet.”
“Yes, Papa,” Elizabeth smiled at him. “But I am much better now.”
“I know you are.” Her father patted her arm. “And I want to keep it that way. Just a few more days, Lizzy, please.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth had smiled at him, and slipped through the door.
As she strolled round the gardens, warmly wrapped in her winter coat, she felt her nerves began to calm down. Mr. Darcy had not appeared this morning, but she was rather relieved about it. She knew something would happen very soon, because Lydia’s condition was becoming so clear to her. She couldn’t understand how Mama was oblivious to it.
Somehow she knew Mr. Darcy had understood, as Papa had, the significance of what she had told them, that first morning that she came downstairs.
But what she couldn’t understand was that he had come back, called upon her, when he must have known his future could never be with her.
She tired quickly and went to sit on the seat under the ancient apple tree, unwilling to go indoors to the noisy, bustling sitting room, where her mother and sisters were vying to speak above each other.
She turned curiously at the sound of a horse. But it was only the post, and she turned back to watching the hills. She sat there for another few minutes, but a sense of dread was beginning to descend upon her. Footsteps sounded on the gravel path, and she turned to see Hill hastening towards her.
She smiled at the housekeeper. “What is it, Hill? Do you need me?”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet wishes to speak to you. He is waiting in his library.” The woman dipped into a bob.
“Thank you.” Elizabeth rose to her feet. Soon she would know if her sense of dread was justified.
It was.
Her father looked sombre as he waited for her at the doorway to his library. Elizabeth glanced at the closed sitting room door. The family’s voices could be heard through it.
“Leave them for now, Lizzy. I wish to talk to you first.” Papa’s voice was heavy, and Elizabeth’s heart twisted in anguish for him. She knew now what this was about.
“Let me call for tea, Papa, before we talk,” she cajoled him, and nodded at Hill, who’d followed her into the house.
Once they were sitting quietly with the tea tray between them, she raised her eyebrows. “I suppose it is the news I knew would come, Papa?”
He nodded heavily, his hands both holding the teacup as if he needed the warmth it gave.
“You are loyal to the family, Lizzy. I knew why you wouldn’t tell me what you thought Lydia was saying to Wickham. But you knew what I would assume about that conversation.” He sighed.
“I have received a letter from Sir William,” her father reached over to his desk. He barely restrained a scowl. “He would not, of course, call himself.” He handed her the letter without a word.
Elizabeth unfolded the sheet of paper.
Mr. Bennet,
I am sorry to have to write to you in this vein, but I think you ought to know that there are a number of rumours circulating regarding the condition of your youngest daughter, Miss Lydia Bennet.
I think there is nothing further I can say to this, except that there is also much speculation that the perpetrator could be any one of a number of officers.
You have, sir, my sympathies,
Yours, etc,
Sir William Lucas
Elizabeth handed the letter back to her father, feeling rather ill. To think that Lydia — and the family — were the subject of such gossip in the town, was mortifying.
She shook her head. “Oh, Papa!”
His head was bowed, and she felt so much for his sorrow that she barely let the thought of his indolence in preventing Mama’s over-indulgence of Lydia into her mind.
She took a deep breath. “So, what is to be done, Papa? Can Wickham be induced to marry her — and would she be safe if that were the case?”
Her father shook his head, his shoulders bowed. “It may be possible, Lizzy, but until then, I pray that you be observant. I do not want Lydia leaving the house at present. I must make some arrangements.”
Elizabeth nodded, not having the slightest idea what arrangements he could possibly be thinking of. “Do you want me to come to the sitting room with you now, to tell Mama?”
He shook his head. “No, Lizzy. You are not to say anything. I wish to make some plans before I confront Lydia. And I must do that before your mother discovers what is happening.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “But if Aunt Philips calls later and says something?” It was the only thing she could think of saying. She didn’t want to tell him he ought to confront the issue with Lydia and Mama at once.
He grimaced. “I am sure she will not. At least not today. Now go, Lizzy. I have to write to your uncle.”
As she slipped from the room, Elizabeth was relieved at least that Uncle Gardiner would soon know about their trouble. He was much more practical than Papa, and would know what ought to be done.
Making up her mind, Elizabeth went upstairs to her bedchamber. She had to think. Why would Papa not wish the rest of the family to know what he had shared with her? She lay on her bed, hands behind her head. He trusted her not to tell the others, and she would not betray that trust.
Jane. She really missed her sister acutely at that moment. For an instant, she wished she could put on her coat again, and walk to Netherfield and share with her sister this huge trouble which had overtaken their family.
But she could not, she knew that. Papa needed her here, and Jane needed to be detached from the family. Elizabeth sat up. She must write to Jane, get Mr. Bingley to take her to London, away from all the unpleasantness. She might not be able to send the letter at once, but as soon as Papa said she may, she wanted to be ready.
She crossed to her desk and drew a sheet of notepaper towards her.
Chapter 41
Darcy wished with all his heart he could be in Hertfordshire now. The time was coming, he knew, when Elizabeth would have to confront the fact that the whole town knew her sister was ruined.
He wanted to be there for her, wanted to show her that he cared nothing for the gossip. She, Elizabeth, was without blame.
But Richard now sat opposite him in the coach, and Richard had been implacable.
“No, Darcy. You cannot return to Hertfordshire. You have your position as master of Pemberley to think of, and you have Georgiana’s reputation to consider.” He had frowned. “You were most incautious to return last week, and if I had known you were going, I would have cautioned against it.”
So, they were on their way to Brighton. If they were successful in their plan, Miss Lydia Bennet would get away with her imprudent action in the same way as Wickham had, and outrage rose within him at the injustice of it all. But it was the only way to lift the ruin on the family and free him to court Elizabeth.
They had decided he would arrange a commission into the regulars for the officer concerned, and to a regiment far away from Hertfordshire. He smiled, and far from Derbyshire. Satisfied at the thought, he leaned back.
Richard chuckled, and Darcy looked over inquiringly.
“I hope that smile means I am forgiven, Darcy.” Richard said lazily. “I’m sure you know I am correct in this.”
“I suppose so,” Darcy grumbled. “I just wish I could somehow convey my feelings to Elizabeth.”
Richard smiled. “You must stop talking about her without saying Miss Elizabeth, or one day your familiarity will be called out.”
Darcy grimaced. “All right. I will endeavour to do so, if it will ease your mind.”
“Did you not manage to speak to her and gain her understanding during your last visits?”
“No,” Darcy sighed. “We had no opportunity to speak privately.”
He drew his mind away from her with difficulty, hoping that he might save her from the disaster before it came upon the family. “So, Richard, what is your plan?”
His cousin had his feet up on the seat opposite, taking the opportunity to rest, as did all experienced soldiers. “I have taken rooms at the Rottingdean club, Darcy. We will stay there as long as is necessary.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “I have invited Colonel Forster to dine with us there tonight. It will be better to dine away from his wife and any other guests she might wish to invite.”
Darcy nodded. He appreciated the fact that Richard knew how much Darcy preferred quiet dining to social occasions.
“I believe Forster will have his suspicions as to what we’re about?” he said abruptly.
Richard nodded. “I spoke to him before taking the constable to arrest Wickham on the debt charges on Monday.”
Darcy began to appreciate the amount of work Richard had put in behind the scenes, while he had been playing with a kitten. He tried to prevent a smile.
“I am grateful for how much you have done for me, Richard.” He hesitated. “How did Wickham take it when you appeared? After all, you used to play with us as boys at Pemberley.”
Richard shrugged. “A man who abuses the trust given to him by his fellows and friends is not worthy of any sympathy. Time on the battlefield has taught me that.” He shrugged. “He was disbelieving, I think, that you had actually done this. I think he had a sense of untouchability, invincibility. After all, you had done nothing to him after Ramsgate, and nothing new could possibly be as bad as that for you.” He smiled cynically. “But when I told him it was my father who had laid the complaint, and the sum involved, he entered a state of collapse.”
Darcy grimaced; his own father would never have approved of what he had done. But Uncle Henry was right, Wickham would no longer be free to ruin another family, and if Darcy had only had the courage to do this last summer, Elizabeth and her family would not be in this situation. He was to blame.
* * *
Colonel Forster enjoyed his drink. A bulky, florid-faced man, he had very much appreciated his dinner, too; and now, in one of the private rooms at the club, they sat over their brandy, while Richard outlined the issue.
“We were very grateful to you at the Netherfield ball, Colonel; you understood us immediately and ensured there was no disturbance when Wickham was ejected. And again, on Monday this week, in assisting me to ensure Wickham’s arrest.”
“Glad to be rid of the fellow,” Forster took another gulp. “You were only just in time, I was planning to detach him to my brother’s regiment when they embark for France next week.”
Richard grinned appreciatively. “And then court-martial him for desertion, no doubt.”
Forster eyed him. “You think he would have refused to go to France?”
Richard guffawed. “You think he wouldn’t?”
Darcy sat quietly, admiring Richard’s ability to get on with anyone, his chameleon manners fitting for every situation.
Finally, Richard sat forward. “You remember Miss Lydia Bennet, of Longbourn? I would like to speak confidentially to you.”
Forster nodded, instantly sober. “I think she is very young, and even more immature than her years. I was sorry that my wife seemed so enamoured with her.” He frowned, “and even more so, that she tempted many of my youngest officers into being careless with their affections.”
Darcy kept very still in the background. He would leave this to Richard, who could read the mind of a man with unerring accuracy.
“How many officers do you think might have been tempted by her?”
Forster shrugged, gazing into his glass. “Half a dozen, perhaps more.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Wickham was certainly one of them. But the others are just very young.” He glared at Richard. “And she was very forward.”
“I have heard that, Colonel,” Richard said sympathetically. “We do not ascribe any blame to your officers — except, perhaps, Wickham, who has form in these matters.”
Forster chuckled, reached forward and clapped Richard on the back. “So what can I do for you, then, Fitzwilliam?”
Richard glanced at Darcy, then back at their guest. “Are there any of those half a dozen, who are, perhaps, in a position of being unable to marry, but who were fond of Miss Lydia, and might be able to manage her if they could be induced to marry?” he said carefully.
The older man gave him a calculating glance. “Not if he were to stay under my command. I would not want her here.”
“I understand,” Richard nodded. “The settlement would include a commission into the regulars, as well as a generous allowance.”
Colonel Forster’s eyebrows rose. “You are well aware of the size of the inducement that would be needed, I see.”
“Indeed,” Richard murmured, but made no further comment.
There was a long silence, before Colonel Forster sighed. “I have two names in my mind. I think they will appreciate the settlement, but I hope later on they will not think I have given them a poisoned chalice.” He shook his head, and rose to his feet.
“I think it best if I send the first one to you, rather than try and explain the situation myself. Then, if he declines, I will send the second.” He glanced back as he reached the door. “I do wish to say that I believe that the girl deserves none of it.”
Darcy bowed, “But her family are the ones who will suffer.”
Forster nodded. “I suppose so.”
Later that evening, before they retired for the night, Darcy glanced at his cousin. “I am indebted to you even more, Richard. It was a masterly interview.”
“It was, rather, wasn’t it?” Richard seemed quite gratified that it had all gone so well. “But I will only relax when we have seen and gained the agreement of one of the young men to our plan.” He stood up. “We will see what tomorrow brings.”
Chapter 42
Elizabeth woke the next morning to her mother’s wails, and grimaced. It was fortunate she had some of the willow bark powders left from the apothecary when she’d had the fever. She wasn’t at all sure that the powder had helped cure her fever, but it was certainly proving very efficacious on relieving the headaches her mother gave her.
Two days now. Two days since her father had presented the family with his final plan and an order that Lydia say her goodbyes and get into the coach at once. One small trunk had been all she was allowed to take, and even Elizabeth hadn’t been able to induce Papa to tell her where Lydia was going.
“She has disgraced the family, Lizzy; I must send her away so that you, Kitty and Mary do not pay the price for her ruin.” He’d touched her arm. “I’m sorry. But after her baby is born, it can be adopted, and the home will prepare her for life as a servant.” His smile was pained. “If she has learned her lesson, she might even do well.”
Lydia had been uncharacteristically silenced by the shock, and she’d been very pale as Elizabeth embraced her. “Stay strong, Lydia, and maybe you can write to me one day,” she’d whispered, unable to stay angry at her sister in the face of her disgrace.
Mama, of course, had been inconsolable. Her cries and hysterics had echoed through the house. Even the servants had been driven to distraction, and two of the most devout had left to seek employment elsewhere.
“Mama!” Elizabeth went straight to her mother’s room, pulling on her robe. “Come on, Mama. Let me help you sit out in your chair and then Hill can bring you some tea.”
A Rare Ability: A Darcy and Elizabeth Pride and Prejudice Variation (A Pemberley Romance Book 10) Page 17