This was the signal for the coachman to open the carriage door, prompting Wickham to alight.
Wickham took the bag and climbed out of the carriage, then turned to say,
“You think we shall never meet again? How little you know men, Elizabeth. Let’s not say goodbye, my dear, sweet, tempting, Eliza, instead let us just say, Au Revoir.” And he took her hand up to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss on her fingers.
Elizabeth was thankful for the fashion of wearing gloves. Pulling her hand out of his grasp, she said,
“How very little you know women, Mr Wickham. Goodbye,” Elizabeth emphasised her last word, which she delivered in a final and resolute tone.
“It’s Miss Bennet, to you,” said a deep male voice said from behind Wickham.
Wickham never saw the rifle butt that came crashing down on his skull, but he felt its effect instantly, rendering him unconscious.
“Get into the carriage quickly, Darcy, and don’t look back. Wickham is no longer your problem.” Colonel Fitzwilliam said in an authoritative voice.
“You will remember your promise, Richard?” Darcy reminded him.
“Yes, yes, I have not forgotten. Now make haste before someone sees us.”
“My father and Lydia?” questioned Elizabeth.
“Already safely on their way to Darcy House,” Richard said as he tried to hurry them on their way. “Leave now, before Wickham rouses.”
Both Darcy and Elizabeth followed the colonel’s advice. Neither of them looked back to see what became of Wickham.
If they had, they would have seen four of Richards most trusted men, pick him up by his limbs, and throw him onto the back of a cart.
“Mind his head, boys; I have a promise to keep,” Richard instructed them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
On their return to Darcy House, Elizabeth and Darcy lost no time in tracking down Mr Bennet. However, there was no sign of Lydia.
“Papa, where is Lydia? Colonel Fitzwilliam said she was with you?”
A weary Mr Bennet rubbed his brow and gave Elizabeth the reassurance she sought.
“And so she is, my dear. Lydia was in desperate need of a bath, and a good meal. I suggested she try and rest for a while, but no doubt she will be pleased to see you, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth rushed upstairs to join her sister, leaving her father and Mr Darcy alone.
Darcy went to the sideboard and poured two generous shots of brandy into lead crystal glasses, and then joined his future father-in-law by the fire. Before relaxing back into the plush folds of the fabric, Darcy handed Mr Bennet one of the glasses. Then, he let his body enjoy the comfort of his furniture, resting his head on the back as he did so.
Mr Bennet studied the man opposite him, watching as the tension visibly left his body, reducing the hunch of his shoulders and the lines on his face. Darcy was a gentleman, an honourable man, a man worthy of Elizabeth’s love. Yes, she loved him…now. He had noticed the subtle changes that had occurred in Elizabeth over the past few days. The adoring looks that had once been his alone, she now bestowed freely on her future husband. Stolen glances brought a soft blush to her cheeks, and whenever Darcy spoke to her, she visibly glowed. He did not know what had brought about this transformation in his favourite daughter, but for both their sakes, Darcy as well as Elizabeth, he was happy and relieved to see that their love was now mutual.
Mr Bennet raised his glass in salute to Darcy and said,
“Well done, Darcy, on all counts.”
“And to you sir. You spirited Miss Lydia away with the stealth of a true soldier. Thank you, sir,” Darcy replied, ignorant of Mr Bennet’s double meaning.
There was nothing left to say.
Both men settled back into the welcoming embrace of their comfortable chairs, silently sipping their drinks, content with their night's work.
Elizabeth tapped gently on the door to Lydia’s room, not wishing to wake her if she was already asleep. But when her sister’s unusually soft voice bid her enter, Elizabeth opened the door and peered inside.
Lydia sat on the edge of her bed, washed and in a clean nightgown. Thrown on the floor in a heap, was the blue travelling dress Lydia had supposedly loaned to Maria Lucas. It was impossible to miss the filthy state it was in. Apparently, Wickham had not allowed Lydia to change her clothes for the duration of their time together, although Elizabeth recalled he no longer wore his uniform.
“Oh, Lizzy, how stupid I have been.”
Lydia began to sob.
Rushing to her side, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Lydia’s shoulders and spoke words of comfort to her sister. As she pulled her close, Elizabeth could not fail to notice her sister had lost weight.
Some minutes passed before Lydia’s crying subsided, but eventually, she wiped her nose and looked up at her sister.
Elizabeth brushed a few errant strands of hair from Lydia’s face, where they had mingled with her tears and stuck to her cheek.
Quietly, she asked,
“Do you want to talk about it, Lydia?”
Lydia nodded.
Elizabeth perched on the edge of the bed, giving Lydia her undivided attention.
“He lied to me, Lizzy. Everything he said was a lie.” Lydia said, pausing to dash away a fresh tear.
“I thought he loved me. George said he loved me and wanted to marry me, but the minute Miss Bingley let us out of her carriage, he changed. I have never seen a man so altered. He was vile, shouting and cursing and threatening me from the moment we were alone.”
Still, the tears would not stop, though Lydia did try to calm herself, so Elizabeth could understand her.
“He was wearing his uniform when we picked him up and had no other clothes with him. Wickham said it would have looked suspicious if he had started packing a bag just to go to the tavern in Meryton. Once in London, we were to stop just long enough for Wickham to get a change of clothes, and then we would travel to Gretna Green and be married.”
Breaking off her narration to blow her nose again, Lydia then took hold of Elizabeth’s hand.
“When I overheard George book a room, just one room, Lizzy, I knew something was wrong. I could not share a room with him; it would not be proper. So, I asked Wickham where he intended to sleep? Oh, Lizzy, he laughed in my face. He told me to do as he said, or he would take me to the nearest house of ill repute and leave me there. He meant it too, Lizzy, I know he did.” Lydia broke down again, sobbing uncontrollably onto her sister’s shoulder.
Elizabeth waited until Lydia had calmed herself again, before saying,
“Go on, dearest.”
In a scared voice, Lydia recalled,
“After that, he tied my hands and locked me in the closet. It was so dark and so small, I could not breathe. I was scared for my life, Lizzy, truly! I am sure he meant to kill me!”
Elizabeth rose, walked to the dresser and poured Lydia a glass of water. With her back still to her sister, Elizabeth asked,
“Did he…touch you Lydia, force you to do anything?”
“No, but he tried. I suppose because I had let him kiss me before he thought he could take liberties, but I bit him, Lizzy, and hard too.”
Lydia took the glass and drank thirstily from it.
“I prayed for someone to rescue me, Lizzy. For Papa or Uncle Gardiner to come and take me home. I never imagined it would be Mr Darcy who would come for me, but George did. He only wanted money, I meant nothing to him, Lizzy, nothing.” she said bitterly.
“Did you hear the bargain they struck?” Elizabeth asked, concerned with how indebted they were to Mr Darcy.
“Wickham wanted ten thousand pounds, but Mr Darcy said he would only pay a third of that, plus all Wickham’s debts. I think the sum agreed was close to five thousand pounds, Lizzy,” Lydia began to sob again. “I should have listened to you, Lizzy. You tried to warn me.”
So that was the value Wickham put on Lydia. Her life, her virtue, her future, so easily bought for five thousand pounds.
&n
bsp; How was their father ever to repay him?
Taking Elizabeth’s hands once more, Lydia begged,
“Please forgive me, Lizzy, for all the horrible things I said? You know I did not mean them, don’t you?”
Elizabeth smiled and squeezed Lydia’s hand.
“I know dearest. We all say and do foolish things at one time or another.” Then, in a serious tone, Elizabeth said,
“Not all men are like Mr Wickham, Lydia, in fact very few people are as duplicitous as George Wickham.”
Noticing the red rim of Lydia’s eyes and the dark circle beneath them, Elizabeth guessed Lydia had managed to get little sleep during her ordeal.
Pulling back the bed covers, she said,
“Now, try and get some rest, and I will see you in the morning. I expect we will be going home tomorrow.”
Before Elizabeth closed the door, she looked over her shoulder and smiled again.
“You will need all your strength to cope with mamma.”
Darcy House was silent.
Mr Bennet and Elizabeth had retired for the evening. The servants had completed their duties and turned in for the night. Only Darcy was still awake.
Sitting in his favourite armchair, brandy in hand, Darcy stared into the flames of the fire. The recovery of Lydia Bennet had gone even better than he had hoped. It had only cost him five thousand pounds and the girl's virtue was intact. He should be happy, but he was not. His conscience would not allow him to rejoice in his success, knowing he had conspired with his cousin to alter Wickham future.
“Mind if I help myself?”
Startled, Darcy peered in the direction of the study door.
“Richard? Is that you?” He asked.
Colonel Fitzwilliam moved out of the shadows and joined Darcy by the fire. Dropping down into the other comfortable chair, he rested his head on the back cushion and closed his eyes.
“How, might I ask, did you get in? And do not tell me Miller let you in, he retired hours ago?”
“I am a soldier, Darcy, how do you think I got in? Besides, you really must have new locks fitted on the rear door. Anyone might break in.”
“Evidently” Darcy replied, raising a quizzical brow.
Richard threw a bag on the table beside Darcy. It was the one Elizabeth had given to George Wickham.
“I came to bring this back to you. It’s all these except for thirty pounds I gave my men as a reward.”
Darcy glanced at the bag.
“It seems somewhat apt, thirty pieces of silver for my betrayal,” Darcy said morosely.
Richard turned his head and studied Darcy’s profile. Something was troubling him. Darcy rarely drank late at night and never alone.
“You’re no Judas Iscariot, Darcy. You did what had to be done.” Richard said, astonished that Darcy was taking his part in Wickham’s fate so hard.
Richard watched and waited for a reply.
Draining his glass, Darcy reached for the decanter and poured himself another generous portion. His brow was furrowed and his jaw firmly clenched. Typical signs that all was not well in Darcy’s world.
Leaning forward and pouring himself a brandy, Richard asked,
“Is it Miss Elizabeth, or the younger Miss Bennet?”
Darcy took another swing from his glass before answering.
“It’s Wickham.”
Putting his drink back on the table, Richard touched Darcy’s arm.
“Have no fear, cousin, Wickham will not trouble you again. I have seen to that.”
“But it does trouble me, Richard. What right do I have to decide the fate of another man? Wickham might have been redeemable if only I had given him my time, my friendship, or tried harder.”
“Wickham deserved everything he got, Darcy. Have you forgotten the young housemaid he took advantage of? Or the farmer’s cattle and fowl he killed, just for sport? And what about the money he stole from the universities poor box? Then there were the debts Wickham run up all over town.”
Leaning forward, Richard rested his arms on his knees and continued to point out how Darcy had cleaned up after Wickham, beginning when they were only boys.
“To this day you still pay for the mother and child, keeping them on at Pemberley because you know they would not find work elsewhere. You gave the farmer funds to purchase top quality animals to restock his farm. You reimbursed the university and built them a new library, and there is not one merchant, tailor, tavern or brothel in the city that you have not reimbursed after Wickham defrauded them. There are dozens of more instances I could mention, Darcy, but you know them better than anyone.”
When Richard saw his words had no effect, he reminded Darcy of his sister’s encounter with Wickham.
“And Georgiana, who looked on George Wickham as a brother. Where would your sister be now if you had not come to her aid, tell me that, Darcy? No, Wickham’s comeuppance was a long time coming, but well deserved.”
Darcy raised his head. He had forgotten half of the incidents Richard had mentioned.
Seeing Darcy’s spirits rise slightly, Richard reached into his pocket, pulled something out and placed it in Darcy’s palm, with his own hand still covering it.
“Wickham is not dead, Darcy. I volunteered him for duties aboard one of his Majesty’s Royal Navy ships, bound for the Americas. And, I did not harm a hair on his head, as promised, although I cannot vouch for my men. But before we said our farewells, I took this from him.” Richard slowly pulled his hand away, revealing something wrapped up in a scrap of cloth.
Darcy’s curiosity was piqued.
The realisation of the objects identity became clearer with every corner of cloth that he lifted until finally, the object was revealed in its entirety.
Darcy felt an unfamiliar sting at the back of his eyes and fought to stop the tears from falling.
His father’s gold hunter pocket watch.
“Richard, I am lost for words.”
Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, Darcy buffed the gold, first on one side, and then on the other. With a touch of the button, the case sprang open to reveal the watch dial. A white enamel background with black Roman numerals, the hands indicating it was one-quarter past midnight.
“I know the men of the navy are beyond reproach, but I decide it would be prudent not to leave Wickham with anything he could use as a bribe.”
“I have no words to express my thanks, Richard. I thought never to see this again, let alone possess it.”
Darcy pulled out his own very fine watch and clipped his father’s excellent one in its place.
“There, it is back where it belongs, on a Darcy.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next day, two carriages set out for Longbourn.
The first had Mr Bennet, Elizabeth, and Lydia in, while the servants and luggage occupied the second.
Not wishing to intrude, and braving the December cold, Darcy had elected to ride his horse, thus giving the occupants privacy, should they want to discuss recent events.
However, inside, there was very little conversation to be had.
Lydia rested her head on her sisters should, and slept, and while Elizabeth closed her eyes, she did not sleep. Instead, she wrapped a protective arm around her sibling and listened for the reassuring sound of Mr Darcy’s horse.
Mr Bennet gazed at his two children. Could there ever be two sisters less alike than these? Elizabeth was witty and charming and kind, universally liked by all. While Lydia was impulsive, selfish and argumentative, with few qualities to be proud of. But he loved them both.
It shamed him that he had not listened to Lizzy when she had warned him about George Wickham. The truth of the matter was he did not want to be bothered with it all. Why break the habit of a lifetime? Yet, because of his indolence, it was not he that had suffered, but his youngest child.
Things must change at Longbourn, he must change! He declared to himself. Although he was probably living his last decade
, he hoped to implement several changed in his life, starting with his own behaviour. He would strive to be a better father, to be a better husband, and hopefully, in doing so, become a better man. They had much to thank young Darcy for, and trying to emulate him was not a bad place to start.
Darcy was cold. His greatcoat had felt warm and protective when first they began their journey. But once the fibres had been exposed to the cold air, they had lost that feeling of snugness. Trying to focus his thoughts, Darcy could not stop his mind from remembering several things he wished he had done differently. His dealings with Wickham, his unguarded behaviour towards Caroline Bingley, the night he spent with Elizabeth…
“Oh Lydia, my poor sweet girl, you are home at last!” Exclaimed Mrs Bennet, before turning to her husband and saying, “What took you so long, you have been gone ages, and with no word of how my poor Lydia was, whether she was married or even alive,” wailed Mrs Bennet.
Pulling Lydia from Elizabeth’s arms, Mrs Bennet, folded her in an oppressive bear hug, which saw the young girl’s face thrust against her mother’s bosom.
Struggling to break free, Lydia tugged at her mamma’s arms, until finally, she could breathe freely again.
“Mamma do not fuss so. Lizzy had looked after me, and now, I just want to go to my room, and rest in my bed, is that too much to ask for?” she huffed.
Elizabeth smiled. Lydia was back.
Sadly, Mrs Bennet would not hear of Lydia skulking off to her room the moment she returned home. Her sisters were eagerly waiting to see her and cook to make all Lydia’s favourite sweet treats.
By this time, they had all alighted from their mode of transport and were filing into the sitting room.
One by one, Lydia’s sisters came forward to welcome her home. Jane first, and then Mary and Kitty, who were not so enthusiastic to welcome their sister back.
Kitty had borne the brunt of her mother’s distress, constantly at her beck and call, while repeatedly being questioned about her involvement in Lydia’s flight.
Mary had remained as invisible, as always.
“Are you two not pleased to see me? If you come to my room, and I will tell you all about my adventure.”
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