by Jann Rowland
“What do you think, Papa?” asked Elizabeth.
Mr. Bennet grimaced. “It is my hope Wickham will be transferred quickly. But until that happens, I consider him to be a danger. As such, it would be best if you all stay close to Longbourn and not tempt him.”
“Of course, Papa,” said Jane in her agreeable way.
“What if Jane were to go to town?” asked Elizabeth. When her two companions turned questioning glances on her, Elizabeth said: “Aunt and Uncle Gardiner would be happy to host Jane for a time, and it would remove her from the influence of Mr. Wickham.”
Jane, whom the suggestion most concerned, fell silent, thinking about it for a time. Mr. Bennet exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, and though he did not speak, she thought certain he approved of the suggestion. At length, Jane spoke.
“That is a possibility. But I think I would prefer to remain at Longbourn for the moment. I would not wish to give Mr. Wickham the impression he has chased me away.”
“Upon my word!” said Elizabeth. “Of all the times for you to be more like me, now is most inconvenient, Jane.”
Mr. Bennet laughed and Jane swatted at Elizabeth, displaying a glare. Elizabeth only grinned back, for Jane’s displeasure was not at all a fearsome sight.
“If it should become necessary, I will go to Uncle Gardiner,” repeated Jane. “But I prefer to remain in my home at present. Mr. Wickham does not have as much influence as he believes.”
“Very well, Jane,” said Mr. Bennet. “For the present, we shall abide by your wishes. However, you must both take great care until he is gone.” Mr. Bennet directed a significant glance at Elizabeth, who shrugged her willingness to follow her father’s instructions. “If you leave Longbourn for any reason, do not go alone—go together or take a footman with you.”
“We will, Papa,” chorused the sisters.
As it happened, Elizabeth could never have guessed trouble would find them so soon. The rest of the day was spent quietly at home with their mother and younger sister. Mary, though she had not been privy to what had happened since the party at Aunt Phillips’s house, was astute, and she quickly pulled the matter from Elizabeth’s lips. Though she did not say much thereafter, it was clear Mary approved of their precautions and her father’s confrontation with Mr. Wickham. Mrs. Bennet was informed of the matter, assured everything was well, and then refused to speak of it again. As for Kitty and Lydia, as they were ensconced with Mrs. Garret, no one thought to bring it to their attention. It was likely for the best.
The day after, however, Elizabeth felt the familiar longing to be out of doors walking in the groves near their home, and while she did not voice her desire, it must have been clear. Jane, dear sister that she was, offered to be her companion that morning.
“You will be out of sorts all day if you do not have at least a short walk, Lizzy,” said Jane. “As I am feeling a little restless myself, I would be happy to accompany you, as long as you do not walk halfway to London as you often do.”
“I do not walk halfway to London,” said Elizabeth, glaring at her sister. “Rarely do I walk more than a quarter of the way.”
The two sisters laughed together and decided that was what they would do. Mary’s opinion was canvassed, and she elected to go with them. Therefore, fifteen minutes later the three sisters had informed their father of their plans and departed. Mr. Bennet was working with his books and waved them from the room when they informed him they would all go together.
It was not Elizabeth’s intention to walk far at all that morning, so after consulting with her sisters, she led them down Longbourn’s drive and down the little path which led away from Longbourn to the west, skirting Longbourn Village, but keeping the town close within their view. This was a good compromise, in Elizabeth’s opinion—the path was not a long one, and it would keep them close to civilization while giving her the illusion of the bounty of nature she craved.
That was when trouble arrived at their doorstep. Out of the calmness of the still woods surrounding the path, and as Longbourn fell below the line of the trees, a man stepped out onto the path and confronted them, his scarlet coat marking his identity. Surprised, the three sisters halted and stared at him in astonishment, and for a moment no one spoke.
“I might wonder why,” said Mr. Wickham, his voice grinding with anger, “my heartfelt overtures are rejected and tossed underfoot. Did I not show you the highest favor?”
There was room to retreat from the man, as they could return back the way they had come. The spire of the church was visible to the right, and if she strained, Elizabeth could hear the sounds of the small village, a dog barking, and someone calling to an acquaintance. Given Mr. Wickham’s position and from whence he had come, Elizabeth thought he had lain in wait for them. He had likely marked their departure from Longbourn, seen the path they meant to take, and hurried on ahead to a position where he could waylay them.
All these thoughts passed through Elizabeth’s mind in an instant, and she wondered how they could extricate themselves from the situation. Then again, she had long suspected that Mr. Wickham was much more the brute than he revealed in public. Such actions as accosting young women on deserted paths was not the mark of a gentleman.
“Honeyed words seasoned with threats?” asked Jane, surprising Elizabeth with her daring. “You would have us believe that you meant only to make love to me?” Jane laughed, a bitter, harsh sound. “There is no need to speak such platitudes, Mr. Wickham, for I am well aware you care far more for my future inheritance than my person.”
“Had you taken the opportunity to discover my feelings, you would not have been disappointed”
“So, a spurned lover warns a woman’s sister what will happen if she does not stay away?” said Mary. “That is an odd way to go about wooing, Mr. Wickham.”
“Ah, the awkward, wallflower sister speaks,” sneered Mr. Wickham. “As I doubt you have ever been the object of a man for longer than you took to bore him to tears, I suggest you remain quiet.”
“Do not speak to my sister so!” exclaimed Jane. “You are not worthy to so much as say her name!”
Mr. Wickham’s scorn never abated as his gaze turned to Elizabeth. “What has infected your sisters? I might have expected you to take the lead in castigating me, and yet you stand there, witless while they cry their ineffectual insults.”
“Oh, I am quite capable of speaking, Mr. Wickham.” Elizabeth smiled thinly. “At present, I am enjoying their dressing down of a worthless excuse for a man.”
“I might have known some of your impertinence would infect them.” Mr. Wickham took a step toward them, a motion which caused all three sisters to stiffen. “It seems you must be taught a lesson in what happens to those who interfere with my designs, my dear Miss Elizabeth. It would have been better had you kept silent, for I am not a man who allows interference.”
“Then you mean to assault us?” demanded Elizabeth, moving in front of her two sisters to confront the cad. “How heroic of you, sir, to brave the likes of defenseless women. Shall you draw your sword to protect you against the fiery contempt from this coterie of enraged females, or shall you slink away in fear and shame?”
“You are about to discover what I shall do,” spat Mr. Wickham.
Elizabeth poised herself to defend her sisters by whatever means she possessed. She turned her head to tell her sisters to flee back to Longbourn to summon their father when a shout rang from down the path beyond Mr. Wickham.
A glance beyond the libertine, who had stopped and turned to look at who had interrupted them, revealed the approach of a rider on a horse. The man was tall, dressed in the clothing of a gentleman, his steed a powerful stallion. As he reined in before them, Elizabeth heard a gasp from their tormentor as he stiffened in recognition. The rider drew his mount to a halt before them and vaulted down from the saddle, reaching them in a few short strides. From his mouth issued a single word, though its meaning was amplified by the utter scorn and derision
it contained.
“Wickham!”
Chapter XII
“You seem to be slipping, Wickham,” snarled the gentleman into the silence which had ensued after his coming. “With three ladies arrayed against you, it seems they have not been taken in by your charm and smooth manners. Or perhaps you have been here long enough they now know of your proclivities.”
“I knew him for what he was within a few days of his coming,” said Elizabeth. Mr. Wickham started as if he had forgotten of their presence.
“Well, Wickham, explain yourself! What do you mean by accosting these young women? Is your usual method so unsuccessful you must now resort to intimidation?”
“D-Darcy,” said Mr. Wickham, his voice bleeding with fear. “I had not thought to see you in such a place as this!”
“That much is clear, worm! It is fortunate that I have caught up with you. Fitzwilliam will be interested to hear of your whereabouts, for I believe you owe us for your misdeeds.”
This was too much for Mr. Wickham. Turning, he fled past them and into the woods which lay to the side of Longbourn Village, never once looking back over his shoulder. The gentleman took a step forward as if to pursue him, and then paused, looking at Elizabeth and her sisters. Jane and Mary were now standing close together, their hands clasped in mutual comfort, while Elizabeth still stood before them, though the danger had now passed.
For the first time, Elizabeth possessed the presence of mind to take stock of the man who had been their protection. As her first impression had indicated, he was tall, broad of shoulder and slender of build. On his head, he wore a fine black top hat, and from underneath on all sides, she could see his curly dark hair sticking out, his eyes a light and piercing blue. The man was formidable, his jaw strong and clenched tightly as if due to some great anger. Had he smiled, Elizabeth might have thought him the most handsome man she had ever seen.
The gentleman hesitated, and though he appeared torn, he turned and sketched a bow. “My apologies, Miss, but I had not meant to appear so abrupt. Do you require an escort to return to your home?”
“I thank you, sir, but I believe we are well,” said Elizabeth, speaking for her sisters. “Though we have no one here to perform our introduction, might I know the name of our rescuer?”
A smile, though strained, fell over the gentleman’s countenance. “Of course,” said he. “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. I would ask how you know Wickham, but given his mode of dress, might I assume he has joined a regiment of militia encamped close by?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Elizabeth. “It was in early October that the regiment arrived. Mr. Wickham has been doing his best to insinuate himself into the neighborhood, and, into Jane’s good graces.”
Elizabeth gestured to Jane and Mary before catching herself. “Oh! You have my apologies, for I have not introduced myself. I am Elizabeth Bennet, and these are my sisters Jane and Mary.”
“I wish we had met under better circumstances,” replied Mr. Darcy. “In fact, my cousin and I—my cousin is a member of the dragoons—have been looking for Mr. Wickham for some time. I cannot stress enough how important it is to stay away from him, for there is no more worthless man in all of England.”
“It seems we are of similar opinions, Mr. Darcy, for Mr. Wickham has made himself unwelcome here.”
The man smiled, but again it did not reach his eyes. Though she thought him a rational man, at present he fidgeted, his eyes darting away through the woods where Mr. Wickham had fled. At once, Elizabeth understood his predicament.
“My sisters and I can return to our home alone, Mr. Darcy. If you wish to pursue Mr. Wickham, please do not concern yourself for us. I can only wish you luck in apprehending him.”
Mr. Darcy grinned. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. It is clear you are a woman of much perspicacity.” Pausing, Mr. Darcy added: “Do you live nearby? I should like to speak with your father when I return.”
“We live at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy.” Turning, Elizabeth motioned toward the west, saying: “Our home lies on the other side of these trees. Please visit, for I know my father would like to speak with you. I shall inform him to expect your arrival.”
“Excellent,” said Mr. Darcy. Then he turned and mounted his steed again in one smooth motion. “Can I ask for directions to the encampment? I have business with the colonel of the regiment.”
“It is in Meryton, on the far side of town. Colonel Forster has his office in a large building at the end of the street on the right.”
“Thank you,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Until I return.”
Then he spurred his horse into motion and galloped from sight, leaving the three sisters staring after him. For a moment, none of them spoke a word.
“Well, that was fortuitous,” said Mary. “I believe Mr. Wickham meant to assault us, though it is difficult to believe him capable of such audacity.”
“I think he is capable of just about any audacity,” said Jane quietly.
Though Elizabeth agreed, she thought it would be best for them to return to Longbourn as quickly as possible. Thus, she began to shepherd her sisters back toward their home.
“I agree with you, Jane, but should Mr. Wickham elude Mr. Darcy, it is possible he may return. We should seek the safety of Longbourn.”
It was clear neither of her sisters had considered the possibility, for they soon turned with a will, hurrying back toward their home. But as they walked, Elizabeth could not concentrate on what had just occurred, for her thoughts were focused on the gentleman they had just met. Though she did not know him and thought it may be because of his rescue in the face of Mr. Wickham’s belligerence, Elizabeth felt that she could trust him. She hoped he would also be willing to tell them more of Mr. Wickham.
Wickham here near Netherfield! Darcy could hardly believe the chance that had brought him across the accursed man so close to where he was visiting. After months of searching for Wickham’s whereabouts, Darcy had begun to wonder if the man had left England, even knowing Wickham did not have the funds to make such a journey. To see him in Hertfordshire, of all places, was something he would not have expected in his wildest dreams!
However the fortunate circumstance had come about, Darcy was determined to prevent him from running yet again. As Wickham was on foot, he would be slower than Darcy, and if Darcy could arrive and speak with his commanding officer before he could flee, they could take Wickham into custody and deal with him once and for all. Wickham would never importune anyone close to Darcy again!
Though unfamiliar yet with the neighborhood—Darcy was not even certain how he had come to be on the neighboring estate—he found his way to the town without trouble, for the instructions the young lady had given him were excellent. The town was small, and the one main street was busy, horses mingled with townsfolk and gentlefolk walking in small groups, their conversation fleeting as he rode by. Once again, the lady’s directions were sufficient, for soon Darcy found himself in front of a nondescript building he was certain must be his destination. Dismounting, he tied the reins to a post and entered the building.
A junior officer, by the look of him, hailed him from where he sat behind a desk. “Good morning. How may I help you, sir?”
“I am here to see the commander of the regiment regarding a matter of some urgency. It is concerning an officer of his by the name of Wickham.”
Though Darcy thought the man was not inclined to be of service, the moment he mentioned the miscreant’s name, it appeared a door was opened. With a nod, the officer stepped to a door set in the far wall, opened it, and stuck his head in, the low hum of voices reaching Darcy’s ears. Then he turned and beckoned Darcy forward.
“The colonel will see you, sir.”
When Darcy entered, he noted the sparse and utilitarian nature of the office and the scarlet-clad man sitting behind the desk, scribbling furiously as he worked. The man was perhaps a few years older than Darcy’s cousin, though still a man of action and vigor. It appeared he was bu
sy, as his greeting, when he rose, was perfunctory, almost harried.
“I do not believe I have met you, sir. Are you from one of the outlying estates?”
“I am not a resident of these parts,” replied Darcy, feeling more than a little impatient. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, at your service. My friend, Mr. Bingley, has just taken possession of Netherfield Park. In fact, I have come to speak to you of Mr. Wickham and request you take him into custody at once.”
“What has he done now?” asked the colonel without preamble.
“My cousin, a colonel in the regulars, and I have been looking for him for months because of some . . . previous difficulties we experienced with him. I did not even know Wickham was in the area until I happened to come across him confronting three young ladies of the neighborhood.”
The colonel’s expression, which had been grim, changed in the blink of an eye to one forbidding. Looking past Darcy, he bellowed for his aide.
“Have Lieutenant Wickham brought to me, at once!”
“You will have to be quick about it,” said Darcy. “I believe I returned first, as he was on foot, but I suspect he will flee, now he knows I am staying in the neighborhood.”
The colonel scowled again. “Please wait here, Mr. Darcy. I will see to this matter personally.”
For the next several agonizing minutes, Darcy waited in the colonel’s office for word of what was happening. Unable to sit, he occupied his time with stalking the floor like a caged lion, alternately berating himself for not following Wickham at once, knowing his honor as a gentleman required that he offer his assistance to the three ladies. When Colonel Forster returned, Darcy had worked himself into quite a state.
“Wickham is not in the camp,” said the colonel shortly as soon as he entered. “If he is as afraid of you as you suggest, he is likely hiding somewhere, or he has already attempted to flee. I have sent searchers out to apprehend him.”