by Jann Rowland
“Of course, it will!” snapped Miss Bingley, proving she still had much to say. “Why should they not? It is clear they have sunk their talons into you both, as you are so eager to put yourselves in their power again. I never thought I would see the day you both are so eager to consort with those so wholly unsuitable as the Bennets.”
“For my part, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, his voice cold, yet tightly controlled, “I could never consider them to be unsuitable. They are kind, gracious, welcoming, and descend from a long line of gentlemen. I find your comments insulting and would appreciate it if you would refrain from making them in my presence!”
“Yes, be silent, Caroline,” said Bingley. “No one here wants your opinion. It is better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”
For a time, Darcy thought his cousin would fall from his mount, he was laughing so hard. “Bingley actually said that to his sister?”
“And would have said more if she had not fallen silent,” replied Darcy. “I apologized to him later for speaking so to her, but Bingley would have nothing of it, insisting she brought it on herself.”
“Genial and intelligent,” said Fitzwilliam. When Darcy looked at him, Fitzwilliam waved him off. “Perhaps you might have spoken with less anger or more tact, but I dare say she has been provoking you since you made her acquaintance. Miss Bingley could use a hint of humility, Darcy, for she is envious of others, grasping, and selfish. She deserved more than the rebuke she received.”
“There is no question she did,” agreed Darcy, deciding there was little reason to further castigate himself. “After dinner, Miss Bingley only stayed in the sitting-room for a half hour before excusing herself to retire. Of late she has been waking early to attend me, no doubt hoping to persuade me from my path. This morning, however, she did not appear. I find I can endure her incivility without any reason to repine.”
“Of course, you can,” agreed Fitzwilliam.
“This is where I met Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, looking about. “Or near enough. I believe that bend in the path is where Miss Elizabeth was fleeing Wickham.”
Fitzwilliam nodded and spurred his horse into a canter, rounding the bend. After a short time of this, he stopped and looked about.
“There is no path leading away, though I suppose Wickham might have gone through the woods. When you first met Miss Elizabeth, you did not search the area?”
“It was of more importance to return her to Longbourn and ensure her safety.”
“It seems to me this woman is addling your wits, for this is the second time you were close to Wickham and allowed him to escape.” Fitzwilliam grinned, showing his words were a jest. “But I understand the allure of a woman so exquisite as Miss Elizabeth. Where did you search when you returned?”
“All throughout these woods, as far as the church and Longbourn village, and further to the north.”
Fitzwilliam considered. “If I recall my geography of the area, Netherfield is to the east, Longbourn a little to the south and west, and further south is a smaller estate. Is that not correct?”
“Lucas Lodge,” replied Darcy. “It is not large—I suspect it is only about two thirds the size of Longbourn.”
Turning, Fitzwilliam gazed toward the north. “What is in that direction?”
“I believe most of Longbourn’s land is to the north and I have heard them speak of some tenants, though I do not know how many there are. Beyond Longbourn is another estate, though I do not know its name. Miss Elizabeth has also spoken of Oakham Mount, which is the prominence you see in the distance. I believe before the troubles with Wickham began, she used to walk there frequently.”
“Then with more estates to the south and an unclaimed hill to the north, I suspect if Wickham was in the area for any length of time, he must have been hiding somewhere up there. Let us have a look, shall we?”
Darcy motioned his cousin forward, and they began to canter toward the north. As they rode, Darcy noted his cousin gazing out over the land, watching with great care, though he knew not what Fitzwilliam was looking for. There was no reason to suppose they would come across Wickham as they rode.
“Lady Catherine paid a visit to my father,” said Fitzwilliam after some minutes of this.
“Did she?” asked Darcy. “And what resulted from that?”
“Bedlam,” was Fitzwilliam amused reply. “She complained of your recalcitrance, my support, Anne’s indifference, Miss Elizabeth’s perfidy—though not by name—and in general the entire world for not falling in with her schemes. My father sent her away with a bee in her ear, warning of breaks in the family should she attempt to interfere. The way he put it, I doubt she will attempt anything.”
“The break has already occurred,” said Darcy. “I have no intention of visiting Rosings again, and I will not welcome her into my homes. If she assures me she will not berate my future wife, I may be inclined to mend the distance between us, but only if I have her solemn promise.”
“Do you think she would honor the promise?”
Darcy shrugged. “If she does not, then she will break the possibility of all congress between us forever.”
“Happy thought, indeed,” said Fitzwilliam.
The appearance of a man dressed in the rough coat and trousers of a tenant interrupted their conversation. Though he eyed them with suspicion, he greeted them, tipping his straw hat in response to Fitzwilliam’s hail.
“My good man,” said Fitzwilliam, “I am Colonel Fitzwilliam, and this is my cousin Mr. Darcy, and we were hoping you could give us some information.”
“I am Campbell,” replied the man. He looked at them with a little more respect. “I have heard of you, Mr. Darcy. Seems like you have become friendly with the master, though I cannot say how the likes of me can help you.”
“There has been a man bedeviling the Bennets of late by the name of Wickham,” said Fitzwilliam. “He was a member of the militia until he deserted and has recently returned to the area. Have you seen anyone suspicious loitering about?”
The farmer scratched his head in thought. “There is no one loitering about that I have seen, though I have heard tell of this Wickham.” Mr. Campbell spat in his disgust. “Accosting the Bennet girls like that—the man should be hanged!”
“I could not agree with you more,” said Fitzwilliam.
“Now, I have seen no one,” continued Mr. Campbell, “but I have seen smoke to the north, a small campfire or some such. There is an old hunting lodge on the northwest slope of Oakham Mount. I assumed it was Mr. Pearce, as the lodge is on his land, but it could be the man you have been looking for.”
Darcy glanced at Fitzwilliam, who nodded and thanked Mr. Campbell. “That is as good a lead as any we have had.”
The man tipped his hat again, wished them luck, and went on his way after pointing the direction to the lodge of which he had spoken. Fitzwilliam took the lead, setting his mount to a quick canter, down the path the farmer indicated. After a few moments of travel, they struck another path which led around the side of the promontory—which was more of a rounded hill than a mountain. It was not many moments later when Fitzwilliam’s sharp eyes caught sight of a narrow track leading up into the woods, which soon opened up into a clearing where a small building sat.
“Careful, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, dismounting and peering at the ramshackle hut. “We do not know he is not there.”
Though Darcy followed his warning, it soon became clear the shack was abandoned. It was a rough building, constructed from the wood likely cut from the forest surrounding them, smoky windows set into various locations about the exterior. The door they found, when they pushed it open, was in good condition, proving the building had been used in the recent past. When they entered, they discovered it to be only two rooms, with a bed in one, a pair of chairs, both of which appeared ready to collapse if used, and a hearth to warm the interior. The charred remains of a fire still rested in the hearth provided one mo
re piece of evidence of the hut’s recent use, though by now it was cold. Darcy could also see signs of someone having hunted, as there were a few bones strewn about the hearth, uncaring as to their resting place.
“There is no saying Wickham was using this place,” said Fitzwilliam. “Someone has, but it may be nothing more than a woodcutter or the local gentleman.”
Darcy was about to agree when the twinkle of reflected light caught his eye. Leaning over, Darcy plucked the object from the floor by the wall where it rested and turned it over in his hands.
“A cufflink?” asked Fitzwilliam, looking over Darcy’s shoulder.
“A cufflink which belonged to my father,” said Darcy, anger coursing through him. “If you look, you can see the curious design here, the stones making the shape of a stylized D.”
“For Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam.
Darcy nodded. “After my father’s death, I could never find these, though they were my father’s favorite set, given to him by my mother as a Christmas gift when I was young. I cannot say how Wickham got his hands on them, but I always suspected he might have had something to do with their disappearance.”
“Then it seems we have our proof,” said Fitzwilliam. “That cufflink could not have made its way here on its own. Wickham has been here.”
“But why would he have even brought it here?” demanded Darcy. “If his financial straits are what I believe them to be, I would have thought he would sell them long ago. Even stolen they would have fetched a pretty penny.”
“I cannot say,” replied Fitzwilliam. “But it appears we have located his hideaway. I believe we should have a word with the local gentleman and have him set watch on this place for the possibility of Wickham’s return.”
“Is it worth it?” asked Darcy. “Do you think he will use this place again?”
“I am certain of nothing when it comes to Wickham anymore, for he has defied our understanding of him over and over. I think we would be wise to alert him of what we have found, for it is one more avenue to finally getting my hands on his hide.”
“Very well,” said Darcy. “Let us go.”
The arrival of Mr. Bingley without William in attendance set Elizabeth’s nerves on edge, though the gentleman did what he could to ease her concerns. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is with him, so I doubt he will come to any harm. I expect we shall see them here at some time or another, likely before the morning is gone.”
Though she appreciated his reassurance, Elizabeth still worried, and as he took his seat beside Jane, she felt a pang of jealousy. It was unreasonable, Elizabeth knew, but at that moment she wished for nothing more than to have William’s comforting presence at her side, assuring her there was nothing to fear. While she waited, Charlotte came to visit, full of tales of her courtship with Mr. Pearce and eager to hear of Elizabeth’s stories in return. Though Elizabeth attempted to give her friend as much of her attention as she could, she found herself distracted and unable to focus. It was fortunate Charlotte was such a good friend, for she endured Elizabeth’s distraction without comment until it was time for her to depart.
When the sight of William and his cousin riding up the drive appeared through the window—Elizabeth had set herself close for just that purpose—she rose and went out to greet him, not caring for her less than proper actions. She arrived at the door as the gentlemen were dismounting, the stable boy on hand to take their mounts. It was only a lifetime of proper behavior that reminder her to curtsey at all, and Mr. Darcy’s look at her, drinking in the sight of her, made Elizabeth feel weak about the knees.
“Miss Elizabeth.” The sound of her name on his tongue was like the gentlest caress. “I see you have anticipated our arrival.”
“Indeed, she has,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, amusement coloring his features. “Is your father in his study?”
“Yes, he is,” came the voice of Mrs. Hill. “I shall show you to him.”
With a slap of Mr. Darcy’s back, Colonel Fitzwilliam departed, leaving them alone together. For a moment, Elizabeth could not think of what to say, her heart so full she wished to say everything and nothing all at once. Mr. Darcy’s hand rose to touch her cheek, then lowered to grasp her hand.
“All day yesterday I wished I had stayed at Longbourn,” said he, his voice rough with emotion.
“You would have been welcome,” replied Elizabeth. “I longed for your presence.”
The barest ghost of a smile reached Mr. Darcy’s lips—she thought he might have kissed her again had they not been standing on Longbourn’s front step. Instead, he bowed and kissed her hand, a lingering warmth which left the appendage tingling from the exquisite sensations it engendered.
“Soon, Miss Elizabeth. Soon we will not part again.”
“Do you promise?” asked Elizabeth, a hint of her playfulness coming out.
“Of course,” replied he. “But at present, I think we should deal with the practicalities. Shall you join me in your father’s room?”
With a shy smile, Elizabeth led him into the house, never relinquishing her hold on his hand. It seemed to her like Mr. Darcy had no more wish to end the physical contact between them than she. The door to her father’s study was open, and they entered, noting both Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam were already present.
“Mr. Darcy,” greeted Mr. Bennet, shooting an amused glance at their still joined hands. “Your cousin has informed me of your adventures this morning. It is my understanding you have discovered Mr. Wickham’s lair.”
“His lair in Hertfordshire,” said Mr. Darcy while Elizabeth looked on with interest. “Before we returned we stopped at Mr. Pearce’s estate and informed him of our suspicions. He was not happy that someone was trespassing on his land and likely poaching too.”
“No, I imagine he would not be. Pearce is more than a little indolent, but I expect he will take the matter seriously.”
“He promised to lock the place up tight, though I think it may be best to allow Wickham to return and then surround him.”
“What I do not understand,” said Mr. Bennet, “is why he seems to have targeted Lizzy. Should he not have attempted to compromise my Jane to force her to marry him?”
No one missed the anger Mr. Bingley displayed, though he made no comment.
“By now,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “he must realize he will gain nothing by marrying your daughter. If you will pardon my saying, I suspect you have little ready assets he can extort?”
“My daughters’ dowries,” said her father. “But even that is not a fortune. The bulk of my capital is tied up in the estate and several investments managed by my brother in London.”
“Then it is not what Wickham requires,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Now we know where he is, he would not risk attempting to become a gentleman, as he must know we would not allow him to gain a foothold here. No, Wickham needs money, and he needs it without delay. I suspect he means to flee the country when he has it.”
“Then why Lizzy?” asked Mr. Bennet.
“It may be for nothing more than revenge,” said Mr. Darcy. “But he may have heard of my interest in Miss Elizabeth. He knows me well enough to understand that should he take her, I would pay much in ransom to have her returned.”
Mr. Bennet looked at Mr. Darcy, an amused sort of gaze. Though Mr. Darcy had not made his intentions known by word, they were plain to see—but this was the clearest sign he had given any of them, other than to Elizabeth herself. The other two gentlemen were grinning openly.
“There have, I assume, been no developments on that regard?”
“There has been no time,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Very well. I do not know that we can unravel this mystery. But I will keep my girls close to home, so he cannot prey on them. When we find him, I intend to see he is no longer a threat to any of us.”
“I believe, Mr. Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, “we are all determined on that score.”
The conversation continued for some mom
ents after, but nothing more came of it, and no one had any answers. For her part, Elizabeth concentrated more on Mr. Darcy than the troubles with Mr. Wickham. Though the gentleman was a threat, she was not of a mind to allow anyone to interfere with her happiness.
Chapter XXIX
After spending the entire day at Longbourn, Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and Bingley returned to Netherfield, though with more reluctance than Darcy had ever felt in his life. It was not only the fascination for Miss Elizabeth that drew him—it felt like he was the only one qualified to see to her safety. It was silly, he knew, for Mr. Bennet had the matter well in hand, his staff on alert for anything out of the ordinary. Even so, the manservants he employed were few, and Darcy would feel much better when the contingent of Pemberley footmen arrived to assist.
“Buck up, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam as they rode down the driveway toward Netherfield. “It is only for the night. We shall return to Longbourn tomorrow where you may bask again in the presence of your young lady.”
“It is not long,” said Bingley. “But it will feel like an eternity.”
“I am surrounded by mawkish gentlemen unable to be out of the company of their ladies for more than a few hours!” Fitzwilliam put his hand to his head in a show of mock despair. “Whatever shall I do? I shall go to Bedlam with such despair surrounding me.”
“Keep digging your grave,” said Bingley, directing a dark look at Fitzwilliam. “When a young woman captures you, Darcy and I shall return your teasing tenfold.”
“Darcy does not know how to tease,” said Fitzwilliam with a sly look at Darcy.
“If you had not noticed,” said Darcy, “I shall have an excellent teacher. I agree with Bingley—your tongue is far too glib and apt to get you in trouble.”
“So you have told me before,” said Fitzwilliam with a wave of his hand.
They continued this banter the remainder of the short distance to the door, and after a time, Darcy felt his spirits rising ever so slightly. The butler met them with a group of stable hands who took their horses in hand, and they made their way to their rooms to change for dinner. The evening in company with Bingley’s family was unremarkable, and even Miss Bingley, who could be counted on to make caustic statements at every opportunity remained silent. Perhaps the set down both Darcy and Bingley had given the woman had made an impact, as unlikely as the notion sounded.