Darcy's Tale, Volume III_The Way Home

by Stanley Michael Hurd

  As for discovering Wickham and the Bennet girl, he would first have to get hold of Mrs. Younge; he had obtained intelligence previously that she kept a large house with rooms to let in a decent sort of neighbourhood near Deptford, out the Kent Road south of the river. He rather thought Wickham might be there; but he needed to be sure of his prey, once he had him treed. His first, unformed thought was to ask the local authorities to keep an eye on him, but this was immediately replaced with the thought of Colonel Fitzwilliam again, and some of the men he must know who were returned from the wars on the continent: they would fit in without notice, were accustomed to rough usage, and would have no other duties to distract them. He wrote to him too, asking him to name half a dozen stout fellows who knew how to be useful and were up to anything. He then went to his father’s study, and retrieved from it a miniature his father had had done of Wickham some six or seven years previously; he would have it copied in London, as he had a mind to use it both as a means of identifying Wickham to his small company of men, and also of restricting Wickham’s travel in future.

  Giving his letters to Reynolds to post, he next went to find Georgiana: he would need her assistance to bring all this about. He hesitated only briefly over how much to tell her: he felt, however, that what she had gone through in the last year had exposed her to more of life’s difficulties, and its less savoury side, than most ladies twice her age; in his estimation she had successfully overcome that assault on her sensibilities, and so he determined to hold nothing back.

  “Dearest,” he began, “I fear I have bad news: that…blackguard…is close to bringing disgrace down on another family, and I needs must go to London to stop him.”

  “Fitzwilliam, no!” she cried. “Oh, how can he be so wicked?”

  “I know,” he said sympathetically to ease her distress. “But at least this time I hope you see that it can have nothing to do with you.”

  “No…except that I thought I loved him, and now I see what he really is,” she said unhappily.

  “Well, yes; but…if there is wisdom to be learnt from our affairs of the heart, I am certain that it is the lesson of knowing who is worth loving, and who is not.”

  His sister looked up at him compassionately. “Is this something you have learnt, Fitzwilliam?” she asked him.

  “For good or ill, yes, I believe I have; I trust I know better now who to love, and I am sure I know better who not to love,” he said. Georgiana placed her hand gently on his arm.

  “Who is she?” she asked. “Whose family is it?”

  Darcy placed his hand over hers, then frowned and sighed. “It is the Bennet family,” he told her. Her eyes grew wide with alarm and horror. “He has attached Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s youngest sister; they are off from Brighton, and are thought to be in London. That is the reason I must go.”

  “No! You must stop him! Oh, how Miss Elizabeth Bennet must feel it!”

  “Yes, Dearest, I agree, and I am sure you must feel, as I do, how much responsibility our family bears in in the matter. I have a plan, though, and one that may finally put an end to all his misdoings.” He explained to her briefly what he had in mind.

  “But,” said she when he had finished, “will that not mean that you must keep abreast of his whereabouts? How long must that last?”

  “As long as necessary: perhaps it will be a matter of some years, but certainly until he is married and settled, if that be possible. But I should have realised sooner that it would come to this, or something like it; trust me: I have allowed for all that, Dearest. He must be stopped, and if I do not stop him, no one will. And as I shall require some hold on him, this will give it to me. Can you see to our guests whilst I am absent?”

  Nodding pensively, Georgiana said, “My aunt will help; we must do this for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Unless we can prevent this, her disgrace would be unthinkable—I know very well what it would be.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Very well, then: we will do what is necessary. Leave as soon as may be; I shall manage here as well as I can.”

  “Very well; I shall inform my aunt—but, Georgiana, for your own sake, she cannot know that you are in possession of the complete facts: I could never excuse sharing so much with one she thinks so young in the ways of the world; she can only know I have told you an affair of some urgency calls me away.”

  “Will you tell her whose family it is?”

  “No. I would not have told even you, had I not known that your knowledge of the man would let you understand it in the proper light,” Darcy replied. “I will tell her it is the family of a good acquaintance, and rest the matter on our family’s responsibility where he is concerned.”

  And so he next spoke with his aunt and informed her of the true purpose of his journey; having seen enough of life to know the recklessness men and women are capable of, she was unsurprised and pragmatic. “Marriage will save your friends, Darcy,” she said, “and nothing else. Make haste, though; the longer this goes on, the less likely you are to succeed.” He nodded, but she continued seriously, “Darcy, let me counsel you: do not fail in this, for your sake as well as theirs; by failing, you will be hurt too; I have seen this, and I can tell you it is very painful to go through life knowing you might have saved a friend, but did not. I hope you will not fall into such a circumstance. Now, that said, be assured I am confident of your success.”

  He looked at her, considering her words carefully. Nodding, he kissed her cheek and thanked her, with his assurance that he would do his best, and that he hoped to see her before many weeks had gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Darcy said good-bye to the rest of his guests that evening, explaining only that business carried him back to Town unexpectedly. Bingley was concerned, and asked what he might do, to which Darcy had replied to the whole company: “Stay here and enjoy yourselves, so I might at least have the comfort of knowing my friends happy, even though I must toil. It will all be well, I am sure, and I trust my labours will not be long; I have some hopes of being back in a fortnight.”

  He journeyed back to London, arriving in Grosvenor Square early Saturday afternoon; having polished and refined his plans on the trip south, his first step was to see Colonel Fitzwilliam. He rode directly down to Horse Guards in Whitehall Street, and was, after waiting the proper amount of time for the military mechanism to churn its way round to movement, shown up to an office on the second floor, where one small and rather dirty window cast the light of day on stacks of letters and reports, and box upon box of maps rolled up in bundles. He found his cousin seated behind a battered desk, on which sat a single candle-holder, bearing three burnt-out stubs.

  On entering, Darcy remarked, “Such imposing chambers! But, for the man who is saving the Empire, I suppose nothing is too good.”

  Looking up, the Colonel rose and came round the desk to greet his cousin. “Dash it, Darcy, but it is good to see a familiar face! How are you, and what brings you here?”

  “Have you not had my letter?”

  “Oh, I…yes, I believe I did,” the Colonel seemed bewildered for a moment, charging his memory. “Perhaps…I thought I saw an envelope from you come across my desk. Honestly, Darcy, I have not had time to look about me much of late.”

  “Does it go well?”

  “My bit does, but Bonaparte has the Devil’s own luck, blast him, and we make no progress worthy of the name.” He ran a hand through his hair, which showed little evidence of having been attended to in recent days. “But what is it that brings you to Town, and to me, Darcy?”

  “In truth, Edders, I need a favour—well, two, in fact.”

  “Fair enough,” replied his cousin, “I believe I have one or two hereabouts that are owing to you; what do you need?”

  “First, I need to hire perhaps half-a-dozen men: rough-and-ready sorts who know how to handle themselves—and others, if it comes to that. I thought I might use some you might know of, who will recently have left the army.”

  “Good Heavens, Darcy: planning to turn to a life of
crime, are we?” the Colonel said in jest.

  “No,” replied Darcy in all seriousness, “in fact, I mean to put a stop to one; George Wickham is at it again, and is bent on ruining the family of some one of my acquaintance: I intend to stop him.”

  “That swine! Again? Lord, but I should like to see him at the Devil! Who is the acquaintance?”

  “It hardly matters: I should have done this after Ramsgate, as it was almost inevitable he should do it again. But it is probably best I keep their name in confidence, if you will not take it amiss.”

  “No, certainly not,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “As you say, it hardly matters—it was always going to be some one.”

  Darcy, nodding in agreement, said: “Wickham has attached a young lady of good family, and has run off with her from Brighton; she is a rather silly little creature, but there are others in the family much more worth saving. The pair of them appear to be hiding here, in London. It is clearly up to me to stop him, but that I know the family obliges me that much more to take a hand.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam said contemplatively, “I can see why you need some stout men; but let me be sure I understand what you are proposing.” He then looked at Darcy with a rather fierce smile. “If you mean to do what I hope you mean to do, you will need only one man, but a rather special sort of man, at that.”

  “You mean leave him toes-up under a dock somewhere?” Darcy smiled back. “I have often contemplated it, and with considerable satisfaction, I assure you; but no—out of respect for my father, I shall stop short of that.”

  The Colonel snorted disgustedly. “Sorry to hear it—what is your scheme, then?”

  “We know Wickham is a gamester, and is always running from debts: you recall the way he left Lambton?” The Colonel nodded. “Well, I strongly suspect he is on the run again now; I mean to run him to ground, then keep his feet nailed down while I secure all his debts. I have written to Colonel Forster to send me what he owes in Brighton, including the debts of honour I have no doubt he has incurred—at least those amongst the officers; with those in hand, I believe I can persuade Wickham that being a good little boy is better than Fleet Prison.”

  “It should work,” his cousin allowed with a nod. “So you want the men to keep him from bolting while you put it all together?”

  “Mostly, although in all probability it will go longer than that. I also mean to give him a good scare, and let him know I will brook no taradiddles.”

  “Can I at least hope for a bit of bastinado, or a nice, comprehensive flogging?” asked Colonel Fitzwilliam with another vicious grin.

  “As gratifying as that would be, George Wickham is an abject coward; he showed us that in Ramsgate, and again in Hertfordshire: frighten him too much and he will run, no matter how many men we keep on him.”

  “Sound analysis and well-reasoned tactics, but utterly unsatisfying,” the Colonel observed in a disappointed manner. “How do you mean to keep him under thumb, though? Will not he bolt as soon as your back is turned?”

  “That is the second thing, Edmund; I wish to purchase a commission for him in His Majesty’s Army.”

  The Colonel bridled a bit at this. “The army already has its full quota of bounders, Dirks; can we not simply throw him in prison for a lifetime or two?”

  Darcy shook his head. “That would leave the family in utter ruins; the girl has been gone with him a week already, and it might be another week before I can discover them; no, marriage must be our goal.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam’s enthusiasm built anew: “And then we commission Wickham and send him off to the continent! If ever a man was meant for cannon fodder, it has to be George Wickham. Brilliant, Darcy! —the girl gets a husband, we get a corpse…and the world gains another young, obliging widow! —the perfect solution! Brilliant, truly—I congratulate you.”

  “I regret that that would not serve my purpose of honouring my father’s wishes; he would turn in his grave if I sent Wickham to his death against the French.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed and shook his head; glancing down at the piles of papers on his desk he said, “Well, I can see you mean to pluck every shred of pleasure out of this for me, and I must get back to work. I shall look into getting you some men to-morrow: there are always a number of lads who have been mustered out attending the regimental services of a Sunday morning; there is one in particular I have in mind: a Corporal Sands. Come see me…no, never mind: I shall send them to you on Monday morning.”

  “And the commission?” Darcy pressed.

  “Quite right; where do you want his posting?”

  “In the north, near Derbyshire, if at all possible, that I might have a better chance of keeping a grip on him, and where it will be harder for him to hide if he runs.”

  “Well and good; I wonder if we have anything on the Isle of Man? Never mind: I should have it ready by this Tuesday week. And now, I regret I really must be getting on…”

  “Of course; I am on my way. Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”

  As Darcy reached the door, his cousin’s voice stopped him: “Good luck, Darcy,” he said. “For what it is worth, I believe you are doing the right thing.” Darcy turned and nodded his thanks, and left.

  Determining that there was still daylight enough for a trip beyond Southwark, he rode across the bridge and down to Edwards Street, just south of Deptford. Directly after Ramsgate, Darcy had learnt of Mrs. Younge’s having taken a house there, mostly because he felt the need to keep abreast of her activities; now that seemingly useless bit of information was the only thread he could see to pull at in unravelling the whereabouts of Wickham and Miss Lydia Bennet. In going there he had meant only to assure himself of the right location and to look the place over, but now, as he viewed the house, it struck him as being too prosperous, and the neighbourhood too open, for some one who wished to remain hidden; it would be an unlikely place for Wickham to go to ground in company with an unmarried woman. He stopped to consider: if Wickham were by any chance to be there, he had no reinforcements to contain him; but, whether he were or not, Mrs. Younge would still be the key to discovering him, no matter if he did flee. He determined to take the chance, and rode directly to the door. The maid answering it was new, and so did not recognise Darcy, but when he was admitted into Mrs. Younge’s presence, that lady changed colour, and a sullen look of surprise crossed her features.

  “Yes?” she asked insolently. “It is rather late in the day for revenge, if that is what you have in mind; but I cannot imagine you are more willing now than previously to sacrifice your sister’s good name, just to injure me.”

  “No, not retribution, Mrs. Younge,” said Darcy, ignoring her implied attack on Georgiana. “But I can offer you a chance to make restitution: tell me where George Wickham is.”

  “So that’s your game, is it? I might’ve known,” she said, her refinement of speech slipping temporarily. “They’re not here, I can tell you that; I have a reputation to consider.”

  “So they did come to you,” Darcy said with satisfaction. “I thank you for confirming that.”

  “Well, what if they did?” the woman said sourly.

  Darcy shrugged, and asked, “Where are they now?”

  “They’re not here, and that’s all I know,” she said; something in her manner, however, said otherwise.

  “Is it, indeed?” Darcy said. “Would you know more for ten pounds?”

  “Ten pounds!” the woman said scornfully, “you carry that much in your boot! You forget, Mr. Darcy, I know exactly who you are, and how much you’re worth. Try ten times that.”

  “And, again, I thank you for the confirmation,” said Darcy. “You have the information I require, so now it is merely a matter of determining the price.”

  Evidently tired of losing so many tricks to Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Younge cried. “Here! —that’s enough of that! You can take that on out with you—the door is just there behind you! And don’t bother to come back until you’re ready to talk business.”

  Darcy walke
d to the door, but warned her: “I shall leave; but I mean to have Wickham, Mrs. Younge. If not for the sake of what you owe me, then you had best think about saving your own skin in this business.”

  “Oh, now I am frightened!” said she sneeringly. “What do you take me for, an innocent?”

  “Hardly,” said Darcy in his driest tones. With that he left her; but he promised himself he would be back, with assistance.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next day was largely uneventful; while he was desperately anxious to be doing something towards saving Elizabeth from the position he had put her in, especially in view of his aunt’s exhortation at Pemberley, he was not prepared to take further steps until he had heard from his cousin and Colonel Forster. He therefore took advantage of the day of rest to do precisely that, in hopes that the coming week would be more demanding.

  Darcy’s hopes in this respect were to be rewarded; shortly before breakfast the next morning, Goodwin came to the library to announce: “There is an individual at the door, Sir, calling himself Corporal Sands; he claims he was sent by Colonel Fitzwilliam; he has a number of rather rascally looking men with him, Mr. Darcy—shall I permit them to enter?”

  “Yes, thank you, Goodwin; I shall be there in a moment. And would you have the carriage made ready? I shall be leaving directly after breakfast.”