by Jann Rowland
“Damn it, Darcy, but is he ever to be a man and pay for the consequences of his own actions? Will you forever put up with this millstone around your neck, dragging you down? It was past time something was done about it, and while I apologize for my heavy-handedness, I do not apologize for taking Wickham in hand. You know that even if you had sent him to the New World, he would have simply continued his tricks there. It is our duty to see that he is stopped.”
“You do not need to convince me, Fitzwilliam,” replied Darcy, waving a weary hand in surrender. “It is just . . .” Darcy shook his head in exasperation. “Tell me that when you look at him you do not remember the engaging George Wickham with whom we both played as a child. He was our brother in all but blood. Part of my reluctance these years has not only been due to my father’s wishes. It has also been because I remember that George Wickham.”
“That George Wickham has been gone for years,” growled Fitzwilliam. “This George Wickham almost made off with your dearest sister and ruined her life.”
“Fitzwilliam!” exclaimed Darcy, not daring to look at the other two men in the room.
But Fitzwilliam only glared at Darcy. “These men will be family before long,” said he, waving at Mr. Bennet and Bingley. “If you cannot trust them, you cannot trust anyone.”
“It is not a question of trust,” said Darcy. “I would not have Georgiana embarrassed.”
“You need not fear,” said Mr. Bennet. Bingley, who remained silent, nodded his head, though he appeared to be more than a little astonished. “We do not need to know exactly what happened. What is at issue is this man and the many sins he has committed against you.
“I know,” replied Darcy with a sigh. “He could have been so much more. Allow me to mourn the waste of a life.”
“Providing you do not allow it to interfere with your judgment any longer,” replied Fitzwilliam. “It has done you no good these past years.”
“I must agree with your cousin, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet. “If Mr. Wickham is now to suffer, it is only what he deserves. As my Lizzy would say, think of the past only as it brings you pleasure. The time has come for George Wickham to be left in the past where he belongs.”
Darcy nodded, but any reply he was about to make was forestalled by the door to the study opening. The butler stepped into the room and said: “My apologies, but there is a Colonel Forster here to see you.”
Surprised, Darcy looked to Fitzwilliam, who only shrugged. Their last meeting with the man had not exactly been an exchange of pleasantries, and Darcy was not certain why he had come. A second look at Fitzwilliam showed a hint of smugness, though Darcy did not know what his cousin was about.
A moment later, the colonel walked into the room, and it was immediately clear to Darcy that this was not a social call, for the man was quite obviously furious.
“I would like to know,” said Colonel Forster, without even bothering to offer a greeting, “why you saw fit to lodge a complaint about one of my men without consulting me.”
“I apologize, Colonel Forster,” replied Fitzwilliam. He sat back in his chair, and regarded the other man, and to one who knew him as well as Darcy did, it was clear that his expression was filled with contempt. “If I had known you wished to have a hand in controlling your men, I would have approached you, of course.”
The purple hue of Colonel Forster’s face informed them all that he had understood the insult very well. “I am not accustomed to listening to the unsubstantiated slander of my men. If you had a complaint against Lieutenant Wickham, you should have brought it to me, along with proof of his wrongdoing. At that point, I can take action against him.”
Fitzwilliam only glared at the man with renewed disdain. “You do not believe slander concerning your men, but you are in the habit of believing the unsubstantiated falsehoods concerning a respected gentleman from one under your command.” Fitzwilliam stood and towered over Colonel Forster, who was not himself a large man. “Let us come to the point, colonel. I did not approach you because I could not trust you to do your duty and investigate Wickham. Had you let your vigilance slip for even a moment, the man would have absconded, and while I am certain we could have tracked him down, it seemed better to put his fate in the hands of those I knew would treat the matter with the gravity it deserved.”
“You have no idea of the trouble you have caused me,” snarled Colonel Forster.
“Actually,” replied Fitzwilliam, a hint of a satisfied smile playing about his mouth, “I believe I do. The next time someone gives you information about a man in your command, you would do well to at least take the trouble to investigate it. And it would likely be best if you did not insult those who have connections to the peerage.”
The two men stared at each other, and for a moment Darcy thought they might come to blows. Fortunately for Colonel Forster, he seemed to realize that he could do nothing, and as Fitzwilliam was a large and brawny man, he might have saved himself a beating. In the end, Forster did nothing more than huff and let himself from the room, slamming the door on his way out.
“Colonel,” chided Mr. Bennet, “Forster is not a bad man.”
“No, Mr. Bennet, but he is a particularly poor commander.” Fitzwilliam snorted. “I have seen his kind before. He has not the stomach for battle, so he hides in the militia on a purchased commission, playing nursemaid to the dregs of the army.” Fitzwilliam made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “At least I suppose I should be grateful that he has buried himself in the militia—poor commanders have a habit of freezing in battle and allowing their men to be butchered because of their cowardice.”
Fitzwilliam took his seat, and Darcy shot a look at Mr. Bennet. Darcy did not possess the battle experience of his cousin, and he knew that there was little to be gained by arguing with him. Whether Forster was a particularly bad commander as Fitzwilliam asserted, Darcy did not know, and in truth he did not wish to know.
“If you did not take Wickham to Colonel Forster, then who did you take him to?” asked Bingley.
The smile Fitzwilliam showed Bingley was positively feral. “I took the man to the headquarters here in Brighton. The commanding officer is known to me, and he promised me that he would look into the matter personally. Not only will that ensure Wickham gets his just desserts, but it will also raise some questions concerning Forster’s command. I dare say the scrutiny he will be under for some time now will necessitate his taking a greater interest in the doings of his officers.”
Darcy shook his head. Fitzwilliam could be quite vindictive when he chose, and nothing released those feelings more quickly than a military man who was not doing his job.
“I do have one question,” said Mr. Bennet, looking at them with some curiosity. “You mentioned you possess some credit notes of Mr. Wickham’s for several hundred pounds. Is it truly that much, or was that simply hyperbole?”
“Hyperbole does not exist, when it concerns descriptions of George Wickham’s depravity,” growled Fitzwilliam. When Darcy shot him a quelling glare Fitzwilliam only looked away and waved him off.
“Though my cousin needs to learn his manners, in this case he is completely correct,” said Darcy. “I do not remember the full amount of how much of Wickham’s debt I own, but it is substantial. I cleaned up for him in Cambridge the whole time we were at school together, and he left significant debts in Lambton on more than one occasion. One would almost think the man did not receive four thousand pounds from me after my father died.”
Both Bingley’s and Mr. Bennet’s eyes widened in surprise at this information. “I do not believe you ever told me the sum of what you gave him,” said Mr. Bennet. “Four thousand pounds is far more than most could expect to receive in lieu of a living for which he did not even bother qualifying. A man could live for years on such a sum, and could spend several lifetimes in prison and never pay off as much as you are suggesting.”
“And this George Wickham has never learned or cared,” said Fitzwilliam. “I am happy you will not r
escue him from himself this time, Darcy. It is time for Wickham to pay for his crimes.”
Though still not precisely happy with how things had turned out, Darcy was forced to agree that Fitzwilliam was entirely in the right. He resolved to put Wickham from his mind and not think on him any longer. After all, there were much more pleasant subjects on which to ruminate, amongst them a beautiful brunette to whom Darcy had just become engaged. She was enough to distract any man from disagreeable thoughts of those such as Wickham.
Chapter XXX
The final few days in Brighton were pleasant, but for the continuing cloud of discontent which hung over the townhouse in which the Bennets resided. It seemed that Lydia had taken it into her head to make life as miserable for everyone else as she could possibly contrive. The cries for her “dearest Wicky” had not ceased from the time she was prevented from escaping with the man, but they were made all that much more unbearable when she found that the other amusements she depended on were to be denied her.
“Lizzy!” demanded she, the day after Mr. Wickham had been taken into custody. “Since no one here appreciates my distress, I shall go to visit Mrs. Forster. She will understand. You will accompany me.”
Though Elizabeth had no intention of accompanying her sister anywhere, least of all to visit the woman whose husband had shown such an appalling lack of judgment, she was prevented from provoking an argument when her father stepped in to put a stop to Lydia’s pretentions.
“No, Lydia. Elizabeth will come and go as she pleases, but you will not be going anywhere, least of all to visit Mrs. Forster.”
“You would deny me my friend?” asked Lydia with a surprised gasp.
“Considering how the colonel has conducted himself in this matter, I feel no compunction whatsoever about severing your acquaintance with his wife. She is as silly as you, and the two of you no doubt get up to much mischief together.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “The colonel is a good man, and I am ever so fond of him!”
“I dare say the colonel is not a bad man, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet with a wink in Elizabeth’s direction, “but it is clear he is not a good commander.”
Elizabeth stifled a giggle, knowing he was referencing the conversation with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, which he had related to her. It was clear that Lydia did not quite comprehend his meaning, for she just stared at him in stupefied silence.
“But be that as it may, it signifies little. You will not visit Mrs. Forster, and if the woman should come here inquiring after you, she will be told that you are not receiving visitors. Furthermore, any meeting with officers will be expressly forbidden.”
“Not meet with the officers?” cried Lydia, though her tone reached the level of a shriek.
“Certainly not! Did you think I would allow you after your infamous behavior with Wickham? Young girls, fit for nothing more than the nursery, are not rewarded for their behavior. Remember that this is your own doing, Lydia.”
Lydia stared at her father, giving every indication of trying to determine the extent of his resolve. For his part, Mr. Bennet returned her gaze with a placid stare, which was no less firm for all that he did not give any overt hint of his authority. Perhaps for the first time, Lydia was faced with a sire who was immovable and resolute, and Elizabeth did not think the girl cared for the experience.
With a sulky huff, Lydia threw herself into a chair and directed a hateful glare at Elizabeth. “This is all your fault, Lizzy!”
Contenting herself with a shaken head, Elizabeth turned her attention back to the book she held in her hand. Unfortunately, the worst was still to come.
“At least I shall see the officers at the assembly tonight,” said she with a contemptuous sniff. “You might not allow me to visit them, but you cannot stop me from dancing.”
“It is my unfortunate duty to point out that you are quite wrong in that, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet. He leaned back in his chair, regarding his youngest, and Elizabeth could see that he was finding amusement in Lydia’s behavior. Some things would never change, it seemed. “In fact, when I said you would have no contact with the officers, I meant it.
“But even if this was not the case, as of last night, you will find that you are no longer out, and as such, attendance at such events as assemblies are forbidden. I will be staying behind with you to ensure your good behavior.”
Ignoring Lydia’s befuddled silence, Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth and Jane. “I would imagine that your young men will take prodigious care of you, and with your mother—as well as Mary and Kitty—at hand, you will be appropriately chaperoned.”
“I am sure that Jane and I will be completely content with our betrotheds,” replied Elizabeth. She smiled at her father with true amusement. “I cannot help but think you are receiving some benefit out of this as well—it is convenient, do you not think, that you will not be required to attend the assembly tonight?”
Mr. Bennet laughed. “I see you have caught me out, Lizzy. Yes, though I shall be required to endure a spoilt child tonight, at least I may send her to her room and content myself with a good book.”
Then Mr. Bennet turned and frowned at Kitty, who looked back at him with no small measure of trepidation. “It has come to my attention, however, just how little prepared my youngest daughters are to behave themselves in society. Kitty, I believe tonight I must restrict your partners to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, though you may, of course, stand up with your sisters if you desire.”
It was apparent that Kitty saw the same quality in her father that her younger sister did, for though Elizabeth was certain she would protest, eventually she decided against it. “Of course, Papa. I will behave myself.”
“I know you will, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet, gazing at his second youngest with affection. “Emulate your elder sisters, for they will show you how to behave. Watching Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy as well would not go amiss.”
It was at this moment that Lydia, sitting almost forgotten, her mouth open with no sound emerging, finally found her voice, and when she did, there was not a person in the room who did not wish she would have stayed silent.
“What do you mean I shall not attend?” screeched she, her voice rising higher than Elizabeth had ever heard before.
“Just what I said,” replied Mr. Bennet, more than a hint of steel in his tone. “You must prove to me that you can behave before I will allow you into society.” Mr. Bennet paused, regarding her momentarily, before grudgingly adding: “Though I suppose we must allow your attendance to a certain degree when we return to Meryton. Moving you back into the nursery will raise too many questions.”
“You cannot deny my going!” wailed Lydia. “I will attend the assembly with my sisters.”
“No, you will not!”
The antagonists glared at each other, until Lydia turned to her mother and appealed to her. “Tell Papa it is not fair, Mama!”
For a moment, Elizabeth wondered if her mother, even after all that had happened, would attempt to support her youngest, the girl who was her favorite, and against whom she had never heard anything before. But Mrs. Bennet darted a look at Elizabeth and Jane, and Elizabeth could almost see the memories of Mr. Bennet telling her how her youngest daughter’s behavior might have caused Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley to withdraw their attentions to her eldest daughters. In the end, she did the only thing that she could.
“I am sorry, Lydia, but you have misbehaved, and now you must bear the consequences. If you had driven the gentlemen away from Lizzy and Jane, I would never have forgiven you.”
Lydia stared in shock at her mother, but the moment lasted for less time than everyone else would have wished. The volume of Lydia’s voice rose along with the pitch, as she cried, accused, pouted, whined, and eventually screamed out her frustrations. In the end, only her father escorting her back to her bedchamber—for she would not go herself when ordered there—returned peace and quiet to the sitting-room.
“This is just more proof of
your inability to be part of society,” said Mr. Bennet, as he grasped his daughter by the arm and escorted her away. “If you wish to have your privileges restored, you will learn to behave yourself.”
Those left in the room heaved a collective sigh of relief when Lydia’s cries receded with her departure. Though those cries were often heard throughout the rest of the day, her family was able to cheerfully ignore them, as they were less piercing with walls and doors dulling the sound.
The assembly that night was uneventful, or as uneventful as such functions can be. The Bennet sisters enjoyed themselves, dancing with their friends and fiancés, and with some young men they had met in the area. Kitty behaved herself with as much grace as she could muster, and Mary took it upon herself to sit with Kitty, and even stand up with her a time or two, which Elizabeth and Jane also agreed to do on occasion themselves. On the whole, Elizabeth did not think Kitty had reason to repine.
This set the pattern for their final few days in Brighton. There were no other events, but Elizabeth and Jane saw much of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, the occupants of the two residences were often found in one another’s company, and as Mr. Bennet’s edicts regarding the officers and the Forsters were enforced, Jane and Elizabeth were spared the necessity of escorting Lydia and Kitty thither whenever the younger girls fancied.
Mrs. Forster did, indeed, visit the townhouse once, but she was told in no uncertain terms that Lydia was not home to her, and would not be again. Elizabeth felt a little remorseful for the girl, as she was not truly a bad sort and could not hope to control her husband’s behavior. But given as she was as silly and senseless as Lydia herself, Elizabeth thought it was for the best.