Mr. Darcy's Daughter

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  Matthew Ward and he had finally completed their work for their presentation and, though it had been exhausting and time consuming, it had also brought considerable satisfaction.

  He was glad of the opportunity to enjoy the feeling of achievement and share some of it with his family. Their pride and pleasure in his success was always a source of great joy. Yet, he could not help wondering why the subject of Margaret Baines's disappearance had not been raised at all that evening. He could not believe it was from a lack of concern, the strain upon the faces of his wife and daughter was unmistakable; perhaps, he thought, Lizzie had been very upset and her mother may have wanted to spare her further distress.

  Whatever the reason, the family spent a rather strange evening, when everyone knew what subject was uppermost in each other's minds, but no one was willing to raise the matter. It was as if they were all determined to suppress their concern for one reason or another.

  Only when Lizzie sat down to the pianoforte after dinner and found she could not proceed beyond the first page, was it obvious that, whatever they may have hoped to do, not everyone was succeeding.

  * * *

  On the following morning, Mr Carr arrived soon after breakfast, having arranged to take Darcy with him to meet Mr Hand, the innkeeper at Matlock. A genial and talkative host, Hand was keen to welcome them when they arrived at the inn. He was cleaning out the floor of the parlour and said with a grimace,"I've lost my last two guests, sir, one of 'em left this morning on the coach for Derby, and the other's dead!"

  He had taken quite a liking to the young artist turned fisherman who had spent several weeks in the district that Summer."I was sorry to lose him, good quiet gentleman, with a love of painting and fishing, though I have to say, he were a better painter than a fisherman, sir; he never caught a fish worth speaking of," he said with a great laugh that echoed around the room.

  Darcy had no idea of whom he was speaking and Mr Carr explained."There's been a young artist working in the area these last few months; your sister and I have met him sketching and painting in the dales on many occasions. I have seen him fishing, too, down by the river, but I do not believe he was very successful."

  "No, but I tell you he was a pretty observant fellow, sir," Mr Hand interrupted."Kept to himself mostly, but he had an eye open for what went on around him," he added in a conspiratorial whisper, which, considering the place was quite empty, was really unnecessary.

  Still, Mr Carr was interested in the rest of the innkeeper's story and so was Darcy.

  He told a strange tale of a night when young Mr Wakeham had returned fairly late to the inn,"looking for all the world like he'd fallen asleep in a haystack," and seeming rather disturbed.

  "It was most unusual, sir, as I said to my wife, he's usually a quiet type of gentleman, clean and sober, yet he looked as if he'd had a few rounds with the boys. He told me later he'd been up among the moors around the peaks, sketching; he showed me his pictures, they were the prettiest pictures you could imagine, he was very clever with his drawings.

  "Anyhow, the lads in the bar were all agog about the body being found in the quarry, you know, Mr Jones…and they were taking bets, whether the girl or Josh Higgins would go down for it. MrWakeham, he didn't say anything at the time, but after dinner, which he always took in his room, he came downstairs, when I was cleaning out the bar and wiping down the tables, and said he wanted a word in private. Very troubled, he looked.

  "He tells me he had heard the boys talking about the dead man that was found in the quarry; he didn't know him, he said, but he had seen him many times, in the woods and down by the stream with the girl, you know the one with the great head of flaming red hair." Seeing he had them absorbed, Hand continued dramatically,"One afternoon, he said he saw them together, when he was painting down in Dove dale and the man came up to him and tried to threaten him, claimed he was following them, but the girl stopped him, he said."

  Mr Carr listened, intrigued, but Darcy was becoming impatient.

  "Did he see them on the day of the murder?" he asked and, to his astonishment, for he had not anticipated the answer, the innkeeper opened his eyes wide and leaning over the bar, said in a dramatic whisper,"He did, sir, in the woods above the old quarry," and as Carr and Darcy leaned forward, he knew he had their interest and went on,"It was around five o'clock, he said, but he could not be sure, for he carries no watch, sir; he saw them and whereas most times, they were all loving, this time they were arguing. However, he was sure that it could not have been the girl who killed the man, he said."

  Pausing for effect, Hand continued."I asked him why he thought that, seeing as women could do the job just as well, if they had a mind to do it, but he was very sure, and here's the best bit, he says it could not have been young Josh Higgins either. Why? Because, on that day MrWakeham had been on the other side of the river, fishing with his usual lack of success, and Josh come along and helped him catch a fish, his first in weeks. He says he was so pleased, he gave the lad some money for his trouble."

  Mr Carr looked at Darcy and though they said nothing, each had thought the same thing—that would account for the money Josh had, which the police thought he had stolen from the dead man.

  "Did he say why he was dishevelled and disturbed when he got in?" asked Darcy, but unhappily the innkeeper had no answer.

  Hand admitted that he had tried to persuade Wakeham to go to the police, but he had said they would never believe him.

  "However, he was sure the truth would come out, because there was another man in the woods that day and he believes this man was watching out for the lovers," said Mr Hand and Mr Carr was puzzled."Do you mean he was stalking them?" he asked.

  "I do not know, sir. Mr Wakeham thought the man may have been a friend of Mr Jones and was probably keeping watch for him, in case someone came by."

  "And how might we contact this Mr Wakeham, should we need to find him?" asked Darcy, keen to follow up the new information.

  The innkeeper shook his head."I wouldn't know, sir, he's from Hertfordshire, some little village over there I'd say. I cannot read much, but my wife once saw a letter that came for him, from Hertfordshire, let me ask her," he said and went within.

  When he returned, he had in his hand a folded paper, like the cover paper of a letter with a part of the seal still stuck to its side. The direction, though written very ill, was still quite readable. It was addressed to Mr Francis Wickham, care of the innkeeper at the Matlock Arms.

  "Wickham?" said Mr Carr."This says he is Francis Wickham! He told us he was Frank Wakeham. Now I wonder why that is?"

  "I do not know, sir, there's many folks change their names, probably hiding from his family, I'd say, sir. Or may be he's been in trouble with the law. Come to think of it, he did look very troubled when I suggested he tell his story to the police," said Mr Hand.

  Darcy meanwhile had been gazing at the scrap of paper for a few minutes, before leaping up from his seat.

  "Of course, FrankWickham from Hertfordshire, that's who it is! Come on Carr, let's get back and tell my mother about this, she will know where we can find him."

  Puzzled, Mr Carr followed him, having thanked Mr Hand for his help and taking the scrap of paper with him, not knowing what on earth Darcy was talking about. When they were back in the carriage and on the road, Darcy told him of the Wickham family; cousins, with whom they had little or no contact.

  Carr was intrigued,"Why?"

  "Because they are all either disreputable villains or dissolute libertines or both, and my grandparents will have nothing whatever to do with them, nor will my mother. I do know they used to live in Hertfordshire."

  Mr Carr was amazed."Have you never met any of them yourself?" he asked.

  Darcy shook his head, laughing."No, not officially. I did meet two of them in London, George and Philip, a very long time ago at the house of a mutual acquaintance; they were the most appalling scoundrels you could hope to meet.

  Don't tell Mama, please, she will be furious!"


  "What about this fellow Frank, then? He seems a perfectly decent fellow as well as being a pretty good artist. Surely, he cannot be of the same family?" said Carr, quite bewildered, but Darcy was sure he was.

  "The name rings a bell, there were three or four sons and I think one was called Frank; but never mind, Mama will know, and if we can track him down and get him to talk to the police, Josh Higgins may yet be saved.

  Unless, Wickham is on the run from the law, too," Darcy said and added,"I wonder who this other man was: was he a friend of Jones? Who could he be? Now he may well be a witness to whatever happened in the woods that evening."

  Mr Carr could provide no credible answer. His lack of familiarity with the district and his inability to recall the names of some of the men he had met at the inn recently put him at a disadvantage. Darcy, on the other hand, was sure that the second man referred to by Wickham had to be someone from the area who knew the woods well and was familiar with people in the village.

  As they reached the house, Cassy, seeing them arrive, came downstairs and met them in the hall with the news that her parents were back from Kent and they were all to go over to Pemberley on the following evening to acquaint her father with what had occurred in their absence.

  "Papa is sure to give us some sound advice," she said.

  To her great astonishment, her son interrupted her.

  "Mama, we cannot wait until tomorrow evening. Some very important information has come to light and we must act quickly," he said and, between them, Mr Carr and Darcy related the gist of the innkeeper's tale, holding back until the end the identity of the artist, Mr Francis Wickham.

  "Wickham! Oh my God, he must be Frank, Aunt Lydia's youngest son!" she cried and, thereafter, all was confusion, until Lizzie arrived and helped bring a modicum of order to the proceedings.

  Darcy was determined that he and Mr Carr should leave for Hertfordshire forthwith and try to find Frank (or Francis) Wickham (or Wakeham) and persuade him to return and tell his story to the magistrate.

  Cassy was not so sure; she was wary of letting her son become involved and exceedingly cautious of any contact with the Wickhams. Even though the wily Mr George Wickham, so detested by her parents for his duplicity, had died sometime ago, Cassy recalled that her Aunt Lydia was not the pleasant est person and she feared Mr Carr and Darcy would find themselves drawn into deeper water than they could cope with.

  She pleaded with them to wait until tomorrow, but Darcy was determined, pointing out that"every hour that passes leaves less time to save Josh."

  Mr Carr spoke up."Mrs Gardiner, I understand the anxiety and disquiet you feel, but I give you my word, your son will not be allowed to put himself in any danger, I shall guard him with my life," at which they all laughed and Cassy reluctantly agreed, on condition that Darcy acted only with the consent of Mr Carr, and would not rush impetuously into any situation.

  "I would not do that, Mama," he protested, but she knew him too well and would only be satisfied after he had given her his word to be ruled by his friend in all his dealings with the Wickhams.

  "It grieves me to say this, Mr Carr, of a member of our family, but Mrs Wickham is not to be trusted; she is mercenary and every bit as guilty as her husband of guile and chicanery, so do be warned," she said, and was herself surprised at how much she had come to trust Mr Carr. His integrity and decency were, to her, beyond question.

  Preparations were soon afoot for the departure of the two gentlemen to Hertfordshire.

  "Will you take the train or go by road?" asked Lizzie, and her brother groaned, feigning agony even at the memory of his last train journey.

  "Oh no, not the train again, I cannot bear it, not twice in one week. Even though the journey will be done in less than half the time, I shall be so sore; I will be of no use to anyone for a week. I am still suffering the consequences of my last journey, the seats, the crowds, and the smoke!"

  "Did you not travel first class?" asked Mr Carr, who was quite accustomed to train travel in America.

  "I did, but so did hundreds of other people; it seemed as though half of London was on the train, every man, woman, and child, each with its own load of luggage, including a parrot in a cage! No, Lizzie, I shall not take the train," he declared with so much passion that Mr Carr, still laughing at his friend's exaggerated account of the tribulations of train travel, suggested that they take his carriage."It is comfortable and affords you some degree of privacy, but it will take twice as long," he warned,"so, we had better make a start immediately. We can go direct to the farm, where I shall pick up my things, and we can take the carriage and my men. That way, we should be on the road by one o'clock and have at least half a day's travelling done by tonight."

  They wasted no more time. Darcy gathered together his things; Cassy found them Mrs Wickham's address outside of Meryton and wrote a note to Jonathan Bingley, requesting his help.

  "I have written a note to your Uncle Jonathan Bingley, he is well known and respected in the area and will help you locate Frank Wickham, I am sure. But, be warned, Lydia Wickham is not an easy woman to deal with," she said, as she bade them farewell.

  Even as she saw him go, Cassy was most uneasy about letting her son become so deeply involved in what was clearly a murder investigation. She would have preferred if it had been left in the hands of the police, but there was little she could do.

  When her husband returned home that night, Cassy had to tell him of the new information that Darcy and Mr Carr had uncovered and explain that they had gone together to Hertfordshire to locate Mr Frank Wickham.

  Richard was surprised; not having been privy to the enquiries that Mr Carr and Darcy were making, he had little knowledge of the developments in the case. Whilst he had some concerns about the disappearance of Margaret Baines, once it had been established that the girl was alive, though still missing, Richard had not taken any active interest in the matter, content to wait for the authorities or the girl's family to find her.

  He listened carefully to what Cassy told him and asked,"And do you think, my dear, that this Frank Wickham or Wakeham, if he does turn out to be your Aunt Lydia's youngest son, will return and give his evidence to the police?"

  Cassy had no answer. She knew very little of the Wickham family, save what her parents, principally her mother, had told her over the years.

  "I cannot say, Richard, the family are not generally known for being upright and public spirited, but in this case, it does seem that Mr Wickham was concerned that Josh Higgins was under suspicion," she said.

  "So concerned that he told the landlord at the inn, and no one else, before leaving the district," said her husband, somewhat sceptical. Richard had no knowledge at all of that branch of the family, except for the reports he had had of the Wickhams from his parents, from Mr and Mrs Darcy, and Julian, all of which had been uniformly bad.

  No one, it appeared, had a good word for them, though he wondered about Frank having changed his name, to avoid recognition while staying in the area. Perhaps, he was ashamed of the reputation of his father and brothers and wished to put some distance between himself and his family.

  He knew Cassy was keen for him to give her some encouragement and was reluctant to dash her hopes.

  "It is possible that he is different from the rest of them. He may well be more thoughtful and less inconsiderate of others. But if that is the case, why did he pack up and leave? It does not sound like the act of a responsible man with a clear conscience, does it, my dear?"

  Cassy could have wept. Frank Wickham was their last chance; if only, she thought, if only she had been on better terms with her Aunt Lydia. Then, she might have gone to Meryton with Darcy and tried to persuade Frank to return and tell his story. As it happened, she could only wait anxiously for news, some news, from her son and Mr Carr. And that may be days away.

  * * *

  Very early on the following morning, however, they had another surprise.

  Lizzie crept quietly into her parents' room a
nd, seeing her mother lying awake in bed, signalled to her to come out into the corridor.

  Cassy eased herself out of bed without waking her husband, snatched up a shawl, and draping it around her shoulders, followed her daughter to her own bedroom. There, she found Lucy, her maid, and another young person, a girl not more than fourteen years old, sitting on the rug before the fire. She seemed nervous but not at all fearful.

  "Mama, this is Annie, she has brought a note from Lucy's aunt, Mrs Thomas, who lives across the river, beyond Kympton, on the edge of the moors," said Lizzie. The girl handed Cassy a note, which had been sent to Lucy that morning.

  The note, though written in an untutored hand, was quite clear and Cassy read it quickly, looking for the vital information she sought. Mrs Thomas wrote that Margaret Baines was with her; she had come to them two days ago, having hidden overnight in the woods. This note brought a message from her. She intended to leave the district very soon. If however, Miss Lizzie would meet her, she promised to tell her truthfully all that had happened. She begged them to believe that she had not murdered anyone and asked to be forgiven for her foolishness, by which Cassy took her to mean the clandestine affair with Mr Jones.

  Looking up, with tears stinging her eyes, she said,"Oh poor, foolish Margaret, what a waste of a bright, young life," as she passed the note to her daughter. Lizzie was determined to go.

  "May I go to her, Mama? Lucy can accompany me," she said eagerly, but Cassy was unsure; she did not want to let Lizzie go on her own. What if this was a trick to lure her daughter? An army of fears, real and imagined, assailed her and she decided there was no alternative, she would have to go herself., Urging Lizzie to stay in her room with the two girls, but prepare to leave at a moment's notice, she returned to her room. Her husband was still fast asleep. Leaving a note for him, which gave only the merest hint of the reason for their departure, Cassy dressed quickly and, collecting Lizzie and the girls, went downstairs; there, only a few of the servants were awake, preparing for the morning's work. Tea was made and they all partook of some, while Cassy sent for the small carriage, preferring it because it was closed and protected them not only from the cool morning air but from inquisitive eyes as well. Once they were across the river, Annie would show them the way.