His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel

by Nancy Kelley

He tilted his head slightly and remained silent for long moment. When Mrs. Younge finally fidgeted, he shook his head. "No, I do not think that will do at all."

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. "What do you want then?"

  "Tell me where he is. If I find him within, I will come back and pay you the agreed upon amount. If I do not, then you have not actually given him up, and you will not have helped me at all."

  "No pay if you don't find him?" Darcy held her gaze for a long moment and finally she nodded her head. "Very well. You've always been a sly one; I should have known you'd make it like that."

  She stood and walked toward a writing desk, but stopped in the middle of the room. "Here now, we haven't discussed the subject of payment."

  "Indeed we have not." Darcy observed her narrowly for a moment and then said, "If I find Wickham at the address you give, I will pay you one hundred pounds."

  She laughed, as Darcy had known she would. "One hundred pounds to betray a confidence? My loyalties are not so cheap. One thousand pounds."

  "That is at least two years income--not even Wickham is worth that much. Two hundred."

  "Five hundred and not a farthing less."

  "Agreed. The address, madam."

  Some minutes later she handed him a piece of paper. "They will be there, him and that girl of his. Nowhere else for them to go, is there?"

  Darcy kept his face blank at the mention of Lydia, and Mrs. Younge sighed in disappointment. "Trust me, madam. If this is information is correct, you will shortly be a much richer woman."

  The drive took him across the river to one of the poorer neighborhoods in Southwark. Darcy heard children crowding around the coach, awed by the sight of such finery. They pulled to a stop in front of a rickety, rundown building, and when he got out, the children fell back apace, daunted by his formidable demeanor. He took in their dirty faces and pinched expressions, and compassion overwhelmed him. He pulled a footman aside and said in a low voice, "See to it that each of these children is given a guinea." Then, without a backward glance, he rapped swiftly on the door.

  The maid who answered the door was almost as dirty and unkempt as the children, and Darcy nearly took a step backward. "Yeah?"

  Darcy was past being surprised by the rudeness of servants, and stated his business directly.. "I wish to call on Mr. Wickham, if he is available."

  She snorted. "They're here. They never leave, do they? Hiding from someone, I wager." Her eyes narrowed. "They been hiding from you?"

  "No, they have not." It was the truth--neither the gentleman nor the lady was aware that he was involved in the hunt.

  She looked him over but finally decided he could be trusted. The door opened wider and Darcy stepped inside. The maid pointed down a dimly lit hallway. "They're the second door on the left."

  Darcy stared after her retreating figure for a moment, then shook his head and went in the direction she indicated. He knocked at the door he presumed to be theirs. After a few seconds with no answer, he knocked again, more loudly.

  This time, he was gratified to hear noise from inside and a voice mutter, "All right, just a minute." The door swung open and Darcy took advantage of Wickham's momentary amazement to slip inside the room. "Darcy! What in blazes..."

  "Good afternoon, Wickham. I presume you can have no doubt what I am doing here."

  The other man's face twisted into a snarl. "You do like to ruin my little elopement parties."

  Darcy refused to allow the reference to Georgiana to rile his temper. "Be honest for once. Do you have any intention of marrying Lydia Bennet?"

  Wickham pushed his greasy hair out of his face and laughed. "Good God, no. And if you can convince her of that, I would be in your debt. In truth, she wears on my nerves already."

  "Why did you elope if you did not intend to marry her?"

  He shrugged, and Darcy could see lines of exhaustion around his eyes. "Elopement was her idea, not mine. I... ah, I found it expedient to leave Brighton in rather a hurry, and as she wished to join me..."

  He let the sentence dangle, and Darcy could easily fill in the blanks. Wickham had never been one to deny himself female companionship, even if it was under false pretenses.

  That thought led him too close to Georgiana, and he knew he needed to get to his purpose, or he would not be able to hold his temper. "Would it be possible to speak with Miss Bennet?"

  Wickham rose from his seat and went to the bedroom door. "Lydia, my love, we have company."

  From his seat, he could easily see past Wickham into the room. Lydia Bennet lounged on the bed, twirling the ribbons of her bonnet between her fingers. Her vaguely dissatisfied expression gave way quickly to eagerness, and he wondered who she supposed he might be that would excite such warm feelings.

  Darcy rose when she entered the room. "Lord! Mr. Darcy, what are you doing here?"

  Wickham coughed. "Well, clearly you have some things to discuss. Lydia, love, I shan't be gone long."

  The door shut behind him, and Darcy could not help but be slightly amused by his eager desire to have Miss Bennet talked out of this elopement. He bowed to her. "Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. I am here on behalf of your family--they are quite distraught to know your whereabouts."

  She laughed. "What a joke it will be when they find out what I have been up to!"

  He could not help but stare at her in disbelief. "Miss Bennet, it is not a joke to run away from the family in whose care you are in, nor to throw your entire household into frantic worry."

  She brushed aside his concerns. "I am sure by now that Kitty has told them all about my love for dear Wickham and they are not the least bit concerned."

  It did not surprise him in the least to learn that her sister was complicit in her scheme, at least in part. "On the contrary, they were all so upset that Jane felt she needed to pull Elizabeth away from her holiday in Derbyshire." He remembered again how distraught she had been and his features tightened into something like disapproval.

  If Lydia saw it, she did not care. "La, how silly they all are! They all know how wonderful my dear Wickham is; they have nothing to worry about if I am with him."

  "I am afraid they do. As your family, it is their place to worry about your reputation."

  She wrinkled her nose. "My reputation! But we are to be married."

  He shook his head slightly at her naivete. "But you are not yet, and you have been living with him for over a week now."

  "That does not signify. We will be married, and then this will all be a good joke."

  Her selfish belief that she had managed to pull a prank on her family irritated Darcy to the extreme. He could not forget Elizabeth's tears or his own feelings when his own sister had narrowly avoided such a fate. But if she is not to be reasoned with, there is only one thing left to be done: I must see that they marry.

  Wickham walked back in and looked at Darcy in query. Darcy shook his head slightly, and an ugly look flashed across Wickham's face, so that Darcy almost feared to leave Lydia alone with him.

  A glance at his watch told him it would be past dinnertime when he arrived at Darcy House, so he stood and bowed. "Wickham, Miss Bennet, I am afraid I cannot stay any longer tonight. May I please visit with you again tomorrow?" he asked, hoping the promise of his return would keep the young lady safe from Wickham's anger.

  Wickham rubbed at the crease in his forehead, and Lydia sighed. "Oh Lord, come if you want. It will be better than sitting around in these rooms with nothing to do all day, I daresay."

  It was nearing dusk when Darcy stepped into his carriage and absently gave the order to return to Grosvenor Square. He paid no heed to the houses and buildings passing by the window; instead he focused all his thoughts on how he could finesse Wickham into marrying Lydia Bennet without being taken for all he was worth.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The next morning Darcy dispatched a servant to Mrs. Younge's with a bank draft for the agreed upon amount and set off himself for Wickham's lodging. When he arrived, the c
ouple was clearly just getting up from breakfast. Lydia was dressed, though barely, and Wickham had not yet taken the trouble to put a jacket on. A maid followed Darcy into the room to take the tea things, and he was mildly surprised the establishment offered that much service.

  "Good morning," he said cordially.

  "Darcy." Wickham looked at him and then at Lydia. "Darling, why don't you go down the hall and visit with the ladies you met the other day? I believe Darcy and I have some things to discuss."

  Lydia pouted. "Why must a lady always leave the room? I have just as much right to hear what he has to say as you do--more, since he came from my family!"

  Darcy shrugged. "It does not matter to me if you stay, Miss Bennet. However, I am afraid the conversation would be very tedious for you--matters of business which go back very far in our history." The two words "business" and "history" used together sealed it--Lydia was out of the room before he finished the sentence.

  When she was gone, the two men sat down. "Well, Darcy, have at it. Why have you truly come?"

  Darcy studied his childhood friend for a moment before he answered. The last three years had not been kind to Wickham. His dissipated lifestyle had hardened his fine features, and he now appeared older than Darcy, rather than two years his junior.

  Wickham squirmed beneath his keen gaze, and Darcy finally answered. "To see that Lydia has not been harmed."

  "And you have seen that. Why did you return today?"

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. "How can I tell her family that she is unharmed if she remains in your house, unmarried?"

  Wickham laughed. "Your rigid morality does not apply to me, Darcy. Why should it matter to you if Lydia Bennet is ruined or not?"

  Darcy leaned back in the chair, the picture of nonchalance. "Do you have anything to drink, Wickham?"

  The other man grunted and rose from his seat. He came back a moment later with two glasses of brandy--very poor quality, Darcy supposed--and handed him one. "Now talk."

  "Lydia Bennet is nothing to me, I assure you." That statement had the benefit of being wholly true. If she was not related to his Elizabeth, he would not give a tuppence for the foolish, headstrong girl. "However, something--my rigid morality, I suppose--balks at the idea of you ruining any girl, even one as ridiculous as her."

  Wickham laughed. "You are a fool, Darcy."

  "I may be, but I cannot help but be disturbed by the way you seduce young girls." Darcy twisted the glass around in his hands. He had not drunk much of it--his guess had been correct, the brandy was very poor. "It is a pity that Mr. Bennet does not have much he can offer a prospective suitor."

  Wickham held up his hands and shook his head quickly. "Oh no, do not go there. I will not marry her, I told you that yesterday."

  "Why not? She is a likeable enough girl."

  "Oh yes, I daresay we would rub along together tolerably well. But you know my goal, Darcy--you saw through me well enough last year. I must marry a wealthy woman."

  He rose from the table to refill his brandy glass after this pronouncement, which gave Darcy the chance to master the anger that crossed his face before Wickham turned back around. He nodded his head slightly, though he really wanted to slam his fist down the other man's throat for bringing up Georgiana so casually. "I am sure you do. That is why I lamented the Bennet estate."

  "Only five thousand to be split between Mrs. Bennet and the girls. Not enough to tempt me, I can assure you."

  Darcy winced at the unconscious echo of his own words regarding Elizabeth, but he did not lose sight of his goal. "But surely you do not expect to find someone as wealthy as my sister to marry. There are not many young ladies with thirty thousand pounds to their name; fewer still that you might have an introduction to."

  Wickham took a long drink of his own brandy and rose to fill the glass. "That is true, I suppose. I do not need that much, my living is not so extravagant." Darcy nearly choked on his brandy. "I wager that... ten thousand would be enough to satisfy me."

  "And how would you live? You cannot go back to the regiment now that you have tarnished the reputation of a young lady in the protection of your colonel, especially if you do not return married to her."

  "I had rather thought I might go into the Regulars. Army life suits me, I've found."

  Darcy could easily imagine that. Though most Army men were decent, upstanding fellows, the profession also drew a fair number of profligates. "How do you intend to purchase your colors?"

  Wickham frowned. "Damn, I hadn't thought that far."

  Knowing he had baited the hook well, Darcy rose. "Well, I see I cannot convince you to do the right thing, and I must be off. May I return one more time, just to check in on Miss Bennet? I did make a promise to her family after all..."

  "Yes, of course." Wickham did not rise to see him out, and Darcy almost laughed at the morose expression on his face.

  The next day when he arrived, Lydia was nowhere to be seen, as he had expected. "Good morning, Wickham."

  "Morning, Darcy!" Wickham answered in tones far more jovial than had been used between them in many years.

  He put on a false expression of surprise. "Why so glad to see me, Wickham? Is Miss Bennet about?"

  Wickham faltered. "Ah... no. She stepped out again, but I daresay she'll be back shortly. You know, Darcy, as I think about it, she's not that bad a girl. Talks too much, of course, but what else can you expect from a woman?"

  "Indeed."

  "You know, if it wasn't for the financial concerns..." Wickham shuffled in place and then looked up at Darcy. "I mean, I'd do the thing right, of course I would."

  This was not at all Darcy's impression of Wickham, but he knew exactly what had brought about the change. "Would you?"

  "Damn it, you know I would! She's... well, I've got to marry sometime; I might as well marry her."

  Darcy coughed to hide his laughter. He is playing right into my hands... Oh George, it is truly sad that you can be so easily led. "That is very romantic of you."

  Wickham cut off the comment with a wave of his hand. "Oh, you know what I mean."

  "I daresay I do. But if you need to marry for money, then none of these sentiments toward Miss Bennet matter in the slightest. Her father can only provide the smallest token of a dowry; we discussed that yesterday."

  Wickham tapped his fingers nervously on the table. "I do believe I have a solution to that as well, Darcy."

  "And what might that be, pray tell? Do not tell me you intend to take up a profession, for I shall not believe it."

  Wickham shook his head. "No, something much simpler. Here, let us sit down." He waited until they were both seated before he continued. "It occurs to me that you have taken a keen interest in our marriage. It seems the logical answer is for you to pay for it."

  Darcy shook his head. "If I would not pay you to marry my sister, why do you think I would pay you to marry... Miss Bennet?"

  He swore to himself. He had nearly slipped and said, "Marry Elizabeth's sister" instead--he had barely caught himself.

  Wickham glowered at him. "It's your bloody morals that will answer if you do not."

  Darcy snorted. "I daresay my conscience will not suffer if I allow the chit to have the reward she asks for."

  Wickham gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward. "Come, Darcy. You must know I need the money."

  "That I can readily believe. I do not see why you expect me to provide it."

  Wickham crossed his arms and pouted exactly like the petulant child he was. "Well, will you or won't you?"

  Darcy leaned back. "I suppose that depends on how much it will cost me."

  "I want a commission."

  "Naturally." Though it went against Darcy's nature to provide a living for such a man, he would not leave Elizabeth's sister without an income.

  "And the ten thousand I mentioned last night."

  "Of course."

  "And I want all my debts paid off."

  Darcy blinked; this was not expected, though perhaps i
t should have been. "Do you have a list of those?" he asked after only a moment's hesitation.

  "I can make one for you if you like."

  Darcy nodded, and Wickham pulled out a piece of paper. After considerable thought, he handed Darcy the list, which was longer than even Darcy had thought it would be.

  "Do we have an agreement then?"

  "Ten thousand, plus a commission, plus the retirement of all your debt."

  "Agreed."

  Darcy rose and looked down at Wickham. "I did not believe you would ever do the right thing, George. I am glad to have been wrong for once."