Bingley’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wickham?”
Darcy nodded. “Unfortunately, the Duke also appeared, only just after I heard the news from Miss Bennet. She is terribly distressed, of course.” He was grateful that Miss Bennet had chosen not to share news of her missive with the Duke, and equally delighted that she had trusted him enough to tell him instead.
“Windfell was at the inn?” Bingley asked, now looking thoroughly confused. “Why?”
Darcy gritted his teeth. “He was to call on Miss Bennet, I presume.”
Mr Bingley’s face suddenly cleared. “Ah.”
“Indeed.”
Steepling his fingers, Bingley became suddenly more serious. “What are his intentions towards her, do you think?”
Darcy’s face darkened. “I am, as yet, uncertain of Windfell’s motivation, but I know he is shamming with Elizabeth and the Gardiners.”
“Shamming? How so?”
“Good God, if you had seen him this morning, Charles.” Throwing his chair back, Darcy began to pace the room. His frustration and anger rose once more, accelerating with each step.
“I assisted the Gardiners in overseeing the timely packing of the coach, while Mr Gardiner settled his bill. Windfell rode up to the party and, upon discovering their intention to depart forthwith, he persisted in prying the reason from Elizabeth, though she was loathe to impart it and gave no specific details.” Darcy ground his teeth, aware of how she had glanced at him helplessly, as though begging for his help. Unfortunately, the Duke had ignored him entirely,even though he had attempted to remove Miss Bennet from him.
“I tell you, Charles, it was all I could do to refrain from dragging him to his horse and planting him a facer.”
“I never have got on well with him.” Mr Bingley shook his head. “Someone who has a friendship with Mr Wickham deserves to be pushed from our society, even though his title ranks higher than almost anyone else of our acquaintance.”.” He took a bite of toasted bread and chewed it thoughtfully
“Yes. There is something quite off in his manner and especially in his behavior to Miss Bennet. In addition, what Miss Bennet has told me of her accident some weeks ago, as well as his apparent lucky arrival just in time to save her from it, makes me more than suspicious.”
“Her accident?” Bingley asked, confused.
Darcy shook his head. “I shall detail that to you another time.”
Bingley shrugged. “Very well. What happened next at the inn?”
“When he saw that his inquisition had upset Elizabeth, he became all charm. He dismounted and took her hands. His whispered I know not what banalities before raising her hand and kissing it.”
“He never! And Elizabeth? Did she strike him?
A grim smile crossed Darcy’s face. “I wish she had. But, no. Windfell plays his cards to advantage. His attentions turned Elizabeth to smiles, even though she knows of my concerns.”
“Pity.”
“Indeed.”
“And does he travel to Hertfordshire with them?
A deep frown knotted Darcy’s brows together. “No, he does not accompany them, despite Mr Gardiner’s murmured request for his assistance. I believe he hoped that the Duke’s influence might assist the family in finding Mr Wickham and Lydia.”
Bingley’s eyes widened. “Never tell me he refused them, Darcy!”
“Can you credit it, Charles? The blackguard had the effrontery to refuse Elizabeth’s request. Claimed he also had received urgent news— from his estates— and had only come to bid them farewell.”
Charles raised his brows. “How very convenient.”
“He promised to make all haste in resolving his matter and then hie to Longbourn as soon as possible. And he just rode away.” Darcy shook his head. “He just rode away and left her—them—standing in the road.”
“Dastard!”
“I am in complete agreement, Charles.” Darcy slowed his pace and examined the fare along the sideboard. He retrieved a platter and selected several of the offerings.
“Surely you will not let his treatment of her go unattended?”
Darcy smiled as he took his place again at the table. “Oh, I shall not.”
“Well, whatever you do, permit me to assist.” Charles grinned.
“I am relieved to hear you say that, because I did formulate a plan on my ride back to Pemberley.”
“Do tell, man. I am all agog.”
“I know Windfell. I have done since university. He is a scoundrel— a libertine, though he presents himself a gentleman.”
“By Jove! You must inform Miss Bennet at once!”
“Yes, I have done so. Thankfully, after I described Wickham’s influence over Georgiana, she immediately accepted what I said. She is such a thoughful lady that she admitted to me she felt some concern over Wickham herself, although she did not know why.”
“I should say she is a very well-thought young lady, then,” Bingley replied. “Then, you said you have a plan?”
Darcy scrubbed his hands over his face, then looked at Charles.
“The coaching accident, as I described to you yesterday, has given me no end of concern. What exactly happened, and how did Windfell happen, so providentially, upon them just after they went off the road? Have you ever known that stretch of road so in need of repair that it resulted in accidents?”
“No, never.”
“Nor I. Yet a large pothole seems to be the cause of Elizabeth’s coach overturning.” Darcy clenched his jaw. “At least, that was what Windfell informed her, and Miss Bennet - having no cause not to believe him - accepted it as truth.” He turned to his friend, his eyes serious. “I do not believe the tale, Charles.”
“It does seem quite coincidental, now that I think of it.”
“Too coincidental. Windfell is behind that accident, Charles. I would stake my reputation on it. He is insinuating himself into Elizabeth’s life, by fair means or foul.”
“But, to what end, Darcy? What can he possibly have to gain? She’s pretty, but hardly a parti for a peer. After all, the man is a Duke!”
Bingley laughed at the look on Darcy’s face.
Darcy relaxed a little and grinned. “I could take issue with you on that head, Charles. I could sing you a litany of Miss Bennet’s perfections, but, I comprehend your meaning. Her father possesses neither title, nor lands to speak of, nor wealth. And, as you say, the Duke is both wealthy and titled. No, she is not an eligible match for him.”
Bingley nodded. “So, what drives him to pursue her so arduously?”
“I wish I knew,” Darcy groaned. “Miss Bennet even told me that he wishes to court her, and that she has accepted. Of course, that was before she knew the truth of Wickham which may have put her consideration of Windfell into some doubt, but what if he offers for her?”
“It shall not come to that.”
“I pray you are right. We must discredit Windfell—expose him in a way he cannot refute or disguise. I know a man in London who would help, but I shall not have time to consult with him, if I am to discover Wickham and Lydia.”
“Ah yes, what of that matter? How on earth could Miss Lydia Bennet find a way to run off with such a man?”
“According to Miss Bennet, her father allowed Miss Lydia to accompany the Colonel and his wife to Brighton when the militia removed there last month.”
Charles snorted.
“Exactly,” Darcy rose and poured another cup of coffee. “It is easy to surmise from there. Wickham can have lost no time in bringing her under his spell… foolish girl that she is… she has no thought nor care for anything outside of bonnets and fripperies and officers.”
Charles leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands cradling his chin.
“I agree. But, have they not attempted to recover her?”
“Mr. Bennet has gone to town, but,” Darcy shook his head. “I do not believe his search will be fruitful. Mr. Gardiner plans to join him as soon as may be.”
“I should have far mor
e faith in Gardiner’s efforts.”
“I as well,” said Darcy, “but it is my belief that neither shall succeed. I know too well how elusive Wickham can be when he chooses.” He recalled the look on Mr Gardiner’s face when Winfell had refused to help in the search for Wickham.
Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “You told Miss Bennet the business with Georgiana?”
“Indeed. Though you do not know the whole of it, you know enough to comprehend the danger to Miss Lydia and the futility of any of their search efforts. That is why I leave for London within the hour.”
“You have thought of something that might be done?”
“I have. I consider it most likely that Wickham maintains an accomplice in London. Although he has little acquaintance in polite company, I am convinced he has any number of low associates who would assist him.”
“The deuce!”
“Indeed. Perhaps Mrs. Younge, whose direction I retained in my papers regarding the incident, might still be one of his acquaintances.”
Understanding dawned. “Aha! You intend to find this Mrs. Younge and through her, Wickham.”
Darcy wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on the platter. “I do.” He stood.“You see why I shall not have time to consult my London acquaintance with regard to Windfell? I am the only one who can discover Mrs. Younge in a timely manner.”
Charles stood also. He tugged his waistcoat down. “I am at your service, of course. Only tell me what you wish me to do and then get on with your own task.”
“I knew you would not fail me, Bingley.” Darcy slapped Bingley on the back. “Come with me to the library. I shall furnish you with the direction you require. I have complete faith in you to carry forward my interest in this matter with Windfell. Get the evidence we need to unmask his duplicity - even though it is as yet unknown - before it is too late.”
Chapter Five
Darcy knocked briskly on the door. He entered without waiting for a response.
Wickham raised his head from where it rested on his arms. An empty bottle stood beside him on the small table.
“He’s after her, you know.” A lazy smile graced Wickham’s mouth, but his eyes were glittering—cold. He rose to stand on unsteady legs.
Darcy frowned. “What? Of whom do you speak?” They stood in the middle of the small chamber that Wickham had shared with Lydia until a few days ago.
Wickham grinned widely and sauntered toward Darcy. “Of Elizabeth, of course. Windfell has designs on her. He…”
His voice faltered as Darcy’s hand shot forward and gripped his shirt. Darcy shoved him against the wall, tightening his grip. His lips thinned and he glared at Wickham. “Explain yourself, Wickham.”
Wickham pushed weakly back against Darcy. “I can’t breathe,” he croaked.
Darcy took a step back and loosened his grip minimally. “I am waiting.”
Wickham rubbed his neck and coughed. He looked up at Darcy, his lips twisting into a dark smile. “Ah yes, Windfell. He will have her, you know. She is essential to his plan. You cannot stop him.” Wickham laughed. “By God, I wish I could be there to see your face.” A sneer replaced his grin. “It will be just recompense for you, too. After all the miseries you have heaped on me.”
Darcy pressed Wickham to the wall with his left hand and raised his right in a fist. “I swear to you that if you do not tell me what you know of Windfell, you shall be thrown out on your ear. As it stands, should you choose to tell me everything, then you will wed Miss Lydia Bennet and I will give you a living for the remainder of your days.” An ironic smile crossed Darcy’s face. “As you’ve always wanted.”Wickham swallowed. His narrowed gaze searched Darcy’s face. After a moment, he shrugged. “As I know you to be a man of your word, I suppose it matters not if you know. As I said, you possess not the ability to hinder him. Release me and I shall tell you.”
For a long moment, Darcy breathed hard, wondering what to do. His every instinct was to hit out at Wickham, his anger driving him to do so. Battling it, Darcy eventually dropped his fist, propelled Wickham to the table, and forced him into a chair. His left hand continued to dig into Wickham’s shoulder.
“Speak.”
“Windfell is not the Duke…I suppose I should say Marsden is not the Duke of Windfell. Not truly.”
“Go on.”
“It seems, Darcy, that Mr. Bennet stands to inherit that title.”
Shock effused his entire body. “What are you saying?”
“Apparently, somewhere back along the line, an elder branch of the Bennet clan broke away from his noble family—or was cut off. When the when the current Duke died without issue, everyone assumed Marsden was his heir. But one of his disgruntled relatives began to dig around and uncovered records revealing the existence of an older son—older than Marsden’s great-grandsire, that is.”
“And Mr. Bennet is a direct descendant of the older son? How came the family to be at such odds that the older son was not elevated to the title on the death of his father? Disinheriting a son cannot break the entail.”
“Lord, I don’t know! Perhaps you can ask Marsden when next you see him—most likely his wedding to Elizabeth.”
Darcy shook his head. “That blackguard will not harm one hair of Elizabeth’s head. She is not as dull as he believes her to be.”
Wickham sat himself a little more upright and brushed ineffectually at his stained shirtsleeve. “Regardless, Windfell intends to wed her.”
Darcy, unable to understand the Duke’s intention, shook his head. “Whatever will wedding Elizabeth do for the Duke?”
Wickham regarded him as though he had lost his senses. “He intends to cement his title.”
“How can that be?” Darcy replied, struggling not to lose his temper. “She is but the second daughter. The title will go to whomever Miss Jane Bennet marries.”
A wide grin split Wickham’s face, his slightly drunken expression darkening Darcy’s features. “Windfell is not as stupid as you make out, Darcy. He was already aware of Miss Jane Bennet’s attachment to Mr Bingley, which is why he turned his attention to the entirely unengaged Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He shook his head, his smile slipping slightly. “After all, he has already arranged for one carriage accident, although that one not fatal.”
Darcy stared at Wickham, his breath leaving his body in one great breath as he comprehended his meaning. The Duke intended to wed Elizabeth, then rid the Bennet family of Miss Jane Bennet, in order to be heir to the title. Once the truth of his title came to light, Darcy perceived the Duke believed it would all be too late.
“And you assisted him in this plan?” he spat, turning furious eyes on Mr Wickham.
“I did not assist him, no. Rather, I simply did not prevent him.”
Darcy’s fist found it mark. Wickham landed across the bed, blood staining the already begrimed sheets.
“I should kill you myself.”
Wickham’s eyes did not leave Darcy’s face. He smeared blood on his sleeve. “ “But you are a man of your word,” he whimpered, suddenly looking beyond terrified.
Darcy growled, wishing he could do to Wickham as he wished and being profoundly sorry that he was about to make him a permanent part of the Bennet family. “Get up and clean yourself. I shall not have you late for your wedding.”
#
The door to White’s clicked behind him.
“Pardon me.” The voice was muffled.
Darcy adjusted his gloves before raising his eyes to see the man who had bumped against him.
“Windfell.” He narrowed his eyes.
Windfell smiled and raised his hat. “Darcy.”
Darcy took a breath. All he desired was to erase the grin from Windfell’s face. But, brawling in St. James like a common fishmonger would ill-serve Elizabeth and her family. He clenched his jaw and continued down the steps.
The Duke turned from the door of the club and walked down the steps alongside Darcy.
Darcy fixed his gaze on a building across the square. “I
am surprised to see you here, Windfell. You must have resolved the conflict on your estate with prodigious speed.”
“I thank you, I did.”
“And you must travel astride a Pegasus. The last I knew, it was a three-day journey from Derbyshire to the Scottish border.”
Windfell laughed. “You have always been quick, Darcy. I shall give you that. What brings you to town this time of year?”
“I thank you for the compliment.” Darcy returned. His cold gaze raked Windfell from top hat to glossy boots. “Perhaps you have not heard—having been in Northumberland— George Wickham is wed. Only yesterday.”
Surprise flickered in Windfell’s eyes. “Is he, by Jove? I had not heard. I shall have to pay them both a visit and wish them well.”
“You shall not.”
Windfell frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“You shall not be able to pay Wickham a visit. He has removed to his new regiment in the North.”
“I see. That came about suddenly, did it not?”
“It did. But, I had an…interesting…conversation with him before he left.” He allowed his gaze to linger on Windfell, making it abjectly clear what he knew.
Windfell chewed his upper lip and looked at Darcy. “Did you? How pleasant for you.”
“Not particularly pleasant, it must be said. Informative, however. He did share some interesting tales about how you have fared—since university, I mean.”
Pink stained Windfell’s neck above his modish cravat. “Did he? Well, that is capital, Darcy. But, I find I am growing quite warm here in the sun. Perhaps we shall meet again, soon.” He tipped his hat. “I bid you good-day.”
“I think not, Windfell.” Darcy’s fingers closed around Windfell’s wrist and tightened. He stepped close enough to speak to Windfell in a low tone.
“I shall give you two choices, Marsden. No, don’t try to pull away. Yes. I do know of your spurious claim to the Windfell title. I have a solicitor verifying all the records even as we speak.” Darcy dug the tips of his fingers into the joint between Windfell’s wrist and hand.
“Now, you will speak with me. I shall allow you to choose the location and the manner in which that conversation takes place. If you defy me, I shall have you arrested and detained and we shall conduct our conversation in the presence of a gaoler.”
Confusion, Confession and Conviction Page 7