Mr Darcy handed him the guinea and said, ‘Show me his tab.’
The landlord rummaged behind the bar and brought out a ledger. He opened it and ran a grimy finger down one of the pages. The handwriting was untidy but the ledger had been properly kept. He handed it to Mr Darcy. There it was in black and white: George Wickham - Seven pounds, seven shillings and threepence.
Mr Darcy took out a coin purse and extracted seven guineas. Together with the guinea he had just given the landlord, it covered Wickham’s tab with money to spare.
The landlord looked at the money greedily and licked his lips.
‘He’s out,’ he said, his eyes never leaving the money. ‘Left his doxy —’
Mr Darcy knew he must stop such talk at once. It was imperative that Lydia left the inn with her reputation intact. He could not stop people thinking whatever they liked, but he could stop them saying it. He must impress upon the landlord, and everyone else in the inn, that Lydia should not be mentioned except as a respectable young lady.
‘His cousin,’ said Mr Darcy firmly.
The landlord gave him an incredulous look, but then his gaze returned to the money and he licked his lips again.
‘Whatever you say,’ said the landlord drily. ‘He left his cousin behind. Upstairs, second on the left.’
Mr Darcy nodded. He gave the money to the landlord. Then he took an extra guinea out of his purse.
‘Remember,’ he said. ‘His cousin.’
This was generous indeed and the landlord knew it.
‘Yes, Sir. I remember,’ said the landlord, eyeing the extra guinea. ‘Mr Wickham was here with his cousin. As sweet and innocent a miss as ever I saw. Never a kinder young lady lived. Very protective of her, he was. Made sure she was spoken to respectful like and treated like a lady.’
Mr Darcy nodded, satisfied, and gave him the guinea. The landlord took it, bit it, then put it under the counter.
Mr Darcy turned away from the bar and looked around the room. The interested eyes which had been turned on him looked down into their pots of ale.
Satisfied that no one would speak disrespectfully of Lydia again, and knowing he had quelled the room, he headed for the stairs. He went up, noticing the tattered carpet, but also noticing that it was clean. There was nothing to be feared from Lydia spending a few hours in such a place. She would no doubt regard it as an adventure, whereas some of the lower taverns Wickham frequented would have shocked ever Lydia.
Mr Darcy knocked on the door of the second room on the left.
He heard a giggle and a sound of scampering footsteps, then Miss Lydia Bennet threw open the door. Her hair was a little disordered but she was still dressed with all the precision of a young lady dressed by her maid. He recognised her gown: it was one of Miss Elizabeth’s gowns, paid for by his money as part of her conditions of employment.
So she had given her gown to her sister. That was like her generous spirit. He berated himself even more for the shabby way he had treated her, but he did not dwell on it. He meant to do everything in his power to make amends.
Lydia, on throwing the door opened, said, ‘At last!’
She was obviously expecting Mr Wickham. She was about to jump into his arms when she noticed who was standing there and she faltered, her mouth falling open in a way that would have been comical in different circumstances.
‘Mr Darcy! What are you doing here?’ she exclaimed in astonishment.
‘I have come to take you back to Gracechurch Street,’ he said.
He spoke with more kindness than he felt, and with far more than she deserved.
‘La, don’t you know I am going to be married. I won’t go back until I can call myself Mrs Wickham. What fun it will be, to be married before all of my sisters, and me being the youngest! What a lark.’
‘It will not be such a lark when you find out the truth. George Wickham has no intention of marrying you. He has deceived you. He means to ruin you. Come, fetch your things. Your aunt and uncle are waiting outside and I am here to take you to them.’
He walked back along the landing, expecting her to follow him, for he was used to well behaved young ladies like his sister. But Lydia did no such thing. When he realised she was not following him he turned around.
‘Miss Bennet,’ he said in a stern voice. ‘Come with me.’
‘Back to my aunt and uncle, to be lectured? I’d rather stay here and wait for my dear Wickham. We are off to Gretna Green tomorrow and nothing you can say or do will stop us.’ Her gaze, which had been drifting over his shoulder, suddenly lit up and she ran past him, jumping into the arms of Mr Wickham.
‘George!’ she shouted, smothering him with kisses.
Mr Darcy was horrified. It was bad enough for Lydia to behave in such a way, but to behave in such a way out here on the landing, in public, was even more appalling. He was only thankful that no one was there to see it.
Mr Wickham put an arm round her and then looked at Mr Darcy with a smug and challenging air.
‘I did not expect to see you here, Darcy,’ he said with a smirk. But behind his smirk there was a cautious look. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘I have come in search of Miss Bennet and, now that I have found her, I intend to return her to her aunt and uncle.’
‘But did she not tell you? We are going to be married.’
Mr Darcy was angered by Mr Wickham’s insolence, but he had no intention of making a scene. An argument would bring attention and a crowd of onlookers, and that was something he wanted to avoid. The sooner the matter was dealt with, the better, and so he replied with studied calm.
‘If you are going to be married, why are you not on your way to Gretna Green?’
‘The journey is long, and we want to make an early start so we can complete it in one day.’
Mr Wickham had meant to be impudent, but he had played into Mr Darcy’s hands.
‘You are setting out in the morning?’ asked Mr Darcy.
‘We are,’ said Mr Wickham.
‘In that case,’ said Mr Darcy, turning to Lydia, ‘you can spend the night at Gracechurch Street. You can set out from there as easily as from here. It will be much better than spending the night at an inn with a man who is no yet your husband.’
‘Do not be so stuffy, Darcy,’ said Mr Wickham, enjoying the situation in which he felt he had the upper hand. ‘One night here or there does not make any difference. We are to be married tomorrow anyway.’
‘Are you?’ Mr Darcy asked him pointedly.
‘Of course,’ said Mr Wickham.
Mr Darcy nodded thoughtfully. Then he said, ‘We cannot discuss this in the corridor. Let us go in.’
‘With pleasure,’ said Mr Wickham.
He stood aside so that Lydia could precede him into the room. She had been preening herself throughout the conversation and went over to the mirror to tidy her hair. As soon as she was on the other side of the room, Mr Darcy shut the door on her, leaving himself and Mr Wickham on the landing. Then he faced Mr Wickham squarely.
‘I am not prepared to let you ruin her,’ he said directly.
‘What makes you think I mean to ruin her?’ asked Mr Wickham. ‘I find I like the idea of being married to the sister of your best friend’s wife. It means we can see each other often. Perhaps we can celebrate Christmas together.’
Mr Darcy fought down his anger. He was tempted to wipe the impudent smile from Wickham’s face but knew that an angry reaction would only please Wickham more. He was determined not to be provoked.
‘She has neither fortune nor connections,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘You would soon regret your rashness and you are clever enough to know it.’
‘Then I suppose I must just ruin her. I doubt if Colonel Fitzwilliam would call me out over someone like Lydia Bennet. He would risk scandal and death for the sake of his ward, but not for a young woman who is unknown to him.’
‘You are right, he would not call you out, but her uncle is another matter. He is waiting outside. Shall I i
nvite him in?’
Mr Wickham’s eyebrows shot up and he took a step back, but he soon rallied.
‘From what I hear Mr Gardiner is an old man, a businessman and not a sportsman. I doubt if he could outshoot me.’
They were brave words, but he saw the fear in Mr Wickham’s eyes and knew that he had won. Mr Wickham was a coward, and he had lost the stomach for ruining Lydia. He had planned a night of illicit passion followed by a quick flit, leaving her alone in a room that was not even paid for. But if the lady’s uncle knew where he was, that was another matter.
‘So you see, Darcy, you are wasting your time here,’ said Mr Wickham.
‘Give it up, Wickham. Miss Bennet’s uncle is not the only thing you have to worry about. After seeing you in Meryton I was sure you were up to mischief and so I took a few precautions to ensure your good behaviour.’
‘I know. You sent your cousin round to scare me with talk of duels.’
‘For one thing, yes. But for another, I bought up all of your debts.’
Some of Mr Wickham’s swagger left him and his shoulders drooped.
‘My debts,’ he said, swallowing.
‘Yes. They come to quite a sum. If you behave yourself, I will not call them in. But if aggravate me in any way, any way at all, I will demand payment on all of them at once. You cannot pay, and so you will go to prison. A choice, therefore, stands before you. You can follow my wishes or you can languish in prison.’
Mr Wickham became sullen.
‘And your wishes are?’
‘Let Miss Bennet go. Tell her you have changed your mind. Send her back to her family. Then go through with your plan to join the militia. My cousin has already spoken to his friends in the militia. You will be sent to the far north, away from me and everyone I have any interest in.’
Mr Wickham looked shocked.
‘That is too much to ask. I will let Lydia go but I will not be banished to the north.’
‘Then I will call in your debts. If you go, however, you will have a clean slate. I promise never to call them in, as long as you do not annoy me again, in any way.’
‘I cannot go north with no money,’ said Mr Wickham in desperation.
Mr Darcy brought out his purse.
‘You can have what is in my purse. It amounts to perhaps fifteen or twenty guineas. Well, Wickham, what is it to be?’
‘I must have time,’ he began, running his hand through his hair.
‘No. You have run out of time. I want your answer now. Either you let Miss Lydia go or I will send one of the tavern boys for her uncle. If you survive the encounter, I will call in your debts. So what is it to be?’
Mr Wickham cursed roundly but the outcome was never in doubt. He opened the door and Lydia fell out. She had been trying to open the door ever since she realised the gentlemen had not followed her, but Wickham had held it closed.
‘I am sorry, my sweet, but I find we cannot marry after all. I cannot afford to keep a wife and so you must go back to your family.’
‘But you promised!’ cried Lydia. ‘I want to be married before any of my sisters. You have to marry me.’
‘My angel, I have to do nothing of the sort,’ he said, disentangling her arms, which she had wound around his neck. ‘Now be a good girl and go with Mr Darcy. If you do as he says he might buy you a new bonnet.’
Lydia, who had been about to berate him further, was distracted by this and looked at Mr Darcy expectantly.
‘If you behave yourself, and come with me quietly, I will think about it,’ he said.
‘A London bonnet?’ asked Lydia.
‘I make no promises,’ said Mr Darcy.
‘Then why should I go with you?’ demanded Lydia.
It was Mr Wickham who replied.
‘Because you might get a bonnet from Darcy, whereas you will definitely get nothing from me,’ he said.
Lydia cried and protested, then became sulky and petulant. At last she donned her outdoor clothes and went with Mr Darcy, complaining all the while.
He had been in the tavern for a little over a quarter of an hour and the coachman was walking the horses. He signalled the man to bring the carriage. When it stopped beside them, he handed her in.
‘Lydia!’ exclaimed Mr and Mrs Gardiner together.
The look of relief on their faces was a reward for Mr Darcy.
‘Lydia, how could you be so wicked. We have all been so worried,’ said Mrs Gardiner.
‘La! You make such a fuss,’ said Lydia.
‘That is no way to talk to your aunt,’ said Mr Gardiner. He turned to Mr Darcy. ‘Mr Darcy, we can never thank you enough.’
‘No, indeed,’ said Mrs Gardiner. ‘Our whole family is indebted to you.’
Mr Darcy’s thoughts went at once to Miss Elizabeth. He pictured the look of relief on her face when she heard the news and felt he was well recompensed for the trouble he had taken. He only hoped it would go some way to making amends for the way he had treated her.
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Mr Darcy.
Mr and Mrs Gardiner both bowed their heads, in acknowledgement of his generosity.
‘As for you, young lady,’ said Mr Gardiner to Lydia, ‘you should be ashamed of yourself.’
Lydia slumped back on her seat, arms folded, and sulked all the way back to Gracechurch Street.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As Mr Darcy was returning Lydia to Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth was sitting down to dinner at Netherfield Park. Mr Bingley kept country hours and dinner was served early. Elizabeth wished she did not have to spend the entire day at Netherfield, since she was finding it a strain to appear at ease when really she was very concerned about Lydia, and about Mr Darcy’s revelations. But they were engaged to spend the whole day and evening there, including supper, and Elizabeth knew she must make the best of it. She was glad for Jane, at least. Mr Bingley’s presence soothed Jane’s own anxiety, and not even Lydia’s predicament could erase Jane’s joy.
After dinner, they all retired to the drawing-room. Talk turned to the alterations Mr Bingley meant to make at Netherfield, once he owned it, and he frequently asked Jane her opinion. Then the conversation turned to the wedding tour Mr Bingley and Jane were planning, which would take them to the north of England.
The evening passed.
Just as supper was about to be served, there was a knock at the door.
‘Who can that be at this time of night?’ wondered Mr Bingley aloud.
His question was answered a minute or two later when Mr Darcy was announced.
Elizabeth was perplexed and anxious as she saw him walk into the room. She had convinced herself that he must have returned to town after seeing her, and yet here he was. What did it mean? Where had he been? Why had he returned?
‘Darcy! This is a pleasant surprise,’ said Mr Bingley, jumping up to greet his friend.
Greetings were exchanged amongst all the party. He made her a bow but she would not meet his eye and made only the slightest curtsey. Once they were all seated, Mr Bingley asked about his journey, the conditions of the road, and whether he had stopped to eat on the way.
‘I am sorry to arrive so late,’ said Mr Darcy as he seated himself. ‘I had intended to be here earlier in the day, but business in town detained me. I have come in answer to your letter, asking for my help in assessing the estate and giving you the benefit of my experience.’
‘You are welcome at any time, my dear fellow, you know that,’ said Mr Bingley. ‘You are particularly welcome as you have come to help me. I have my lawyers and stewards to advise me, but there is no substitute for a friend’s advice.’
‘We can go around the estate tomorrow. I am glad you have decided to buy it. A married man needs an estate. I must offer you my congratulations on your splendid news. I was surprised when you spoke to me in London, and I think I neglected to tell you how pleased I was for you.’
Mr Bingley smiled at this mark of approval from his friend.
Then Mr Darcy turned to Ja
ne. ‘And I offer my congratulations to you too, Miss Bennet.’
Jane blushed and thanked him for his good wishes.
Elizabeth was astonished at his manner. She did not know what to make of it. He seemed to be setting himself out to please.
‘By the way, I called upon your aunt and uncle in town,’ Mr Darcy said to Jane. ‘I wanted to pay my respects, and to tell them how happy you have made my friend. I saw your three younger sisters there’ – he emphasised the word three – ‘and they asked me to send their good wishes, which I am pleased to do. Your aunt and uncle also send their good wishes.’
Three younger sisters! Then Lydia must be safe, thought Elizabeth. But how had it happened? And what did it have to do with Mr Darcy? Had he gone to Gracechurch Street especially to make enquiries? If so, then he had made the journey between London and Hertfordshire three times that day. He had travelled first to Netherfield Park, then, on learning of Lydia’s predicament, he had returned to London, and finally he had travelled back to Netherfield Park. Why had he done it? Elizabeth had questions and no answers.
Jane was not troubled by any such considerations. She was only relieved that Lydia was safe, as Elizabeth could tell by the look of relief which crossed Jane’s face.
‘It was very kind of you to take so much trouble,’ Jane said. ‘I am sure we are both grateful to you for paying your respects to Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and for bringing us news of all our sisters. Are we not, Elizabeth?’
Despite her questions, Elizabeth was just as relieved as Jane, and she said, ‘We are indeed.’
‘Then I am well paid for my efforts,’ said Mr Darcy, looking at Elizabeth with a softening expression. He continued to look at her and went on, ‘Once again, I must apologise.’
The way he spoke to her was personal. It was as if he were apologising to her, and her alone; as if he were not apologising for his late arrival, but apologising to her for doubting her, and for dismissing her in such a terrible manner.
A Companion For Miss Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 25