Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice

by Wells, Linda

  “I know. And you were happy to further his aims.”

  “I regret that, Darcy.”

  “Pardon me if I do not clasp you in my arms with an embrace of instant forgiveness. If you had succeeded in keeping us apart, I doubt that you would have felt regret.” Darcy said scornfully.

  “Will you tell me how Georgiana is? And the child? Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “It is my right!”

  “You have no rights!” Darcy bellowed. “A cur has no rights! None! You took an innocent and kept her for four months! Why? Why did you put me through that living hell? I had no idea where she was, if she was living or dead, kidnapped, sold into slavery … my God, Wickham! We were at odds, but that was between us, that was personal … We were once friends …” Darcy’s fury was growing and he clenched his fists. “ANSWER ME!”

  Wickham watched, preparing to fight again, “I was angry and I wanted to hurt you.”

  “Because YOU wasted an income that would keep any other man for TWENTY YEARS?”

  “But YOUR father raised me to expect more!”

  “He did no such thing! He educated you, he offered you a living so that the education would be put to use!”

  “He never told me any of that. I … I thought that I should have the same as you.”

  Darcy’s hand waved. “Richard is the younger son of an earl, and what did he do? He joined the army! Why the devil should you, the son of a steward, receive more than he?”

  “I was not born to your life. That is just what I thought …”

  “Fuck your thoughts! Fuck your pretensions! Fuck your expectations, and while you are at it, fuck you!! You were not George Darcy’s son, how could you feel entitled to anything?” You took Georgiana away from all that she knew and left her ruined!”

  “She wanted to go, she was angry …”

  “She was a fifteen year old girl who was jealous that I wanted to find a wife.” Darcy spat. “She wanted all of my attention and was acting out. You were supposed to be an adult. You saw opportunity and took it.”

  “I did not marry her.” Wickham threw back at him. “I could be your brother right now, and have her dowry.”

  “Why are you not my dear brother?” Darcy demanded. “Why did you use her for your pleasure and then not marry her?”

  “I … I …” Wickham hesitated.

  “She was worth a great deal more to you as a wife than a lover.” Darcy’s sharp eyes roamed over Wickham’s face. Bruises were forming rapidly, and the swelling was obliterating Darcy’s ability to discern his emotions, other than the fear that was apparent in his bloodshot eyes. “Married, you know that I would have made sure that she was in a decent home, and provided with money to live on when you wasted away her dowry.” Darcy moved closer. Wickham attempted to back away but was stopped by the wall. Darcy’s fist grabbed his lapel. “What is the truth? What was your plan for her? Did you have one? Did it fall through? Had you found someone to marry her who was going to pay you more?” Darcy was now inches from Wickham’s face. “Tell me, or I will gladly give your balls a twist that no whore could ever repair.”

  “I had no plan!” Wickham cried as he protected his groin with his bruised hands.

  “I do not believe you!”

  “I … I … Yes, I took her, I wanted to hurt you … but … I liked it, I liked having … her caring for me. I liked being her hus …”

  “Good God.” Darcy threw him backwards against the wall. Wickham fell heavily, cracking his head against the wood. “You had a doll, and you played with it.”

  “I am sorry, Darcy. I swear; I never treated her poorly.” Wickham blinked, shaking away the stars in his eyes. “I did my best for her.”

  “Your best, that is laughable. You did not lift a finger to provide for her beyond the effort it took to open your purse and sell her belongings. If you cared for her, why did I find her in that vermin-infested room?” Darcy nodded. “Which story sounds realistic? The one I know or the one you invented for yourself?”

  “At least I … knew that she had to go home.”

  “You suspected the pregnancy.”

  “I have been with enough pregnant girls selling themselves to know.” He spoke to the wall. “I wrote to you.”

  “You demanded payment.”

  “Yes.” He admitted and looked back at him. “But it did bring her home.”

  “Sending her home ruined and pregnant. What a wonderful husband you were. Georgiana was just another mess left for me to repair. Another merchant to pay off, another debt of honour to settle, so that the good Darcy name was not dragged into the mud.”

  “I had not thought of that …”

  “Why not? You are lazy, Wickham. You were given the tools and the opportunity to have a life that my brother Collins coveted. Did you really expect me to come to that hell hole with cash in hand for you?”

  “You always have in the past.”

  “That was my fault for ever giving in. And my response to your threat to expose her? She read your letter to me as well as the tender one you sent to her.” Wickham looked down. “Again, you leave me wondering, which was closer to the truth.”

  “I care for her, Darcy.”

  “Do not ever say that to me again.”

  “Is she well?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the baby?”

  “She is well.”

  “A girl.” Wickham looked away and wiped his eyes.

  “Are you disappointed?”

  “No, I am relieved, actually. A boy might have grown to be like me. A girl.” He took a breath. “What is her name? What does she look like?”

  “No, I will not tell you more. I will protect her from the likes of you, just as I will every daughter of mine, when they come.”

  “You will raise her? I thought that the judge would …”

  “How did you …?” Darcy nodded. “Of course, my idiot cousin told you. That is how the pregnancy was confirmed and how you knew … how did you know to come here?”

  “I overheard your coachman talking to the footman outside of that townhouse in Gracechurch Street.” He shrugged.

  “I always said that you were clever.”

  “Do you remember that game we played … Observation your father called it?”

  “If I did not remember, Wickham, I never would have tried to protect you for all of those years.” Darcy said softly.

  “You tried to protect me.” Wickham tried to understand the statement. “I never saw that. Paying off my debts, clearing the room of the contraband and the women … I thought that it was all to save your reputation.”

  “I will not deny it, but it was also to save yours; and to protect you from Father’s ire … I thought that we were friends. You were a member of the family.” Wickham’s stunned expression only increased Darcy’s disgust. “Clearly I was incorrect.”

  “No. I … I do not know what happened.”

  “Why did you come to Pemberley with Christmas? Was it for money? I see no other reason for you to take such a risk. Did he put you up to it? Why was he in my home?”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “You left a sketch of yourself in the cabin in the walnut groves, one that Georgiana made. You left your clothing, as well. You were there when the carriage crashed.” Darcy’s calm snapped and he was back in Wickham’s face, snarling, “YOU left Elizabeth all alone, crying for me when the carriage went over the side! You did nothing to comfort her, let alone see if I was alive! You left my WIFE to suffer! WHY?” He demanded.

  “I did not know that she was there!”

  “How could you not know?”

  “I was running, Darcy. I was running as fast and hard as I could. I wanted to get out of there!”

  “So you watched the crash and ran away? Did you intend for us both to die?”

  “No, no … I was …” He threw up his hands. “No, Darcy. I did not want you to die. Believe me; I did not want you to die.”<
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  “Then why were you there?”

  “Why was who where?”

  Both men turned. There at the entrance to the shed stood Samuel, and coming up behind him was Judge Darcy. “We saw your horse tied up outside … Good Lord, Darcy, what has happened to you? Who is this man?” Samuel ran up to his cousin and taking him by the shoulders, helped him back against the wall. Darcy winced and held his side. “Your ribs?”

  “They are fine, Cousin.” Darcy glanced at Wickham.

  “Elizabeth will throttle you if they are hurt again.” Samuel pulled a flask from his greatcoat and handed it to him.

  Harding had advanced and stopped. He and Wickham were staring at each other. Both faces were frozen, but both sets of eyes held the same wary expression. Darcy held the flask and watched them. “Uncle, Samuel, I believe that you have both met Wickham.”

  “Wickham!” Samuel spun around to stare. “YOU!”

  “Oh, God.” Wickham broke his gaze with Harding as Samuel towered over him.

  “This is the bastard that hurt Georgiana?”

  “Yes.” Darcy said quietly.

  “Why is he not dead?”

  “Because I found him first.”

  Samuel turned to his father. “Have we grounds to kill him, Father?”

  “To do so would mean exposing Georgiana’s ruin.” The judge kept his gaze locked onto Wickham’s darting eyes.

  “Not if he was found floating down the river.” Samuel waved at the open doors. “He could have fallen in, just like Elizabeth did. She nearly died in there, did she not, Darcy?”

  “Yes.” He said emotionlessly.

  “How can you let him continue to breathe!” Samuel was nearly mad with his anger. “A child, an innocent child, and he …” Lifting his boot he kicked Wickham in the groin. The men watched him fall over and writhe in pain.

  Darcy smiled. “That seems to be a favourite technique of the Darcy men.” Samuel wiped his hand over his face and through his hair. The judge’s brow was creased and he seemed to be lost. “Uncle?”

  “I …” He swallowed and finding his way over to the bench, sank down. “I seem to remember …” He shook his head. A darkened room much like the shadowed shed came to mind. It was dank and musty, a single shaft of light came from a window high in the ceiling, and he remembered a man writhing on the ground after being kicked in the balls, the same man who was gasping in pain before him.

  “Sir?” Darcy’s concern drew Samuel’s attention away from Wickham.

  “Father?”

  “What has he said, Fitzwilliam?”

  “Nothing that surprises me. We were just about to address his presence at Pemberley with Christmas when you arrived.”

  “Were you.” He said woodenly and standing; walked over to Wickham and knelt down beside him. “And why were you at Pemberley, Wickham?”

  Wickham stared at the judge from his position curled into a ball on the straw-covered floor. “You tell me.”

  “Damn his insolance!” Samuel cried.

  “Why were you at Pemberley, Uncle?” Darcy asked quietly. “Nearly the first words from your lips inquired after Wickham being on the grounds.”

  The judge slowly turned his gaze to his nephew. “I suspected he was not through with you.”

  “And you were correct.” Darcy nodded at Wickham. “Were you?”

  Slowly, Wickham sat up. “I was trying to be.”

  “Christmas knew what you had done?”

  Wickham glanced at the judge. “Yes.”

  “And he wanted to profit from it somehow?”

  “He wanted a great prize, yes.”

  “And he had to get it from me?”

  “Something like that. He failed, and I escaped.” Wickham sighed.

  “What did he hold over you?”

  “The same thing that you do.” Wickham looked at Samuel. “My life.”

  “Well, that is no great prize.” Samuel seethed.

  Darcy spoke with quiet authority. “This is my matter to address. Georgiana is my responsibility, not yours, not Uncle’s, not Richard’s. I will settle this on my terms.” He looked to the door. “Go and wait outside or return to the house, it is up to you.”

  “William, we will not leave you with him!”

  “I think that he is quite incapable of mounting much of an attack, Samuel.” Darcy pointed to the door. “Go on.”

  “Father …”

  “No, Son. Fitzwilliam is correct. This is his business, it always has been and his life would have been much easier if his relatives stayed well away from him.” Harding cleared his throat and put his hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “You truly are the head of this family, and have proven it time and again. Whatever your decisions, we will abide by them without protest.” Nodding, he walked out of the shed. Samuel looked from his cousin to Wickham, and then unhappily followed his father out.

  “Thank you.” Wickham breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Richard would be much more difficult to stop. I suggest that you be on your way to wherever your future takes you before he catches wind that you are truly about.”

  “I will.” He looked down and was surprised when the flask was offered to him. He took a long draw and handed it back.

  “That is the last thing I will ever provide for you, Wickham. Do not ever approach me or my family again. Not for money, employment, food … anything. You are on your own now. Am I clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Georgiana says that you are planning to watch her from afar.”

  “It would be a lie to say that I won’t now.”

  “I know. And I could tell you to keep well away, but you won’t. Just … don’t let her see you. And don’t ask for money.” Darcy spoke seriously and Wickham nodded. “Why did you come to Pemberley that day?”

  “To kill you.” Wickham said bitterly as he rubbed his face.

  Darcy drew in a long breath and looked up at the ceiling, “You ran away rather than carry it out?”

  “I tried to warn you with a letter.”

  “I burned it.”

  “No great surprise there.” Wickham eyed the flask, but Darcy put it away.

  “Who put you up to carry this out?”

  “Christmas. He had a very impressive knife.”

  “Why would he want me dead?”

  “Ask him.” Wickham stared at his boots.

  “Rather difficult, seeing as he is dead.”

  “Dead men tell no tales.”

  “Should I drop this inquiry, George?” Darcy said softly.

  “You are alive. Your wife is well, Georgiana has delivered and no doubt you will have her presented to society and admired for the sweet woman she is. And there is a little girl now …”

  “And what would you do to any man who touched her before she was married?”

  “I would kill him.” Wickham looked up at him.

  Darcy nodded and slowly stood. “I consider our debts to be even now. Get off my land, and never let me see your shadow again. Otherwise, I will tell Richard where to find you.”

  “Thank you, Darcy.” Wickham struggled, but finally stood. “Just one last request. What is her name?”

  Walking towards the door, Darcy stopped and studied him for a few moments. “Hope.” Turning, he walked out into the sunshine.

  Wickham placed his hand on the wall and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Georgiana.”

  Chapter 19

  “Where have you been?” Sophie asked softly when Richard kissed her hand and placed it on his arm. “I have endured two days of teasing from my brothers and I am … I am at my wits end defending you!”

  “Defending me?” Richard laughed. “My goodness, what did they suppose I was doing? Strike that, what did you suppose I was doing?”

  “I hardly know.” She sighed. “I could bear it if you had gone home, but when you are only a few miles away …”

  Richard squeezed her hand. “I am sorry, Miss Kelly. The Darcys’ guests arrived and I had to remain in place. As we had
no fixed appointment I … I suppose that I should have sent a note to your father.”

  “Or Mrs. Darcy could have sent one to me.” She looked down and he smiled.

  “That would have been far better, as I could have slipped my own note within.” Their eyes met. “I will remember that next time.”

  “What would it say?”

  “Nothing memorable, I assure you.” Chuckling, he saw her disappointment. “Do not ever expect a sonnet from me. I am … very male.”

  “Now what on earth does that mean? The greatest poet I know is Rabbie Burns!”

  “I am not given to flowery prose.” Fascinated, he watched her eyes narrow.

  “Mrs. Darcy?” Sophie called to Elizabeth, who was seated with her mother and Mrs. Annesley. “May I ask a possibly intrusive question?”

  “Certainly!” She brightened and turned to her. “They are often the most interesting.”

  “Does Mr. Darcy write to you?”

  “Yes.” She smiled fondly. “Lovely letters. And sometimes a sonnet when he is especially inspired.”

  “He does?” Richard said with surprise. “But you are never apart!”

  “Yes, he does, and what does distance have to do with expressions of love?”

  “You would agree that Mr. Darcy is most assuredly male, Colonel.” Sophie challenged.

  “Perhaps you see this as part of his kowtowing to me?” Elizabeth’s brow rose suggestively and Richard licked his lips when she turned to Sophie. “Mr. Fitzwilliam seems to believe that behaving in a gentlemanly manner is demeaning to the male ego.”

  “I said no such thing!” He protested as the women of the room fixed their eyes upon him.

  “Or did you think that my husband was placating me?” Elizabeth tilted her head.

  “Well …”

  “But you labelled him weak for wanting me to be happy?”

  “You were most definitely happy when I found you, Mrs. Darcy.” He growled.

  “I was until you appeared, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”

  “What on earth did you do to them?” Sophie demanded.

  “Nothing!” He cried. “I … I …” He threw up his hands and pointed at Elizabeth. “You are supposed to be helping me!”

  “Helping you do what, exactly?”

  “Oh, Lord!”