by Emma Crawley
Father replaced his spectacles and gave me one of his sardonic smiles.
“Yes, my health matters more than ever now, does it not? Especially as Lydia has likely ruined any hope you had of making suitable matches to take care of you all after I am gone. I notice there has been no visit from Mr Darcy or even a message.”
I blanched and gave a quick nod, averting my eyes to the fire. The pain was too raw to endure my father’s sarcasm with good grace.
He sighed. “I thought he was made of stronger stuff. Ah, well. If he can be frightened out of his love for you, so be it. He is no loss.”
I continued to stare into the fire as my eyes prickled. I refused to look at my father.
“That is no comfort, though, is it?” he asked in a gentler tone.
My throat was too tight to respond. Father rose from his chair and patted me on the shoulder. I would not look away until I heard the door close and knew he had left the room.
We had been in London for almost a week. I was home alone, as usual. My father and uncle were once again revisiting some of their earlier haunts in case there was more news. My aunt had taken the children out to visit a friend at my urging.
“They know something is amiss,” I said. “It will be better for them to play with other children so they need not worry about what is happening. I would much rather stay home by myself, anyway.”
She finally agreed to leave. I looked around at the empty house and sighed. Another long day and another disappointing evening at the end of it stretched before me. As evening drew in, I sat at the window overlooking the busy street below, watching the merchants travel back and forth, envying them their mundane lives, knowing that for them, this day was much like any other with no particular concerns to worry about. I had forgotten what that felt like. No matter what happened after this, I had a feeling nothing would ever feel normal again.
As I traced people up and down the street, making up idle stories about their lives to pass the time, my eye fixed on one individual in particular. His coat was rather shabby and his hair and beard unkempt. In this street of smart merchants confident in their movements, this man stood out. His appearance was less noticeable than the furtive glances he took around him. I fixed my attention on him, suspecting he might be up to no good. He glanced up at the houses, paying attention to the doors. His lips moved, and he retraced his steps a few times as if uncertain of his actions.
Finally, he came to a stop outside our house. He looked up at the house, and I drew back from the window in case he saw me watching him. When I cautiously moved forward again, he had moved away a few steps. He paused, then turned on his heel and came back to the house. He raised his hand to knock but drew it back. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he hurried down the street.
I watched him for a moment, then, seized with an impulse, I ran from the room and hurried down the stairs. I pulled open the front door and chased him.
He heard my running footsteps and turned in alarm.
“What were you doing outside on the street?” I demanded. “You made as if to knock but changed your mind. What do you know?”
The man looked a little apprehensive. He glanced about, then stared at the ground.
“Do you know anything about Wickham?” I demanded.
“I might do,” he said cagily.
“Well?”
“I know Wickham. I wish I didn’t.” He swallowed and clenched his fists at his side. “I have not seen him for a long time, but word got around some gents were looking for him. I saw him on the street, but he did not see me. I followed him and saw where he went. It’s a boarding house. I would have beaten him myself, but I thought I’d get more satisfaction from turning him over and claiming the reward.”
My heart pounded. I was almost afraid to allow my hopes to built too high.
“You know Wickham? You are sure?”
The man laughed bitterly. “Oh, I know him. As I said, I wish I didn’t. He ruined my sister’s life. Left her with a baby. She never recovered from the birth and died after. I have my niece now, not that he’d want anything to do with her.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders trembling. “I wanted to kill him. But I am all my niece has. Thought it better I get the reward and use it to pay for her.”
My throat tightened.
“I am sorry about your sister. And you are right. The reward will help your niece far more than a spell in Newgate though I cannot blame you for the sentiment. Can you take me to him?”
“Take you?” The man blinked in astonishment. “What; all on your own? It is no place for a lady.”
I hesitated and looked up at the sky. My father and uncle would be some hours yet. I was not sure where my aunt had gone. I could at least see the place and be back with the information before they were home. I could not sit in the drawing-room when I could see where Wickham was. I nodded briskly.
“Do not worry about that. I need not enter. Just take me there.”
“It is a bit of a walk, mind.”
I smiled. “I do not mind walking.”
33
We crossed the bridge toward Southwark. As we walked, I learned more about the man whose name was John. He spoke at length about his niece, Martha, who has just over a year old. It was clear John was devoted to the infant and grieved his sister deeply. I privately resolved I would persuade Father to increase the reward as much as he could afford.
Southwark was a lively place but much different to the part of London I had just left. Try as I might, I could not resist staring about at the brothels. I had never been so close to such places in all my life. I knew I should have averted my eyes, but as I should not have been there at all, there was little point in being prim now. A tavern door burst open as two men came brawling out onto the street. A crowd followed outside to shout and cheer while one enterprising fellow went about collecting wagers. It wasn’t until John out a gentle hand on my elbow to guide me away that I realised I had stopped to watch.
Heads turned to follow us as he passed by.
“It is your dress,” he explained. “Everyone can see you are a fine lady.”
I looked down in surprise at my simple frock. No one would consider me a fine lady in other parts of London. This was one of my plainest gowns. But as I looked about at the other women in their dark colours and sturdier clothes, I realised my light coloured muslin was not something most women here could use.
“Here…” John removed his coat. “Put this on. And maybe lose a few hairpins. We don’t want word getting around the taverns that they saw a lady of your description in the area. Wickham might recognise you and run.”
I had been about to refuse his coat, but I saw his point and was annoyed I had not considered it myself. I threw his coat on over my gown. It was much too large for me, and the sleeves extended past my hands. I had to shake them back as I pulled some hairpins loose until some of my hair tumbled about my shoulders. I raked at the curls to make them less tidy and turned to John.
“How do I look?”
John looked me over and made a face. “I’m not so sure…”
I glanced at my reflection in a window. I thought I looked unpresentable, but it was hard to tell. As my focus shifted from my reflection to what the window contained, an idea struck me, and I dashed toward it.
I emerged a moment later the owner of a plain straw bonnet with a brim wide enough to conceal much of my face. I gave John a questioning look. He sighed unhappily.
“Yes, I suppose it will do.”
I walked with more confidence now I had less reason to fear anyone would remark upon me.
“Not much further now,” John muttered. “I need to return to Martha. She is with a neighbour, but she will look for me.”
He led me down a laneway then across a churchyard. Finally, he drew to a stop in another busy street. He looked up at a dilapidated building and nodded.
“That is it?” I whispered though no one was paying us any attention.
“That’s the one.”
&n
bsp; I eyed the commotion around the entrance as several men reeled and laughed drunkenly.
“I thought you said it was a boarding house?”
“It is. But Mrs Younge has turned the bottom floor into a tavern of sorts. The boarders take the rooms upstairs.”
Mrs Younge. Something pulled in my mind. I had heard that name before and not too long ago. Where had I heard it?
“And you are certain you saw Wickham go in there?”
“As I said, I have good reason to remember him.” John drew in a breath. “I should take you back. Now you know where to find him and…”
“The bottom floor is a tavern, you say?”
“It is.” John watched me warily. If he saw where my mind was leading me, he did not like it.
“So it is easy to walk into the house without arousing suspicion.”
“Miss Bennet…”
“Look at me.” I spread my hands to show my plain clothes. The bottom of my pale muslin poked out below John’s coat, but in the dim light of a tavern, it should not be very noticeable. “I think I can pass as a boarder, could I not?”
“It is not safe. I did not bring you here to get you into trouble.”
“You will not. But now I am so close to Lydia, I cannot walk away without at least trying to see her. I will be unobserved. I might discover her room. It will only add another five minutes, and then we can leave.”
John started to argue again but seeing the determination in my eyes, he gave an unhappy nod.
“Very well. But let me do the talking. Once you open your mouth, anyone will see you don’t belong here.”
I agreed. John gave me one last unhappy look then nodded. We hurried across the street, dancing around carts and drunks until we reached the entrance.
34
"Keep your face down," John muttered. I kept my eyes fixed to the floor as we entered the dim, smoky taproom. The sound was uproarious. I did not know how anyone could hold a conversation when everyone seemed determined to outshout his companions. I glanced up and took in as much about the occupants of the room as I could, desperate for some sign of my sister. There were few women in the room and those that were either tavern wenches, prostitutes or both. I could see no sign of Lydia.
One man, in particular, was observing me. He was in a far corner out of the main candlelight, but as I glanced from under my lashes, I could see his head turn to follow me. On impulse, I grabbed 'John's arm to link it. Something about that seemed to relieve him.
"I 'didn't want to offend you, but it will be safer if they believe 'you're here with me," he said. "They will need to think you are my — er — my— "
I blushed though a small part of me thrilled at the subterfuge.
"I understand," I muttered. "I am not offended."
I did not flinch as John put his arm around me though he apologised endlessly as he did so.
"Hey, John. Never thought 'I'd see you in here with a piece," someone yelled. Uproarious laughter followed the comment.
"And 'I'll never see you in here with a piece like this one," John retorted. "Go back to your drink and drown your envy."
The man burst out laughing.
"That was fortunate," John muttered. "'He's an idiot but a good-natured sort. There are some here who will not be so easily appeased if they decide they deserve you more than I do. Do you see your sister?"
I glanced about again. The man in the far corner still watched me. I shuddered, remembering 'John's words. I hoped this fellow would not be trouble.
"No. Let us go upstairs. We might see Wickham or Lydia in the passage."
"Go upstairs?" John looked a little scandalised.
"They already think I am your — what did they call me — your piece? There seems little point in being coy now. And it might be safer than this room."
I glanced uneasily behind me at the man. To my relief, he had disappeared.
"We will not stay there long. Just enough to see if we can see their room."
John sighed. "I suppose we are here now…"
We made our way to the stairs. Couples went up and down enough that we drew no more attention than any of the rest. The situation hit me; I was climbing the stairs of a house that seemed almost a brothel with a 'man's arm around me while everyone around me thought I was there for him. My lips twitched as I imagined my 'mother's reaction. She must never learn of this, or there would not be enough smelling salts in the world to help her recover.
We climbed up to the next floor, which led to a small passage containing several doors. There was only one more floor above this one.
"We should go back," said John. "If someone finds here us…"
There were no windows along the passage, and the few tallow candles gave little light. I ventured forward, telling myself I could turn into the shadows if Wickham suddenly emerged from a room.
"We cannot even know which room your sister is in," whispered John.
"It is this one." I pointed at the door in front of me.
"How do you know…"
"But whyyyy can we not go outside? I am so bored here. You promised this would be fun. I am tired of sitting here all day. I want to go to the theatre."
I turned to John, my eyebrows raised. "I would know that voice anywhere. Excellent. We know where she is." I paused and looked longingly at the door. "It is hard to walk away, knowing she is just on the other side."
"But we must. We cannot do anything just the two of us. I beg you, Miss Bennet, come with me."
I sighed and went to turn away. As I did, footsteps came out of the dark, so suddenly I had no time to hide. Wickham! All was lost. How could I have been so foolish? We would never have time to fetch my father and uncle before they disappeared again.
I looked around wildly for a place to hide, but a shape loomed out of the shadows and was on me in a moment. I opened my mouth to scream, but a large hand was placed over my mouth. John rushed to my side, but the powerfully built stranger held him off with little effort.
I panicked and tried to kick, but the man swung me into the direct path of the candlelight. The strength almost left my legs as he came into view. He slowly drew his hand away from my mouth.
"Darcy!"
"Elizabeth."
John looked between the two of us in bewilderment as we stared at one another.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded.
He raised an eyebrow.
"I might ask you the same question. And believe me, I have many more of them." Darcy's jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened in the flickering light. "Who is this man, and why did he have his arm around you?" he said, his voice almost a growl.
"To protect me," I said. I grabbed his arm to prevent him from doing anything foolish. "This is John. He told me Wickham was here. I insisted on coming in here to find the room before fetching anyone else. He wanted the patrons to leave me alone by believing I was his." I glanced at John who watched on, still wide-eyed. "Wickham also trifled with his sister. She was not as lucky as yours or, hopefully, mine."
'John's eyes flickered with sadness. He swallowed and glanced at the floor. Darcy observed him for a moment. When I saw his eyes soften, I knew it was safe to release his arm.
"I am very sorry for your loss," he said. He offered his hand to John, who eyed it warily for a moment before shaking it. "Wickham is a vile man. Thank you for taking care of Miss Bennet. In other circumstances, I might have berated you for bringing her here, but I know how headstrong she is."
"What do we do now?" I asked. "We cannot stand here speaking. And what are you doing here?"
"It is where I spend my Saturdays," said Darcy. As I opened my mouth in outrage, he smiled a little. "Looking for Wickham. I suspected he would be with Mrs Younge, but I took a while to locate her. She changes premises a lot from what I hear."
Mrs Younge. The lady who had worked as 'Georgiana's companion and had arranged for her to elope with Wickham. No wonder the name was so familiar.
Before I could say anything else, a door ope
ned. The three of us turned at once to see Wickham walking toward us. His head was down, but a smile played over his lips as though he were pleased with himself. He lifted his head to greet us nonchalantly only to stand rooted to the spot when he recognised the three faces before him.
"What…" he began.
He turned and tried to run back to the room, but Darcy and John were on him in a moment. I ran to the room and opened the door to see Lydia lounging on the bed.
"So, you changed your mind…" she began. She turned to look at me and her smile faded. She swung her legs around to sit up.
"Lizzy!" she cried in astonishment. "I cannot believe it. What are you doing here? Am I dreaming? I do feel a little funny after those drinks Wickham gives me."
I hurried toward her and gripped her arms.
"I am not a dream. Come, Lydia, we have all been distressed about you. You must come home at once."
"I am not going anywhere." 'Lydia's face was obstinate. "I am marrying Wickham, and I will not leave him. He is to be my husband."
"After today, he will be no 'one's husband," I said grimly. "Lydia, listen to me. Wickham is not the man you think he is. You are not the first girl he has tried this with. I have two gentlemen with me, both of whom have sisters Wickham trifled with. One lady tragically died from the condition he abandoned her in. I will not have that happen to you."
Something flickered in 'Lydia's eyes. My heart raised, thinking I was getting through to her. But her stubbornness settled about her once again.
"Wickham loves me. He wishes to marry me. Perhaps these other ladies believed he loved them, but he never told them that?"
"That is not true."
I turned at the sound of 'John's voice. He stood in the doorway, his face grim but oddly elevated. "He told my sister, Martha, he loved her too. That he would marry her. He made many promises and called her his 'heart's best treasure…"
At the look on 'Lydia's face, I suspected Wickham had used similar words on her.
"When she told him she was with child, he laughed and said he would have nothing to do with her or the baby. He wanted an heiress, he said, and she should have known he would never marry her. He left, and from what I hear, he then went to Ramsgate where he tried his luck with that 'gentleman's sister. Mr Darcy. Mr 'Darcy's sister was more fortunate than mine. Mine died giving birth to her little girl. Now, little Martha is all I have left of her thanks to him."