Upon closing the door on his unsuccessful interview with Lydia Bennet, Darcy walked slowly down the hall and stairs to the inn’s public rooms and Wickham, considering his next moves. The rogue would believe he held the upper hand, and indeed, he did in immediate particulars. The facts of Darcy’s presence and Lydia’s obstinacy proclaimed it. But it was a tenuous ascendancy, and it remained to Darcy to impress upon Wickham every uncertainty and danger inherent in his position as acutely as possible while still keeping his birds in hand. For if they flew, all might well be lost.
Wickham turned from the window as Darcy entered the public room, his perpetual smirk widening as he broadly noted that Darcy came down alone. He sauntered over to the table that they had occupied previously, setting down a half-empty glass before sitting. “Amazingly loyal little thing, is she not? I have not quite decided whether that is an advantageous or an unfortunate trait in a woman, but there it is. What shall you do about it?”
“Indeed,” Darcy replied, taking the opposite chair. “What would you suggest?”
Wickham laughed as if he had made a joke, but his levity trailed and sobered under Darcy’s continued solemn regard. “Well,” he offered, “you might carry her off bodily, you or someone hired, kicking and screaming her little head off. I, nor anyone here, would stand in your way for…” He looked at him speculatively. “Ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand pounds,” Darcy repeated without emotion. “But there is the problem of her reputation, and that of her family. Ten thousand pounds in your pocket will not restore them to respectability. No, your previous assumption of a nuptial is the direction you should pursue.” He sat back.
Wickham’s mouth turned down in a brief grimace, but his eyes said that he was keen to continue. “All right, ten thousand pounds.” He slapped the table as if he were at a horse auction. “And I marry her!”
Darcy affected a look of mild surprise. “And by this magnanimous offer, am I to assume you to believe that, first of all, I am a fool, and second, your name alone attached to hers will confer adequate compensation for your actions and effect the restoration of the entire family’s name?”
“What do you —”
“What do I believe? Quite simply, that once any appreciable amount of money is in your possession, you will leave her a grass widow to deal with your creditors, and I shall have financed a considerable amount of gross self-indulgence and future debauchery. Or was a reformation of character an addendum you neglected to mention?”
Wickham cast him a look of cold hatred. “Always the tight-arsed prig afraid to dirty his clothes! Character!” he spat out. “Only the rich can afford character, but most of them seem to dispense with it soon enough. They just have the money or the power to buy their way out of trouble before the whispers get too loud, but poor men…poor men are judged without mercy —”
“Yes,” Darcy interrupted him, “there is the matter of your debts. Do you have any idea how much they are?” Wickham shrugged his disinterest. Darcy pressed the issue. “Let us only consider, then, those since your arrival in Meryton. What is their amount?”
Wickham shrugged again. “I have no notion, except…” He looked away a moment before continuing. “Except for what in honor I owe to fellow officers.” As if suddenly enlightened, he straightened and pounded the table between them. “They are the cause for this whole damned mess! If those ‘fine young gentlemen’ had not been so bloody-minded, so damned precise about things, and ready to cry to Mamá, I would not be here!”
“I shall pay your debts.”
“What?” Wickham looked at him sharply. “All of them?”
“All of those you have incurred since setting foot in Meryton.”
“You must be joking! All of them? Not knowing their sum?” he asked, incredulous.
“I shall pay your debts, whether from tradesman or officer,” Darcy repeated. He had not moved since sitting back against his chair nor, oddly enough, had he felt the anger or disgust that heretofore had arisen with little more than the thought of George Wickham. He had an objective, and would hone to it, but something had changed, and he was able to deal with Wickham calmly.
Wickham’s incredulity turned swiftly to suspicion. “But that would mean you would hold them all. At any time, you could call them in.”
“Yes, that would be true.” Darcy inclined his head in agreement. “You would be dependent upon” — he paused, searching for the word, and was bemused to find it from his sister’s lips — “mercy, which would be excessively large and silent, I assure you, so long as you comport yourself like a gentleman in every sense of the word and treat your wife with honor.” Agitated by the prospect, Wickham rose from his chair and strode to the window. “I do not require that you believe in honor — you may continue to despise it all you wish — only act in such a way that others believe you do.” Darcy spoke to his back. Wickham turned to face him, his expression unreadable. “But should it come to me that you are mistreating your wife or contracting unwarranted debt…” He let the sentence dangle.
“Bought and shackled!” Wickham’s face contorted in anger. “Where is the profit for me in this charming little picture? I could simply walk away from you, the girl, and the whole damned thing this minute, you know.”
“You could try, but there are so many interested in your whereabouts: tradesmen, angry fathers, your former fellow officers, not to mention your commander. I found you within days of learning of your flight from Brighton. They will as well.”
Wickham blanched, swallowed hard, and then reddened. “You wouldn’t…,” he ground out from between clenched jaws, his eyes hunted and wild.
“I sincerely hope that it will not come to that,” Darcy replied, a sense of calm flowing deep and wide through his body. The veracity of his words took him by surprise no less than they did his adversary. He should have been feeling every sort of exultation in his impending triumph over the one who had bedevilled his life and threatened his family. At least, he should have felt the excitement of closing upon the quarry, but strangely, he did not. Was it pity? Did he pity Wickham? No…it was not that, not precisely.
Wickham relaxed from his rigid stance and resumed his seat across the table. “If I agreed to all of this, how shall I go on and with a wife to support? Satisfying the damned bloodsuckers is all well and good, but what shall I live on?” Darcy’s lack of an immediate reply appeared to worry him, for Wickham’s foot began tapping nervously against the inn floor. “I have no profession.” He looked down at his hands and then up at Darcy. “Kympton! Give me the living at Kympton!” Darcy began to shake his head. “It is what your father desired for me! It is perfect!”
“No! Absolutely not!” Darcy’s voice cut sharply through Wickham’s demands. “There is another possibility, but I desired to reach an understanding with you before pursuing it further.” He rose from the chair. “Do we have an understanding? You will not attempt to flee this inn and will meet with me tomorrow to discuss your situation further, and I will not inform on you or retract any promise I have made to you thus far.”
Wickham considered for a moment and then, sighing, stretched out his hand. “Agreed.” Darcy stared at the outstretched hand, a tightness springing up within his breast. “Ah, well…” Wickham began to withdraw it.
“No, here!” Darcy smothered the imp that would tease him back into black resentment and took Wickham’s hand briefly into his grip. “Agreed. I will call upon you tomorrow afternoon.” He spoke hurriedly. “Make my good-byes known to Miss Lydia Bennet.” Then retrieving his hat and walking stick, he left Wickham standing alone in the public room to think as he wished about what had just passed between them.
Reaching the hired cab, Darcy called up an address to the driver and climbed inside. As the cab threaded through the streets, Darcy threw his hat and gloves beside him on the worn, cracked leather seat and rubbed first at his eyes, then briskly over his entire face. Sitting back into the squabs, he stretched out his legs and evaluated his position. He had found them! The sad meanness of the place in which he had found them was enough to depress the most optimistic of men, and Wickham was not one of that happy tribe. Rather, Darcy was certain, he was chafing miserably at the necessity of being cut off from the life he craved and was desperately eager for a way back into enough respectability to reach for it again. Were the terms he had proposed enough to tempt Wickham? It appeared so; at least for the moment. After the moment had passed, it was likely that only holding Wickham’s debts over his head would keep him between the traces.
Darcy closed his eyes, a great sigh escaping him. As onerous as were the terms to Wickham, the fact of the matter was that the man’s acceptance of his offer to purchase his debts and the measures required insuring its terms would tie him to Wickham for the rest of his life. Darcy had known this from the outset, and the distaste it evoked had roused his latent antipathy despite all efforts to cultivate an attitude suitable to the delicacy of his task. But then, in the face of it all — Lydia Bennet’s childish defiance and selfishness, Wickham’s bravado, devoid of conscience — compassion had unexpectedly welled up within him, and what anger and pride could not contrive, the fall of mercy’s gentle rain had brought to pass. They had an agreement. It was a beginning that held some hope.
Hope! Darcy’s attention shifted to that sweet presence in his heart for whom hope would impart so much — Elizabeth. If only he could relieve her mind with the assurance that her sister was found and that plans were in motion to secure her return. What she must be enduring as she waited for news day after silent day! “Soon,” he promised her, his voice soft in the shadows of the cab. “Soon.”
The cab slowed to a stop in front of the officers’ billet of His Majesty’s Royal Horse Guards, and as the cabbie dropped down to open the door, Darcy withdrew a card from the case in his waistcoat pocket. Handing it to the man, he instructed him to take it to the officer on duty and request the whereabouts of Colonel Fitzwilliam. In less than five minutes, he knew exactly where his cousin was.
“Good God, Fitz, what are you doing here and in that!” Darcy laughed at the disapproval on Richard’s face as his cousin opened the cab’s door and set out the steps himself. How good it was to laugh again! “Here, get your hat, for pity’s sake, and make sure you dust it off!”
“Do not offend my driver, if you please!” Darcy warned him with a wink. “He is an uncommon brave one and stands by his word.” He turned to the man and pressed thrice his fare in his hand as he looked him squarely in the eye. “I am very grateful to him.”
“T’anks, gov’ner…ah, sir.” The man flushed and, ducking his head while he backed away, clambered up into his seat and drove off.
Darcy turned to see his cousin staring at him in utter disbelief. Clapping him on the shoulder, he said, “Come, I have found Wickham and need your help. Where can we talk?”
A few minutes later, they stood in the doorway of a public house favored by a large number of His Majesty’s officers, most of whom looked curiously at Darcy after stepping aside and nodding to his companion. “Not many civilians brave enough to part the ‘Red Sea,’ ” Richard explained as he ushered his cousin to a snug table in the corner. “They are wondering who you are. Now, tell me how the Devil you found the scabby miscreant before I did!”
Darcy shook his head. “Another time, perhaps. I need your help in something else in which you are particularly knowledgeable.” Richard grinned slyly at him. “What? No! I refer, my dear Cuz, to your military knowledge.”
Richard sat back complacently. “Say on! What do you wish to know?”
“What does a lieutenancy cost?”
“A lieutenancy? It would depend upon the unit and where it is stationed. Anywhere between five hundred and nine hundred pounds.” His brow wrinkled. “Why do you — Hold there!” The colonel came forward in his chair and pinned Darcy with a look of horror. “You do not mean it for Wickham!”
“In one crack!” Darcy’s lips turned up in amusement at his cousin’s expression. “I will never understand why D’Arcy calls you a slow-top!”
“Because he is an idiot! But that is not to the point.” Richard’s eyes narrowed, and he tapped a finger on the table between them. “You mean to purchase Wickham a lieutenancy. Wickham — the blackguard who almost ruined —” He stopped and bit his lip, then continued. “Who has thrown every good you have done him in your teeth, who owes money to every tradesman and an apology to every young woman’s father between here and Derbyshire.” Richard’s face grew more flushed with each charge. “What has he done that he should abandon his militia regiment and you reward him with a career in the army? Lieutenant!” He snorted. “Let him start at the bottom and learn discipline and respect if he is wild for the army!”
“I cannot tell you; it is not mine to reveal the particulars,” Darcy reminded his cousin, who sat back in frustration, shaking his head. He relented. “You must know that I do not do this with Wickham’s welfare as my object. He has…” Darcy paused and frowned. “Damn if he has not compromised another young woman, but this time, she is from a respectable but modestly situated family with whom I have some acquaintance. There is nothing for it but that they must marry, and you know as well as I that George is in no position to support a wife. It is for the young woman and her family that I do this.” He traced one of the dark rings on the table left by innumerable pints. “Perhaps, if I had been less proud, I might have had some success in making Wickham’s character understood before ever he endangered one of their daughters.”
Richard eyed his cousin steadily as he stroked his chin, examining him, Darcy knew, for any weakness on which he could work. “All right, all right!” He finally surrendered, throwing up his hands. “You are set upon this — of which there is much more than meets the eye — and there will be no moving you! What do you want me to do?”
“Find a commission stationed here in England but in an obscure unit, preferably a place that offers few inducements to mischief.”
Richard’s eyebrows rose. “Bury him, you mean!” He snorted. “Well, your idea sounds better now than it did at first, I must say. Officers wishing to sell out of a stagnant unit in the middle of nowhere should not be difficult to locate. Perhaps I will be lucky and find one with a martinet commander who devoutly believes that tormenting his staff is how to make men of them.” He laughed wickedly. “I shall send round a list to Erewile House.”
“I need it sooner rather than later.” Darcy rose, as did his cousin.
“Yes, sir!” Richard saluted him smartly, then leaned forward to whisper, “But if word should get out that I had any hand in foisting that wretch on the army, I shall have no mercy on you, Cuz.”
Later that evening a packet carrying Richard’s scrawl was laid upon Darcy’s desk. “The communication from Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir,” Witcher announced quietly at the door, then crossed the room at Darcy’s nod.
“Thank you, Witcher. That will be all.” He reached for the packet and began to break the seal.
Rather than leave, his butler looked pointedly at the tray at his master’s elbow. “Nothing to your liking, sir?”
“No, it is very well.” Darcy looked at the artfully arranged repast with dismay. “In the midst of all this” — he indicated his littered desk — “I forgot it was there.”
“Shall I remove it, sir?” From Witcher’s tone and his own long experience, Darcy knew that sending the food back without touching it would cause undue concern belowstairs.
“No, no, leave it here. Now that this has come,” he answered, waving the packet, “I shall feel more at leisure. Thank your good wife, Witcher.”
“Yes, sir.” The man sighed with relief. “Just so, sir.”
The seal broken, Darcy laid out the pages on his desk and reached for one of his housekeeper’s lemon biscuits. A half hour later, he drew forward paper and pen and began his purchase of a commission for George Wickham, Esquire, in the regiment from among those in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s list that lay the farthest distance from Hertfordshire and Polite Society.
The next morning, following his cousin’s instructions, Darcy presented his application to the proper authorities and within an hour was in possession of assurances that, when all the military wheels had ground, his request for a commission in the —— th Regiment, stationed in Newcastle, would be granted.
Upon returning to Erewile House, he embarked upon the singularly uncomfortable task of apprising his secretary that certain changes in his financial arrangements would be necessary. For the first time in their long association, Darcy saw Hinchcliffe actually start and stare. “Mr. Darcy,” he croaked, unable to find his full voice, “you cannot understand what you are saying! To raise that amount above the normal requirements of your interests would involve considerable shifting of assets and inevitable loss. Sir, I respectfully submit that you reconsider! Perhaps there are other ways such a sum —”
Darcy shook his head. “Not in so quickly a manner, I fear, and time is my adversary.” Seeing the concern in the older man’s eyes, he continued, “Do not fear that I have done something rash or unprincipled, Hinchcliffe. I have not turned gamester, nor am I the victim of blackmail. Rather I have hope that these funds will do some good…right a wrong, at least.” He stopped and tapped the desk between them. “I put it into your hands, Hinchcliffe,” he said to the man who had taught and guided him in all his financial affairs since his father’s death, “and have every confidence in your decisions. Proceed with what you think best: I will countersign without requiring explanation or justification.”
“As you wish, sir.” His secretary rose and looked down upon him, his reserve recovered but his concern still apparent to one who had grown up under his tutelage. “But hope, the kind of which you speak, rarely returns principal, let alone interest, sir.”
“Yet, if we have any humanity in us, we must continue to invest; must we not?” He spoke softly but with a sudden, heartfelt conviction.
Hinchcliffe inclined his head and then, for the first time in both their lives, made him a full bow. “Your father would be very proud, sir, very proud.” So saying, his secretary turned from the surprise and flush of appreciation on Darcy’s face and left the room, shoulders set to do financial battle with the world in his master’s interest. Hinchcliffe’s words, Darcy knew, had not been lightly spoken. Accompanied by his bow, they were the first tokens of a deep and genuine esteem that his secretary had ever offered him. Oh, the man had always been exceedingly polite and patient, even when, at their first meeting, when he was twelve years old, Darcy had bowled over the young, new secretary in the hall outside this very door. Your father would be very proud. Darcy’s eyes traveled to the small portrait of his sire on the wall and nodded his acceptance. “Yes, thank you, I believe he would.”
With the financial pledges he had made Wickham set into motion, it was incumbent upon Darcy that he speak with Wickham again before he could present it all as a fait accompli to Elizabeth’s relatives in London. Entering once more into a rough hired cab, he believed himself prepared for any dodges or demands that might arise. Wickham was ever one to surprise his fellows with erratic actions, depending on their sheer audacity to confound his adversaries. But such tricks were become old to as long an acquaintance as lay between them. This time Wickham had ever so much more to lose; and Darcy, a host of allies that could pin him down whichever way he might jump.
Darcy arrived at the inn just before three. Ducking his head to enter the public room, he spied his “shadow” watching for him from the doorway leading to the stairs. With a toss of his head upward and a broad wink, the boy silently informed Darcy that the pair was still to be found above. Casually placing a guinea on a nearby table, Darcy acknowledged with gratitude the urchin’s information and was rewarded with a look of surprise that, he imagined, rarely crossed the world-weary child’s face.
This time, the place was set into order. Wickham opened the door upon a room where clothing had been packed away, bottles removed, and a sturdier table and chairs had replaced the former hazards. “Darcy,” he greeted him awkwardly and motioned for him to enter.
“Miss Lydia Bennet.” Darcy bowed to the young woman perched on the windowsill. At a look from Wickham, she scrambled down and offered him a curtsy. “Mr. Darcy,” she replied guardedly.
“Lydia, my love, go down to the cook and bespeak something to eat.” Wickham took her hand and led her to the door. “Wait for it and bring it up yourself; there’s a good girl. Darcy and I have some things to discuss.” With a face that clearly indicated her displeasure at such a task, Lydia pulled her hand away and flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her lest there be any doubt of her feelings.
“Disagreeable chit!” Wickham grimaced. “See what you wish to chain me to!”
Darcy would not allow it. “That was determined when, by your own choice, you bundled her into your carriage in Brighton.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “She is little more than a girl, George, and you encouraged a girlish fantasy that you have yet to fulfill. It is not to be wondered that she is disappointed and behaves like the child she is.”
Wickham granted the possibility with a grunt and took the other chair. He did not look well, even though his clothes were in order and he had shaved. He ran his hand through his hair several times before sitting back into the chair, but even then he did not relax. Noticing Darcy’s observation of him, he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Nervous as a cat! Could not sleep last night, and I do not know why, but I feel as if I am being watched. Makes my skin crawl.”
“ ‘Something in the wind…,’ ” Darcy quoted.
“Yes, that is it exactly! Damned sick of it.” He bit his lip. “Yesterday, you agreed to cover my debts no matter the source, yes?”
“Yes, from your time in Meryton until your wedding day, I will cover them all.”
“It may take some time to collect them. Except for what is owed the officers, I really have no notion of the amount.”
“That shall be yours to accomplish in the next week.” Darcy brought forward the leather case he carried and took out paper, ink, and pens. “Write what you can remember and send for those you cannot.” At Wickham’s alarmed look, he amended, “Have them sent to Erewile House.”
“Oh,” Wickham breathed out, “that will answer.” He looked at the items laid out for him for a moment and raised his gaze back to Darcy’s. “And when I have done all this and married the girl, what next? If you will not give me a living in one of your parishes…” He paused, but when Darcy did not naysay him, he continued, “Then how am I to support this new style of living you insist upon?”
Here was the second hurdle, and to make it all work, Wickham had to be made to jump it with some degree of willingness. “I have purchased you a lieutenancy in the army,” Darcy answered him.
“What!”
“In a regiment that will likely never see action abroad,” he assured him.
Wickham fell back against his chair, his face twitching as he absorbed the revelation of his future. Slowly, he appeared to come to some terms with it. He looked at Darcy. “But I shall need —”
“I know what you shall need and shall provide you the credit to purchase it — what is needful and no more. With prudence, you should be able to live comfortably; with advancement, quite well.”
“Comfortably!” Wickham laughed derisively as he rose from his chair. “And what is your idea of comfort, Darcy? Would you be ‘comfortable’ living so?” He spread his arms, indicating their current surroundings. “I think not!” He leaned against the frame of the room’s one small window and turned his face to the courtyard below.
“There is also your wife’s dowry —”
“A trifle!” Wickham spat.
“— and what I will settle on her as well.” Darcy offered the inducement without pause. Wickham spun around, his interest rekindled.
“Two thousand pounds!” he demanded, as if the amount were negotiable. Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Fifteen hundred, then, and I’ll ‘turn Methodist,’ if you like, in the bargain.”
“I doubt that it would ‘take,’ George, or that you could sustain it for long.” He shook his head. It was time to bring this to a close. “No, I will not bargain with you. One thousand pounds in addition to her dowry, your debts covered, your profession secured, your character reformed, so to speak, and your wife provided for — that is what I offer to enable you to do what is right by this girl and her family.”
“As long as I ‘behave like a gentleman,’ I believe was the condition?” Wickham mocked. He did not seem to require a response, for he turned back to the window to consider what had been laid before him and did not notice Darcy’s silence.
…had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner. Wickham’s derisive words merely echoed Elizabeth’s charge, but it was close enough. How ironic that Darcy should demand of Wickham what Elizabeth had declared so lacking in himself!
“You have thought of everything, Darcy. I congratulate you.” Wickham’s voice brought him back to the matter at hand. “Try as I might, I can find no flaw to exploit or contingency to hold over you. Remarkable!” He crossed the room and sat down at the table. “You have hemmed me in quite well, you and Lydia, but in truth, the prospect is not so bad. Much to be preferred to debtors’ prison or a court-martial, certainly.” He wiped his hands upon his trousers and laid one, palm up, on the table between them. “I believe I must accept your offer, Darcy. Here’s my hand on it, one ‘gentleman’ to another.”
“On behalf of the young woman’s family,” Darcy amended, extending his hand.
“As you wish.” Wickham shrugged, and it was done.
Darcy did not allow himself the great sigh of relief that pressed against his chest until he was alone and the hired cab’s horse set into motion. His mind cast back to the beginning, to the inn at Lambton and his discovery of Elizabeth in such heartrending distress that it had been all he could do not to hold and comfort her, to dry her tears. He’d had no right, although every feeling in him had urged him toward her in the name of sympathy and love. Her tears had rent him, for he had known instantly where the blame for them lay; but it had been the awful resignation in Elizabeth’s voice to the shame and disgrace that lay ahead which had truly devastated him. He had vowed then that it would not be so, and though great patches, dearly bought, had been sown over the tatters of her family’s name, he had succeeded, ensured that the weave would hold, and the fabric of her family’s honor would once again be whole.
Closing his eyes, he leaned back his head and filled his lungs with air, then let it slowly escape. Elizabeth! Elizabeth was free. No living in the shadow of disgrace — she could be again who she so magnificently was and without apology or blush. Darcy smiled. He had righted a grave wrong caused by his own pride, and it was good. But his vision of Elizabeth restored…that was a treasure he would cherish in his heart all his days!
The cab pulled up before the Gardiner residence on Gracechurch Street. As Darcy waited for the cabbie to descend and open the door, he looked about the street curiously. The houses were not grand, but neither were they mean or pretentious, as had been implied by Caroline Bingley’s sniggering. Rather, neat and trim residences lined the public way in a row of solid respectability and, occasionally, some grace. One of these was the address before him, and seeing it Darcy better understood the conversation and taste that Elizabeth’s relatives had exhibited at Pemberley.
He descended from the cab, mounted the shallow steps beyond the front gate, and knocked. He wondered how he should begin to explain his visit. His paying a call would be considered highly unusual, even eccentric, especially without having sent his card earlier in the day. But when they heard his reason for calling, how would they regard him?
A servant answered. “Yes, sir?” She appeared rather young for her duties and not at all schooled in the proper etiquette of her position. Likely, she was new to service.
“I have come to see Mr. Gardiner.” He handed her his card. “Is he at home to visitors? It is important that I see him.”
“I-I dun know, sir.”
“Whether he is home, or whether he is home to visitors?” Darcy prodded. Definitely new!
“Oh, he be home, but there’s already sum’un wif him. An’ the missus ain’t back from country yet,” she supplied ingenuously. “So, I dun know if he can see two visitors. I was hired for the kitchen; never answered door before. Them’s what does weren’t expectin’ to be called back yet.”
“I see.” Darcy could not help but smile, but he had to see Elizabeth’s uncle as soon as possible. “Perhaps I can help you. If you could tell me who the other visitor is, we can determine whether you should announce me. Do you know who it is?”
“The master’s brother,” she pronounced with conviction, but then doubt crossed her face. “Well, calls him ‘brother,’ but how can he be with the name Bennet? Brother-in-law, maybe.” She appeared satisfied with her reasoning. “He’s been here for days, he has, lookin’ like thunder and rain.” She shook her head at all the trouble in the world. “So, should I let you in?”
“No, I think not.” Gently, he tugged his card from between the maid’s fingers and sent up thanks that he’d escaped the disaster of stumbling unexpected into the presence of both men.
“Oh.” Her face fell, then brightened. “He be leaving tomorrow mornin’, sir. Heard it just now. Goin’ back home, he is.”
“Then I shall call tomorrow, thank you.”
“Yer that welcome, sir,” she replied, and without asking his name, she shut the door.
“Well!” Darcy snorted in surprise at his summary dismissal. “That is that, and probably just as well!” Climbing back into the cab, he directed the driver to take him to a corner near Grosvenor Square. From that address, he walked home by way of the mews so that he would not be seen by his neighbors. Living secretly in his own house had been necessary for his purposes, but he was finding it rather a blessing as well. Leaving him free from the social obligations that would have interfered with what he had to do, it also freed him to associate with whomever he must to bring all to fruition. “Rather like Dy!” The thought sprang up initially to his amusement, but soon the divergent nature of their purposes sobered him. Where was Dy? There had been no word since he had ridden off hell-for-leather in pursuit of those thought involved in the assassination of the Prime Minister. Was he well, or had it ended badly, far away in America? Darcy wished he knew.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Witcher exclaimed, pressing her hand to her heart as he surprised her at the service entrance to the kitchen. “I shall never understand why the master of the house cannot come in through his own front door!”
When Darcy knocked at the Gardiners’ door the next morning, the little scullery maid had been replaced by an older woman who knew what she was about. He was ushered into the hall with polite murmurs and curtsies and left for only moments before the master was at the door to his study observing him with astonishment.
“Mr. Darcy!” He stepped forward. “I am honored, sir!”
“Mr. Gardiner.” Darcy inclined his head at the older man’s bow. “I trust you are well.”
“Why, yes…as well as may be,” he stammered. “But welcome and come in, please!” He motioned to his study. “May I offer you anything? Tea —”
“No, I thank you. Please do not trouble yourself or your staff.”
Mr. Gardiner bowed once more and sat down on a settee opposite him. “What may I do for you, Mr. Darcy?” he began. “I must confess my utter astonishment to find you in my hall, but,” he hurried on, his eyes bright with curiosity, “that does not mean I am not delighted to return your excellent hospitality during our visit to Derbyshire. How may I serve you, sir?”
Despite the delicacy of that on which he was about to embark, Darcy had thought himself well prepared for this interview; but the open countenance and geniality of the man before him gave him pause. He liked Elizabeth’s uncle, he realized suddenly, and did not wish to see his honest, welcoming face harden in displeasure and embarrassment. But it could not be helped. What Elizabeth had confided in despair, he had turned to good use for the man before him and his family, and Elizabeth’s relative must have the particulars to complete what he had secured thus far.
“Your niece Miss Elizabeth Bennet must have told you that I happened upon her only minutes after receiving disturbing news from her sister,” he began.
Mr. Gardiner’s eyes shaded, but he put on a good face. “Yes…yes, she did, and I thank you for your understanding…and Miss Darcy’s, also, I am sure. Lizzy was anxious to rejoin her family, and what can a man do in the face of such entreaty but comply?” He gave a little laugh.
Darcy took a deep breath. “Then, it would appear she did not tell you that, in her distress, she revealed to me the contents of those letters.”
“Ah…” Mr. Gardiner sat back as if flinching from a blow and closed his eyes. Darcy prepared to allow him his moment, but the man rallied with remarkable speed. “I am sorry that you should have been troubled with our concerns, sir,” he said in a firm voice. “Please, excuse my niece for so forgetting herself.”
Darcy waved a hand in dismissal. “There is nothing to excuse.”
Elizabeth’s uncle sighed. “Thank you, sir. You honor us.” He shifted forward and continued with some embarrassment. “I know our acquaintance is a tenuous one at best, Mr. Darcy, but I feel that I — that my family — may rely with confidence upon your discretion in this sad affair.” Although he’d phrased it as a statement, it was certain he desired assurance.
“My silence on it will be absolute, I assure you,” Darcy replied, to Mr. Gardiner’s grateful relief. “But for urgent, personal reasons, I could not ignore the situation in which your family finds itself. Frankly, sir, I believe myself to be in great part responsible for it.”
Mr. Gardiner’s bewilderment could not have been more complete. “You, responsible! I am at a loss, sir, how this could possibly be!”
“George Wickham has long been known to me. He is the son of my late father’s steward; therefore, our relationship is from childhood. Sadly, his character was a devious and calculating one from the beginning. Upon my father’s death, our connection was severed with the paying over of an amount bequeathed to Wickham by his will. After that, his whereabouts and activities were unknown to me until —”
“My dear sir,” Mr. Gardiner protested, “I can find no place for blame! How were you to prevent his arrival in Meryton or predict his seduction of my niece in Brighton? Pardon me, you are very kind; but you take too much upon yourself!”
“I wish it were true,” Darcy replied, “that I came here with only a delicate conscience to assuage. To my discredit, it is not so.” He breathed in deeply, dreading the confession that had to be made. “Wickham disappeared from my notice for several years until intruding upon it in a way that threatened my own family and name. Mr. Gardiner.” He looked him in the eye. “May I return your compliment on my discretion with reliance upon yours?”
“Certainly, sir!” his hearer replied firmly. “Completely!”
“I returned from visiting friends last year just in time to prevent Wickham from accomplishing his designs upon Miss Darcy.”
“Good Heavens!” Mr. Gardiner passed a hand through his thinning hair. “Oh, the despicable wretch! Then, no wonder Lydia…Why, he is a practiced seducer!”
“Exactly so. He can be very plausible, deceiving most until it is too late.”
“What did you do then, upon discovering him?”
“I did not know what to do, except to save my sister’s reputation and avert family disgrace. I chose to warn him away and to say nothing, hoping that that would be an end to it. A false hope, an absurd hope.” His voice was full of scorn at his folly. “As I should have known! I merely freed him to prey upon others.”
“But this is understandable, sir. What could you have done that would not have resulted in pain for Miss Darcy?”
“Perhaps, if I had not been too proud to ask for advice from wiser heads than mine, there might have been something. But I did not, abhorring the thought that my private affairs would become subject to common gossip.” Darcy looked away from his listener and sighed. “I fear that I am too long in justifying myself, which is not why I have come.” He rose and began to pace about the room. “So, you may imagine my shock when, arriving in Hertfordshire with my friend last autumn, I found Wickham among the favored in Meryton society. As I said, he can be charming and very plausible, especially to females. I, on the other hand, made little effort to make myself agreeable in a society unknown to me. It is a failing of which Miss Elizabeth Bennet has been so kind as to apprise me.”
“Oh, dear.” Mr. Gardiner shook his head. “Lizzy’s wit is not checked by as much discretion as I would wish, but she will be the first to admit her fault…once she is convinced of it.”
“No, she has done me a kindness; that and many more. To continue — and this is the telling point…” Darcy stopped his pacing and stood before his listener, humble. “Because of my reserve and misplaced pride, I did not disclose his character. If it had been known, Wickham could not have gained acceptance into Meryton society. Young women such as your niece would have shunned his company, and fathers would have shielded their daughters. Instead, I chose the course of my own convenience, and your niece and your family have suffered for it. I hold myself entirely to blame and entirely responsible to see that what can be done to make it right is accomplished.”
Mr. Gardiner had listened to him with great patience. Even now, he sat in contemplation of all Darcy said without uttering one word of richly deserved condemnation. Darcy waited.
Finally, the man raised his eyes to his face. “There may be some blame in your actions, or inaction, young man, but I cannot find it to the degree that you believe. Others, closer to the events, have more to answer for, I believe, than do you. If you have come to know yourself better, that is to be lauded; but do not, I beg you, take the entirety of this upon your conscience.”
Darcy bowed. “You are more kind than I deserve, but I cannot excuse myself. To that end, I left Derbyshire only a day later than yourselves and have been in London with the sole purpose of finding your niece and restoring her to her family.”
“As have I, Mr. Darcy. A frustrating business!” Mr. Gardiner sank back into the settee, shaking his head. “It is as if they have been swallowed up. It has so agitated my brother Bennet that I insisted upon his returning to Hertfordshire.”
“That is my principal reason for coming to you, sir. I have found them.”
“Found them! My dear sir!” Mr. Gardiner bounded from the settee and took him by the arm. “Where? How?”
“It is better you do not know where,” Darcy replied earnestly, “and the how is immaterial now. They are found, and I have talked to them both. Your niece is well.”
“Truly? I had such fears.” He passed a hand over his eyes and turned away to compose himself.
Darcy waited for a few moments before continuing. “She is well but adamant that she will not leave Wickham. He admitted to me privately that he never had any intention of marrying her.”
“Black-hearted devil!” Mr. Gardiner cried, turning around.
“Many have said so, and as such he is best dealt with. I have impressed upon him the necessity of doing right by your niece.”
“Not by an appeal to conscience, surely!” Mr. Gardiner pressed him. “You have gained the upper hand in some other way — financially, I would guess. Am I correct?”
“I hold all his debts.”
“Ah!” Mr. Gardiner responded. “Incentive, to be sure; but I would allow that this would not be enough to induce him. Why, he could promise anything and, when you have paid his creditors, just disappear!” He threw out his hands. “Could he not, even now, be gone?”
“He is being watched, sir, and can make no move without detection. This he knows. He knows, as well, that if he does so he will be disclosed to his colonel for arrest and court-martial. No, he will not bolt.”
“Good Heavens, sir!” Overcome with emotion, Mr. Gardiner took his hand and shook it vigorously. “You have done more than anyone…” He gulped. “You must disclose all the expense to which you have gone, and I promise it shall be paid back to you.”
Darcy drew back. “I will not, sir. The sum goes far beyond Wickham’s debts. If your niece’s future is to be secure, more must be done, if you will forgive my impertinence, than either you or her father is able.”
“No matter,” Mr. Gardiner replied sharply. “It is for her relations to retrieve her character and bear the expense of it.”
“I understand, sir, and only wish I could bow to your demand.” He returned Mr. Gardiner’s fierce eye with his own. “But it cannot be.”
“Umph!” his host snorted after a time. “We shall see! What is to be done then? I must be of some use!”
Darcy relaxed and resumed his seat. “I leave it to you, sir, to handle your niece’s family, for my part in this must never be revealed to anyone beyond your good wife.” He paused, then leaned toward his host. “Will you consent to receive your niece and keep her until the wedding day? All must appear as if she was married from your house.”
“Of course!” he replied, then added with a small show of indignation, “I believe we are solvent enough to put on a wedding at any rate!”
The warm August light falling softly through the stained-glass windows of St. Clement’s could not have been more perfect, Darcy decided as he stood in the sanctuary door two weeks later. It was likely the only perfection he was to witness in the next few minutes, and he paused to allow it some entry into his breast before looking again to the street. The Gardiners were late. It was uncharacteristic of these relatives of Elizabeth whom he had come to esteem during the course of this tawdry drama, and Darcy supposed he could guess where the blame lay. Sighing, he looked over his shoulder to the door that closed upon the groom. The burly form of Tyke Tanner stood against it, his face a study in wry commiseration at the frustrating drag of time toward the moment when their mission could be declared accomplished. With a brief twitch of a grimace, Darcy turned back to the street. “Take her in hand, sir,” he advised the absent Mr. Gardiner under his breath. “Take her in hand, and we shall be done!” How he longed for it to be over, to be set free in good conscience to return to Pemberley. As for what was about to take place, he entertained severe doubt that it would redound to his credit. Certainly he could foresee little happiness for the couple involved, but the weight of his duty and the hope of reestablishing Elizabeth’s family in the eyes of her society had held him every day to his course. Soon, all that his name and fortune could rectify would be done.
A carriage turned the corner and swayed to a stop at the foot of the church steps. A much harassed-looking gentleman emerged immediately the steps were let down. Mr. Gardiner’s complexion was decidedly florid as he looked up to the doorway at Darcy, his relief at the sight of him unmistakable. With a nod, he turned back to the carriage and held out his hand to the ladies within. A flurry of skirts and an impossibly high poked bonnet emerged to be handed down to the curb. The bride was followed by the strained but determined figure of Mrs. Gardiner. Darcy’s respect for that lady had grown even more as, during the last weeks, she had worked to impress upon her charge the decorum expected of a respectable young wife.
The small party mounted the steps, Mr. Gardiner reaching out his hand to clasp Darcy’s.
“Mr. Gardiner.” Darcy inclined his head in respect as well as courtesy. “It is well with you?” He cast his eyes briefly toward the bride. “With all of you?”
“Mr. Darcy,” the elder man responded, a slight hitch to his breath from the ascent, “your servant, sir. An unexpected matter detained us, but yes, we are all well and ready to proceed. And on your part, sir?”
“There should be no problem. The groom is prepared. Shall we go in?”
“As soon as may be,” returned Mr. Gardiner. “Please God that this business is concluded quickly and duty discharged.” Darcy nodded his complete agreement with the sentiments and turned to greet the man’s good wife and the prospective bride.
“Where is Wickham?” Lydia Bennet interrupted from under the wide brim of her ridiculous bonnet and strained to look beyond him into the darkness of the church. “Is he within? Should he not be here?”
Mrs. Gardiner looked up in alarm, and Darcy hastened to reassure them. “Yes, he is here. Will you walk in?” He helped the two women through the doorway, stopping only for a quick nod from Tyke Tanner indicating that Wickham was in position at the front of the sanctuary. He turned to Mrs. Gardiner. “May I escort you, ma’am?” He held out his arm.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She sighed gratefully as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you for everything.”
“You are very kind, madam,” he began, but his companion tapped his arm.
“No, it is you, sir, who are very kind, as well as a great many other good and admirable qualities.” She smiled up at him in such a way as to call forth an answering smile from his own lips in spite of the flush that was spreading across his face. Looking before them, Mrs. Gardiner sighed once more. “It is such a lovely day. Lydia does not deserve it, the wretched child, but that is the way of it, is it not!” She looked at their surroundings. “Well, if it were not that it would puff up my wayward niece, I could wish that her family was here, at least Jane and Elizabeth.”
They took up a position behind her husband and Lydia and followed them into St. Clement’s sanctuary, traversing with slow steps the central aisle, dappled here and there with colored sunlight pouring from the great windows hung above them. It was a lovely morning, Darcy thought, slowing even more, and far more than Elizabeth’s aunt could imagine did he wish that her desire might have been granted. Would that this were his wedding morning and Elizabeth on his arm! The pleasure and pain of it smote him.
They reached the front of the sanctuary. Dropping his arm, Mrs. Gardiner took her place behind her niece as he took his, just to Wickham’s right. The crisp newness of the bridegroom’s blue coat had lent him a dignity that he assumed with frightening ease there before the minister. The bride blushed and whispered audibly to her aunt, “Is he not handsome?”
“Dearly beloved,” the man opened the service. Wickham’s shoulders drew back. Darcy looked straight ahead lest the battering wisdom of the words being spoken, breaking upon the charade in which he was playing, should betray his face into revealing his thoughts. In shockingly few minutes, it was done. He bent to record himself as witness in the register while Mrs. Gardiner embraced her niece and tepidly shook her new nephew’s hand. Mr. Gardiner bestowed a quick kiss upon the bride’s forehead.
“Well, then,” Mr. Gardiner said, ignoring Wickham’s move to clasp his hand, “I believe all is in readiness at home. Will you share in the wedding breakfast, sir?” he addressed the minister, who politely declined. He turned to Darcy. “I know that you must be away and will not join us save for dinner tomorrow, when this pair are gone.” He extended his hand, and each shook the other’s with a firmness that testified to their mutual regard. “You are very good, Mr. Darcy. It is an honor.” Mr. Gardiner bowed and, calling his wife to his side, descended to the waiting carriage.
“Darcy.” Wickham addressed him.
“Wickham…Mrs. Wickham,” he acknowledged them. Mrs. Wickham curtsied and giggled.
“When will —?” Wickham asked, stepping closer.
“As soon as I arrive home, all will be set into motion,” he murmured. “See to your wife, and it will be well.”
“Of course!” Wickham stepped back and clasped his new wife to his side. “She is worth a great deal to me, is she not?” A new cascade of giggles fell.
“Mrs. Wickham.” Wanting nothing more than to be gone from them both, Darcy bowed quickly to the bride and strode down the stairs to his carriage.
“Home,” he directed his driver.
“Yes, sir,” his coachman answered him as he gathered the reins. Folding up the stairs, the groomsman shut the door, and Darcy’s view of the newly married couple was obscured. Dropping his hat onto the seat, he closed his eyes and stretched, releasing tension in muscles cramped by a tight grip on decorum. Ah, it was good to be in his own carriage again! Traveling about anonymously in noisome hired cabs had held some adventure, but it was over; and he was glad of it. Such intrigue was better left to others who by nature enjoyed it. He must be for Pemberley as soon as possible…as soon as possible. He relaxed into the thought. Pemberley. How he needed to be home!