Chapter 37 #2
Once the body had been removed, Mr. Darcy examined the room to see whether there were any clues proving Wickham had been there.
Anne’s jewelry box was open and empty. According to Mrs. Jenkinson, Anne had a few hundred pounds stored there as well as a number of small ornaments set with precious stones.
Those were all gone. The larger pieces were stored elsewhere, and so they were untouched.
Mr. Darcy had not gifted Anne even a ring.
The missing jewelry had all been hers. He pondered for a moment the possibility of going after Wickham.
However, doing that would surely lead to the whole sorry state-of-affairs being spread far and wide.
He could challenge the scoundrel, of course, but did he want to?
Wickham had unknowingly aided him in hastening toward the life he longed for.
At the moment, he felt drained in both body and spirit. Seeing Anne’s thin, lifeless body on the bed, wearing the same flimsy nightgown she had worn the previous week to seduce him, had made his stomach feel queasy.
But it is over. This despicable farce is at last over!
The funeral for the mistress was held at the Hunsford Parish church, followed by a graveside service, both conducted by Mr. Collins.
Even though it was a sad occasion to bury such a young woman, Mr. Collins was flattered and pleased by his patron’s request, as well as the substantial fees for his service.
The same could not be said about Lady Catherine.
She was furious that her daughter went away the picture of health and came back in a coffin; and that her funeral service should be so shabby!
She wailed and scolded until Mr. Darcy asked two footmen to accompany her and Mrs. Jenkinson back to the dower house; Anne’s former companion would stay on with Lady Catherine.
Before they left, he said pointedly to his mother-in-law, “Mrs. Jenkinson witnessed most of the circumstances that led to Anne’s death.
She will tell you all if you wish to know.
Perhaps then, you will understand why keeping the funeral as inconspicuous as possible was wise. ”
The next day, Mr. Darcy returned to town with the Colonel. The cousins talked about what had happened and could only marvel at how the bane of their lives, George Wickham, had unwittingly become the means of uniting Darcy and Elizabeth.
“Life can be stranger than fiction,” said Mr. Darcy.
“You don’t say,” quipped the Colonel. “What will you do about Wickham? Are you going to hunt him down and challenge him to a duel, or reward him with half of Rosings?”
“Neither. He is not worth my risking my life and breaking the law, and the whole of Rosings will be yours. If I hunted him down, it would be to find out whether he propositioned Anne or if the reverse was true. I half expect that Anne initiated the whole sorry episode.”
Darcy was looking through the pile of letters that had accumulated since he had left Rosings. One letter had come only that morning, and it bore very familiar handwriting.
“Speaking of the devil…”
Mr. Darcy opened the letter, which had been sent from Portsmouth.
Darcy,
It would be pointless for you to go after me.
By the time you receive this letter, I should be far from England on my way to a new life somewhere else.
Yes, I took six hundred pounds and a few trinkets from your wife, but that was fair compensation for what she asked me to do.
I would not otherwise have done it given she looked too thin and frail for my liking, and her tongue was too sharp.
She went on and on about your having a mistress, just like her father…
. I did not pay her much heed because I know you well enough to recognize her complete delusion.
You, with your rigid morals and holier-than-thou attitude, keeping a mistress?
But then, she mentioned ‘revenge’—to this I could relate when it comes to you. Wherever you go, you offend. You upset your wife so much she wanted to cuckold you for revenge!
I do not know what happened. She suddenly stopped moving, and she made no sound—and then I saw the blood.
It was ghastly. I was forced to take what I could find in a hurry to buy passage from England.
Too many people had seen me walking and talking with her around Brighton.
Tongues would surely wag, and I had no wish to find out how you and your other cousin would react.
Let us be honest. Everyone knows that yours was a marriage of convenience. You cannot possibly mourn a creature like that too much. You did not even bed her after almost six months of marriage.
So long, friend. What I would not give to know whether what happened was revenge on me or you! Have a good life. Choose better next time.
G. Wickham
Darcy handed the letter to the Colonel.
“What a blighter! The nerve of that blackguard! What do you think? Has he left England?”
“I should think not. Going elsewhere to start anew simply requires too much exertion on his part.”
Mr. Darcy paused, leaned back in his chair, and said, “I have a difficult time coming to grips with what Anne had become. She and Lady Caroline! Lady Caroline must be thought of as immoral, whereas Anne was unprincipled and willful—she seemed to model her life entirely on her father and mother. I resented her turning into her mother, but now... I feel pity for her. What they did was no doubt wrong, but am I better than they? I have not committed adultery in deed, but did I do so in thought?”
“Oh, you should not compare what you and Lady Elizabeth have with Anne and Lady Caroline. That would be a moral equivalent only a Puritan could make. Even the Bible says one must have lustful thoughts while looking at a woman to sin. What is the worst the two of you have done? A few stolen fleeting kisses? ”
Mr. Darcy did not answer. Even late at night, in his own bed, he had to exert tremendous willpower to restrain his desires for his love for fear he would somehow contaminate the purity of her soul. He agreed with the Colonel that he would never, ever do what Anne and Lady Caroline had committed.
“Wickham was not wrong to say that what he took from Anne was fair compensation, even had she not offered a certain amount for his… service. It must have been a terrifying experience that could scar anyone for life.”
Darcy paused again and appeared to be deep in thought. Then he said heavily, “What happened to Wickham… it could have been me.”