CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next few days he endured in torment. Once the Bennet sisters departed Netherfield for Longbourn, Bingley found himself afloat in a deluge of pompous insinuations about the entire family, all accompanied by absurd and two-faced declarations from his sisters of Jane Bennet’s sweetness and their mutual desire to know her better. He also observed Darcy to be restless, which was quite unusual. Bingley could not quite apprehend where his friend stood regarding Eliza Bennet, but he was certain that there was something more than met the eye. He was keen to notice, over those few days, his sister Caroline’s undivided attention to Darcy, and her frequent comments disparaging Elizabeth’s relations, or lack thereof, undoubtedly with the intention of calling his admiration from the younger Miss Bennet, and onto herself.
In addition to all this, news continued to pour in about Lord Bertram St. John’s imminent departure for the continent, and all in a jumbled and seemingly hurried manner. Bingley wondered if the deaths of Sir Andrew Fraser and Thomas Abbott had rattled the ringleader’s cage. He was not opposed to the object of his plot living for some time in fear, but he felt he himself could not bear a prolonged resolution to this nasty business. For all Bingley knew, St. John was traveling in an effort to reorganize, or perhaps even expand, his devilish operation. There was no further word from his steward’s network of contacts regarding George Wickham’s involvement, nor was there any word regarding even his whereabouts, other than a report that he had recently enlisted in the militia. He was careful not to share such news with his confidant, Darcy, as even though Bingley had never personally met Mr. Wickham, he was fully aware of the strength of his friend’s feelings toward him, specifically regarding the infamously foiled plot to ruin Darcy’s sister, Georgiana. He did not want to muddle Darcy’s mind with such details until Wickham’s involvement in the sinister business was incontrovertible.
Even more upsetting to him was learning from Mr. Wilshere of another young girl of not sixteen gone missing from her home in Birmingham under the guise of an elopement, only to be found deceased on the rocks in Southampton. The details of this incident fit the pattern that Bingley had unintentionally uncovered and was so fixated to stop—young maidens from poor families gone missing with a handsome young gentleman, only to be found murdered several days later in some far flung part of the country. The latest young victim’s name was Letitia Yates. Her father was a chimney sweep and her mother had died of typhus when she was but twelve, leaving Letitia to care for her five smaller siblings. The particulars of her attachment to the handsome young man with whom she fled were murky, but he was said to be rather charming, and promised her a great fortune and a life abroad. Her broken body was discovered by a boy and his dog walking along the shore.
Over three nights these factors caused Bingley to sleep but nine hours. He felt guilt at not having done more and sooner, to curtail such evil occurring right under the noses of Britain’s most powerful men—or, as daunting as it was to imagine, with their direct entanglement. That was why, on the fourth day since the Bennet girls had departed Netherfield, he persuaded Darcy to accompany him to Longbourn to call upon Jane and enquire after her health. He had again been pressed by his sister to take Mr. Hurst, but they had been unsuccessful in multiple attempts to rouse him from his slumber.
The two gentlemen rode at a leisurely pace, enjoying the unseasonable warmth of the sunlight that afternoon. When they entered Meryton, they crossed the central lane where they were surprised to come across a group of redcoats conversing with every Bennet sister, save Mary. There was also in their company a rather swarthy and dour-looking young man who stood near Elizabeth. Bingley went directly toward them and dismounted before bowing and commencing his usual and enthusiastic civilities. Darcy remained astride his horse and greeted them but said very little otherwise.
“And how, Miss Bennet, is your health?” Bingley beamed.
“Much improved, I thank you,” Jane answered.
“I very am glad to hear it,” he said with a radiant smile.
She smiled back at him and that sensation of light-heartedness and tranquillity which had been so lacking in his mind the previous days washed over him. He nearly forgot completely that her sisters, another gentleman, and several officers were standing about. After a minute of continued inquiries after Jane’s health and assurances of his happiness in her recovery, he observed a look of confusion on the face of Elizabeth, who was doing what she could to avoid glancing in the direction of Darcy. Bingley took his leave quickly and rode on with his friend.
“Very good to see her so well recovered, I dare say,” stated Bingley gleefully as they turned in the direction of the glade outside Netherfield Park. “She looked very well indeed.”
Darcy hardly acknowledged his friend’s comments and when Bingley glanced over at him, he saw Darcy’s face was ashen. His teeth were clenched together, and his brow was furrowed most fiercely.
“Darcy, what on earth is the matter?”
“It is nothing of consequence,” answered Darcy decisively.
“How can you say so? There is obviously something amiss.”
The two riders slowed their horses to a halt. The sun was beginning to set over the ridge, bathing Netherfield Park in a golden late autumn dusk. The temperature was also noticeably dropping with the ebbing of the day.
“You must tell me,” Bingley appealed. “Are you unwell?”
“I am quite well physically,” Darcy replied through deep breaths.
“Then what can it be?”
“That man in Meryton, with the Bennet sisters—”
“The youngish, surly one?”
“No, no—the one who stood with the officers.”
“I did not see a man with them,” answered Bingley.
“You were too engaged with Miss Bennet to notice.”
“What about him?—Was he rude or vulgar toward you?”
“Not just then,” Darcy replied, squeezing the horse’s reigns with a finely gloved hand.
“I do not follow—”
“It was George Wickham,” Darcy blurted.
“George Wickham? What on earth is he doing in Meryton?” Bingley inquired.
“I had heard that he enlisted in the militia—”
“Was he wearing regimentals?”
“No,” answered Darcy. “But I have been told that he meant to seek a commission, although I assumed it would have been with a company in the north.”
“Perhaps he is only visiting in Meryton?”
“I would doubt that very much,” said Darcy flatly. “From what I understand, he owes debts everywhere he has been. Moreover, he is not the type of man who would be content in the country if he could lead a life of dissolution in town—there are far more opportunities for debauchery and gambling there. I cannot see a reason for him to be anywhere near this place unless, of course, he has secured a commission in Colonel Forster’s regiment.”
Bingley felt uneasy for his friend but was himself vexed by the presence of Mr. Wickham, the fourth potential perpetrator in the malevolent plot he had uncovered, now right under his nose. His thoughts then drifted to the upcoming social engagement of the ball he had offered at Netherfield Park. “Darcy, the ball—”
“What of it?”
“I invited the entirety of the regimental officers. If he has obtained a commission, he has obtained an invitation to the ball.” Darcy stared sedately at the pink and orange and the wispy clouds above the house and said nothing. “Shall I renege the invitation?” Bingley inquired.
“I would not dare ask you to act with incivility on my behalf.”
“What then? Will he attend, do you think?”
“I cannot say with any measure of certainty,” Darcy answered, looking his friend in the eye. “His actions have, doubtlessly, shocked me in the past, but it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Wickham. If he wishes to avoid seeing me , then he must go.”
“It is settled, then?”
Darcy nodded. “Back to the house, shall we?”
The two friends rode off toward Netherfield Park in the last rays of twilight, both troubled by the unanticipated arrival of Mr. Wickham, though for vastly dissimilar reasons. Darcy hoped that he might have never seen that man again, whilst Bingley had hoped that he might not have to kill him in such close proximity to his friend. This would certainly raise Darcy’s suspicions that Bingley’s mission was more driven by personal factors than by an appeal to justice, which had hitherto gone unanswered. Wickham’s involvement in the ongoing and organized crimes was also, still in doubt, to some extent—at least to Bingley’s mind. In the ten minutes of silence that accompanied the conclusion of their ride back to the stable, Bingley decided that judgement would have to be withheld on the Wickham subject. At least for the time being, he would do what he could to avoid the problematic young man’s company, and certainly to keep him from Darcy’s attention, as difficult a task as that might be. After all, he thought, Lord Bertram St. John was the remaining leading figure in the design, and perhaps the leading figure—therefore, eliminating him must be the first priority. If, indeed, George Wickham was involved, it must have been at a very low level. And if St. John was departed from the earth, he reasoned, the whole nefarious machination would fall in on itself.