Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Wickham was afforded no further opportunity to proclaim his innocence or to protest his treatment.
Shortly after the ladies were escorted from the room, Sir William in his position as magistrate joined Captain Denny in conducting him to the town gaol, accompanied by the footmen from Millwood Cottage.
“I shall speak with Colonel Forster as soon as I return to camp,” Denny told Darcy in a low voice.
“The regiment will determine what is to be done with him. You may expect a decision within the next day or two. The colonel may prefer to manage the matter privately, but I will ensure you are informed. Mr Bennet and Lord Granfield will, of course, be apprised of the proceedings.”
Darcy’s attention sharpened at once.
“Lord Granfield?” he repeated.
Denny gave a brief nod. “It has become known in Meryton over the past day that Mr Grant is, in truth, Lord Granfield. I cannot say how widely the knowledge has spread, but it will not stay contained for long.”
For the smallest fraction of a second, Darcy felt the ground shift beneath the implications. If Wickham had understood the connexion—if he perceived Elizabeth’s proximity to such influence—
Darcy’s hand closed instinctively around the back of the nearest chair, his grip tightening before he consciously released it.
“Then it is of even greater importance that Wickham is securely confined,” he said, his voice steady and firmer than before. “He must not be given the slightest opportunity to exploit this knowledge or to disturb Miss Bennet or any other ladies in the village further.”
“That he shall not,” Denny replied.
Whatever else was still uncertain, Darcy knew this much: Wickham would not escape. Every precaution would be taken, and those charged with guarding him would be chosen carefully, lest charm or persuasion succeed where force had failed.
Neither Darcy nor Fitzwilliam felt any necessity to linger at Longbourn.
Mr Bennet had said all that was required for the present, and the management of his household was properly his concern.
Mr Collins, however, did not appear inclined to release them so readily and intercepted them in the passage as they made their way towards the front door.
“You will, I trust, gentlemen,” Collins began with officious gravity, “lend your support to my most honourable intention of securing Miss Bennet’s reputation by immediate declaration—”
“That will not be necessary,” Darcy interrupted coolly.
Fitzwilliam’s silence was less composed. His shoulders had drawn taut, and his hand, once more, curled tightly at his side.
Mr Collins did not relent. “As a man of consequence in the parish, I feel it my duty—”
“That will suffice,” Fitzwilliam said sharply.
He leant forward slightly, the movement restrained but unmistakable.
“Miss Bennet is not ruined. Her reputation remains entirely intact, and you will not presume to coerce her into marriage under the pretence of defending it. She has attained her majority and possesses sufficient sense to determine for herself whom she shall marry and on what terms.”
The edge in his tone left no room for misunderstanding.
Darcy laid a steadying hand upon his cousin’s arm before the exchange could advance further. It was evident how near Richard stood to abandoning patience, and Collins, oblivious as ever, seemed resolved to press him to the brink.
“It would be prudent,” Darcy said evenly, guiding the moment back towards civility, “to leave such concerns to Mr Bennet and the ladies themselves. My cousin and I have no wish to intrude upon what is plainly a family matter.”
He did not add that, in a short while, he would stand among that family himself. The declaration would come soon enough; there was no advantage in announcing it here.
Collins drew breath to continue, but Mr Bennet’s expression—cool, unmistakably final, and fixed in a pointed glare towards his cousin—compelled him to silence.
The complete lack of encouragement from her ladyship’s nephews did little to embolden him.
He subsided for the moment, but his countenance made it plain that he did not consider the matter concluded.
As they took their leave, Darcy could not fail to observe how tightly drawn his cousin had become.
Richard spoke little as they rode towards Netherfield. Only when the manor came into view did he at last break the silence.
“Will Bennet yield to that man’s absurdity and permit him to declare himself engaged to Miss Bennet?” Richard asked quietly.
“No,” Darcy replied. “He appeared entirely resolute on that point. Her reputation has suffered no injury from today’s events, even should the matter become the subject of idle talk. She and Miss Mary were together throughout and were rescued before that scoundrel could detain them overnight.”
After a moment, he added, “My only concern is that Mrs Bennet may redirect his ambitions elsewhere—such as towards Miss Mary. I can scarcely imagine that man proving a tolerable husband to anyone.”
Richard released a sharp breath.
“There is, however,” Darcy continued more deliberately, “another development which may render such manoeuvring unnecessary. News has emerged that may well eclipse any speculation concerning the ladies.”
Richard glanced towards him.
“Lord Granfield has been unmasked,” Darcy said evenly.
“Denny informed me that the knowledge is already circulating in Meryton. Servants from Netherfield appear to have spoken of it amongst themselves, and the tale has begun to spread through the village. It may not yet have reached Longbourn, but it will do so by tomorrow—or the next day at most.”
They entered Netherfield in comparatively good spirits, despite the long day’s riding. Dust clung stubbornly to their coats and boots, and even their brief stop at Longbourn had done little to improve their appearance.
They had not paused to make themselves presentable, contenting themselves with brushing away what dust they could as they removed their overcoats.
Darcy found himself anticipating the privacy of his chamber, along with a bath and a glass of brandy before joining the Hursts for a late dinner.
Instead, they were met in the entry by Hurst.
He stood near the foot of the stairs, appearing to have waited some time for their return from the stables. A servant lingered discreetly nearby, ready to relieve the gentlemen of their riding things.
“Has everything been settled?” Hurst asked quietly.
Both men inclined their heads, and once the servant had withdrawn with their coats and gloves, Fitzwilliam briefly related the events of the day. Wickham had been taken away in chains and would be held in the gaol until it was determined how he should be tried, pending Colonel Forster’s decision.
Hurst nodded, but the relief one might expect did not entirely appear.
Darcy noticed the strain in his expression at once.
“Has something else occurred?”
Hurst’s gaze flickered towards the servants before returning to them. “Yes. Two things.” He lowered his voice slightly. “If you will.”
Darcy exchanged a brief look with Fitzwilliam and followed as Hurst led them down the corridor to the billiards room. Fitzwilliam closed the door behind them with a quiet click of the latch.
Adjusting his coat, Darcy smoothed a hand over his waistcoat and flexed his fingers, as though only now permitting himself to acknowledge his weariness.
“First,” Hurst began, “I have at last received word from Bingley.” He exhaled through his nose.
“He has informed our sister that she has a fortnight to determine whether she will reside in London, Bath, or elsewhere, yet the choice remains hers. In addition, he has written to you as well hoping you might offer guidance in how to manage her. At least, I assume that is the purpose of his letter. He mentioned he hopes his letters will be forwarded to wherever you are at present and hinted to see whether I might know anything of your location.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, and a shadow of displeasure crossed his expression.
“Despite her conduct towards your aunt at the theatre,” Hurst continued, “he persists in seeking your assistance. It seems Caroline is still unconvinced that she is unwelcome in your society, and Bingley appears incapable of standing firm. While he says he has given her a deadline for her decision, his letter already betrays hesitation. I fear he will not succeed in settling her within the time he has allowed.”
Moving towards the billiards table, Darcy rested his fingertips lightly against its polished edge, steadying himself. His friend had been far too yielding with his sister in the past, and, like Hurst, he wondered whether Bingley would ever truly learn to withstand her.
“I am not surprised,” he said evenly. “What is the other matter?”
After a brief silence, Hurst shifted his weight and moved towards the sideboard, pouring himself a measure of brandy before continuing.
“Several ladies called here today to confirm that Mr Grant is, in fact, Lord Granfield,” he admitted.
“It appears the news has spread. When next you see him, pray convey my apologies to the earl. I was so startled when he came to the house the other day that I did not consider he might prefer his title to remain unacknowledged. I still do not comprehend the need for such secrecy.”
Darcy’s expression remained unchanged, but his thoughts moved swiftly. Granfield had not concealed his identity without reason, whether or not he fully understood his motives.
“I believe it has become habit at this point,” Fitzwilliam interjected, folding his arms across his chest. “He serves as a diplomat when required, but he has also learnt much for the Crown by travelling as a tradesman. I cannot fully explain it either, but I know he has made use of several aliases over the years.”