Chapter Eighteen
AND INDEED, THE next day, the colonel did call upon Jane.
This time he was the only suitor present.
No one else had called that day. The colonel and Jane spoke together, only to each other, for three quarters of an hour, while Elizabeth sat in the room as a chaperone and paid attention chiefly to her book.
She felt as if this was a good sign, but it wasn’t conclusive.
Time would tell.
Time would tell everything.
But she didn’t feel nearly as anxious about the outcomes, she supposed. She was beginning to suspect that perhaps everything would work out.
And then, Mr. Wickham appeared.
It was right after the colonel had left. Another caller was announced, and Elizabeth said to show him in, and then she heard the name, and she was stunned.
Mr. Wickham was wearing the remnants of his uniform for the regiment, but it was unbuttoned and torn and covered in smudges of dirt. There was a smear of mud on his forehead. His eyes were wild.
“I came to you because you have married him,” said Wickham. “I thought you’d have more resources. Also, I suppose I reckon your father will be angry.”
“What are you talking about?” said Elizabeth, crossing the room to him.
Jane was up too. “Is that Mr. Wickham? What is he doing all the way in London?”
“It’s your sister, Lydia,” said Wickham. “I have… oh, it hardly matters. I was going to marry her, this I swear to you, but we were set upon by bandits, and they’ve taken her—”
“Go back and slow down,” said Elizabeth, eyes wide.
“There is no time to slow down,” said Mr. Wickham.
“We need to go after them now, and you must—I suppose you can’t rouse him, can you?
He is hidden away during the day? Well, it makes no matter, then.
Order your servants to make ready a carriage and we’ll go after them ourselves.
But gold, Mrs. Darcy, can you get your hands on some gold?
Something to barter in exchange for her? ”
“Start at the beginning,” said Elizabeth severely, who was well aware that Mr. Wickham was likely a liar, that she had never gotten his side of the story from him, that she had never interrogated him. But now, she knew her husband too well to ever doubt him. Mr. Wickham was not to be trusted.
“Lydia and I have grown closer as of late,” said Mr. Wickham.
“You mean that you discovered that Lydia had a large dowry now and you wished to prey upon her,” said Elizabeth.
“Oh, he’s told you about Miss Darcy, then,” said Mr. Wickham, sighing.
“What is going on?” said Jane.
Elizabeth pulled her sister close. “He’s a fortune hunter, I’m afraid, and he’s willing to lie and cheat. Also, he has a grudge against my husband.”
“Not really a grudge,” said Mr. Wickham. “Look, none of this matters, does it? The point is, Lydia and I attempted to elope and we were set upon by bandits, and they took her. I know where they are. I know the man responsible, and I know he’ll let her go if I give him his money.”
“You owe this man, don’t you? You are in debt to him,” said Elizabeth.
“No,” said Mr. Wickham. He groaned. “Maybe.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily. “All right, look, Jane, you must stay here, but Mr. Wickham and I shall go after this man. Tell me how much gold you need, sir.”
Wickham lowered his head and mumbled a sum.
“Oh, is that all?” said Elizabeth in shock.
“Can you get it or not, madam?” he said.
“I should speak to my husband,” she said.
“No, he’ll wish to put all manner of obstacles into the path,” said Wickham. “He won’t wish to give me the money. He hates me. And by then, I don’t know what will have become of your sister.”
“He will not leave my sister to be harmed,” said Elizabeth. “He will—”
“At the very least, he’s going to wish to wait until the sun goes down,” said Mr. Wickham.
“Why?” said Jane.
“Perhaps,” said Elizabeth. “But if I tell him we must make haste—”
“Mrs. Darcy, please, I know these men, and I don’t like Lydia with them,” said Mr. Wickham. “Whatever you think of me, you must not think I relish the idea of young pretty ladies being used by men like that.”
Elizabeth felt this go through her like a jolt. “Very well,” she breathed.
“Now that you mention it,” said Jane, “Mr. Darcy is never out and about during the day, and I have noticed it, but I feel there’s some thing that keeps me from noticing, and—”
“Jane, you will stay here,” said Elizabeth. “And you will cease to ponder this.”
“Wait, she doesn’t know?” said Mr. Wickham. “You have married that thing, and she doesn’t know?”
“Doesn’t know what?” said Jane.
Elizabeth quit the room without answering, full of anxiety. She was able to gather together the money that Mr. Wickham needed and she directed the servants to get a carriage ready for the both of them.
Jane accosted her on the way out, saying that she was not at all sure this was a good idea, and—for what it was worth—Elizabeth agreed with her.
Going off on her own with Mr. Wickham couldn’t be smart, but she suspected the man was primarily motivated by money, not by anything else.
Well. He also seemed to have an affinity for young girls, she supposed.
Whatever the case, she should be safe enough, she thought. She was likely too old for him.
Wickham gave directions to the driver, and they set off.
But they did not go very far before the carriage stopped.
“Well, here we are, then,” said Mr. Wickham, getting out, bringing the gold along.
She got out, too, and took in the sturdy little country house with a garden full of flowers. “This does not seem like a place where a group of ruffians are keeping my younger sister.”
“It’s not,” said Mr. Wickham. “You’re the sister who’s been kidnapped, of course.” He put an arm around her and pushed her ahead of him.
“So, Lydia?”
“Safe and sound, as far as I know,” he said.
She struggled, and he caught her by the arm and twisted.
“I don’t wish to hurt you, Mrs. Darcy, but I shall if I must,” he said, and he didn’t sound cruel when he said this, only matter-of-fact and this was somehow more chilling than the former might have been.
She stopped struggling.
He brought her into the house, opening the door himself, no servant meeting either of them. Inside the house was a small foyer, cloaks hanging on a rack by the door. There were three doors, one on each side, and he yanked her forward and rapped on the door straight ahead of them.
“Yes?” came a voice, a female voice.
Elizabeth knew who it was.
“It’s me,” said Wickham. “I have her.”
“Well done, Mr. Wickham,” said Caroline’s voice through the door. “Very well done.”