Chapter 17
The mood at Rosings Park was definitely sombre. With Lady Catherine locked up in her room the house was quieter and saner but not completely peaceful.
One positive thing was the improvement of Charlotte’s health.
The day after the tragic event she perked up enough to get out of bed and take a few steps in her room.
This process increased with each passing day.
As the week wore on she improved by leaps and bounds, every day going a little further inside the house.
Soon Dr Denville proclaimed her strong enough to venture outside to take short walks in the garden and enjoy the sun shine.
Dr Denville, having fulfilled his obligations with his patient returned to London, leaving strict instructions for Charlotte to follow regarding her diet and daily exercise, leaving Elizabeth in charge of looking after the mother-to-be.
Elizabeth took her responsibility seriously and made it obligatory for Charlotte to join her on a stroll in the garden every day.
They often chose the rose garden, which was at that time of the year a spring riot of colours, with a bright maze that had plenty of tall shrubberies around it, making it perfectly warm and sheltered from the cold northerly wind.
One brilliant afternoon the two ladies were enjoying a quiet walk when they heard angry voices behind the shrubbery. One voice was unmistakably Miss de Bourgh’s, the other was, to Elizabeth’s great surprise, Mr Wickham’s.
Elizabeth touched her lips asking Charlotte to remain silent so they could hear the altercation.
“There is no need to get high and mighty with me Miss de Bourgh for I intend to get my way with you. I will get you with child if I have to. But compromise you thoroughly I will, if you refuse to accept my hand in marriage.”
“Mr Wickham I have no idea what precipitated this absurd notion in you that I would agree to marry you... a mere servant.”
“I am not a servant; I am an officer of His Majesty’s Army serving in the Militia.” They heard his angry retort.
Anne actually laughed. “Mr Wickham the day that you do something as selfless as to actually serve in a real army is the day that Hades freezes over. That day I might even agree to marry you.”
“Miss de Bourgh I am getting tired of this conversation. I mean to marry you, so how do you propose to save yourself from me? Your mother is a mad woman who goes around killing innocent clergymen and will most likely hang in a few days.”
At that moment Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam joined Elizabeth and Charlotte who were rooted to the spot looking pale and slightly off balance. The ladies indicated for them to remain quiet and pointed to the other side of the hedge. They all stood stunned, silently listening.
Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed ready to go around the hedge and simply kill Wickham forthwith, but Darcy held his arm firmly keeping him rooted while Wickham revealed in full his wicked plans and more importantly, his character.
“I may have a mad mother, but believe me Mr Wickham I am not mad enough to accept you and moreover I am not the easy target my young cousin Georgiana was.”
“Georgiana is a silly romantic child, Miss de Bourgh; she had no maturity to resist me or backbone to stick with her resolution, the plan to elope, and the strength to defy her brother. But she was sweet... unlike you my dear, for you are another story. I will enjoy breaking your resolve and humbling you a little.”
Anne laughed again, “If your charms failed with Georgina, because they did fail, did they not? Otherwise you would have succeeded in prying her away from under her brother’s protection and taken her away to Gretna Green.
So, if your charms failed with such a silly, romantic, sweet child as you put it, how confident are you that you will succeed with me? ”
“I have my ways; surely you are aware of what a man can do to a virgin like you to soften her resolve, are you not?”
“You are a fool if you think I am unprotected.”
“Who is here to save you, the Misses Bennets? Mrs Collins?” Wickham cackled. “I would like to see them trying.”
“No, Mr Wickham my Uncle Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam and your old foe Mr Darcy are all here. What do you think they would do to you if they heard you speaking to me like that?”
Wickham’s voice immediately became quieter and less assertive, “surely you bluff.”
“Do I?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Darcy and they both nodded. They had heard enough. They moved around the shrubbery to where Anne was, the pair followed closely by Elizabeth and Charlotte.
As they entered the secluded area they saw Wickham trying to forcibly kiss Anne, grabbing handfuls of her skirt, lifting it to her waist while Anne kicked and screamed.
The Colonel immediately grabbed Wickham by the arm and twisted it pulling him from Anne roughly.
Darcy immediately went for his throat and grabbing him firmly almost lifted him off his feet. Wickham tried to yell but his airways had been cut off.
“Tell us again Wickham what you planned to do with Anne?” Darcy said with a low voice that sounded more like a growl. He was not screaming or blinded by rage. No, he seemed to be in complete control.
The same could not be said about Wickham who went green when the colonel took his sabre and winking at his cousin replaced Darcy’s hands at the miscreant’s throat with the tip of it.
“Go ahead Wickham, make one false move; I have been waiting these last ten years to run you through.”
“Richard, wait,” Wickham’s strangled voice said as he lifted his hands in surrender. “I was not serious; I would never hurt a woman.”
“No? What do you think you did to Georgiana? Do you believe that stuffing her young head with flattery, utterly romantic nonsense, convincing her she was in love with you then confessing in her presence that she was simply a bank account and a means to an end would not hurt her? What do you think that would do to a shy and innocent child?”
“Wait… I… I did not mean…” the sabre’s tip was pressed harder and Wickham simply whimpered having lost his ability to speak.
“Luckily for you Wickham, we have three ladies present, because trust me you rake; I would have gutted you like a pig had it been just Darcy and I here. You have them to thanks for your miserable life being preserved this day.” The Colonel then removed the sabre from his throat and took a pistol from his pocket instead.
Elizabeth watched the scene in utter horror. She who boasted about her ability to read a character was dumbfounded now as she realised how wrong she had been about both men: Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy.
It seemed one had all the goodness and the other all the appearance of it.
So Mr Wickham was a dishonourable man, a cad who went around trying to compromise rich young ladies and worse still, he was not beneath using force to achieve his goal.
She felt utterly ashamed; until that moment she never knew herself.
She felt like crying, not because she felt the loss of Mr Wickham’s friendship, which was a fable to start with, but because she felt how unjust she had been towards Mr Darcy.
Mr Wickham had used her, her naiveté, to help him malign Mr Darcy’s name in Meryton while she had obliged him by doing it with gusto.
She fixed her eyes on Darcy, who looked back at her with tenderness. He did not seem resentful that she had been a complete idiot towards him in her defence of Mr Wickham.
However when she looked at Mr Wickham she felt a fury never before experienced rising within her. He attempted to chuckle, mocking her quite openly, when he noticed her anger. She took a couple of steps towards him and surprised everybody by slapping him most forcibly across the face.
A trickle of blood started to run down his chin from his mouth.
“Bravo Miss Elizabeth,” cried the Colonel, “take another one for me as well please.” And to everybody’s further surprise, especially Wickham’s, she did not hesitate and struck him again.
“Stop it you bitch.” He cried angrily.
“You cretin!” She said and looked as if she might strike him again.
“I never forced you to believe my tale of woe. You seemed more than happy to gossip about goody-goody Darcy. I just encouraged you by telling you something that tickled your ears. You also seemed ready to lift up your skirts to me just like you sister Lydia has already done.”
Before he could utter another word his head snapped backwards with the force of Darcy’s punch and he fell backwards into a rose bush, “Speak one more disrespectful word to Miss Elizabeth and I will finish you right here, and feed you to the wild dogs of Kent.”
Wickham scrambled to his feet and spat out a mouth full of blood.
His scarlet military cape was now torn to shreds and there were thorn scratches all over his head and face.
But before he could retaliate as he seemed intent to do, Colonel Fitzwilliam touched his ribs with the tip of the pistol then said coldly, “Darcy grab his arms, twist them backwards roughly, make sure it hurts; then tie his hands up with your cravat.”
Wickham was then taken inside and locked up in the cellar while the magistrate was called. Colonel Fitzwilliam also informed the War office about Officer Wickham and his whereabouts.
A few days later a Colonel Boyd arrived from London as well as Colonel Forster and they took him away. He was to be to be tried for desertion, as well as the theft of a horse he took to ride to Kent without the permission of his Colonel.
While George Wickham was away from his regiment an investigation was carried out and it was discovered that he had unpaid debts in Meryton alone amounting to more than six hundred pounds, along with many indecent offenses against the local female population, leaving a few young ladies expecting his bastard children.