Chapter V
For a long moment, no one in the room spoke.
Darcy looked to his cousin, a sense of dread filling him at what news Fitzwilliam might bring, and his cousin returned his look, the gravity in his manners heightening Darcy’s sense of alarm.
Only Georgiana remained unaware, for she regarded Fitzwilliam, curiosity mixed with confusion.
“What do you mean, Anthony?”
Fitzwilliam took hold of himself and nodded at Georgiana. “I apologize, but I believe I must speak with your brother alone. This is not a matter I would canvass with you without first speaking with him.”
As a well-bred young woman, Georgiana did not question him, knowing there were affairs of which her guardians could not speak. “Shall I return to my room, then?”
With obvious affection, Fitzwilliam reached out and squeezed her hand. “That will not be necessary. I believe your brother’s study would be a better location for a conversation of this nature.”
Georgiana nodded and smiled, Darcy rising in response. “I shall find you when I have finished speaking with Fitzwilliam.”
“I will be in the music room,” replied Georgiana. Then she departed.
“In the study, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam when Darcy looked to him with a question on the tip of his tongue.
While Darcy was impatient, he nodded and led his cousin from the room, making his way swiftly to his study.
When they entered, Darcy turned at once, eschewing his chair behind his desk, impatient to know what Fitzwilliam was about.
To his surprise, Fitzwilliam, who was not a man prone to excess nervous energy, took to pacing the room.
In their usual meetings, Fitzwilliam would lounge in a chair with a foot up on the table or his desk, his posture resembling Hurst when he had consumed too much spirits.
There was nothing of the languid gentleman about Fitzwilliam now.
“Tell me, Darcy,” said he after a moment of this uncharacteristic behavior, “what do you know of our friend Wickham’s last whereabouts?”
Darcy frowned. “What has he done now?”
“Thankfully, nothing yet,” replied Fitzwilliam, ceasing his restless movements, and turning to Darcy. “But we must move swiftly if we are to prevent it. Now, what do you know of Wickham?”
“The last I heard, he was a member of a regiment stationed in Hertfordshire.”
“Details, Darcy,” snapped his cousin. “Is this a place known to you?”
“I stayed there for some months last autumn,” replied Darcy. “Bingley leased an estate near there; it is where I became acquainted with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“You did not think to do something about him when he came to your attention?” demanded his cousin. “If you were disinclined to act, you might have called for my support, for you know I would have been happy to take him in hand.”
Darcy ignored this, for it was a well-worn refrain between them. “What has he done?”
Fitzwilliam shook his head, but he did not refuse to respond. “As yet, he has done nothing, unless you count the debts he undoubtedly left in Hertfordshire or the broken hearts he left in his wake. I can only hope he has not also left ruined lives.”
Understanding came to Darcy at once. “Militia companies depart their winter quarters in May or June.”
“May, for this company,” said Fitzwilliam with a tight nod. “They have been in Brighton since then and Wickham with them.”
“Then I suppose he has deserted?”
“You know him too well,” replied Fitzwilliam. “What you do not know is that he made some rather pointed statements about you before he left.”
“That is typical,” said Darcy, shaking his head with disgust. “From Miss Elizabeth, I determined he had been busy sinking my character to all and sundry from the moment I departed.”
“If that was all, Darcy, I would not be in this state. It was his comments concerning what he meant to do next that have brought me to this point.”
Darcy fixed a stern look on his cousin. “Tell me.”
––––––––
Brighton had not been profitable for one George Wickham.
The move from Meryton had been positively serendipitous, for his time in that community had just about run its course.
While he might not have credited it and had been prepared to flee even before the regiment departed, he had slipped from that place without the merchants hunting him down with pitchforks and torches.
Though there had been letters to the colonel, a quick and pious pledge from Wickham had reassured him, buying Wickham valuable time to work his magic in Brighton before he must depart it too.
But it had not gone as he had hoped. Brighton had been a substantial mark for one such as Wickham, for whereas Meryton and towns like it had boasted only a few small shops, Brighton was a large city, one where he could go from shop to shop, taking their custom on credit and not reach a tenth of them by the time the first started agitating for him to settle his accounts.
What he had not considered was that those merchants of Brighton must be familiar with such things, for there were few that would offer any kind of credit, and most looked on him with suspicion for even asking after the possibility.
It was a reminder that Wickham had often eschewed such dealings in the larger cities, for the merchants there were more cynical and watchful than their more countrified counterparts.
Wickham had some notion of finding a wealthy heiress or widow to ingratiate himself, to seize that position that had eluded him all these years.
However, the widows of Brighton were even tighter with their purses than the merchants, and the fathers of society kept their daughters close and their foils closer.
His residence in Brighton had been only a month, but he was already of a mind to leave it.
Since it became necessary to leave yet again, Wickham resolved to settle an old score that chafed at the back of his mind, rubbing an open wound that had bedeviled him for years. There was a certain former friend of his that he owed, and Wickham knew just how to bring him misery.
There was more than one way to achieve what he wished, and Wickham was nothing if not resourceful.
His time in Brighton had been disappointing, but if he made a slight alteration to his plans to abscond from the place, he could accomplish his design with little trouble, and perhaps even make a profit from the business.
His first stop would be to London to an acquaintance, one who would no doubt appreciate the opportunity to assist in a little retribution.
Thus, Wickham acted much as he ever had, associating with his fellows, drinking, carousing, playing cards, and accumulating markers he had no intention of honoring.
Amid this activity, he did not hesitate to share something of his plans, for he knew he would never see these men again.
It would signify nothing if they had some inkling of what he intended.
“Your conversation of late has returned to your former friend,” observed Denny as they sat at cards, shaking his head at Wickham’s single-mindedness. “The last time you saw him was several months ago unless he has come to the city of late.”
“Thankfully, Darcy has not come to Brighton. The stench of his pride would have alerted us all to guard whatever sensibility we possessed.”
While his fellows laughed, Wickham grinned, knowing he still had them in the palm of his hand.
“It may be best if you forgot him, my friend,” said Denny.
“Darcy is a difficult man to forget, Denny. I shall never disregard the offenses he has perpetrated against me. And who knows? I may just have a little amusement at his expense, for there are flowers ripe for the plucking.”
“How do you mean to accomplish that?” asked Sanderson. “Those to whom you refer are in Hertfordshire, while we are in Brighton.”
“I am more interested in knowing what the blazes you are going on about,” said Denny. “From what I remember, Mr. Darcy paid little heed to anyone in the neighborhood.”
“Except for his dance with Miss Elizabeth,” said Chamberlayne.
“I watched them,” said Denny, shaking his head. “A more confrontational dance I cannot imagine.”
When Denny turned a demanding look on him, Wickham grinned and wagged a finger. “No, I believe I shall keep the exact means of my vengeance to myself. There are ways for an enterprising man to accomplish his designs. When my revenge is complete, you shall be the first to know.”
Sanderson shook his head and returned his attention to his cards; the rest of the men ignored him, likely thinking he was boasting without the means to carry out his threats.
They would learn to their detriment when he departed forever, and they had no more hope of collecting his debts.
Denny, it appeared, wished to dispense with the discussion of Darcy.
“What of tomorrow’s assembly? Is that not a more pleasant subject to discuss? Perhaps Miss Grantly will be there again.”
“Aye, she is a comely lass,” interjected Chamberlayne. “But she prefers me, Denny, so there is no sense insinuating yourself into her notice.”
While the two men debated with good-natured barbs about whom the young lady preferred, Wickham only listened with half an ear. The assembly was a good time to steal away under the cover of night, and if he executed it properly, he might be all the way to London before they realized he was missing.
“You may all dance with Miss Grantly when I have finished with her,” said Wickham, drawing protests from his companions.