Chapter 2
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam paced outside St. Clement Church, stopping only to glance at his pocket watch, then up and down the lengths of the street at increasingly frequent intervals. Still no Darcy.
Wickham had been unwilling to begin the ceremony until Darcy’s arrival, and Richard could not remain under the same roof with the man without doing him bodily harm.
The scoundrel was more interested in the thousand pounds promised to him than in salvaging the foolish girl’s reputation he had so thoughtlessly ruined.
The vicar had allowed an extra quarter of an hour, but more than that he could not spare.
Richard glanced at his pocket watch again. One minute remained.
It was not like Darcy to be late.
Counting the seconds down in his mind, Richard continued watching, peering inside every passing carriage and observing every passerby and rider. Three, two, one. He peeked at his watch to confirm. Time had run out.
Darcy was not here.
There would be no wedding today.
Heaving a sigh, Richard returned inside to see what he could salvage from the wreckage.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner stood on either side of their niece. Miss Lydia’s bottom lip pouted and quivered, and she crossed her arms tightly in front of her as if she could not decide whether she would rather burst into tears or throw a spectacular tantrum.
He shook his head at Mr. Gardiner, then at the vicar.
But though Darcy had failed to make an appearance, he had charged Richard to be there, and Richard would see his cousin’s plans through in his absence.
As insistent as Darcy had been, Richard feared something dreadful had happened.
Why had he not called at Darcy House the night before?
He should have called. What could have happened to Darcy—and when? Last night? This morning?
Darcy had been out of sorts lately, staying up all hours, sleeping at his club, and riding before daybreak.
Richard had never seen him so restless. He had stayed with his agitated cousin as much as he could, but a soldier took advantage of rest when he had the opportunity.
Now Richard felt guilty for sleeping soundly when he might have helped his cousin.
Shaking the worry that churned in his mind, Richard marched until he stood toe-to-toe with Wickham. In the same tone he used with the men under his command, Richard said, “I will witness the signature with Mr. Gardiner. We may proceed.”
Wickham held up a hand, taking a step away from Richard. “Darcy was clear. I will not get a penny from him unless he personally witnesses my signature. Therefore, I will not marry if he is not here to witness it.”
Gritting his teeth, Richard reminded himself that he was inside a church.
Taking a deep breath, he forced his shoulders down and his fists to relax.
When he found himself in a boxer’s stance, he crossed his arms over his chest and, once again, reminded himself where he stood.
His father would understand his predicament—he despised Wickham as much as Darcy and Richard—but his mother would not excuse him for a lapse of control.
Not even when Wickham was on the receiving end of his knuckles.
Miss Lydia let out a wail that echoed off the walls and pierced his eardrums. Mrs. Gardiner shushed her with the help of the vicar, but Miss Lydia would make her displeasure known (albeit at a more respectable volume). Glaring at her betrothed, she whimpered, “He said he loved me.”
If any good was to come of this situation, Richard needed to act. And fast. He asked the vicar, “May we return on the morrow?”
“I have no additional time to spare until Friday. I am sorry. However, should my obligations allow for an earlier time, I promise to inform you of it.”
Richard groaned. “That is well enough. Thank you for your patience.” That did not suit at all, but it would have to do.
Addressing the rest, he said, “I will consult immediately with Hastings to see what arrangement might be made. If the settlement was to be paid in ready money, then there is no reason why I cannot act as a witness in Darcy’s stead. ”
Perhaps Hastings would know where Darcy might be.
It was unlike Darcy to disappear without a word.
Over the past week, he had been like a man possessed, working night and day to arrange this patched-over affair in order to give the Bennets some semblance of respectability after their youngest daughter’s reckless behavior.
Richard knew Darcy would want him to see the wedding through. To help the Bennets. To save Elizabeth. He had been adamant. Richard would not give up.
His own conscience would not be at ease until he had done his part to put things right, especially since he had been the one to drive a wedge between his cousin and the lady he loved.
Not that Darcy had not done a sufficiently thorough job of offending the lady on his own, but Richard owned that he certainly had not helped when he had let it slip that Darcy had “saved Mr. Bingley from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage.” Merely recalling the words made him wince.
How was he to know that the lady about whom Darcy had expressed strong objections—to a man of deep passions like Darcy, nothing would be worse than his lady’s indifference—was none other than Miss Elizabeth’s sister?
Darcy held little hope of a reconciliation, but Richard hoped where his cousin dared not.
Which made Darcy’s disappearance dashed inconvenient … and suspicious.
Richard watched Wickham. Did he benefit more from Darcy’s disappearance than he stood to gain by marrying Miss Lydia? Richard had never known Wickham to be truly evil, merely opportunistic (which was bad enough). Still…
He steeled his voice and dropped his chin to his chest. “Do not leave town. Stay at the inn where I can find you.”
Wickham’s eyes widened. Be afraid, you no-good blackguard. Be very afraid.
Richard continued, his voice low, threatening, “If I find out you had anything to do with Darcy’s delay, I shall not be as lenient as I have been in the past. You shall pay. Dearly. Nobody will hold me back.” Not like last time.
Wickham swallowed hard, holding his hands in front of him. Squirming coward. “I had nothing to do with Darcy’s failure to appear today. It is blasted—”
The vicar cleared his throat noisily, his displeasure plain.
Another hard swallow. “The delay is a grave inconvenience to me. My circumstances demand immediate payment. I am quite destitute.”
Richard had no pity left for the likes of Wickham.
Miss Lydia emitted another wail, which softened from a scream to a harsh but level tone.
“You promised me a fashionable apartment on Bond Street!” She turned to her aunt and uncle, pointing her finger crudely at her betrothed.
“I do not want to marry him. He has deceived me, and I will not marry him.” She jutted out her chin and huffed.
If ever there existed two individuals who stood to benefit from a good thrashing, it was this unwillingly pair. Richard tightened his arms over his chest.
Mrs. Gardiner raised her eyes heavenward, no doubt supplicating for forbearance.
Mr. Gardiner spoke firmly. “If you wanted our sympathy, you ought to have acted in a way befitting our compassion. As it is, I cannot pity you. What is more, I shall not permit your sisters to suffer the burden of your foolishness. Your selfishness would ruin them. Do you not see that you have already made your choice? You must marry Mr. Wickham.”
Her face burned red, but she shed no tear. Tantrum it was, then.
“We will have no more outbursts, Lydia.” Mrs. Gardiner patted her niece’s shoulder, but her words were as firm as her husband’s.
“Every action has a consequence, and you shall reap what you have sown. This is the only way for you to save your reputation and that of your sisters. Surely you do not wish to drag them down with you?”
With each passing minute, Richard admired the Gardiners more.
A firm hand was needed at this moment. They would ensure Miss Lydia’s compliance.
As for him, Richard would drag Wickham back to the church by the ear if need be, but he would see the louse hold up his end of Darcy’s bargain.
“I will seek out Hastings immediately,” he said, bowing to take his leave.
He hoped Wickham was as desperate as he claimed, or the reprobate would surely ditch Miss Lydia and run. The sooner Richard fixed this mess, the better.
The Gardiners had little choice but to take their niece home with them, where she would likely remain until she wed.
Mr. Gardiner fell in beside him. He asked softly, “Do you really believe Wickham responsible for Mr. Darcy’s delay? I see the necessity of Lydia marrying the man, but I will not attach her to a monster capable of harming another.”
Richard pulled him aside, away from Wickham and the ladies. “Wickham is an irresponsible epicurean, but I have never known him to be cruel or violent. Darcy never would have arranged for your niece to wed him otherwise.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded, his sigh audible. “Thank you, Colonel. I hold no delusion that theirs shall be a happy union. However, it is my hope they will at least learn to endure each other’s company and make the most of it, as I know Lydia has been taught to do.
” Standing taller, he added, “We had better let you go. I, too, have an urgent message to send to my brother-in-law.” He bunched his cheeks, the pained look in his eye revealing how little he looked forward to writing that letter. Richard could hardly blame the man.
They ushered Miss Lydia out of the church and into their carriage.
With one final reassurance of further communication with the vicar, Richard once again turned to leave, keeping Wickham in his sight and out of arm’s reach. A man could only endure so much temptation.
Wickham turned to him with a sneer, but Richard cut him off before he could speak. “Stay where I can easily find you, or, I assure you, you shall have the Devil to pay.” He turned, walking away at a brisk pace.
The sooner he could arrange to have the man shadowed, the better. He could not do it himself. The temptation to bend that perfect, straight nose or run the scoundrel through with his saber was too great, and that simply would not do … at least not until after the wedding.
Richard’s murderous thoughts perversely lightened his heart. He was not so stupid as to ruin a brilliant military career over a ne’er-do-well like Wickham, but he took comfort in the possibility of the vile Don Juan vanishing.
As Darcy had vanished.
Richard hurried to the mews, his footsteps echoing in rhythm to his thoughts, his purpose: Save Miss Elizabeth. Find Darcy.