Chapter 3
George Wickham grimaced at his wife, as he often did. Why did she have to be so loud?
“Good morning, Lucas!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying across the square. Extracting her handkerchief, in case she had not drawn enough attention since they had descended from the coach at Meryton, she waved the white linen frantically at the gentleman whose name she had squealed.
The young lady with Mr. Lucas gripped him by the elbow and pulled him inside the haberdasher’s shop, pretending not to have heard the excited cries of Lydia Wickham.
Wickham imitated the lady’s example, gripped his wife’s arm, and tugged her along with him. “Come, Lydia, we do not have much time.”
She whined, “I do not understand why you cannot stay longer, George.” She ran her hand over her stomach. She was probably hungry. Again. She was always hungry.
Wickham’s own stomach churned. Would that he had never set eyes on Lydia Bennet.
Pouting out her bottom lip, she looked up through her eyelashes at him. “Why do you not stay with me, George? Surely, the regiment will understand.”
Releasing his clenched jaw, careful to soften his voice, Wickham said, “It pains me greatly, my love, but I am not one to doubt the wisdom of your doctor, and his suggestions for your nerves run contrary to the demands put upon me as an officer. I have leave long enough only to see you safely to your family and to return to my post.”
Her bottom lip protruded further.
Before she grated on his nerves and he, as a consequence, did something he might later regret, he held up his hand to prevent his wife from speaking.
“The doctor insisted you must be in a calm setting, somewhere with fresh, country air. You know as well as I do that the miasma at the barracks is not suitable for your agitated nerves, nor is the company we must keep suitable to your needs.” He stopped walking, took her hands in his, and peered into her petulant eyes.
Gently, he said, “I am only concerned for your welfare, my love. A brief spell with your family at quiet Longbourn will soon set you right, and by then, my regiment will be reassigned away from the factories and smoke. I have it on good authority we are headed to the coast next.” He had heard no such thing, but he would do anything to appease Lydia and make his departure easier.
“Salty breezes and all the sea bathing you could wish for. What think you of that, my love?”
The peevishness pinching her face weakened at the mention of the pleasures awaiting her. She wrapped her arm around his, holding him tightly. Possessively. It was all Wickham could do not to recoil.
Just a few minutes more.
“Of course, George, I ought to have known. You are always so good to me. It is only that I have not been apart from you since we were wed, and I cannot bear the thought of being separated for any length of time.”
He resumed walking along the road to Longbourn, leaving Lydia no choice but to stumble along beside him. She did not loosen her hold on his arm, though his pace was brisk. They were near Longbourn.
An approaching carriage set his heart racing.
It could not yet be the cart he had arranged to convey her luggage to Longbourn.
Slowly, as though he had not a care in the world, he glanced over his shoulder to see who it was and instantly relaxed.
Just a farmer driving his cart. He raised his hand in greeting, ensuring the man a good look of his face.
He needed to be seen, just not by the wrong people.
He prayed all of them were at the wedding by now.
“You walk too fast, George.”
He snapped. “I would walk faster if you did not slow me down.”
Lydia bunched her chin like a toddler. “La, you are disagreeable today. You will not stay when I want you to, and you insist on leaving me at Longbourn instead of the church to see my sisters marry. I have as little desire to see stuffy Mr. Darcy as you do, but I do so wish to see Jane’s and Lizzy’s gowns.
” She patted her stomach again, and Wickham struggled against the urge to tighten his grip around her fleshy elbow.
Only the knowledge of his plan granted him solace.
A few more minutes. Then Lydia would be her father’s problem, not his. It was for her own benefit. The doctor had said so.
He mumbled, “I am sorry, my love. Knowing I must leave you has made me cross.”
She snuggled against his arm, giggling. “I ought to have known. My poor, dearest George, missing me already.”
He forced a smile and continued walking.
“Let us peek through the windows, at least,” she pressed. “Now that my sisters are married to rich men, they will have no use for their old gowns, and if I am not there to claim them, they will all go to Kitty and Mary.”
Wickham did not slow his pace. “As I told you before, we must arrive at Longbourn while your family is away.”
“But why?”
He took a deep breath. “Consider how your sudden, unexpected arrival at the church would affect your sisters. This is their grand day, but you would be certain to overshadow them with your presence. Then, they would resent you and you would not benefit from their kindness.”
Lydia gasped. “No! I had not considered that before, but I daresay you are correct. What with all the news I have to share, I would be certain to get all the attention. You are so clever, George. So what if Kitty and Mary get their dusty, old gowns? Lizzy is sure to invite us to stay at Pemberley, and she will be rich enough to spare me several new gowns. And Jane is generous to a fault. I know she will not refuse me when I ask her to lend me money.”
Wickham, too, hoped his wife’s sisters would be as generous as Lydia believed.
He was in desperate need of funds. However, he thought it best not to point out the futility of Mrs. Darcy ever inviting them to Pemberley to his wife.
It would sooner freeze in late June than Darcy allow the Wickhams to set foot on his precious estate.
Carriage wheels rattled and harnesses jingled behind them. Wickham tucked his head down and pulled Lydia closer to the side of the road. The foolish girl turned and waved openly.
Wickham prayed it was not her family. It ought not to be.
He had deposited his wife at the inn with a plate of cucumber sandwiches while he crept behind the carriage house to ensure the Bennets had departed.
It had taken him longer than he had wanted, but the family had made two trips in their carriage, he supposed, to save the ladies’ gowns or to save the carriage from suffering an accident with its heavy burden.
Accidents happen all the time. And when one least expected.
He had not seen Darcy.
If only Darcy knew what he planned, he would thank him.
Miss Elizabeth must have bewitched him completely for the grand gentleman to willingly attach himself to such a family. Mr. High-and-Mighty with his fortune and connections would be grateful to him once he realized the burden from which Wickham planned to free him.
Perhaps, in the future, he would look upon Wickham with more favor. With more generosity.
Longbourn came into view and, with his relief imminent, it became easier for Wickham to think more kindly of his wife.
Slowing his pace and pressing her hands against his heart, he looked upon her with the charming regard which had won him the hearts of many maidens.
“It distresses me greatly to depart so suddenly, my love. I think only of your welfare. I must stay on good terms with my commander. It simply cannot be helped.” He stroked her smooth cheek, trailing his fingers down to trace the outline of her lips.
She rose up to her toes and leaned against him.
This had always been Lydia’s most redeeming trait. She was affectionate. He crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her as though it might be their last.
When he released her, she stepped away, her hand over her heart and her chest heaving for breath. “My sisters would be shocked to be kissed with as much passion as I am accustomed to.”
Her constant comparisons between herself and her sisters had grown tiresome months ago, but Wickham prided himself that in at least one area he was superior to Darcy with his cold manners and repressed emotion.
Even when Wickham had nearly managed to elope with Darcy’s little sister, he had suppressed his anger.
He had not called Wickham out, nor had he challenged him to a duel.
Not one blow or shove. Darcy was the personification of passionless self-possession.
And he was soon to be in Wickham’s debt.
Resting his forehead against Lydia’s, Wickham said, “I must depart before your family returns. They will be delighted to see you, and I hope you will give them my best regards as well as explain the difficulty of my position suitably.” Dragging her by the shoulders, he turned her around and sent her down the path to Longbourn when a thought occurred to him.
Calling after her, he said, “Wave to me from your bedchamber window once you gain entrance.”
Lydia smiled at him and skipped toward her house.
Minutes later, a window toward the front facing the carriage house slid open, and his wife leaned perilously over the edge so carelessly Wickham held his breath.
Only when she retreated inside did he turn around and begin his sojourn back to the village.
He made certain to greet the villagers he passed all the way into Meryton. He made certain he was seen hopping onto the back of a cart on the road to London. And he made certain nobody observed him hop off the cart a couple of miles down the lane and cut across the fields.