Chapter 20 Mischief in Meryton #2
As their parlor emptied and Lady Lucas went to find her husband and inform him of the news, Charlotte caught her reflection in the mirror above the mantle. She smiled at herself and said, “Not badly done, Mrs. Collins. Not bad at all.”
Wickham did not understand why everything had changed.
He had expected an invitation to Mrs. Phillips for dinner that week, but he had received nothing.
He had seen her on the street and before he could approach her, she had ducked into the dressmaker’s shop.
He could not follow her inside without looking a fool, so he had put the incident out of his mind, though it was strange.
Then the publican had refused him credit when he wished to drink with the other officers.
Wickham could not imagine why, and when he tried to cajole the man into giving him what he wished, he was unceremoniously declined.
The publican had gone a step further and told Wickham he expected to begin seeing payment on the credit he had already been extended, and he would not be given any drinks, even for ready money, until Wickham had paid at least two shillings towards his debt.
Wickham was more than a little surprised by the man’s heated response, but he supposed his account had run rather high—it was likely time to move on to another location.
He had tried to steal a kiss from Millie, the butcher’s daughter, but she would not even meet his eye when last week she been more than happy to flirt brazenly with him.
Everywhere he went, he was met with averted gazes and unhappy shopkeepers. What the devil was going on?
“Wickham!”
He jumped and turned around outside his quarters. Saunderson approached him with a serious expression. “Do you have my money?” he asked gruffly.
Wickham tried not to blanch. Saunderson was a tall, gangly man with little charm and even less patience. He was younger than Wickham and often at the gaming tables, and Wickham had both won and lost to him many times now. He had never been concerned about his debts of honor before.
“Well? Do you have it?”
Wickham laughed nervously. “You know we are not paid until the end of the month.”
Saunderson looked at him shrewdly. “Aye, but I hear you won against Chamberlayne last night.”
Wickham backed away a step. “I did, but I have just come from the tavern. I had to pay there first, you understand.”
Saunderson looked like he thought Wickham was lying, and he was not fooled by it for a second. He was not a particularly strong man, but he was an excellent shot and a good horseman. He was also known to be scrupulous with money.
He continued to stare at Wickham, unimpressed by the man’s excuses.
“Perhaps I have a little put by.”
Saunderson looked at him shrewdly. “Perhaps you do.”
Wickham slipped into his room and drew out the small coin purse that held his winnings from the evening before.
It was not much, but it was enough to get to London and disappear for a little while.
Or he could pay Saunderson and have enough left to pay the publican, but then he would still owe three other officers and a handful of tradesmen.
If they heard he had paid Saunderson, they would expect to be paid as well.
Feeling a rivulet of sweat making its way down his back, he swiftly hid his winnings inside his small clothes and stepped into the hall with a shilling between his thumb and forefinger.
“This will have to do for now, Saunderson.”
The tall man took the coin and placed it in his pocket, looking at Wickham like he was a spider he had inadvertently stepped on. “I’ll be back for the rest.”
Wickham laughed nervously and smiled, attempting to be charming and failing miserably. “It won’t be long now.”
Saunderson glared at him and walked away, and Wickham breathed a sigh of relief.
He must get out of Meryton. Tonight. He would wait until dark and sneak away, walking the five miles to the next town.
A stage ran there regularly enough he should be able to catch it and disappear into London.
Yes, it would work. He only needed to avoid the officers he owed money to for another few hours.
Shortly after midnight, Wickham shimmied out of the window with a small bag of his belongings. He dropped to the ground with a light thud and stood straight to dust himself off. He stayed in the shadows and had nearly made it beyond Meryton when he heard a voice say his name.
“Wickham. Where are you going?” Saunderson stepped out of the shadows and into Wickham’s path.
“Oh, nowhere special,” said Wickham as he backed away. “Just off for a spell. I shall return in a few days.”
“Is that right? Does Colonel Forster know you are leaving the regiment?”
“Leaving the regiment!” Wickham laughed uneasily. He took another step back, darting his eyes to the side to see where he could successfully run to. “I would hardly call it leaving. More like taking a short break. I will be back before you notice I am gone. There is nothing to be concerned with.”
“Oh, there isn’t?”
A deep voice behind Wickham made him look over his shoulder.
“Denny!” he cried in relief. “I am glad to see you. Tell Saunderson I am only going away for a few days and that all will be well. There is nothing to be worried over.”
Denny glared at him. “Your room is cleaned out. Looks like you plan to be gone longer than a few days.”
Wickham scrambled for something to say. “I, well, that is, I had thought to return some things to my uncle in Town. I will bring back what is needed.”
“You told me you had no family,” said Denny darkly.
Saunderson spit in the dirt, leaning leisurely against a building in the moonlight.
“Seems you are having a bit of trouble keeping your stories straight, Wickham. I stopped by the tavern. Publican says you haven’t paid him a farthing.
” He spit again, the relaxed posture as he leaned against the brick only making Wickham more nervous.
He looked over his shoulder, only to see three more officers, two of them on horseback, waiting to take him back to camp.
“You know desertion is a crime, do you not?” said one of the men on a horse.
“You’d be surprised at what he does not know,” said Denny with dark amusement.
“Now, wait just a moment! I am not deserting. Going to Town for a few days is hardly deserting your post!”
“Colonel Forster does not agree.”
Wickham’s eyes bulged as he turned to face Saunderson, who was now only a few feet behind him.
“Come along, Wickham. Don’t make this worse than it needs to be.” Denny took his arm firmly and propelled him through the dark streets of Meryton.
Wickham was in a blind panic, wondering how he would escape this mess. They were in a war. Desertion in a time of war was punishable by death!
He looked around desperately, searching for a way to escape or a savior to rescue him. The shops were dark, their doors bolted shut, and most of the rooms above were darkened as well. He saw a curtain flicker in one of the lit windows and a face pull back from the glass.
Any hope he had had that he would somehow escape this unscathed vanished like smoke. Mrs. Phillips would make sure the entire town knew of his humiliation by dinner tomorrow.