Chapter 8
It had been a long night. Richard stretched in the chair beside Darcy, who now slept, rather than lay insensible.
Maunder and the apothecary had taken the watch at two and Richard had had a few hours’ sleep, returning to Darcy’s chamber at six, when he had heard his cousin shouting.
He shivered. Darce was much changed already.
He knew that sometimes the changes in a man resolved, but sometimes it seemed permanent.
He would be ashamed to admit that he had prayed last night for the first time in many years.
Darcy would hate not being in control of his temper.
Now it was later in the morning, and he had sat those hours with Darcy, who had taken some broth as well as water.
It appeared to have exhausted him, and he slept heavily, although he still clutched the handkerchief.
Richard grimaced; it would soon have to be washed.
He thought again about Miss Elizabeth. What is she to Darcy? And what were they doing outside?
He got up quietly from the chair and Mr Maunder slipped into it. He nodded at both of them, Mr Jones standing watchful at the far side of the room. “I hope not to be too long, but I must begin to make enquiries.” His gaze lingered on his cousin’s face. For Darcy. He was doing this for Darcy.
He stopped in Meryton, having decided to send the next note to his father from here, thus giving him a pretext to call at the post inn. As he stood at the desk, waiting for the letter to be stamped, he caught the voices; what he needed to hear came, loud and excited, from the parlour.
“I heard she was offended that he thought her a lightskirt.”
“But how could she have injured him so severely? Miss Elizabeth is kindness itself.”
“But she is very proper. She would not take kindly to being propositioned.”
“Why would he have done that after their quarrel in the dance?”
Richard half-turned to listen. He knew the post clerk would think him uninvolved and might have something to add.
He was right. The clerk was a young man with a severe expression over a weak-looking chin. But he looked disapproving.
“You are new to this town, I believe, Colonel?”
“I am. I only arrived yesterday.” He gave a short, amused huff. “It seems I have missed some excitement.”
The man shook his head. “They must be wrong, sir. Miss Elizabeth would never behave so. She is all that is good, she and her sister.” He glared through to the parlour. “But they are wrong another way, too.” He grinned. “Miss Elizabeth is strong enough to fell any man, I think.”
“How so?” Richard’s interest was piqued.
“She walks miles about the estate each day, carrying heavy baskets to the tenants — sometimes two or three at once. She would not be afeared of anyone.” He looked rather wistful, and Richard wondered if there was some attraction there. Still, it was all evidence.
“Perhaps you might take an ale, sir, before you go about your business?” The clerk, ever the tradesman, seemed eager to make a sale. He appeared keen to drum up business, and Richard was amused.
“Perhaps I will. Thank you.” He turned and entered the parlour, slightly amused at the hush that ensued before the conversations resumed only slightly muted.
The fire had drawn two militia officers to it; their scarlet coats were unbuttoned for comfort, their talk loud and self-important.
There was a group of workmen, tankards on the table in front of them, who had been joined by a couple of countrywomen, resting their shopping baskets on the floor as they stood beside them to join in the gossip.
He turned to the maidservant who had come to attend him. “Bring me a coffee. A single cup will do, I do not have long to tarry.”
She curtsied hastily and rushed off. Richard took a table some distance from the officers — he was always prepared to listen to what was going on among those in uniform.
“Wickham’s gone! He slipped away yesterday, and he owes me three pounds!” The officer with his back to Richard sounded petulant. “He must owe everyone.”
The other glanced at Richard before looking back at his fellow officer. “But — desertion, Denny. He would not risk that punishment for debts that are not so large, surely?”
The maidservant returned with his coffee, and Richard dropped a shilling on the well-scrubbed, worn table. Her eyes widened at his generosity, and she curtsied and gave him a shy smile.
The small interaction had given Richard time to collect himself and control his expression.
Wickham! What was that reprobate doing here in Meryton just when Darcy was here?
Did he follow my cousin, or was it a cruel coincidence?
He frowned. He deserted yesterday. So soon after the attack.
Is that a coincidence? But perhaps his debts have mounted too much? I wonder how long he has been here?
He smiled wolfishly. Desertion. A hanging matter. He drained his coffee, and rose to his feet. Miss Elizabeth. She must have information that would be new to him.
At Longbourn, he handed over his card and asked for Mr Bennet. Shown into a small but impressive library, he bowed at the older man, tall and stooped, with a bookish air, and a concern he attempted to hide beneath sardonic wit.
“Good morning, Colonel. I am honoured at your attendance.” The raised eyebrow disclaimed the honour, and Richard responded in kind.
“But hardly a surprise, I think?”
There was a bark of laughter. “You’ll do, young man. Permit me to send for coffee, and we may see what you are about.”
Over refreshments, Richard explained his errand, and the gossip about Miss Elizabeth and Darcy that he had overheard at the inn. Bennet’s lips tightened.
“What is to be done?”
Richard sighed. “Has your daughter described what happened?”
“She has. But it might be better if I call her in and have her explain herself directly. I will, of course, remain with her.” He leaned over and rang the bell. When the housekeeper answered, Bennet instructed her to call Miss Elizabeth into the room and also to bring tea for her.
Richard nodded to himself. It is good that her father is attentive towards her. He will not cast her off with the rumours, and I am sure that he will not demand a marriage.
A slender, lithe girl of average height, dark and with a mischievous look in her eyes appeared in the doorway. She looked at Richard who had risen to his feet at her entry.
“Papa, you know you ought to call in my youngest sisters if there is an officer here.” Her voice was flippant, but Richard could sense the concern beneath it all. He was rather impressed. She was not flirting with him and was attempting to hide her troubles.
“I appreciate your attempt at humour, my dear.” Her father looked sadly at her. “But allow me to introduce you.”
He turned to look at Richard. “Colonel, this is my second daughter. Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
To Elizabeth he said, “Lizzy, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is Mr Darcy’s cousin, and is hoping you will be willing to explain to him exactly what happened on Tuesday evening at Netherfield.”
Miss Bennet curtsied to his neat bow. She is a pretty girl, and seems to have an air of confidence. But I am surprised Darcy appears to have an interest in her.
“Might I ask how Mr Darcy fares, sir?” Her words drew him back to himself, and he nodded.
“Of course, Miss Bennet. He — and I — are indebted for your quick actions. Darcy has, as you must know, quite serious injuries. But your apothecary tells me that if we are able to prevent infection, they are not life-threatening.”
“I thank you, sir.” She seemed calm, although the pallor under her complexion showed perhaps more agitation than she wished to show.
Interesting.
“Would you be willing to explain exactly what happened on the evening of the ball, Miss Bennet? I know it must be distressing to recall it again.”
The young woman seemed composed. “Of course, sir. I had expected it would be necessary, and I thank you for asking me directly.” Her eyes flashed. “Apart from Papa, no one else has.”
He knew his surprise showed. “I was going to speak to the magistrate after I spoke to you. Did he not ask for an account of the matter?”
Bennet broke in. “He asked me for the details, but I believe he felt he had enough information at that point.”
“I understand.” Richard nodded and turned back to her.
“Miss Bennet, I expect you will know the best place to start.”
To his surprise, she looked down, clearly unhappy. Bennet looked as if he wished to intervene, but Richard raised a warning hand.
“I … we had danced the fourth, sir, and then I went to Papa and asked if I could come home. So I went to the door and asked for our carriage to be brought round. While I was waiting, I went outside and stood at the side of the steps. I was wearing my dark cloak and the light from the door didn’t show me. I wanted to be cool.”
He nodded silently, looking receptive to her account. But why did she want to go home after the dance? Why did she not explain what had happened to make her wish to leave? He would wait until the end before asking difficult questions.
He listened to her very clear, factual account. At last, he could begin to decipher the puzzle.
“Thank you, Miss Bennet.” Careful, man! You nearly called her Miss Elizabeth! “That is a very helpful account. Tell me, did you see the assailants at all clearly? If you can give me any sort of description, it would be helpful in perhaps detaining them.”
“No, sir. I was calling for the servants — screaming for them, rather — I know it was not very ladylike; and because of that they were already running away. But I heard them.”
“Any accents? Were they local men?” Richard leaned forward eagerly.
“I only heard one of them clearly — and I recognised his voice straight away.” Her voice was cold. “It was a local militia officer. A Mr Wickham.”
Richard went utterly still. Wickham! Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bennet’s shocked reaction. “Are you certain?”
“I am.” She seemed utterly confident. “And I heard him again as he kicked Mr Darcy in the face.” She shivered.
“I cannot forget it. He said ‘That’s for Georgiana, Darcy. I want you to know who ruined your handsome face’.
” Her hands were wringing in her lap by now, but Richard could not prevent his reaction.
He was already on his feet, staring out of the window.
He must control his voice; she did not deserve to hear what he thought.
And he was thinking of his sword slashing through the man who had done this to Darcy.
Wickham, who had once been a childhood friend to his cousin. He turned heavily back into the room.
“I thank you, Miss Bennet. That is an extremely important fact.” He turned to Bennet.
“Does the magistrate know?”
Bennet seemed dazed. “No, I did not know it, so I could not say.” He looked at his daughter.
“Why did you not tell me?”
“I told you!” She shot back. “I said they sounded like rough men and Wickham told them to be quiet. How was I to gather my thoughts enough to speak of it all? And Sir William never once asked me anything.”
“Sir William?” Richard asked neutrally.
“The magistrate,” Bennet said tiredly. “I thought I heard you say ‘one of them’, and not Wickham’s name.” He turned back to Richard.
“Do you think this man will know that Lizzy recognised him? Will she be in danger from him?”
The girl’s lack of reaction told Richard that she had already considered the matter.
“I pray you do not concern yourself as yet, Miss Bennet. I — was listening to some gossip at the posting inn in Meryton before I called here, and it included that Wickham deserted yesterday.” He thought for a moment.
“I do believe, though, that it is possible he may return with some spurious excuse, and be excused. Perhaps it is better that his name is not mentioned to anyone else at present. I have some idea of where to find him and will seek him out.”
He crossed the room and sat next to her, gentling his voice. “Please do not worry for your safety, madam. I am in your very great debt for saving the life of my cousin, and I will not permit any harm to befall you.”
Both Bennet and his daughter agreed, and she assured him that she had mentioned the name to no one else. Then she hesitated.
“Mr Darcy had gone to speak to him. He will remember, of course.”
Richard looked at her. “It is a clever thought. But at the moment, he does not seem to recall anything. He remains much confused.” He made a mental note to ensure neither Maunder nor Jones — nor Bingley — would repeat anything they heard from Darcy.
He did not escape Longbourn unscathed, of course. As they left Bennet’s library, Mrs Bennet was waiting for him. “I heard that a handsome officer had called. You must take refreshments with us, sir, before you continue on your travels. My Lydia is very fond of a red coat.”
Despite his shock, Richard smiled charmingly and allowed himself to be herded into a cluttered sitting room full of females and chatter. He had heard Bennet’s dry chuckle behind him, and knew the man had anticipated this. If his errand was not so serious, he might wreak retribution on the fellow.
He stifled a sigh, amused to also have heard Miss Elizabeth’s vexed huff behind him. Mrs Bennet drew him to a seat beside a buxom, lively-looking very young woman who was eyeing him and his uniform appreciatively. He leaned slightly away. She could not be any older than Georgiana.
It took less than half-an-hour to understand the depths of Miss Elizabeth’s goodness.
It was remarkable, having been brought up in this chaotic, vulgar household.
Miss Elizabeth and her eldest sister seemed to be the only kind and ladylike women here.
He wondered wryly whether the two youngest girls had lifted their skirts for Wickham.
It seemed entirely possible. It was the youngest who deserved the malicious gossip, not Miss Elizabeth.
He rode away towards Netherfield, having decided a call on the magistrate could wait.
Richard was in need of quiet time to think and he considered all he had learned.
Whatever the reasons she had been reluctant to give any details about her dance with Darcy, she seemed entirely deserving of his own respect and protection.
He thought back, hadn’t Bingley said they had quarrelled during their dance?
And Darcy never danced with a lady who was neither family nor his hostess if he could avoid it.