Chapter Fourteen #3
“Yes, sir.”
Once inside, Richard called out, “Darcy, where the devil are you?”
“Up here,” he called out from one of the bedrooms on the second floor.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Richard was quick to join William. “Well?”
“Richard, there is no message to be found, no ransom, nothing! Not to mention all of Georgiana’s things are gone.
According to the maid, she says a note was received from ME two days ago requesting that Georgiana’s music master be dismissed and that the house be shut up.
Apparently, Mrs. Younge arranged everything. ”
“I heard something similar from the worker in the mews. He says they left early yesterday. It seems Wickham must have had our girl drugged, since she could not walk on her own to the carriage. Although they are under the impression that Wickham is a close relation, you will need to pay some coin for their silence. Supposedly, the plan was to take an extended tour up the coast for the next week.”
“Over my dead body!”
“I left Bowden to get all of the particulars. We can send two of our men ahead to follow the trail and ask questions, but you do realise it shall be a tedious trip. Going up the coast is hardly a direct route to Gretna Green.”
“We will do what we must. I asked the maid to see what she could find in the kitchen for the men to eat. As soon as the carriage arrives, let us change out the horses and be on our way. Meanwhile, I should send an express back to Elizabeth and our aunt.”
As for Lady Catherine’s express rider, he did not arrive until well after William and the colonel had left the cottage. Needless to say, there was no sign of Mrs. Younge. Since the rider returned to Rosings Park with very little information, Her Ladyship was not satisfied in the least.
A Posting Inn
The Stables
“What do you mean it will be another two hours before the carriage is serviceable? We have been here since yesterday afternoon. A broken axle should not be that hard to repair and I am losing my patience.”
“Yes, but this carriage is not your standard size, and I have had to craft the part from scratch. Not to mention two of the spokes had to be replaced and I needed to make those as well.”
“Even so, any smithy worth his salt would have had this travesty fixed by now.” After cursing he continued, “Be quick about it. I shall be inside waiting!”
George Wickham was on edge. He had not been himself for the past year, maybe longer.
His disease not only affected him physically, but his mind was not what it once was.
He had become short-tempered and trusted no one.
At times he had been unable to differentiate between what was real and what was not.
Thus it was when Wickham re-entered the rented rooms at the inn, looking half wild with rage and muttering to himself.
“How much longer?” Mrs. Younge asked. “We cannot keep Miss Darcy drugged indefinitely. It is unhealthy. She is beginning to wake, and her maid insists that she must have something to eat and drink before we continue our journey.”
“Her maid?! Ha! We never should have brought that chit with us. I say we leave her behind and you can see to our dear girl yourself. All I care about is leaving this place before Darcy gets wind of the elopement and follows us with his annoying cousin. The repair has set us back, and once we leave here it will take us another five or six days to reach Gretna Green. I need to marry Georgiana and bed her if I am to thwart Darcy and collect her dowry.”
At that moment Georgiana had staggered through the door of the adjoining room, and overhearing the last of Wickham’s statements said, “Of what do you speak, Mr. Wickham? I never agreed to go to Gretna Green, and I refuse to marry you.”
“YOU refuse to marry ME?! We shall see about that! He marched over to where she stood, roughly grabbing Georgiana by the shoulders and pulling her further her into the room.
“Stop! You are hurting me.”
“Then you had best not resist.” He twisted her arm and pushed her into the closest chair. “I thoroughly intend to see us wed and secure your dowry if it is the last thing I do.”
Though afraid, Georgiana sat up taller. “Then you will have a long wait, Mr. Wickham, as my dowry will not be released until I am twenty-five years of age.”
Wickham’s rage grew and his face became red with furry. Roughly pulling Georgiana to her feet, he demanded, “What nonsense is this?”
“It is true. Brother told me our father had it written in his will for my protection.”
“YOUR protection?!” He kicked the side of the chair which made a loud cracking noise as it split apart. “I am the one who needs protection. I need that money to pay for my treatments. And if there is no dowry to be had, then I shall have to ask for a ransom.”
“Treatments?!” Mrs. Younge interjected stepping in front of him glaring without restraint. “Just what do you mean by treatments, George? Do you mean to tell me you have the French Disease?”
Wickham laughed with abandon. “YES! And now so do you, my dear. It will be in your best interest to do as I say, since you will also need the treatments along with our dear Georgiana once I have had my fill. Dowry or not, Darcy will have no choice but to pay.”
“Why you….” Livid, Mrs. Younge lunged at Wickham, kicking him and scratching at his face. “I … did … not … bargain ….”
“Get off of me, you harridan!” he yelled, pulling a knife from his boot and plunging it into her side. “Now look at what you have made me do!”
Mrs. Younge cried out in pain, clutching her side and dropping to the floor.
Georgiana screamed hysterically, running towards the door.
Wickham was faster, and as the two of them struggled, Georgiana lost her balance when he flung her towards the table where she hit her head on a sharp corner and fell to the floor.
There she lay motionless with a pool of red blood forming beneath her head.
“What have you done, you little fool?” he said, trying to shake her awake. “You have ruined everything!”
“George, help me,” Mrs. Younge pleaded. “I cannot die like this,” she choked out. Her breath was shallow and her voice thin.
“Die?” he cruelly laughed. “I care not what happens to you.”
By this time Mrs. Younge was no longer conscious, the side of her dress soaked in blood. Irritated, Wickham haphazardly wiped his hands, cleaned off his knife, and hurriedly packed his satchel.
“Money, I need money,” he grumbled. He had already taken what little money Georgiana had at the cottage, not to mention her jewellery, but it was not enough.
Quickly rummaging through Mrs. Younge’s belongings, he discovered she had been holding back ten pounds.
Cursing under his breath he declared, “Darcy, this is your fault! Had you given me the funds when I asked, I would not have to scrounge like some bedraggled animal. Well, it is of no matter.” He laughed cruelly.
“I am hardly through with you! Sister or not, I shall get what I am due, and you WILL pay!”
Continuing to grumble to himself, Wickham stole from the room, heading for the stables.
There he found his driver and informed him of the change in plans.
Ignoring the protests of the smithy, the two of them quickly secured all of their horses and were on their way, leaving the broken carriage behind.
George Wickham was desperate. Yet in his mind, if luck was on his side, he knew of another way to get what he so badly needed.
Note: The French Disease would refer, in this case, to the general paresis stage of Neurosyphilis, a bacterial infection of the central nervous system which results in dementia, depression, psychosis, personality changes, memory loss, poor judgement and paranoia.