Chapter 11 #3
Mr. James from the bank provided the opening.
“I confess some confusion about the allegations. Mrs. Darcy has conducted herself with nothing but dignity since her arrival at Pemberley. And Mr. Gardiner, whom I hold in high esteem, spoke most warmly of both his niece’s character and the circumstances that led to her marriage. ”
The reference to the Gardiners confirmed their strategy’s importance. Colonel Fitzwilliam seized it.
“The facts are straightforward,” he said. “My cousin and Mrs. Darcy, then Miss Bennet, were caught in a storm while walking separately on Netherfield property. They sought shelter in an abandoned cottage, were discovered at dawn, and married as honor demanded.”
He paused, letting the simple narrative settle. “What Mr. Wickham suggests—prior meetings, deliberate strategy—is not merely false but contrary to their well-established relationship at that time.”
“Meaning what, precisely?” young Peter Gray asked.
“Meaning,” Darcy replied, “that Miss Elizabeth Bennet and I were barely acquainted before that night. We had exchanged fewer than a dozen sentences during previous public gatherings, had demonstrated no particular partiality for one another’s company.”
“Darcy exaggerates the distance between them,” Wickham attempted. “There were significant interactions—”
“That suggest nothing beyond normal social intercourse at public gatherings,” Colonel Fitzwilliam cut him off firmly. “As numerous witnesses in Meryton could attest, including Mrs. Darcy’s own family.”
He let that settle before continuing. “What might be more relevant to Mr. Wickham’s credibility is his own history with the Darcy family.
A history that includes receiving substantial financial settlements subsequently exhausted through gambling, followed by repeated attempts to secure additional funds through various means. ”
The direct reference to financial motivation, delivered without explicit mention of blackmail but clear enough in implication, shifted the room’s atmosphere. Sir William’s gaze sharpened on Wickham.
“Are you suggesting, Colonel, that Mr. Wickham’s comments today might be motivated by financial considerations rather than concern for truth?”
“I observe that patterns of behavior tend to repeat themselves,” the Colonel replied. “And that judgments about credibility benefit from awareness of such patterns.”
Wickham recognized the turning tide. His expression hardened as he made a final attempt to salvage his position.
“Mr. Darcy has always excelled at presenting himself as the injured party,” he declared, abandoning friendly pretense. “Just as he did when denying me the living his father had promised, forcing me into financial difficulties that persist to this day.”
“The living you relinquished voluntarily in exchange for three thousand pounds?” Darcy’s voice was deadly quiet. “A sum that followed the one thousand pounds my father left you in his will, all of which disappeared within two years through your own choices?”
Wickham’s expression flickered between anger and calculation as his position deteriorated.
“You always did know how to present yourself favorably,” he tried, conviction wavering. “A skill your wife seems to share—”
“I believe I’ve heard enough.” Mr. James rose, his tone firm. “Mr. Wickham, while the Bull and Crown welcomes all paying customers, there are standards of conduct expected. Allegations against ladies, particularly those of Mrs. Darcy’s standing, fall well outside those standards.”
The banker’s intervention as stand-in for respectable society effectively ended Wickham’s attempt. Other local men stood as well, their expressions making clear which narrative they credited.
“Perhaps you should settle your account and seek accommodations elsewhere,” the innkeeper suggested.
Trapped by collective rejection, Wickham attempted dignity through affected indifference. “I was planning to depart for more congenial surroundings regardless. Lambton has proved disappointingly provincial.”
“Allow me to assist you to the stables when you have paid your bill,” Colonel Fitzwilliam offered with deceptive pleasantness. “I believe we have unfinished business to discuss.”
The implied threat was unmistakable. Wickham’s bravado faltered, but he maintained composure as he put coin on the counter and followed the Colonel from the common room.
Darcy remained to address the assembled gentlemen. “I apologize for this unpleasantness. And I thank you for your discernment.”
“No apology necessary, Darcy,” Sir William assured him. “Your prompt and measured response speaks to your character far more eloquently than his allegations.”
While Colonel Fitzwilliam concluded his business with Wickham in the stables—a conversation Darcy deliberately avoided witnessing directly—he took the opportunity to speak privately with Harry Blackburn.
“Your warning prevented what might have become substantial difficulty,” Darcy said, offering his hand. “Pemberley is in your debt.”
“Not at all, sir.” Mr. Blackburn clasped it firmly. “The Darcy family has always dealt fairly with my business. I merely extended the same courtesy.”
This was mutual respect between landed gentry and tradesman—exactly the kind of connection Elizabeth’s influence had taught him to value.
When Colonel Fitzwilliam rejoined him, satisfaction showed in every line of his bearing. “Wickham will depart for Liverpool within the hour. I’ve arranged passage to the Americas on the next available ship, with clear understanding that any return to England will result in immediate prosecution.”
“You paid him?” Darcy asked sharply.
“Not a shilling. Merely purchased passage directly from the shipping company and provided him the ticket, along with a letter to the captain detailing certain concerns about his character. He’s effectively being transported at my expense, but receives no funds himself.”
The elegant solution—removal without reward—impressed Darcy. “Well done.”
The ride back to Pemberley passed in lighter spirits, afternoon sun bathing familiar landscape in golden light. They had faced Wickham’s threat and emerged stronger for it—a partnership of complementary strengths that had protected what mattered most.
Elizabeth and Georgiana waited in the music room, both looking up expectantly as Darcy and the Colonel entered.
“It’s done,” Darcy said simply. “Wickham’s attempt was thoroughly discredited, and he’s bound for America within the day.”
Relief flooded Elizabeth’s features. “His allegations found no receptive audience?”
“On the contrary,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied. “His claims met such skepticism that Mr. James himself suggested Wickham find alternative accommodation—clear indication respectable society rejected his narrative entirely.”
“The Gardiners proved invaluable,” Darcy added, watching Elizabeth’s face brighten. “Mr. James specifically mentioned his high regard for your uncle and the positive impression you’ve made since arriving at Pemberley.”
Georgiana’s expression reflected complex emotion—relief, lingering concern, something approaching closure. “He is truly gone? Not merely to another county, but away?”
“To Boston or Philadelphia, depending on which ship departs first,” the Colonel confirmed. “With clear understanding that any return will result in immediate prosecution for attempted blackmail.”
Georgiana straightened in her chair, color returning to her wan cheeks. “Then it’s over. Truly over.”
“Yes.” Darcy watched his sister carefully. “Though I regret you were exposed to his malice again during your recovery.”
“I don’t.” Georgiana’s voice held surprising firmness. “Being included in addressing the situation, being treated as capable of understanding rather than a child to be protected—it helped me feel less like his victim and more like someone who survived.”
The insight impressed Darcy. He exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, recognizing that her counsel had proven wiser than his protective instincts would have been.
“You have survived,” Elizabeth affirmed. “And emerged stronger for it.”
As conversation turned to Georgiana’s recovery and plans for coming days, Darcy observed the easy interaction between his wife, his sister, and his cousin. This was what family should be—not merely legal connection, but genuine care expressed through mutual support.
Later, after Georgiana had retired and Colonel Fitzwilliam had withdrawn to address correspondence, Darcy found himself alone with Elizabeth in the library. The familiar comfort of leather and woodsmoke surrounded them, firelight casting gentle shadows.
“I must thank you,” he said as they settled before the hearth. “Your strategy proved exactly right.”
“Our strategy,” Elizabeth corrected.
Mr. Darcy reached for her hand, fingers lacing with hers.
Three days later, they were relaxing after dinner when Graves found Mr. Darcy, his expression apologetic. “Another express, sir. It arrived while you were in Lambton.”
Darcy took the letter, recognizing the elaborate seal before he broke it. Lady Catherine. He scanned the lines, each word sharper than the last.
Nephew—
I have learned of Mr. Wickham’s disgraceful behavior in Lambton. This vindicates my warnings about your marriage’s effect on family standing. A connection that attracts such persons and invites such scandal cannot be allowed to continue unchallenged.
Expect my arrival within the fortnight to address necessary corrective measures. I trust you will receive me with appropriate deference to family authority.
Your aunt,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
Elizabeth read over his shoulder. “She does not relent.”
“She never has.” Darcy folded the letter, jaw set. “We will face her together.”
“Together,” Elizabeth agreed.
But as they parted at her chamber door, Darcy wondered what corrective measures his aunt intended—and whether their unity, tested and proven against Wickham, could withstand another assault.