Chapter 14 #2
He waited until the night watchman made the rounds. Then, Wickham scaled the stone wall surrounding the garden. Catlike, he landed on his feet in the back yard.
A soft glow emanated from a ground-floor window. Through the shadows, he made his way towards the light. Inside, a girl was washing the dishes, her back to him. Otherwise, the room appeared empty of people.
He stepped over to the door and peered through the panes. The kitchen was on the left, but to the right was a little entryway with a staircase. If he was quiet, he should be able to get inside and up the stairs undetected.
Gently, he tried the doorknob. It was locked, but that was little deterrent. Naturally he had a pick with him. He only hoped the door hadn’t yet been bolted for the night.
It took only seconds for the lock to give way. Slowly, silently, he stole inside. Up the stairs he crept, watching for a door with light peeking out beneath it. When he found it, he stood outside, listening.
Caroline’s voice was clearly audible, as well as another woman’s—presumably her lady’s maid. Wickham would have to wait until the servant left. He stood in the shadows, out of sight.
It was a bloody cold wait. Caroline was the only family member in residence.
Her rooms were probably the only ones on this floor with a fire lit.
He listened for every creak of the house—any sound that might signal a servant stirring and heading in his direction.
But he guessed they’d mostly retired for the night.
Finally, the maid exited. He slinked further into the shadows to hide from her view. Once she was out of sight, he inched forward and pushed open the bedroom door.
Caroline was at her vanity, brushing her hair. His breath caught at the sight of it. He’d never seen it down before. He imagined it tumbling over her shoulders as she rode him.
She spotted him in the mirror and turned on him. “Scoundrel!” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”
He closed the door behind him and sat on the corner of the bed, next to her chair. “We need to talk. Things have changed. Poor Jane is dead.”
A look of genuine sorrow crossed her face. “So I’ve heard. Fortunately, I’ve been seeking other opportunities for you. I wrote to a friend in Cornwall. She was involved in a scandal some years ago. A husband would restore her to respectability.”
Wickham considered that. “What is she worth?”
Caroline let out a huff. “Of course that’s the first question you ask. Fifteen thousand.”
He shook his head. “Not as much as I hoped.”
“If I snare Darcy, I can get you more. I have a plan. It will work better once he and I are both back at Netherfield.”
“Don’t wait too long, or he might realise you’re enceinte.”
She startled at that but didn’t deny it. “The midwife says I have weeks before I start showing. And if the baby comes earlier than expected, well, by then, Darcy will have married me. He’ll have no recourse. Besides, when he sees the family resemblance, it will reassure him.”
“You have it all figured out.”
Her expression darkened. “I’ve thought of nothing else since it happened, you lying beast. Believe me, I’m as eager to see you married to a woman of means as you are.”
He touched his knee to hers. “You have so little affection for me?”
“I have no affection for you at all. You’re blackmailing me.” Despite her protest, her tone was coy.
“Blackmail is such a harsh word.” His voice was as rich and seductive as chocolate. “I like to think we’re working towards a common goal.” He reached out and touched her hair, the long dark locks draped over her shoulders.
She let out a sigh—a delighted moan that stoked his desire. Before long, they were on the bed, and he was stripping her naked. He’d never seen her that way before, and he was eager for it.
Once they found their consummation, they lay tangled together. She was warm and soft and inviting, scented with roses and vanilla. He trailed kisses along the column of her neck. “We’re remarkably compatible, you and I. Is that not a reason to marry?”
“Compatibility in bed is the worst possible reason.” She met his mouth and pressed her soft curves against him, running a teasing hand up and down his back.
“Besides,” she continued, almost purring, “we can be together like this after I marry Darcy. Tell me you wouldn’t find it satisfying to bed his wife.”
He chuckled. “I confess, I would.” He traced her soft lips with his forefinger. “But I need money soon. If you don’t come through for me, no matter how good you are in bed, I’ll be forced to ruin you.”
She stretched like a cat and curled into him. “It won’t come to that. Be patient. Soon, we’ll both have what we want.”
∞∞∞
Lizzy was in the drawing room with her aunt and uncle that night when Darcy was shown in. Heart lifting at the sight of him, she rose to greet him.
It wasn’t his first visit to the house on Gracechurch Street. He’d come once before to meet with her uncle, surprised to find Lizzy there. They’d kept a civil distance for the sake of her relatives.
She was once again possessed by the desire to close the distance between them. She took a step forward—but his expression turned her cold.
His cheeks were pale. It was after nine, so he’d likely come on urgent business. His dark hair was ruffled, as if he’d been carding his fingers through it.
“Miss Bennet, I just received word.” His voice sounded choked with emotion. “Please allow me to offer my deepest condolences.”
She eyed him with confusion, then dread. She could barely find words to speak. “Is there news from Hertfordshire?” she asked in a desperate whisper. Fear filling her breast, she cried, “Dear Heaven, what has happened?”
He stepped back, his brow wrinkling. “Not from Hertfordshire. I speak of your sister Jane. I heard from Caroline…” He broke off, eyeing her in confusion.
Lizzy huffed out a little gasp. She placed her hand on her chest as relief flooded her. Sinking back onto the couch, it took a moment for her to catch her breath, and for her heart to slow its galloping beat.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, forgive me.” A bubble of nervous laughter escaped her. “I never imagined that word of my little ruse would get back to you.”
He sat beside her. “Ruse?”
“Wickham has been troubling us.” She looked up at him sheepishly. “I told the butler that if the man came back, to tell him Jane was dead.”
Darcy stared at her, some of the colour returning to his cheek. “You’re saying…she’s well?”
“Yes. That is…she’s alive, though still poorly. Her fever has broken, thank goodness, so the doctor believes she’s out of danger.”
He let out a long breath, and the tension in his body eased. “Praise Heaven.”
Uncle Gardiner stepped forward. “Sorry to have given you a scare, Darcy. Mr. Wickham has been making a nuisance of himself and scaring poor Jane out of her wits.”
“I understand. I’m sorry to call so late—”
“I’m glad you did,” aunt Gardiner said. “I hate to think of you labouring under this misconception any longer.”
She called for tea, and she took her seat again by the fire with her husband. Lizzy and Darcy, meanwhile, settled on the sofa, with a polite distance between them.
Lizzy took a deep breath, her heart returning to its normal rhythm. Considering the situation further, she raised a question to Darcy. “I can’t help wondering how Miss Bingley learnt what the butler had told Mr. Wickham. Is that not further proof she’s colluding with him?”
Darcy scowled, looking deep in thought. “If Caroline is working with Wickham, then finding the maid might be more difficult. On Caroline’s reference, one of her friends in town might have hired Minnie.”
Lizzy deflated. That wasn’t good news. “Have you had any luck in the search so far?” she asked.
“I’ve learnt that Minnie’s previous employer was Lady Powell. My uncle’s investigator is questioning the household for information. I’m also seeking the whereabouts of Mrs. Younge, a mutual acquaintance of mine and Wickham’s. She’s the most likely candidate to help him keep Minnie hidden.”
Lizzy nodded pensively, her spirits flattened. How were they to locate Minnie in a city the size of London? “What if we never find her?”
“Bingley will see his mistake.”
“You believe that?” she asked in surprise.
Darcy gave a confident nod. “His letters grow ever more frantic. He doesn’t wish to believe your sister betrayed him. Caroline has poisoned his mind.”
Resentment built in Lizzy’s chest. How could Bingley be so weak? Darcy had immediately recognised Wickham’s machinations. Yet Bingley allowed himself to be manipulated, and had turned his back on Jane.
“That reminds me,” Darcy said. “I suppose I must let Caroline know your sister is alive. I’ll send word first thing tomorrow.”
“Must you?” Lizzy said in a lugubrious tone. “Can you not let her wallow in her guilt a little longer?”
He responded with a sly smile. “It’s tempting. But we wouldn’t wish for her to tell Bingley your sister is dead.”
Lizzy’s brows arched, and she spoke in a teasing tone. “Are you certain?”
His brow narrowed in confusion. “What would be the purpose of continuing this deception?”
“If he believes Jane dead, the extent of his grief will show whether he’s worthy of her. It will give him the chance to prove his devotion. How else shall I countenance a union between Bingley and Jane—after he abandoned her so completely?”
He shook his head. “What a minx you are!”
“You wouldn’t wish me to be a simpering girl, would you?”
“Heaven forbid.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Then he caught himself, apparently remembering where he was.
He looked over towards the Gardiners, who were eyeing him with suspicion.
He spoke in a tone of perfect civility. “Please forgive my familiarity with your niece. I assure you, I’ve already spoken to her father.
” He stole a glimpse at her and grinned wryly.
“As Elizabeth can attest, since she was eavesdropping.”
“I was not eavesdropping!” she countered. “I happened to be arranging flowers in the foyer. If I overheard a word or two, it’s not my fault. I warned you that the latch on the study door was broken.”
Mr. Gardiner cleared his throat. “Whatever understanding you have with her father—whilst she’s under my roof, I must insist you observe the proprieties.”
“Of course,” Darcy said. “I wouldn’t dream of putting Elizabeth’s reputation at risk.”
The idea that Darcy might dishonour her seemed ridiculous. How much things had changed in a few weeks! The fact that he’d stood by her after Jane’s disgrace proved she could trust him.
Clearly, though, he’d had a long, trying day. She could see the tiredness around his eyes. She encouraged him to go home to rest.
Once he was gone, she went upstairs to check on her sister. Lizzy found Jane asleep but restless. At least the fever hadn’t returned. Lizzy lay down by her side, content in her own situation, but desperately worried for Jane’s.