Chapter 15
“Good morning, Mr Darcy. It’s seven o’clock.”
Squinting at the blazing candlelight, Charles groaned and covered his eyes.
“No, no, not today.” He had asked Mr Hobbs to wake him at seven so that he and Darcy could shoot at first light, but now thought better of it.
After a late night, he was in no fit state to shoot, or anything else, for that matter.
“Maybe tomorrow.” He rolled over and went back to sleep.
“Will you sleep in today, Mr Darcy? It’s half nine.”
Although Charles thought this impossible, the light filtering through the windows proved him wrong. He would have preferred to stay abed, but since Darcy was an early riser, he sat up. Any change to his habits would raise questions Charles would rather not answer.
When Hobbs offered the usual black coffee, he readily accepted, knowing it would clear his head and reduce his fatigue.
“Will the grey suffice today, sir?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, thinking the grey would do just as well as any other disappointing colour in Darcy’s wardrobe. Unfortunately, Charles had become far too accustomed to disappointment this past sennight.
As he tended to his morning shave, he wondered how much longer he would see another man’s reflection in the looking glass.
“That’s quite a bruise, sir. Did you meet with an accident?” Hobbs inquired.
The blue blotch on his shoulder was nothing compared to his aching arms and back.
Still, he shrugged it off. “No, it was just some light sparring with Bingley and Hurst. I’m a bit out of practice.
” This, of course, was an understatement; Charles had never boxed in his life, nor had he performed well during his first attempt.
Hobbs merely nodded and continued his duties with his usual cheerless efficiency.
In the past sennight, Charles had established a regular routine with Mr Hobbs. Coffee first, followed by his shave, then the drab attire and uninspired cravat.
After dismissing Hobbs, Charles met Darcy in the hall.
“I was just coming to check on you,” Darcy said.
“I’m sorry I begged off earlier, but I could barely move. We can shoot tomorrow.”
“Don’t give it another thought,” Darcy said as they descended the stairs. “Hurst and I each bagged three braces of birds.”
Heat rose to Charles’s face. He now realised that by sleeping in, he had left the task of restocking his larder to his guests. “I didn’t mean to abandon you—”
Darcy waved that concern aside. “We put you through your paces last night, so it’s no wonder you were done up.”
“Still, I’ll make it up to you.”
“You have nothing whatsoever to make up. As you know, I’m an early riser and cannot be idle,” Darcy said. “What are your plans for the day? I’m completely at your disposal.”
Jane Bennet’s sweet countenance sprang to Charles’s mind. He longed to see her, especially since their conversation had been cut short after Sunday services. “Perhaps we can call on Longbourn.”
“An excellent notion.”
Judging from Darcy’s ready consent, Charles suspected he wanted to see Miss Elizabeth.
When they entered the breakfast parlour, they found his sisters and brother-in-law already seated. “Still among the living, Darcy?” Henry said, grinning broadly.
“Just barely.” Charles helped himself to the offerings on the sideboard, then took his place at the only available chair at the table, next to Caroline as usual.
“The weather looks promising again today, Mr Darcy. How shall we amuse ourselves?” Caroline asked with an expectant smile.
“I plan to take a nap,” Henry said.
“Charles and I plan to call on Longbourn to inquire after Miss Bennet’s health,” he said, glancing over at Darcy, who added his agreement.
“You and Louisa are welcome to join us,” Darcy said.
Unable to disguise his amusement at Caroline’s chagrin, Charles dabbed his mouth with his serviette. He doubted there was anywhere in the kingdom his sisters wished less to visit than Longbourn.
Caroline assumed an indulgent smile. “I wish I could, Charles, but I simply don’t have the time.
I am dreadfully behind on my correspondence, and shall be in disgrace with my friends if I don’t see to it immediately,” she said, glancing at Louisa who nodded in earnest. “But please convey our warmest regards to Miss Bennet.”
Since this arrangement was precisely what Charles preferred, he turned his sole attention to his breakfast. Nothing would spoil his visit with Miss Bennet.
When the time came, Darcy called for their horses.
While donning his hat and gloves, Charles despaired at his reflection in the looking glass; he wore only dark hues with no adornments, not even a cravat pin.
Despite wanting nothing more than to see Miss Bennet again, this was certainly not the manner in which he would choose to present himself to a beautiful woman.
Perhaps it was just as well. Under his present circumstances, he would be unable to pay her the attention she deserved. At this point, he never wished for rain more in his life.
Despite his apprehension, he mounted Bart and set off. Glad to be free of the constraints of the house, he let the stallion run down the driveway and into the lane. After a brief jaunt, they reached Meryton Road and cantered through the village.
Charles could scarcely believe his good fortune. He wouldn’t have to ride to Longbourn to see Jane, after all. She had come to town with her sisters and was conversing with Mr Denny and two other men. “There she is, by the millinery shop. Greet her for me, will you, Darcy?”
“Have a care with my name, if you please,” Darcy said in a harsh whisper.
Charles cursed himself for slipping. The sight of his angel had to be his excuse.
They approached the millinery and greeted the ladies. “Good morning, Miss Bennet. We were just on our way to Longbourn to inquire after your health,” Darcy said.
Appearing lovelier than ever, Miss Bennet smiled and curtsied. “Thank you, Mr Bingley. I’m perfectly well.”
Charles feasted his eyes on her. With her rosy glow and gleaming eyes, she did indeed look exceedingly fine. Knowing Darcy would also wish to acknowledge Miss Elizabeth, he bade her good morning, and she bobbed a curtsy.
Charles touched his hat to acknowledge Mr Denny, and was about to inquire after the remaining sisters’ health and that of their parents, but in the next instant, Darcy abruptly turned Shadow about, and raced past the shops down Meryton Road.
Dear Lord, what now? How could Darcy act this way after he had vowed to amend his behaviour in public? Given no other choice, Charles took leave of the ladies and set out after Darcy.
At length, he and Bart caught up to Darcy, and he reminded himself not to say his name, lest they were overheard. “Friend, friend. What has happened?”
Darcy slowed to a trot. “The man with Denny is the despicable cur who followed my sister to Ramsgate. My mortal enemy, George Wickham. Did you see how close he was standing to Miss Elizabeth?” he said with a contemptuous snarl.
In all honesty, Charles had used the opportunity to admire the sheer perfection of Miss Bennet’s glowing countenance and had hardly noticed the man. Obviously, he’d been caught disregarding his surroundings again and had chosen instead to concentrate his sole attention on a beautiful woman.
Perhaps his friend was right after all. Instead of being sensible and worldly-wise like Darcy, he had resorted to his usual impulses. If he didn’t exercise more control over himself, he could easily be exposed as a fraud, which would be the worst of all possible outcomes.
***
Determined to put as much distance between himself and Wickham, Darcy loosened his grip on Shadow’s reins and allowed him to race onwards.
As the horse thundered over the road, rage consumed him.
The absolute gall of that man showing his face in polite society when he had nearly destroyed a young girl’s happiness.
Had Wickham spared a single thought for Georgiana since he’d left Ramsgate last August?
Naturally, Elizabeth was unaware of Wickham’s scandalous past, the wagering, the womanising, the dishonesty, and defaulting on his debts. Did he now suppose he could secure her affections or tempt her into an improper liaison? As long as Darcy drew breath, that would never happen.
He'd been so incensed by the sight of the blackguard, he had even considered reaching down and hauling Elizabeth up to his saddle and spiriting her away.
Instead, he’d managed to take control of his senses and ride off. Perhaps he had acted rashly in leaving so abruptly, but how could he have remained in Wickham’s presence and not thrashed him within an inch of his life?
There’s no telling what he might have done or how far he would have ridden if Charles hadn’t come after him, but upon seeing Bart straining to reach him, he had reined in his mount.
At least he could glean one benefit from this new development; with Wickham here in Meryton, Georgiana was safe from him.
Later today, he would write to Colonel Fitzwilliam to advise him of Wickham’s location.
After catching his breath, he revealed his history with Wickham to Charles, starting with his descent into idleness and dissipation at university.
“My father intended the church living at Kympton for him, but Wickham requested the value of the living instead. Knowing a man of his calibre was unfit for the clergy, I agreed and paid him three thousand pounds, plus another thousand from a bequest. I thought that would be the last I would hear of him; however, when the living became vacant, he applied to me for the preferment, according to my father’s final wishes.
Since he had signed an agreement relinquishing all future claim to the living, I, of course, refused.
What’s more, since I had also discharged his local debts of honour of nearly another thousand, I believed my obligation to him had been fully satisfied. ”
“Indeed, you did just as you ought,” Charles said.