Chapter 27
“Richard, thank you for coming so quickly,” Darcy said, grasping his cousin’s hand tightly. The sun was barely above the horizon, which meant Fitzwilliam had left London in darkness.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was generally a cheerful young gentleman. At the moment, however, his face wore the expression of a military man prepared to charge toward a French line.
“Is it Georgiana?” he demanded.
“No, no,” Darcy replied. “Georgiana is entirely well. Do you need a few minutes to refresh yourself in your room, or can we talk immediately?”
“It is all of four and twenty miles from London on a good road, Darcy. Of course, we can talk right now. Indeed, I insist we talk now.”
Darcy nodded and guided his cousin into Bingley’s study, which his friend had set aside for his use.
“Sit down near the fire, Richard,” he instructed. “We are trying to keep this terrible business private from the servants since we do not want even a whisper of a rumor to come out, so I will keep my voice low.”
“I have excellent hearing, Cousin. Get on with it.”
Darcy did get on with it. He described his discovery that Wickham was in Meryton, the attempts made to mitigate Wickham’s ravaging of the local merchants and women, the attack on Elizabeth, and Wickham’s current prison in the tack room in the stable.
The colonel listened intently, his expression remote, until Darcy fell silent.
“This Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Fitzwilliam mused. “She is sister to the lady who will soon be Mrs. Bingley?”
“Yes.”
“Obviously if word were to get out of what happened today, the entire Bennet family would be ruined.”
“Yes, and that must not happen, Richard. This is my fault. I should have moved against Wickham after Ramsgate but I was so afraid of Georgiana’s reputation being damaged …”
“Well,” his cousin commented flippantly. “We could just kill the rogue and be done with it.”
The expression on Darcy’s face took him aback, and he turned a startled look on his cousin, “I am joking, of course.”
“I am very nearly not,” Darcy returned, rising to his feet and taking a few quick steps back and forth across the carpet. “When I think of what he has done, attacking a gentlewoman, attempting to force her into marriage to steal an estate – I confess that when I saw him there, smirking at me, I was tempted to pick up a handy rock and crush his head in.”
“I am glad you did not,” Fitzwilliam said gravely.
“Why not?” Darcy demanded. “You have not had much use for Wickham in many years, Cousin. If you had come across Wickham at Ramsgate, I believe you would have been sorely tempted to thrust a sword through the man.”
“I am thankful because it would have destroyed you, Darcy. You are not a killer.”
“And you are?”
“I am a colonel in his Majesty’s army and have fought the French in battle. Thus, I have killed, yes. If I fought Wickham and, in the heat of the moment, killed him, I would not have lost any sleep over it. But you – it would likely have shattered your soul if you had given into murderous rage. Nonetheless, I am thankful you are ready to finally deal with that villain in an appropriately firm manner.”
Darcy nodded and dropped onto his chair again, his head in his hands, “What do you suggest, Richard? We cannot keep him here long; while I trust my footmen and Bingley’s coachman and stable boys, the longer he stays, the more chance the whole regrettable situation will become known.”
“Let me think, Darcy.”
Darcy fell silent and waited for a full ten minutes, at which point Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned unpleasantly and announced, “Oh, I have a charming idea.”
/
George Wickham, who had been resting on a simple cot which usually served a stable boy, sat up as the door to his makeshift jail opened. A moment later, Darcy entered with a lantern in his hand, followed by a broad shouldered individual whose familiar face brought a jolt of terror into the heart of the steward’s son.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he croaked out, rising cautiously to his feet and restraining the instinct to cower. “I should have known you would be involved in this despicable affair. How dare you keep me here as a prisoner?”
“Oh, I do not know, Wickham,” the military man returned with a cheerful smirk. “I suppose that since I am the second son of an earl and you but the reprobate son of a steward, I will not get in much trouble at all.”
“Colonel Forster will have you up on charges!” Wickham blustered. “You cannot lock up a member of the militia in this irregular way!”
“Oh my dear fellow,” Fitzwilliam replied with insincere sympathy, “I assure you that the colonel will never have the slightest idea that you spent a few comfortable hours in this charming stable. You see, you will soon be taking the King’s shilling as an army infantryman and joining the regiment of a compatriot of mine, Colonel Milner. Within a few weeks, Milner will embark with his company to the Canadian provinces and you, my old enemy, will be sailing with him.”
Wickham managed a sardonic grimace through the pain of his throbbing face, “I most certainly will not, Colonel. You cannot force me to take the enlistment oath, and I will not.”
“That is quite all right,” the Colonel drawled. “The alternative is even more attractive. In the next few days, you will be arrested in London for desertion from the militia; that, along with your petty thievery and unpaid debts, will be enough to earn you a hanging. It is a pleasing proposition, and personally I prefer this option.”
Wickham shot an uneasy look at Darcy, who was standing in front of the door with his arms crossed, his fists clenched, “What are you speaking of? I have no intention of deserting the militia!”
“Oh, but you will, do you not see? We will bind and gag you and place you in Bingley’s carriage, carry you off to Darcy House and lock you in the cellar under guard, and then drop you off in a seedy part of London a few days later, only to immediately arrest you for desertion. I assure you that the officials involved in your trial will take my word over any wild story about being abducted by high borne gentlemen like Darcy and me.”
“You would ... you would not,” Wickham choked out, his eyes wild with fear, his face white as parchment. “You are an officer and a gentleman, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“An army officer by training, a gentleman by birth, yes, George Wickham,” the colonel replied in an arctic tone. “As such, I have no hesitation in arranging for the death of a vile cur like you.”
“Darcy!” Wickham squealed. “Darcy, please, you would not! You cannot! I am your father’s godson.”
Darcy took two long strides forward, causing Wickham to shrink in terror of another blow.
“You lay in wait in the woods and attempted to take Miss Elizabeth Bennet by force in order to coerce her into a hellish marriage, Wickham. You deserve death. If you wish to be breathing in a fortnight, I suggest you take my cousin’s most generous offer and sign up for the Regulars.”
Wickham stared at his old playmate incredulously, seeking any hint of mercy orweakness, and then shifted to a new line of attack, “And what of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her reputation? If you do this, Darcy, she and all her family will be ruined. I trust you would not do that to a lady of whom you think so highly.”
Darcy jerked slightly at this statement, which caused his cousin to narrow his eyes in interest even as he responded to Wickham’s threats, “I am afraid that the men in his Majesty’s 41 st Regiment will have no interest in the wild accusations of an ill favored man like yourself, Wickham. I daresay it will be several years before you return to England, if you do not die on a Canadian battlefield. Darcy need not worry about the Bennet family.”
Wickham knew he was beaten, “Very well, I will join the Regulars.”
“What a pity,” Fitzwilliam responded. “I was quite looking forward to seeing you hang, but Colonel Milner is always in need of more cannon fodder. Very well, we will leave shortly for London to arrange for your future as a genuine military man.”
“I need to see an apothecary,” Wickham insisted.
“Why? I daresay your face hurts a fair amount from Darcy pummeling it, but that will not kill you.”
“Bingley’s blasted dog bit me two times and Miss Elizabeth once. I need the wounds cleaned. The local man is supposed to be quite good – Mr. Jones, I believe his name is.”
“Obviously we will not permit you to speak to Jones,” Darcy stated coldly.
“Nor is he necessary,” Fitzwilliam added flippantly. “I have done a little battlefield work and am quite capable of binding up a few bites. Darcy, can you arrange for some water and bandages for this fine rogue? I suppose Milner would not be pleased if I hand over a man on death’s door from a raging infection.”
“One of the bites is on my ... my ...”
The colonel stared and then chuckled, “Your posterior? Well, Wickham, I suppose you will have to drop your pants for me, and I will do my best not to laugh!”