Chapter 31
Colonel Forster, with Captain Denny standing at his side, considered his three visitors with grave disquiet. Lieutenant Wickham had already proven a thorn in his side, but now Sir William Lucas, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy were in his office inquiring about the miscreant. It was not a good sign and would likely prove even more bothersome than inquiries from the Meryton shopkeepers.
“Mr. Wickham has disappeared,” Colonel Forster explained to his three visitors, who had settled into chairs across from his desk. “He was last seen two days ago, and there has been no word from or sighting of him since then.”
Darcy forced himself to speak calmly, “Perhaps Wickham merely imbibed excessively and was not well enough to rise from his bed for a full day?”
Forster shook his head, “No. I instructed Captain Denny here to check his quarters this morning. Wickham’s bed has not been slept in for two nights now and when I ordered a search, a number of unexpected items were discovered in concealed places within his room.”
Sir William frowned, “What kind of items?”
The colonel silently lifted a box from next to his desk and began removing objects: a set of silver spurs, a watch on a fob with the initials ‘WP’ inscribed upon it, a crystal wine glass, a delicate necklace, a leather bound book of Shakespeare’s tragedies, and several silk handkerchiefs, all with different monogrammed letters, none of them corresponding to George Wickham.
Sir William gasped in shock, “That is our wine glass! Are you saying that the lieutenant stole all of these items?
“Yes. I fear that Wickham is a rogue and a robber; we have already returned half a dozen items to various officers. He is obviously a petty thief of some skill. We have also learned that he is indebted to most of the merchants in town, has lost a great deal playing cards with the officers, and all of these debts remain outstanding.”
“Where is the man?” Sir William demanded furiously. “That glass is one of a set which came from my dear wife’s mother. Lady Lucas was quite distressed at its disappearance!”
“I apologize profusely on behalf of the militia. As to the whereabouts of Lieutenant Wickham, I do not know. It seems almost certain that he fled because of his debts.”
“Or the Bennets murdered him in cold blood,” Lady Catherine declared, though her tone was more uncertain than usual.
Colonel Forster regarded the lady in astonishment, “Mr. Bennet of Longbourn, Lady Catherine?”
“Yes,” she continued determinedly, her nose inching upward. “Mr. Wickham sent a letter warning me that the Bennets are suspected of murdering my rector, Mr. Collins, who was heir to the estate of Longbourn, and covering their foul deed by suggesting he fell from a horse.”
Forster felt his headache bloom into full strength. This Lady Catherine, whoever she might be, was obviously well-connected and thus he could not insult her openly, even though she was obviously a fool.
“Captain Denny,” he said wearily, turning toward the man who had been standing silently thus far. “Do you know of this accusation of Mr. Wickham’s towards the Bennets of Longbourn?”
Denny shook his head, his genial face creased in confusion, “No, sir. In fact, Mr. Wickham expressed his desire to marry Miss Bennet, before her engagement to Mr. Bingley, that is. The last few days, he has spoken of his admiration for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I do not understand his letter to you at all, my lady.”
“It is simple enough, Lady Catherine.” Darcy responded coldly, swallowing down his fury that Wickham had been bandying Elizabeth’s name around. “Wickham sought to capture an heiress, and he knew of my own interest toward Miss Elizabeth. He wrote that letter in the hopes that you would dissuade me from my own pursuit of Miss Elizabeth.”
The lady glared at her nephew irritably, “But Miss Elizabeth is not the heiress of Longbourn, is she? Surely the eldest Miss Bennet will inherit by right of birth?”
“It hardly matters,” Darcy pointed out. “Wickham is a liar and a thief. You were brought here on a wild goose chase, and I encourage you to return to Rosings as soon as possible before the man makes you look the fool.”
Catherine de Bourgh had wilted slightly at the news that Wickham was unreliable, but now her eyes flashed with their old fire, “Never! I will not depart until you swear an oath to me that you will not marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet! She is not worthy to be the mistress of Pemberley! You must marry Anne!”
Darcy ground his teeth at his aunt’s insistence on airing private family business in public and opened his mouth in protest, only to close it when the door to the office swung wide to reveal a young, rather uncertain lieutenant.
“Colonel Forster, a Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh to see you. They say that they are connected to the gentleman and lady here ...?”
“Richard!” Darcy exclaimed happily. “And Anne, please do come in!”
“Anne!” his aunt bellowed in astonished disapproval. “What are you doing here in Hertfordshire? Why did you leave Rosings without my permission?”
Anne shot a quick look at Richard Fitzwilliam, who tucked her arm closer to him supportively.
“Mother, Darcy, we have wonderful news! Richard and I are engaged to be married!”
/
“And then what happened?” Elizabeth asked curiously. She and Darcy, along with Jane and Bingley, were on their way to Longbourn in Bingley’s carriage. The apothecary had given Elizabeth permission to return to her home, and Darcy was eager to formally ask Mr. Bennet for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage.
Darcy shuddered slightly, “I fear that Lady Catherine indulged in a most epic tantrum. She screamed and raged and howled until Richard asked me to escort Anne to the waiting carriage outside. I had left one of my footmen out in the street to catch Richard as he rode through Meryton, you see. At any rate, I kept Anne company until Richard emerged from the militia’s headquarters some fifteen minutes later with a weeping Lady Catherine on his arm.”
“Poor Lady Catherine,” Jane murmured.
“I confess to being more astonished than sympathetic,” Darcy admitted. “My aunt has spent her life arranging the lives of those around her, and no doubt it was a terrible shock to her system when my cousin Anne broke free of her shackles.”
“That sounds rather dire,” Elizabeth said sympathetically.
“It was,” Darcy admitted, reaching out to claim her hand in his own. “I admit to considerable surprise at my cousin Anne’s courage in leaving Rosings for London, where she and Richard quickly came to an understanding.”
“Do you believe they are fond of one another?” Jane asked kindly.
“Yes, they have long dealt well together. This engagement is a pragmatic one; Richard wishes for a wealthy wife, and Anne wishes for a strong husband to deal with Lady Catherine and help oversee Rosings. Nonetheless, I believe they are well suited and will be happy together.”
“I am glad,” Elizabeth said sincerely, and then added with a twinkle in her eye. “Miss de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam have been so kind to us, have they not, in providing another target for Lady Catherine’s ire?”
Darcy laughed and shook his head, “Once Lady Catherine arrives at Rosings later today, I suspect she will not leave the mansion until my cousins force her out. This trip to Meryton was a great failure on her part, and she will wish to lick her wounds in a place where everyone still venerates her.”
“Poor Lady Catherine,” Jane repeated softly.
/
“It seems you intend to drive me to drink, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet declared, lifting his cup of tea and gulping down its sweetened contents.
Darcy gazed at the man in astonishment. On those rare occasions when he had considered asking a man for his daughter’s hand in marriage, he had naturally assumed the gentleman in question would be overjoyed. He was, after all, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, master of a great estate.
“I do not understand,” he declared uneasily.
Mr. Bennet sighed deeply and ran a hand through his gray hair, “I do apologize. I have long prided myself on my wit but the sardonic edge seems to have rubbed off during the trials of the last years. It is merely that you seek to take away my most beloved daughter. Elizabeth is a treasure to me.”
“Yes, she is,” Darcy agreed cautiously. Was it possible that the man intended to refuse him?
“You have my permission, if not my blessing,” the older man assured him. “I would not dare to refuse a man like yourself, and of course I will always be indebted for your service to Elizabeth and our family. We would be ruined if not for you and Bingley.”
“I promise you, sir, that I love Elizabeth very much.”
Bennet’s grizzled features softened at these words, and he managed a sad smile, “I am thankful for that. In truth, I believe you and my Lizzy will deal well together. You are obviously an intelligent man, and I trust you will treat her well, unlike that fiend Wickham.”
Darcy’s face darkened, “I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make Elizabeth happy. As for Wickham, you will never see him again. My cousin has assured me that he will lie in irons until embarking for Canada, and Wickham’s new colonel will take care to watch over him very carefully to keep him from harming others.”
“I can only be thankful for that. When do you and Elizabeth wish to marry?”
Darcy’s mind flitted toward the woman he adored and their upcoming wedding night before firmly forcing his thoughts back on to the discussion at hand.
“As soon as possible,” he declared.
/
“You seem happy, Anne,” Georgiana said shyly.
Anne de Bourgh settled more deeply into a chair in Georgiana’s private sitting room and closed her eyes. It had been an exhausting two days since she had fled Rosings and she was extremely tired, but yes, very happy.
“I am,” she assured her young cousin.
“Do you love Richard?”
Anne opened her eyes at this and smiled a little, “Not in the romantic sense, Georgie. Richard and I are marrying for sensible, not romantic, reasons, though we are quite fond of one another. However, I know Richard to be an honorable, kindly man, and I am confident our marriage will be pleasant. Does that seem dreadful to you?”
Georgiana thought back to her brief romance with George Wickham, one sparked into flame by her own foolishness and Wickham’s practiced, deceptive charm.
“No,” the younger woman stated. “As you said, Richard is a gentle, noble man. Not all men are.”
Anne frowned at the odd note in her cousin’s voice, but decided not to probe further, “I will be free from Lady Catherine, which is reason enough for marriage, not that I would marry just anyone. But I have known Richard all my life and he knows Rosings well. It will be ideal.”
“When do you intend to be married?” Georgiana asked diffidently.
Anne’s mind flitted to the need for a new rector for Rosings, her mother’s penchant for making dreadful decisions, and Richard’s strength and intelligence which would serve her estate well.
“As soon as possible,” she declared.