Chapter 12. Mr Darcy’s Visit to Prison
Another day passed before Mr Darcy arranged with the governor of Newgate Prison for an interview with George Wickham.
On the arranged day, his coach left Darcy House early in the afternoon and joined a second of his carriages outside the old stone prison.
Darcy stepped from his carriage in the company of his attorney and crossed to the second carriage where he opened the door and spoke for several minutes with the passengers.
Then he entered the gaol with his attorney and the passengers of the other carriage following at some distance.
Inside the building Darcy and his attorney met with the governor for a moment before the man led them deeper into his prison to a particular cell. Once there, the governor nodded to the jailer to open the door. The three men walked into the cell with two rough-looking guards in attendance.
“Darcy! At last!” George Wickham cried. “I sent you word three days ago to come help me!”
“I have been delayed Wickham,” Mr Darcy replied as he looked about the cell; there was a cot, chamber pot and window with bars. Wickham also had blankets, a small table with scraps of food and drink in a pitcher–evidence that he had some funds on his person to pay the guards.
“If you had delayed many more days, I would be dead. Have you arranged my release?”
“We must speak on several matters before there are any arrangements,” Darcy stated. “It is always expensive to meet with you and this time, it is not a matter of debts to repay. Indeed, debtor’s prison would much more pleasant than your future prospects.”
“It is all a misunderstanding,” Wickham insisted. “My wife died but her cousin is the culprit! The man was in Bath, and he has disappeared!”
“George, as I said, we must talk.”
Darcy nodded to his attorney and the man pulled out several documents that appeared to be notes of conversations.
“I want to know of your arrangements with Mrs Young.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why was Mrs Young in my household as my sister’s companion?”
George Wickham smiled. “It was an unforeseen happenstance. I had no contact with Mrs Young for some time until this past summer when I happened upon her on the street, and she divulged that you were her employer now.”
Darcy examined the man closely; George was the consummate liar.
“And you did not work with Mrs Young to place her in my household with a scheme to approach my sister; to attempt to compromise my sister?”
“I would never do such a thing. Miss Darcy is as dear to me as a sister!” Wickham protested but Darcy smirked.
“George, what of your two sisters in Derbyshire? You stole their inheritance and left them penniless in Lambton when you took the coach to London with my cheque for four thousand pounds.”
“I knew you would care for them, Darcy. You settle all my women for me,” George said.
“Indeed, I have cleaned up behind you each time you have ruined a woman,” Darcy agreed. “Now, what woman should I assist this time?”
“My wife–Mrs Edith Wickham will need help with a few minor bills–nothing more than two, three or four hundred.”
“Mr Wickham, in what church did you marry Mrs Wickham?” asked the attorney. “I must have verification from the parson that you were married by common license or after the reading of the banns.”
Wickham leaned back in his chair, “She’s a common law wife. Nothing licensed or registered.”
“It requires seven years for such a marriage to be recognized,” the attorney replied. “And since your licensed wife died just three months previous, that nullifies any previous time spent with the lady and thus common law does not apply.”
“Darcy, what game is this?” Wickham asked angrily. “There is no time for tricks and schemes! They plan to hang me in less than a week’s time!”
“Wickham, everything you do is part of some scheme to lay hands on someone else’s fortune,” Darcy nodded to the governor who motioned for one of the guards to open the cell door.
There two of Darcy’s footmen stood, holding a woman dressed in widow’s weeds with a veil over her face and a gag around her mouth.
More importantly, the valise with the money from Rothschild’s Bank was in the free hand of one of the footmen.
She struggled and her muffled cries called out to the prisoner, but he made no move to help her.
“I believe they intend to try you tomorrow and hang you the next morning,” Darcy informed Wickham.
Now the attorney spoke up, “Mr Wickham, we were able to locate Mrs Young and bring her here today. She has been persuaded to share her information, and she says you are blameless for the murder of the first Mrs Wickham. She has confessed to poisoning Mrs Wickham.”
Wickham grinned and whispered to Darcy, “Women are so simple to handle. Pleasure them a few times and they believe you are a god.”
Standing and approaching the governor with his hand outstretched, Wickham said, “Mr Jefferson, my gratitude for the resolution of my beloved wife’s murder will see you fifty guineas richer! Take charge of your prisoner, return my valise and I shall reward you this very hour.”
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A woman–not the woman held by the footmen and not dressed in widow’s weeds–rushed into the jail cell from the side, shouting and cursing George Wickham.
“You bastard! You said we were wed! I signed the licence and the register at Saint Mary’s! I got the high and mighty Mr Darcy to come to your aid and you would hang me in your place!” she shouted.
Crazed, Mrs Young turned to the governor and pointing at Wickham, she shouted, “He did it. George poisoned her with inheritance powder. All in one great meat pie he brought Dora from the street. She loved the damned things–she hardly chewed before she swallowed every bite, him sitting there beside her the entire time, telling her that he loved her and wanted to bed her!”
She turned back to George Wickham and completed her story, “She was dead and cold in the morning when he came to my bed.”
“Damn you, Edith!” George cried. Realizing he was doomed; Wickham turned to Darcy with more curses and advanced to strike at the man.
The footmen released the actress in widow’s weeds and entered the cell to protect their master.
But Darcy was not touched by Wickham, when the prisoner stepped close enough to strike at the gentlemen, Darcy deflected the attacker’s right arm with his left and followed through with a punch to Wickham’s abdomen with his right fist that left George doubled over.
Except for the prisoner, the governor and his guards hustled everyone out of the cell, closing and locking the door behind them. In the hallway, Mrs Young cried bitterly.
Darcy took the valise and handed it to his attorney who opened it to find a dozen cheques.
“Mrs Wickham–Mrs Young–has cheques for almost five thousand here. They look to be authentic and drawn on Rothschild’s.”
“Those are mine!” Wickham called from the jail cell door. “And there should be six thousand in cheques and four hundred pounds!”
He coughed as he recovered from Darcy’s strike to his abdomen and then yelled, “Edith, what have you done with my money? Where is the rest of my inheritance?”
The governor and attorney consulted together for a moment and then announced, “We shall testify at Mr Wickham’s trial that his conspirator confessed all and named Mr Wickham as the responsible party in the poisoning death of Mrs Dora Wickham.”
“This valise shall be returned to Mr Horace Jones of Bath when he returns to shore from duty with HMS Defiance.”
The governor bowed to Mrs Young and said, “Madam, I shall keep you close until such time as Mr Wickham is tried and convicted–in case the judge wishes to hear the words from your own mouth. Then you will be free to go; unless Mr Darcy wishes to press charges against you.”
“I will not bring charges against Mrs Young so long as she agrees to depart England and never return.”
The officials conferred again before the governor announced, “Mrs Young will be taken from this prison after Mr Wickham is sentenced and placed onboard a ship of her choosing heading for a British possession. If ever she returns to Britain, she will be arrested.”
Mrs Young stood quietly while George Wickham cursed her repeatedly.
Under her gown she could feel the cheques for one thousand pounds and sewn into her gown, her hat and her chemise were almost four hundred pounds.
On her person, there were only twenty pounds and a few shillings.
A guard escorted Mrs Young away, to a private cell in another part of the prison.
She would pay the governor and his guards almost a pound for bedding, food and drink over the next few days, but she would be taken to a ship bound for the West Indies within four days.
Mr Darcy watched the woman being led away and heard George Wickham behind him begging for his life. He walked away without speaking to the man again, followed by the governor and his attorney and footmen. Darcy heard his name called for a short time, but the thick walls soon muffled the sound.
Outside the building he paid the actress her fee and watched his footmen escort her to the carriage, to return her to the theatre where she performed in Shakespearean productions. Then Mr Darcy turned to the governor of the prison and handed over five pounds.
“If you will make certain the noose breaks his neck when he drops–my father would not want his godson to suffer a slow strangulation,” Darcy explained to the man.
“I shall speak to the hangman and pay his fee from your generous donation. Mr Wickham will have food and drink through his door but not be allowed out until his trial and execution.”
“Very good.”
“Do you wish him to have clean clothing and a funeral?”
Darcy shook his head. “A quick death is my last payment for his sins. Bury him in his rags in potter’s field.”
“The guards will strip his corpse bear and sell the clothes to the ragman. He will go before God for judgement naked as the day he was born.”
Darcy saw the faces of several young women for a moment before he nodded. “Sir, I thank you for your consideration today.”
The governor’s last glimpse of Mr Darcy was the man climbing into his carriage with his attorney and leaving, his face a mask exhibiting no emotion.
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