Chapter Fifty
The occupants of the White Swan were accustomed to seeing men in rather disheveled clothing, sitting over their drinks in dark corners. So the Colonel, dressed in similar clothing and nursing a tankard in a far corner, caused neither comment nor interest.
The White Swan was the only pub in Meryton; the Colonel had no doubt that Wickham would show up, sooner or later. The Colonel was patient, like a cat at a mousehole. Sooner or later, the rat would stick its little pink nose out of the hole.
And then there he was, the very rat in question. He entered the pub with several other men in uniform and sat with them, his back to the Colonel.
Good, the Colonel thought. Perfect. He drew his knife out of its scabbard and slid it up his sleeve so that just the tip of the blade was exposed. Then he pulled his hat down over his face.
He rose, quietly, slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself.
He walked on cat feet to the table where Wickham sat, and then slowly touched the rat’s back with the tip of the knife.
Leaning forward, he whispered, “Get up, Wickham. No, no; if you say a word, I will kill you where you stand.” He pushed the tip of the knife into Wickham’s back, under the rib cage, to make his point.
George Wickham got up from his chair, slowly.
“Tell your friends you are going out for a piss.”
Voice shaking, Wickham did exactly that.
“Very good; now you will walk out the door and I will walk behind you. Remember that I will not hesitate to kill you at once if you make any sudden movements or call out for help. My horse is tethered just outside, and I will be gone before anyone can stop me.”
Wickham obeyed, walking out the door of the pub on shaking legs.
“Good; now turn right and walk into that alley.”
Wickham hesitated. The Colonel pushed the knife into his back harder. “Go on. This is your only chance to save your life.”
Wickham turned into the alley, the Colonel on his heels.
“Now then, if you value your life, tell me where I would find Mrs. Younge.”
“At – at a boarding house in Spitalfield. On White Lion Street.”
“Excellent. Turn around, Wickham.”
He did so and his eyes widened as he saw the Colonel holding the knife pointed at his chest. “Colonel Fitzwilliam! What are you –“
“Did you truly think I would let you live after what you did to Georgiana?”
Wickham opened his mouth to scream, but he was dead before he could do so.
The Colonel stood over his enemy for just a moment. Then, quickly, he pulled his knife out of Wickham’s chest, wiped it clean on Wickham’s uniform and thrust the weapon back into its hidden scabbard.
He heard a gasp; he looked up and met the shocked brown eyes of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet.