Chapter 22
Darcy
Darcy asked one of his most trusted manservants to stay with Wickham’s body, and he asked Richard to alert the magistrate and the apothecary of the incident at Netherfield.
He comforted Georgiana before turning her over to her maid, and he checked to be sure that Elizabeth, her sister, and Molly were together.
Then he trudged back to the small parlour where he had left Bingley with his younger sister.
But everything about the parlour looked different.
The room itself was a testament of some violent altercation.
One of the chairs and a small table had been overturned, and a number of books and papers were strewn across the floor.
Across the small room from that mess, several cushions, flowers, a broken vase, and water were likewise on the floor.
One of the pictures hanging on the wall was askew.
As to Bingley, the man had never looked so authoritative as he stood over his sister, demanding, “You must tell me the truth, Caroline. All of it. Whatever your plans, whatever your scheme, you have lost. But you could secure some sympathy, as you face the consequences of your choices, if you tell the entirety of what you know.” Darcy was very impressed by Bingley’s voice and manner.
He felt as if, whatever had happened here had propelled his friend into a sudden maturation, into personal growth.
But he was horrified by the evidence of “whatever had happened,” because Bingley’s nose was bloodied and swollen, his face was cut—and one cut was still seeping blood—and his cheek was bruising.
Miss Bingley’s face was paler than usual, set in its most arrogant expression, and she was sitting straight and stiff in a chair, her mouth pursed as if she had no intention of ever speaking again.
But her usual elaborate coiffure was half down, her gown was rumpled, and her wrists were tightly bound together with a long orange scarf.
He assumed that her ankles were bound together as well.
Darcy stopped just inside the door, feeling hesitant about interrupting Bingley’s efforts at interrogation.
His friend flicked a quick glance his way and gave him a little nod in acknowledgement that he had returned, but Miss Bingley changed yet again: Her face took on a sort of ecstatic expression, as if she were a wrongly accused prisoner seeing the arrival of her saviour.
She went from apparently stubborn silence to a wail of pain and then a piteous plea: “Oh, Mr. Darcy! Thank heavens you have returned to us. My brother has become quite mad; he has accused me most wrongfully. You must help me!”
Bingley’s shoulders sagged a bit, and Darcy understood that he was discouraged in his efforts with his sister.
But he quickly turned to Darcy and asked, “Is everyone well? We heard distressing sounds, and I am quite certain that the house itself is at least somewhat damaged, but are Georgiana and Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth safe and uninjured?”
“They are.”
“And Colonel Fitzwilliam? The servants? The Hursts?”
“As far as I know, all of your family, your servants, and your guests are safe and uninjured…other than the two of you, I am sorry to see.”
Bingley nodded in relief, but Miss Bingley screeched out, “Mr. Darcy, I am the victim here! Do you not see? My monstrous brother held me captive with his greater strength and then called upon one of the footmen to actually place me in bonds, as you can surely see!” She thrust her feet out and lifted her legs up enough that he could see that yet another orange scarf had been utilised to secure her feet.
Darcy only glanced her way, blushing a bit at the revelation of the woman’s lower legs, and then he looked back at Bingley.
“My friend, those distressing sounds were made by a previously unknown player in the tale I relayed to you not half an hour ago.” He realised for the first time that some of the papers on the floor were the two notes that had been shoved under his door, evidence of attempted blackmail, and he promised himself to safeguard the evidence.
But for now, he continued, “Do you wish me to apprise you of the news here, in front of your sister, or in private?”
Bingley heard respect in Darcy’s words and tones, and he resumed his original authoritative posture. “By all means, tell us both what has happened.”
Knowing that, in the past, he had mentioned Wickham to his friend a few times, but that he had never told Bingley very much about him, Darcy now told him how he had grown up alongside Wickham, about the man’s descent into debauchery and dissipation, his habit of running up and then running away from debts to merchants as well as debts of honour, and his ruination of maids and merchants’ daughters as well as his attempt to elope with an heiress.
He did not name the heiress, but Miss Bingley did.
In the most poisonous tone, she said, “It was the precious Georgiana who Wickham made love to and convinced to run away with him. Mr. Darcy acts as if his darling sister was everything good, and she pretends to be virtuous, but she participated in scandalous behaviour!”
Darcy blanched but kept his voice in its normal, neutral register as he explained to Bingley, “My sister was but fifteen, and unfortunately I was very much mistaken in the character of her companion; the woman was in league with Wickham and managed to convince my sister that his behaviour was honourable. Also, thank God, we found that he did not—he apparently knew better than to scare her off by—”
Realising that he could not seem to use the words needed to convey the fact that utter ruination had not occurred, Darcy was grateful that his friend hastened to interrupt: “I understand, and I also thank God that you were able to retrieve Miss Darcy in time. I am so sorry that your sister—and you!—had to deal with such a distressing incident. But…?”
Bingley’s questioning inflection urged Darcy to relate the particulars of that day’s distressing incident: that Wickham had come to Netherfield; that he had broken Miss Bennet’s window and had climbed a rope to enter her room, but had not touched her or taken anything; that he had climbed down again in an effort to escape Richard but had died by gunshot, by his own hand.
“He is dead?” Miss Bingley screamed.
“He shot himself?” Bingley asked, sounding incredulous.
“He did, but it was an accidental discharge of his weapon. I am only glad that he was not able to shoot me, as he was attempting to do.”
Miss Bingley screamed again. She began to sound more and more like a Bedlamite.
Bingley turned to his sister and asked sharply, “How is it that Wickham appeared at our home, sister?”
“Well…he…I….”
“Caroline, what have you done?”
“It is more what you have not done, Charles. I have waited for years for you to help me become Mrs. Darcy. I have asked you to aid me countless times. Naturally, since you refused to help me, I had to do something myself!”
Darcy asked, “So you overheard my cousin and I discussing Wickham’s attempt to elope with my sister?”
Miss Bingley nodded.
“And you—” Darcy hesitated, trying to figure out how his friend’s sister had managed to contact Wickham. He hazarded a guess: “You hired an investigator to find a man named Wickham who was the son of a former steward of Pemberley.”
Miss Bingley stayed silent, sitting very still. Darcy decided to use flattery to attempt to cajole the truth from her lips. He said, “You have been very determined, and very clever.”
She looked positively radiant, and Darcy felt nauseated in the face of her happiness. He despised deception, and yet it seemed he must rely on it to get the truth from the only living person who knew it.
The woman before him preened as she said, “Yes, I had to be determined, as it was not easy to discover Mr. Wickham’s location. I had to put out a lot of money and hire a second investigator before I finally found him. Then I wrote to Mr. Wickham, and he wanted money as well.”
Thinking hard, Darcy said, “Then Wickham told you to threaten to tell about Ramsgate if….” He deliberately dangled the unfinished sentence before her.
Now that she had started to talk, Miss Bingley seemed inclined to continue.
“Well, I thought I would start off by ensuring that you did not turn your attentions away from me and to any of the countrified misses here….” She scowled, likely remembering that she had not succeeded, but of course Darcy was offended that she had phrased it as if he had ever offered his “attentions” to her.
But he could not allow his annoyance to impede their need for information. He led her to further confess by uttering another unfinished assumption: “And Wickham suggested putting notes under my door. He shrewdly explained how to disguise your hand—”
As he had hoped, ascribing intelligence to Wickham rather than Miss Bingley caused her to interrupt with her own claim, “He thought it would be a good idea to leave notes, and to use the initial ‘W’ as a signature, to make you aware that your sister’s shame was not so secret, but it was me who was the shrewd one.
I figured out that I could write the notes with my left hand, and that I could use bad spelling as well to make it seem that the writer was some mysterious, unknown person. ”
Darcy was circumspect enough to withhold the fact that even his valet correctly guessed that Miss Bingley had penned the note—and that it took him mere seconds to do so.
Bingley’s voice was taut when he asked his sister, again, “How is it that Wickham came to our home?”
“Well, he had a plan. I was to obtain all the keys for the ladies’ rooms. Then I was to lock the ladies into their chambers, while the men of the household were out, and then I was to alert him when that was done. He would then come and get a key.”
“And…?” Bingley allowed several seconds to pass before he asked, “And what was he going to do with the key? And whose key—you are acting as if you only gave him one. What was the rest of the plan, Caroline?”
“I do not know!” she wailed. Her voice was so high that Darcy shuddered from the pitch alone.
“He asked you to give him the location of and the key to Miss Bennet’s room?” Darcy asked, sceptical. Why would Wickham specify that particular lady?
Miss Bingley remained silent but blushed. Darcy leapt to an assumption that seemed much more likely: “It was supposed to be Georgiana’s room, was it not?”
Miss Bingley would not answer nor even look at him. But her lack of protest seemed to him to be a confirmation.
“How is it that all the women were in their own rooms?” Darcy asked.
Miss Bingley maintained her silence, and he decided that flattery had worked before…so he added, “Are you too modest to tell me yet another of your clever ideas? I cannot imagine how you managed….”
“I suggested that we go to the stables, to see a new foal, and that we should dress more warmly. Then, while the ladies were changing, I locked them in. Of course Miss Bennet is always in bed, pretending to be ill, so it was no trouble locking her in!”
“Very clever,” Darcy murmured, and he saw Miss Bingley preen again.
Bingley sighed deeply. He asked Darcy if he had any more questions, and of course he did: “How did you alert Wickham once we were hunting and you had locked the ladies in their rooms? Was that another clever scheme?”
“Oh, well, that was not so very clever. Mr. Wickham assured me that he would be staying at the White Horse in Meryton, and I should send a note by messenger when all was ready.”
“Who did you send with the message?” Bingley asked.
“Haroldson,” Miss Bingley replied. “I just told him to give the message, addressed to Mr. Smith, to the bartender, and Mr. Wickham was on the lookout for the messenger and knew to give the name Smith. That part was easy. Mr. Wickham came up with the plan, but I could have done as well, I just know it.”
Darcy inspected the papers scattered on the floor, picked up the two that were the notes he had received, and said to Bingley, “I believe that is all I can think of at the moment.”
Bingley stepped out to locate a footman, and he gave orders that Miss Bingley remain bound firmly, even when using a chamberpot. “Her maid will attend to her, and I want footmen posted at each door. She is not to leave this room until further notice.”
“I imagine that the magistrate will wish to ask her questions,” Darcy said.
“Yes, of course. He will be asking all of us questions, I suppose. Will you come with me to my study for a further conference?” he asked.
Darcy nodded and, as soon as they reached the study and locked the door behind them, he said, “Bingley, I would prefer if you attempt to keep Georgiana’s name out of the report to the magistrate.
Of course, tell the truth, but if his questions do not require that you discuss Wickham’s attempted elopement, please do not bring it up, and even if his questions do necessitate a mention, you could allude to an attempt to elope with ‘an heiress known to and esteemed by my family.’ He may allow the heiress’s name to remain unknown. ”
“Of course I will be as discreet as possible, Darcy, and will not mention Miss Darcy unless directly asked. But you know that my sister will not hesitate to name her.”
“You are likely correct.” Darcy shook his head, thinking to himself that the secret was truly out, or would be soon. “But perhaps no one will believe her, given the fact that she is behaving in a very irrational way.”
“Well, I shall write to the York Retreat,” Bingley said. “Naturally, I should like the news of the need for such a place to remain in a very small circle.”
“Quite right.”
At that moment, there was a quiet knock on the door. Bingley asked Darcy to unlock the door and see what was needed.
Darcy felt a jolt of pleasure that seemed even more vibrant than usual, in the midst of the day’s horrors, as it was Elizabeth standing there, her hand up to knock a second time.
“Miss Elizabeth, how do you and your sister do? And Georgiana, if you have seen her?”
“We are all well enough, I thank you. But I am very bewildered and wondered if I might learn what has occurred.”
Bingley said, “I must see to my eldest sister and tidy up before the magistrate arrives.”
Darcy said, “Bingley, I recommend that it be Louisa who writes to the York Retreat, and you can sign the letter. It would be best if the staff at the retreat could actually read the missive.”
It was not an appropriate time to tease and, indeed, Darcy was not teasing. Bingley must have realised that. He nodded and thanked Darcy for the excellent suggestion. When he left the study, he left the door open.
Darcy said, “Here is what I know….”