Chapter 32
Fitzwilliam Darcy looked down on his captive, and his face turned red in fury. “Wickham!”
The man in question, still supine, lifted his hands protectively and croaked, “Now Darcy, just relax. I can explain…”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped forward and planted one booted foot on Wickham’s neck. “We are not particularly interested in your explanations at the moment, Wickham. Darcy, you should fetch Georgiana.”
“I am here!” Georgiana exclaimed, pushing her way into the small clearing where they had gathered.
“Miss de Bourgh, it is all right, you are safe,” Elizabeth said, embracing the fragile heiress and handing her a clean handkerchief. “You are entirely safe.”
“I know,” Anne panted out, struggling to regain some semblance of calm. “Thanks to you. Are you all right, Miss Bennet?”
“I am well,” Elizabeth assured her and turned her gaze on Darcy, whose distressed expression caused her own heart to flip oddly. “Truly, I am well. Do not worry.”
“I am very glad,” he said, his eyes slightly wet. “If something had happened to either one of you, I would never have forgiven myself.”
“Mr. Wickham?” Georgiana cried out, having finally recognized the man lying on the ground with a brown boot to his neck. “Why is he here?”
“Apparently he decided to attempt an abduction of another heiress,” Darcy said grimly, staring down at his father’s godson.
“No, they were trying to capture Georgiana,” Anne explained, releasing Elizabeth and wobbling a little. Darcy quickly wrapped an arm around her slight form.
“They?” Darcy asked sharply.
“There was a woman here as well,” Elizabeth declared, glancing down the trail which led to the main road. “I did not recognize her, but she was about five and thirty, two or three inches taller than me, and she had black hair.”
“She knew Georgiana by sight, and called her by her Christian name,” Anne murmured. Now that her terror was over, she felt faint.
“Sit down, Anne,” Darcy ordered, guiding her over to a handy tree trunk which was lying nearby.
“I am wearing your dress, which will be soiled,” Anne protested, looking at Elizabeth.
“It is of no concern,” Elizabeth said warmly. “Indeed, I will sit with you if you do not mind. I am quite winded myself.”
The two ladies took their places on the log, and Elizabeth said, “The unknown lady had blue eyes and a mole on her left cheek next to her lips.”
Georgiana and Darcy exchanged shocked looks and Georgiana said, “It sounds like my old companion Mrs. Younge, but she has red hair, not black.”
“She was doubtless wearing a wig!” Darcy declared. “Of course, it would be Mrs. Younge. I suppose she is too far to capture now, but I promise that we will deal with her later.”
“You should tie up Mr. Wickham so that he cannot run away,” Georgiana stated, staring angrily down at the man who had tried to elope with her a year previously.
Darcy, who was caught between belated terror, relief, and fury beyond what he had ever known, looked at Richard, who said, “Georgiana is correct.”
“There is no reason to…” Wickham began, only to be cut off when Richard increased the pressure on his captive’s neck.
“There is the scarf with which they tried to gag Miss de Bourgh,” Elizabeth said, pointing toward the ground.
Darcy nodded, and after retrieving the scarf, knelt on the ground and tied Wickham’s hands very firmly together. He then motioned to his older cousin, who removed the boot from Wickham’s neck and lifted the man bodily to sit against a tree.
“Well,” Wickham said with an unpleasant sneer, “now that you are all comfortable, perhaps we can discuss the situation at hand. It may not have worked quite like I hoped, but you will, I am certain, agree that we need to come to some sort of agreement here. I have laid hands on two delightful young unmarried ladies in the last few minutes, and when word gets out that I embraced them close to me, and pressed a kiss on their lovely lips…”
“You did not!” Elizabeth snarled suddenly.
“My dear Miss Bennet,” Wickham said with a facsimile of his charming smile, though his eyes were whorls of anger, “I confess that I am quite disappointed in you. I thought we were friends back in Hertfordshire.”
“We were,” Elizabeth agreed as she stood up, her eyes blazing. “We were before I learned the truth of you, that you are a vile, lying, cheating, selfish, debauched travesty of a man. I despise you!”
A tic formed in one of Wickham’s cheeks but he merely said, “That is a pity, since I hold your reputation in the palm of my hand. I suggest that you…”
“No, you do not,” Darcy interrupted angrily. “You attempted the abduction of Miss de Bourgh of Rosings. That is a matter for either transportation or hanging!”
Wickham’s smile faded away to blank astonishment and he stared at this childhood friend in disbelief.
“Nonsense, Darcy. I am George Wickham, godson of … in any case, things do get out, you know. Miss de Bourgh really has no choice, you know. I will tell everyone that she agreed to meet me here, that we kissed, and then we did even more than that, and…”
Darcy’s closed fist smashed into Wickham’s face, causing the bound man to stop speaking. The master of Pemberley then turned to look at Anne, who was staring in horror at her former captor, her face white as her fichu.
“Is he … he is right, is he not?” she gasped brokenly. “If word gets out…”
“It will not get out,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said coldly. “As Darcy said, this is a capital offense.”
“Is not the situation very dangerous?” Georgiana asked, her blue orbs glittering with unshed tears. “My brother says that a lady’s reputation is very fragile, and if someone were to gossip…”
“Richard?” Anne said, rising to her feet and turning toward her military cousin.
“Yes, Anne?”
“May I speak to you in private for a few minutes?”
Richard, startled, looked at Darcy, who nodded and said, “We will watch Wickham.”
“Good,” the colonel said, guiding Anne some twenty feet down the path toward the main road. Once they were away from listening ears, he looked down and asked gently, “Anne, what can I do for you?
“Will you marry me?”
The colonel’s expression shifted from benevolent to incredulous. “What?!”
“Will you marry me?” Anne repeated, and lifted a restraining hand.
“Please, before you say another word, kindly listen. You know that there is a chance that what happened this hour will escape into society and that it would be best if I were wed quickly. I know that you wish to marry a wealthy woman. You are a fine man, Richard – genial, outgoing, but also a leader of men and quite able to go toe to toe with my mother and Wickham and emerge the victor. I realize my only attribute is my wealth, and if that is not enough, do not hesitate to refuse my suggestion. I merely think that … I believe we could be happy together at Rosings, and…”
She trailed off miserably and found herself twisting her handkerchief between wet hands as her throat tightened.
Richard stepped closer to her and took her hands in his own. “Anne, I am truly honored, and I think we would deal well together. I merely wish to know – I presume that you do not require a love match? I do like you, and care for you, but I am not in love.”
“I am not in love either,” Anne said firmly, “and I assure you I do not expect any such passion between us. I am not like Darcy or Miss Bennet – I wish only for a comfortable, safe home and a kindly man who will be patient with my weaknesses. But again, if you do not wish…”
“Anne,” Richard interrupted her. “You are entirely correct that I do need to marry for money, and I can think of no other heiress of my acquaintance whom I would rather wed. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“I will,” Anne said and beamed up at her cousin in relief. “I will.”
/
George Wickham was, at heart, an actor, with an actor’s ability to adjust his expression and words to meet any situation regardless of what was actually going on in his mind.
Thus he sat against a tree, his hands tied in front of him, his posture casual, his expression winsome, his eyes calm, even as his mind worked busily on the question of how best to turn this to his advantage.
He would happily marry Anne de Bourgh, but it was frankly unlikely that Darcy would agree to such a thing.
However, a lady’s reputation was extremely fragile.
He ought to be able to wring a substantial sum from Darcy in exchange for his own silence.
The question was how much Darcy would be willing to disburse to protect the family name.
His eyes drifted casually to the log where Elizabeth Bennet and Georgiana Darcy were now sitting side by side, arm in arm.
He had known that Miss Bennet had accompanied the Bingleys to Pemberley earlier in the summer, but he had never imagined that she would befriend the Darcys in such a way.
It was exasperating and frustrating. He had thought Elizabeth a true friend, but it seemed that even the independent Miss Bennet had been swayed by the wealth and influence of the Darcys.
For a moment, he considered making a sarcastic comment to that effect, but a glance at Darcy convinced him that he should refrain.
He had seen his old playmate angry before, of course – indeed, the previous year at Ramsgate, the master of Pemberley had physically tossed Wickham out the door when he had discovered Wickham closeted with his precious sister.
Right now, with Darcy’s expression thunderous, with his fists clenched, with Wickham’s face swollen and angry from being punched, well – best to be silent for now.
The sound of steps caused everyone to turn just as Anne and Richard, arm in arm, entered the small clearing.
“Anne has just done me the honor of accepting my offer of marriage,” Richard said, beaming. “Thus we need not concern ourselves about Wickham’s threats regarding her reputation.”
Wickham’s jaw dropped open in surprised horror, and Elizabeth leaped to her feet, her face wreathed with smiles. “Oh, Miss de Bourgh, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am so happy for you!”
“Please, will you not call me Anne?” the lady asked. “You saved me from abduction, after all.”
“Of course, Anne. Please call me Elizabeth.”
“Do you love one another?” Georgiana asked, her face fixed in a worried scowl.
Darcy winced slightly at this intrusive question, and Anne looked puzzled, but Richard, who understood his young cousin, said, “No, my dear Georgiana, we are not in love, but we do care for one another. Anne would like to be married to a reliable gentleman, and I would like to be married to a kind heiress. We both will benefit greatly.”
“Furthermore, my marriage to the colonel will negate any possible concerns regarding Wickham’s threats to gossip about me,” Anne said, shooting a steely look at Wickham.
The man’s mouth was hanging open in surprise, but at these words, he snapped his mouth closed, breathed hard through his nose, and said, “Even if that is true, there is still Miss Bennet’s reputation to consider. I held her in my arms, after all…”
He trailed off as Darcy took a menacing step toward him, and Elizabeth said briskly, “Nonsense, Mr. Wickham, nonsense! You will shortly be locked up for abduction, and we are in Ramsgate, not Meryton. The Darcys and de Bourghs are of high society and well known in London, but the Bennets are minor gentry in Hertfordshire. There is nothing you can say here that will have any effect on my reputation at home.”
“My dear Miss Bennet,” Wickham purred, “I assure you that as the godson of George Darcy, I can…”
He stopped abruptly as Darcy stepped closer to him, his fists tight.
“Is it necessary for us to listen to his threats and lies?” Georgiana asked in genuine confusion.
“No, it is not,” the colonel said, striding over to pick up a blue canvas bag which was lying near a tree. He opened it and his expression grew fierce as he pulled out a coil of thin rope.
“I see you came well prepared,” he said icily, walking over to kneel by his captive. With swift movements, Richard tied Wickham’s arms together with rope, removed the scarf from the man’s wrists, and jammed the scarf into his prisoner’s mouth.
“Darcy, we should get Wickham back to town, and I will report to the local authorities. I hope there is some sort of jail and that the local magistrate is a sensible fellow…”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, Miss Bennet?”
“Mr. Wickham was a member of a militia company in Meryton until a few months ago, whereupon he departed with his fellows to Brighton. It seems likely that he is a deserter from his company, and I am aware that Ramsgate has a substantial army presence. Perhaps it would be better to turn him over to the local military authorities?”
At these words Colonel Fitzwilliam produced a feral grin and looked down at Wickham who, in the face of such a threat, could not entirely maintain a sanguine countenance.
“That, Miss Bennet, is a marvelous idea,” Richard said.
/
Ramsgate
“Fortunately, Miss Bennet was nearby and tackled Mr. Wickham, and I was able to wiggle free,” Anne explained, taking a sip of tea fortified with brandy.
She was curled up on a comfortable padded chair in her private sitting room, and her mind was a mixture of delight and belated anguish over what had come to pass.
Mrs. Jenkinson’s faded blue eyes filled with tears and she said, “Miss de Bourgh, that is entirely dreadful! I am much at fault for failing to accompany you! I do not know what Lady Catherine will say.”
Anne sat up slightly and grinned in a rather unladylike manner. “It does not matter what she has to say, because I asked Richard Fitzwilliam to marry me, and he agreed. As soon as we are wed, Lady Catherine will be relegated to the Dower House.”
“My dear Miss de Bourgh, I am delighted for you!” her companion exclaimed. “The colonel is a charming, genial man, while also entirely able to manage your mother.”
“Yes, he is,” Anne said joyfully. “I do hope you are willing to stay on at Rosings, Mrs. Jenkinson. You have been a loyal and faithful comrade.”
The older lady looked downcast and said, “I know I have been annoying at times, hovering over you and constantly offering you shawls and moving screens in front of the fire…”
“Because my mother insisted that you do so,” Anne interpolated. “That will stop, of course, but I do beg you to believe that I consider you more than a paid companion. You have been a true friend.”
Mrs. Jenkinson, who had indeed felt alarmed at the thought of finding a new position at her age, relaxed and smiled.
“In that case, I would be honored and pleased to continue on at Rosings. Now I promise I will not hover too much, but I think you ought to take a nap after your ordeal. Or would you rather eat something first?”
“I am rather hungry,” Anne said. “Perhaps you could ask someone to send up some toast, and then I will rest.”