Chapter 35
Ramsgate
George Wickham was lying on the dusty mattress of his cell when the solid wooden door creaked open and Colonel Mueller entered, accompanied by an elderly man whose black cassock and white preaching bands marked him as a clergyman.
Wickham rolled sullenly to his feet and stood at some semblance of attention. He had already spent three days in this disgusting place, and while he no longer considered himself a member of the military, he would go through the appropriate motions in the hopes of leaving soon.
“Lieutenant George Wickham,” Mueller said formally, “at ten o’clock this morning, a military court heard testimony about your crimes of desertion and attempted abduction of a lady.
In view of the heinous nature of your actions, you have been sentenced to death by firing squad.
Said punishment will occur at four hours past noon today.
Mr. Clarke has graciously agreed to spend the next few hours with you in the hopes that you will find peace with God. Do you have any questions?”
Wickham stared at him blankly, his mind a sudden whirlwind of disbelief, confusion, and horror.
“Death?” he repeated numbly.
“Death, yes,” Mueller said. “Both desertion and abduction are worthy of the death penalty.”
Wickham shook his head slowly, then more wildly. “No, no! I am the godson of George Darcy. You cannot … there was no trial! I was not allowed to speak for myself! You cannot…”
“We can, and we did,” the colonel answered icily.
“I had no intention of allowing you to spread your lies about Miss de Bourgh in open court, Wickham, nor was there any reason for you to be present at your trial. Only yesterday, you spoke openly and shamelessly about your desertion of your regiment and your attempt to kidnap Miss de Bourgh, the niece of your godfather.”
Wickham stared in horror at the colonel, then at the parson, whose aged face was full of compassion.
“No!” he cried out, collapsing onto his smelly mattress. “No!! No!!!!”
“May God have mercy on your soul,” the colonel said gravely.
/
“Mr. Darcy, I do hope you will do us the honor of having dinner with us tomorrow,” Mrs. Bennet said eagerly as Darcy rose to leave. “I am certain Elizabeth can tell me what dishes you particularly enjoy.”
Elizabeth looked startled at these words and cast an uncertain glance at her love, who in turn grinned at her before turning back to Mrs. Bennet and saying, “I am most grateful for the invitation, but I intend to leave for London early tomorrow morning so that I can meet with my solicitor regarding the marriage settlements.”
“Oh,” the older lady exclaimed, fanning herself with her hand, “the settlements. Oh yes, of course!”
“Elizabeth, perhaps you should walk Mr. Darcy out to his carriage,” Mr. Bennet suggested with a broad wink at his daughter, who promptly grasped her beloved’s arm and guided him out the drawing room, down the corridor, into the vestibule, through the main door, down the stone steps, and onto the main carriageway, whereupon she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him thoroughly.
He responded with enthusiasm, and when they finally broke apart, he said huskily, “I think we should marry very soon, do you not think?”
“I do,” Elizabeth answered fervently. “Partly because I am eager to become your wife, and partly because I want to avoid weeks of my mother obsessing over the wedding breakfast.”
Darcy chuckled and said, “I understand that completely, and eagerly look forward to serving you in this matter by marrying in haste.”
“How long do you think the settlements will take?” Elizabeth asked practically.
“They should take no more than three days, and I will obtain a license while in Town. Perhaps we can plan on wedding a week from now?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
/
Matlock House
London
“No, I do not know where Richard is,” the Earl of Matlock said absently, his eyes fixed on the plaster moldings adjacent to the ceiling above his head, “nor do I care.”
Lady Catherine, who had been stalking angrily up and down the parquet floor of her brother’s study, turned and stared at him in outrage. “Not care? Not care? Have you listened to a word I said? Richard has proposed to Anne, and she has accepted him! You must stop this travesty!”
“Stop it?” the earl demanded, peering at his sister with obvious amusement. “Why should I? My second son will soon be master of a great house. I am absolutely delighted, Catherine!”
“But … but Anne is to marry Darcy! Matlock, if you do not interfere, our wealthy nephew will wed a mere country gentleman’s daughter, a woman of inferior birth, with no fortune and pitiful connections!”
Matlock stood up from his chair and waved a languid hand. “I do not particularly care, Catherine. Darcy has always been a resolute soul, and while this woman may not be ideal, he is hardly likely to change his mind based on my arguments.”
The door opened and Lady Matlock entered, looking puzzled, and said, “You wished to see me, Husband?”
“Yes, my dear, my sister has brought wonderful news. Richard is engaged to Anne!”
“Oh, Catherine!” Lady Matlock cried out. “How absolutely wonderful! My dear son will not have to return to the Continent, and will be master of a wealthy estate. How delightful!”
Lady Catherine stared at her sister-in-law, then at her own brother, and howled in frustration.
/
London
“Madam?”
“Yes, Sally?” Mrs. Younge said distractedly as she kneaded a large lump of bread dough.
“There are some men to see you in the vestibule,” the servant girl said nervously.
Henrietta scowled with irritation. After the disaster at Ramsgate, she had rushed back to her boarding house and was now catching up on all the duties left undone while she was away in Kent.
Fortunately, she was too busy to dwell overlong on her disappointment.
Wickham, who always fell on his feet, had doubtless extracted a substantial sum from Darcy in exchange for his silence, but it would not be thirty thousand pounds, nor was there any likelihood that Wickham would share his largesse with her since she had sensibly run away.
It was a great pity that they had mistakenly snatched Anne de Bourgh instead of Georgiana Darcy.
She hastily took off her apron, wiped down her hands, and hurried into the front entrance hall as she scowled in annoyance. She did need additional renters, but interruptions meant that she was even farther behind…
She turned the corner and halted in dismay at the sight before her. Sally had neglected to inform her that the leader of the men was an army officer wearing a red coat, and that his four fellows all had an indefinable air of officialdom.
“Mrs. Henrietta Younge?” asked the officer in charge.
“Yes?” she answered fearfully.
“I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, son of the Earl of Matlock and cousin to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. You are under arrest for attempted abduction.”
Mrs. Younge took a step backwards, and then halted. There was nowhere to run.
“I … I do not,” she began, “please, I meant no harm.”
Even though his eyes were dark with anger, the colonel kept his voice soft.
“You and George Wickham attempted to take a gentlewoman by force, Mrs. Younge. That is a hanging matter, but if you cooperate and keep Miss de Bourgh’s name out of any legal proceedings, I will arrange to have you transported instead of executed. ”
Henrietta swayed in place and reached out a hand toward a handy chair so that she did not fall over in her distress. “Transported? Executed?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded, his expression grim, and said, “Wickham is slated to be executed shortly, Mrs. Younge. You can be thankful that our family considers you of less importance than Wickham, and thus, if you do not cause any trouble, you will at least have the chance to make a life for yourself in the Australian colonies.”
Mrs. Younge stared at him in horror, her eyes filled with terrified tears. How could she have been such a fool as to involve herself in Wickham’s schemes?
/
Ramsgate
George Wickham stood upon the grassy knoll, his hands tied behind him, his eyes covered with a white scarf.
Mr. Clarke stood a safe distance away, reading the Prayer for the Condemned Malefactor.
“Justly by man condemned to die, Jesus the desperate sinner’s friend, Out of the deep regard our cry, And O! Let hope be in our end…”
When he had finished, Colonel Mueller glanced at his troops, then at the condemned man, and said, “Ready! Aim! Fire!!”
/
Longbourn
Elizabeth sat on her bed in her bedchamber, her mind tumultuous.
She had lived in this room since she had graduated from the nursery, and everything about it was familiar, from the creaky board near the entry door to the way that the west window stuck after a rain.
In the last few years, she had often been away for weeks at a time while visiting friends and relations, but in the past she had always known that she would come home to this room.
But this was different. She loved Darcy very much and eagerly anticipated becoming his wife, but it was still a trifle melancholy to realize that she would never sleep here after her marriage.
Her mother, who was still loudly ecstatic about her second daughter’s incredible capture of a wealthy man, would put the Darcys in the best guest chamber when they visited.
There was a soft tap at the door, and Elizabeth called out, “Come in!”
Kitty and Mary entered, both looking flummoxed. Elizabeth leaped to her feet, rushed forward to embrace them, and said, “My dear sisters! I thought you were spending the night at Netherfield with Jane and Charles!”
“We asked Charles to send us home in his carriage so that we could speak to you,” Kitty said. “Is it true, Lizzy? Are you and Mr. Darcy engaged?”
“We are!” Elizabeth exclaimed happily.
Her sisters looked at one another, and Kitty said, “Oh, Lizzy, I know that Mr. Darcy is very wealthy, but do you truly love him?”