Chapter 9
Before Colonel Forster departed Longbourn, he agreed to Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanying him to the encampment, and to his request to be present when Wickham was brought to his office.
Wickham being summoned to see the Colonel was not unusual, so his suspicions would not be raised.
On their way to the encampment, Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested that while Wickham was with them, his quarters be thoroughly searched.
Wickham was not sure why he had been summoned to the Colonel’s office.
He hoped it was not because of his flirtation with his commander’s young wife.
Harriet Forster was very much like Lydia Bennet in intelligence, but she was a woman he would not dare touch until the day he was to make his escape.
Wickham calculated that would be in a fortnight, mayhap three weeks, after his new clothing and boots would be ready.
When he arrived at the outer office, Captain Carter indicated that the Lieutenant should proceed directly into the Colonel’s office, as the door was ajar.
Wickham ambled into his commander’s office with his usual swagger and gave the Colonel a jaunty salute.
When Wickham heard the door close behind him, he thought nothing of it.
His fear became overwhelming when, from behind and close enough to feel the heat of the man’s exhale, he heard the voice of the only man who he knew would never show him mercy.
“Does not give a very good salute, does he, Forster?” Wickham prayed he was wrong, but as he turned his head, he saw Richard Fitzwilliam standing at his left, which meant that Richard’s fighting hand was in the middle of his back, and the man was giving him the most malevolent look he had ever seen.
Not even women ruined and laughed away had affected such malice.
“W-Why a-are,” Wickham cleared his now dry throat, “Why a-are you h-here, Fitzwilliam?” Wickham stammered.
“That is Colonel Fitzwilliam to you, Lieutenant,” Richard growled, purposefully remaining between the quivering man and the door.
“Lieutenant, would you like to repeat the tale you told me about Mr. Darcy cheating you?” Colonel Forster asked.
“Ahem, errrr, I am not sure of what you speak, Colonel,” Wickham was sweating profusely now, unable to see a way forward which would keep him in good standing and not get him run through.
He could see the man he was petrified of in his peripheral vision and was well aware his only avenue of escape was cut off.
The last thing he wanted to do was give Darcy’s cousin a reason to unsheathe the sabre hanging at his side.
“You really need to polish up your lying skills, Georgie boy. Not only did you tell your pack of lies to both your commander and Mr. King—by the way, your betrothal is no more—and to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but now you try to make your Colonel a fool in front of me?” Richard growled.
“H-he did deny me the living,” Wickham managed.
“Except, Lieutenant, you left out the part of your refusal of the living and the receipt of three thousand pounds when you signed away all rights to it!” Colonel Forster thundered. He had no time for dishonourable men.
There was a smart knock on the door. On receipt of a command to enter, Captain Carter entered with Lieutenants Sanderson and Denny. Each Lieutenant was holding items in his hand, and both were glaring at Wickham whose pallor changed to a sickly white when he what they held.
“The items being held by the two Lieutenants were discovered secreted in Wickham’s mattress,” the Adjutant reported. There were watches, rings, and similar items, plus one or two purses, now almost empty.
“Captain, do you think the value of the pilfered items is above twenty pounds?” Richard asked, ignoring that Wickham was looking from one of them to the other, now ashen with fear.
“Yes, Colonel, well over that amount, in fact,” Captain Carter replied.
“There you have it, gentlemen; we all know this is a hanging offence,” Richard stated nonchalantly.
Colonel Forster dismissed his three men with instructions to return all items to their rightful owners.
“Here are your choices, Wickham. You will be arrested, tried, and hung, or you will be arrested and transported with twenty years hard labour in Van Diemen’s Land.
You will never be allowed to return to this island, ever.
If you do, you will be hung with no delay!
” Richard enumerated the man’s choices, one of which was horrible, but the other was death.
“If Darcy does not help me, I will make sure everyone knows about his sister–,” Wickham tried, earning a fist in his stomach from Colonel Fitzwilliam before he was finished speaking. Wickham dropped to all fours as he gasped for breath.
“Mention one word about Miss Darcy, and your only option will be hanging!” Richard informed the man menacingly.
It was at this moment Wickham realised no one would be coming to assist him this time, and he mumbled something to the floor.
“What was that, Mr. Wickham?” His former commander demanded. The change in how he was addressed reminded him that the instant he had been caught committing an honours violation, he was no longer a member of the militia.
“Transportation,” he managed.
“So be it. Captain Carter,” Colonel Forster called. “Do you have the men ready to escort this sorry excuse to Newgate where he is to be held until his transport ship departs?”
“Yessir,” the Captain replied. With a nod from his commander, the captain had two soldiers drag the disgraced ex-officer to the stockade, after cutting his rank insignia off his epaulettes.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“I must apologise to my patroness' nephews,” Collins insisted once he was revived by the leftover salts the late Mrs. Bennet used almost daily.
“They returned to Netherfield, Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth informed him.
“I must travel thither and make my apologies. If my beneficent patroness becomes angry with me, it will be a disaster,” Collins looked from one to another fearfully.
“Mr. Collins, the gentlemen will be at the ball. You may see them there. Until then, they have requested to be left in peace. I advise leaving it until then unless you would like to anger their aunt by ignoring their wishes?” Bennet played his trump card.
“Sage advice, Mr. Bennet. No, I will address them there,” Collins decided.
“As a clergyman, is a ball something you should be attending?” Elizabeth asked.
“A ball such as the one we will attend tomorrow can have no evil attached to it.
Not only is it given by an honourable gentleman, but my patroness' nephews will attend; for these reasons, it will be above reproach. I will retire to rest and then return to see my dear Matilda. We are of one mind; it is as we were formed for one another,” Collins pontificated.
Elizabeth was in a daze. It was not just finding out each of her preconceived notions about both Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy were completely wrong, she still could not believe Mr. Darcy had requested the opening and supper sets from her before he and his cousin departed for Netherfield.
She had had no reason to refuse, and if she were honest with herself, she did not want to refuse.
Before he departed with Colonel Forster, much to the middle Bennet sister’s dismay, Richard Fitzwilliam requested Mary’s first and supper sets, Elizabeth’s second set, and Jane’s third set.
The Viscount asked for Jane’s first set but settled for her second and supper sets; he claimed Mary’s third set and Elizabeth’s fourth set.
Even more surprising than asking Elizabeth to dance, Mr Darcy requested Mary’s second, Jane’s fourth, and the one after supper from Kitty. The Viscount asked Kitty to open the ball with him, and the Colonel claimed her fourth set.
Luckily, none of this had happened in front of Mr. Collins who was passed out at the time.
He surely would have objected strenuously on behalf of his patroness with some nonsense about preserving the distinction of rank.
He also might go on about how Mr. Darcy was betrothed to Lady Catherine’s daughter, something the man himself had warned them the sycophant might spew.
Even rarer—Bennet was to dance. He and Charlotte would pair for the opening and supper sets.
When her father had expressed reservation due to Collins’s possible reaction, Charlotte had simply pointed out there was nothing the man could do which would affect them.
She opined that if he found out they were to marry, so be it.
She was happy with their choices and would not allow such a man to put a damper on their future.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
If Miss Bingley had been put out when the three men had departed earlier, she was near apoplectic when she found out they had been with the Bennets.
“We are all from the first circles; how can you bear to spend time with ones so low as the Bennets?” Miss Bingley asked, certain that at least the Viscount would agree with her.
“Excuse me, Miss Bingley. Since when have you, the daughter of a tradesman, been part of the first circles?” Andrew asked calmly.
Miss Bingley went from pink to scarlet in seconds, and her mouth opened and closed but emitted no sound. She looked to someone to rescue her, but no one offered, even Louisa pointedly avoided her gaze by playing with her bracelets. No one jumped in to assist her.
“I tried to warn you, Caroline,” Mr. Hurst stated through a grin. “You choose never to listen.”
Andrew decided it was time to put paid to the awful woman’s pretentions, “Also, please elucidate for us, Miss Bingley, how it is you think yourself above a gentlewoman whose father owns land and has done so for generations?”
Again no one came to Miss Bingley’s aid. She exercised the only option available to her; she ran out of the room. A few minutes later, the sound of a door slamming reverberated throughout the house.