Chapter 27 Once and For All
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ONCE AND FOR ALL
When the gentlemen arrived back at Netherfield that evening—Mrs Bennet having insisted they remain for dinner and showing marked displeasure when the evening did not end in an announcement of either a courtship or an engagement between her eldest daughter and Bingley—Darcy was handed a note from his valet almost as soon as he stepped through the door.
He hurried into the library to read it, unaware of his cousin following him.
The handwriting was unfamiliar; however, the moment he opened the message, its author was immediately apparent. He broke the seal and read:
Mr Darcy,
I am ashamed to say that Colonel Forster was not as amenable to hearing my information as I had hoped.
He appears aware of your return to the area and has been persuaded that these receipts are a fabrication—or, at best, an attempt to exact some petty revenge upon Mr Wickham for your so-called scandalous treatment of him.
I did not mention Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence in the neighbourhood, but I have spoken to the shopkeepers, who have all agreed to extend no further credit to any officer, including the colonel of the militia, particularly on the word of another.
I cannot imagine how it has escaped Colonel Forster’s notice that he is responsible for debts exceeding twenty pounds, which Wickham has charged in Colonel Forster’s name.
Despite the warnings about the members of the militia not always being honourable, I have discovered there are also two serving girls—one fifteen, the other not yet fourteen—who now claim that Wickham is the father of their unborn children.
I cannot say that there are others, but these two are the daughters of friends of mine and their fathers are quite at a loss for what to do now.
In both cases, they were convinced the man would offer for them, and they may or may not have been entirely willing.
Darcy’s fingers closed over the paper until the edges creased. For a few breaths the household’s clatter fell away and he read the lines again as if they might change. He had warned them; he had hoped his warning would be enough. It was not.
There was no longer any pretence that his former friend might reform—if anything, Wickham had grown worse with the years.
Worse still was Forster’s dismissal of the matter; he was blind, stubborn, and unwilling to see what lay before him.
Wickham’s depravity no longer surprised Darcy, but the extent of its reach still sickened him.
That the man walked free while wrecking the lives of girls scarcely out of childhood made his stomach turn.
Turning to his cousin, Darcy handed him the note without a word. Both men remained standing as Fitzwilliam read, the firelight throwing uneven shadows across the room. Darcy watched the familiar furrow settle between his cousin’s brows, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he reached the end.
“Forster is a fool,” Fitzwilliam said at last, running a hand through his hair.
Darcy inclined his head, his tone clipped. “Wickham leaves ruin wherever he goes. He must be stopped.”
“You might have warned me how obstinate Forster would be,” Fitzwilliam replied, folding the paper and handing it back.
“With half his officers likely in Wickham’s confidence, he will be too ashamed to acknowledge the truth.
Frankly, I am astonished that there are not more victims than these two mentioned here. ”
Darcy’s fingers closed over the letter again, crushing it unconsciously.
He began to pace before the hearth, boots striking the floorboards in measured rhythm.
“Embarrassed or not, the man is responsible for his men. He should have investigated Wickham at the first rumour. Even with my warning, he allowed himself to be taken in.”
Fitzwilliam stepped nearer the fire, his expression grim. “No commander likes to admit he has been deceived by a charming scoundrel in a scarlet coat,” he said drily. “The more you press him, the more tightly he will cling to the comfort of his own error.”
Darcy stopped pacing, turning to face him fully. The heat from the hearth caught in his voice when he spoke, low but firm. “Then we will not press him. If pride blinds him, we will act without his assistance.”
This time, Darcy turned away from his cousin, his gaze fixed on the fire as though he was unable to meet his cousin’s eye.
“Wickham can no longer be suffered to continue as he has. I once hoped my old friend might amend, but he has only grown worse. Paying his debts has given him cause to believe I will do so forever. No longer. If Forster will not credit the debts I hold, we must find another means to check him.”
“You have always fought Wickham with the weapons of a gentleman—proof and persuasion. Perhaps it is time for other measures,” Fitzwilliam offered quietly from behind him.
Darcy turned back to face his cousin, his voice clipped. “Do you mean—?”
“Nothing unlawful,” Fitzwilliam said with a faint, grim smile. “But if his colonel will not act, there are other ways to make a man’s life intolerable.”
“Such as?” Darcy asked.
“We could ‘force’ him to desert,” Fitzwilliam said. “You said that neither the colonel nor Wickham are aware of my presence in the area, did you not?”
At Darcy’s nod, Fitzwilliam went on. “What will he do if he sees me? If I present myself—if I am known to be in the neighbourhood—he will not be able to move as he does now. I could make my presence felt, and the rest would follow.”
Darcy looked at his cousin, brows drawn. “I do not understand.”
Fitzwilliam’s mouth tilted in a grim, humourless smile.
“If I were to threaten him with consequences for his behaviour this summer, he might well be frightened into leaving of his own accord. If he will not go willingly, we may contrive circumstances that leave him no refuge here. Men who live by charm and favour cannot long endure when both are withdrawn; they are forced either to flee or to show themselves for what they are. Either way, we will have him watched carefully so we can deal with him permanently this time.”
Darcy scowled, shaking his head. “Could I not meet him, offer him money to send him abroad—somewhere far, like the Americas—so that we might finally be rid of him?”
“Would you consign him to wreck others elsewhere?” Fitzwilliam asked, his voice low and harsh.
“Is exile any less cruel than disgrace? No—if he must go, let it be with the truth of him made plain about his behaviour. Having him transported to Van Diemen’s Land is fair; those around him would be criminals as well, but to send him to the Americas just allows him to wreak havoc on a new continent. He will still not learn his lesson.”
Darcy’s mouth was dry. “Could your father not assist us? Could he not use his influence to have him transported?”
Fitzwilliam sighed. “I will write to him, and to my general as well, to see what may be done. Perhaps the War Office will answer my earlier request within a day or two. I shall also make discreet enquiries among the enlisted men who serve with Wickham to see what they might know, particularly to enquire if Wickham has many debts of honour amongst the soldiers. If the formal channels fail us, we will have other means of making sure he finds no refuge here.”
Darcy felt a stab of something like shame.
“I know I ought not to feel sympathy for him, yet I cannot help thinking my father responsible, at least in part, for the man he has become. Then again, since my father’s death, I have done little enough to curb him; perhaps I have permitted him to go on too long without feeling the weight of his errors. ”
Fitzwilliam laid a hand on his cousin’s shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look.
“I understand more than you may credit, Darcy. You have given him far more chances and allowances than anyone deserves, particularly when you consider how infamously he has treated you. In many ways, you have done the same for me, but the difference is that I am grateful for what I have received whereas Wickham has only ever demanded more. I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but your father was no judge of character where his godson was concerned—he was a fool in that regard.”
Darcy dropped his head. “I know, Richard, but I have never known what to do. Had I held him accountable years ago, he could not have injured Georgiana this summer nor could he have harmed so many others. Well,” he said, lifting his head and meeting his cousin’s gaze, “no longer shall I stand by. One way or another, we will hold him accountable for the wrongs he has committed.”
“Very good,” Fitzwilliam said, tightening his grip on Darcy’s shoulder with a soldier’s firmness. “We will see it done. You shall have your peace, and within a week I will see that Meryton is rid of that man so that Georgiana may come to witness your happiness with Elizabeth.”
It did not take even that long.
Early the next morning, an express arrived from London addressed to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Darcy was with him when the despatch was brought in and watched as his cousin broke the seal, scanning the contents with visible satisfaction.
The orders were brief but decisive: Fitzwilliam was directed to select six men from the local militia and have them report immediately to the War Office in London under his personal command.
Darcy exhaled slowly. So it was to be done—swiftly and efficiently, without the need for further discussion.
Colonel Forster could not refuse a general’s signature nor could Wickham disobey a direct command from a superior officer.
It was as neat a solution as Fitzwilliam had promised when first proposing military involvement.
Neat and decisive—and Darcy wondered if it might be considered merciless by some.