Chapter 8 #2
“Yes, quickly.” Darcy tossed some coins to the rider before vaulting into the carriage. His mind raced. Knowing Wickham, sabotaging Darcy had been as attractive an inducement as searching for treasure.
The coach’s wheels clattered over the cobblestones as they raced toward the Thames.
He stared out of the window without seeing, his thoughts churning.
Wickham would do everything within his charming, manipulative power to destroy, not only the quest, but Darcy’s chances with Elizabeth. Blast it all!
Colonel Fitzwilliam was overseeing the loading of their trunks when Darcy arrived at the docks. One look at his cousin made Richard immediately stride toward him.
“What has happened?”
Darcy thrust the letter at his cousin. “Read it and see.”
When Richard finished, he looked up with murder in his eyes. “Wickham.”
“He knows everything. The destination, the participants, the first clue. He knows I am involved.”
“That rake would sell his own mother for a shilling if she were still living.” The colonel’s voice was deadly quiet. “He has wormed his way into this expedition…”
“We have company.”
His cousin’s head snapped up, following Darcy’s gaze toward the maze of warehouses lining the waterfront. There, half-hidden between two buildings, stood a familiar figure in uniform. Even at this distance, Wickham’s cocky posture was unmistakable.
Their enemy stepped into full view and raised his hand in a mocking salute, then melted back into the shadows between the buildings.
“The arrogant dastard,” Richard growled. “He wants us to know that he is here.”
“This changes everything.”
“How so?”
“Elizabeth.” Darcy stopped, took a breath. “She finds him charming. He has already poisoned her mind against me with his lies.”
“What lies?”
Darcy paced beside the carriage, his control fraying with each step. “Last autumn, when I was at Netherfield, Wickham told the neighborhood that I destroyed his prospects out of petty jealousy. That my father intended him for the church, but I denied him the living when it became available.”
“And Miss Bennet believed him?”
“She had every reason to. I had already insulted her publicly at an assembly, calling her ‘merely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt me.’” Darcy’s voice was raw with self-recrimination.
“There was a ball at Bingley’s estate the evening before I abandoned him.
When Elizabeth and I danced, she confronted me about Wickham. ”
“What did you say? Did you not explain?”
“I said nothing. I was too proud to defend myself, too arrogant to explain.” Darcy stopped pacing, his shoulders sagging. “It is obvious she thinks I am exactly what Wickham painted me to be: a cruel man who destroys the happiness of others.”
Richard was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the information. “And now Wickham will be at every port whispering more poison in her ears—”
“While I will struggle to prove I am not the man she believes me to be.” Darcy laughed bitterly. “The obstacles to true love have become mountainous.”
“We shall have to watch for him at every stop,” Richard said. “He is dangerous enough as a fortune hunter, but if he is working against you specifically…”
“He will use every charm at his disposal to turn Elizabeth further against me and use her to find the treasure he thinks we are pursuing.” Darcy’s voice had dropped to slightly above a whisper.
Richard rubbed his chin. “What of her father? Is Mr. Bennet so neglectful a parent?”
“He will become so absorbed in ancient manuscripts and scholarly puzzles that he will forget she is even there.” Darcy’s comment was devoid of humor.
“I did not lie when I said I came on this quest to protect her. I never imagined the greatest threat would be someone she already trusts more than me.”
“Then we make our own plans.” Richard had the steely resolve of a military commander. “Wickham may have the advantage of her current good opinion, but we have truth on our side.”
“Truth?” The word tasted sour in his mouth. “She has no reason to accept my word over his. In her opinion, I am the villain of the piece.”
“Then you must prove otherwise through your actions.” Richard gripped his cousin’s shoulder. “Show her the man you really are, Darcy. Not through words, but through deeds. Protect her. Support her. Demonstrate the honor Wickham lacks.”
Darcy nodded slowly, feeling some of his resolve return. “You are right. I cannot control what Wickham does, but I can control my own actions.”
“Exactly. The moment he takes a false step…”
“No,” Darcy’s voice was sharp. “We cannot act against him directly without proof of wrongdoing. Elizabeth would see it as further evidence of my vile nature.”
“Then we gather proof. Carefully, methodically, until even she cannot deny what he is. The snake’s mask will slip, and Miss Elizabeth will notice.”
The sound of a ship’s bell echoed across the water, signaling that their departure time approached.
Darcy looked toward the Meridian, where their future awaited, and then back toward the shadows where Wickham lurked.
“He has made this personal, Richard. This is no longer only about ancient treasures.”
“It never was from the beginning, as you already confessed.” The colonel’s smile lacked warmth. “Very well. Let us see who proves to be the better man: you or George Wickham. I know where my money will be placed.”
As they walked toward the gangway, the weight of the challenge ahead settled upon Darcy. Winning Elizabeth’s heart had seemed difficult enough before. With Wickham working against him, it appeared to be at first glance, nearly impossible.
However, “nearly impossible” was not the same as “exactly impossible.” Darcy had never backed down from a fight when it mattered. This one mattered more than anything in his life.
George Wickham pressed himself against the filthy warehouse wall, his uniform coat unbuttoned and his usual smile replaced by a sneer. From his concealed position, he had a perfect view of the Meridian’s deck as Darcy and the colonel prepared to board.
Colonel Fitzwilliam cut an impressive figure, a man accustomed to command. His presence was unexpected, but he was not Wickham’s concern.
Darcy arrived, showing equal parts superiority and panic as he scanned the docks for the threats he knew were present.
The muscles in Wickham’s jaw flexed as he saw his childhood companion.
How easily Darcy demanded respect, how readily the crew would defer to his wishes.
Money and breeding opened every door and smoothed every path.
Well, soon enough, Wickham would experience the same.
“Passenger Wickham!” came a rough shout from behind him. “Best be getting aboard if ye do not want to swim to Gibraltar.”
Wickham turned toward the Henry Sr., moored several berths down from the Meridian.
Where Darcy’s vessel gleamed with fresh paint and proper rigging, the Henry Sr. showed her age in weathered wood and patched sails.
Her crew looked to match, a collection of weathered sailors with manners that would have scandalized the drawing rooms of Meryton.
“Coming,” he called out, though he allowed himself one last look at the Meridian.
Darcy would never have left Georgiana behind to take such a dangerous journey unless a sizable treasure was to be found.
It must be a fortune in gold and jewels.
After all, ancient pharaohs were not fools.
If there were one treasure hidden, there would have to be others.
He smiled to himself as he shouldered his single travel bag.
Let Darcy enjoy his comfortable passage to Portugal.
The Henry Sr. would sail directly to Gibraltar, arriving days ahead of the Meridian.
By the time Darcy’s party reached the Mediterranean, Wickham would be in position to discover exactly where this treasure hunt led and claim his rightful share.
“You’re cutting it fine, mate,” growled the boatswain as Wickham climbed aboard the ship. “This ain’t a pleasure cruise.”
“I am sure it is not,” Wickham replied pleasantly, though he eyed the crew with wariness.
Still, being a passenger on any vessel was infinitely preferable to another tedious day of militia duty.
Denny and Saunderson could manage without him.
They had done so often enough when he had found more entertaining pursuits.
As for deserting his post… Well, what were military obligations compared to the promise of wealth beyond measure? Levinson had been infuriatingly vague about the details, but his drunken hints had been enough to tantalize Wickham with visions of the riches he deserved.
With the gold coins procured from the viscount sewn into the lining of his coat, he kept only two smaller coins in his pocket.
They clinked together as he moved. It would not do for the crew to realize that he carried enough to be a worthy prize.
No, he would play the part of an impoverished traveler seeking his fortune in distant lands until he reached port.
Once he had determined where Darcy sailed after Gibraltar, he would plan the next leg of the journey.
The Henry Sr. drifted away from the dock. Wickham positioned himself where he could still see the Meridian. Darcy’s tall figure disappeared below deck. Soon enough, that proud head would bow before him. Then he would have everything that Fitzwilliam Darcy had denied him.