Chapter 9
Mrs. Plantner’s House
Lambton
Later
The chair on which Wickham was seated was soft and comfortable, a balm to his aching body.
The room was cool and dimly lit, with white linen curtains, embroidered with green leaves of ivy, blocking the evening sun.
Three candles sat on the table, illuminating the remains of his simple meal.
His cup was almost empty, but Wickham made no move to refill it; he would have preferred something stronger than tea, and he was not particularly thirsty, even with the dryness of the toast he was now nibbling.
He found he was not enjoying his food a great deal, dismayed as he was at the blighting of his prospects.
How had it all gone so wrong? He had laid his plans so carefully, had arranged every detail with such care.
The hiring of the horses, the arrangement of the coach, and negotiating with Zimmer to drive the carriage for him.
By this time, he should have been well on his way to Scotland, Georgiana cowed and compromised and drugged on the opposite seat, her thirty thousand pound dowry as good as his.
He would have honored his obligations, paid off Dorothea, paid off Zimmer, and then left Georgiana with her proud brother.
Thirty thousand pounds would have given him the life he deserved, with plenty of money for fine food and drink, not to mention glorious evenings at the gaming tables.
Instead, the coward Zimmer had doomed them all.
Mrs. Younge had performed her part to admiration.
Even once Wickham was distracted by the unknown chit who had attacked him, he had briefly caught a glimpse of her trying to wrestle Miss Darcy into the carriage while he dealt with the mysterious girl.
Little trollop! What sort of a female attacked a man, anyway?
His throat felt tender and sore where she had wrapped her surprisingly strong arm across it, cutting off his air, and as if that were not enough, she had clawed at his face and neck, leaving stinging scratches.
He was confident that the abduction would have succeeded if Zimmer had not lost his nerve and driven off. Wickham hoped devoutly that the searchers combing Lambton now would find the traitor and bring him to justice.
Wickham knew that there were searchers. Fitzwilliam Darcy was the richest man in the area, and while Wickham would have been assured of safety and wealth had his daring plan succeeded, failure was a daunting and alarming prospect.
Would Darcy relent in his search once he was certain that Wickham had fled far away?
That remained to be seen, but one thing was sure, Wickham must flee as soon as the hue and cry diminished.
He would go to London, that great seething mass of humanity where a lone man could vanish without a trace, and would hide himself in that city’s seedy underbelly and lick his wounds.
In the meantime, he would be safe enough here, in this neat little house with its tidy curtains.
Hannah Plantner, his hostess, was an old friend.
No longer in the first bloom of her blushing, starry-eyed youth, she was nonetheless quite handsome still and had welcomed him into her house due to the memories of their shared times together before her marriage.
It was well for him that old Mr. Plantner had succumbed to an attack of the heart some few years back and left his young wife not only solvent but moderately wealthy.
Wickham looked forward to comforting the lonely widow in her bed once he had recovered a trifle, before he crept away from Lambton.
Already his mind was turning to what he could do in London.
He should have been master of thirty thousand pounds, and in anticipation of this end, had taken no care over the expenses of seeing his plan through.
As a result, he was left without a feather to fly with.
It was not the first time he was without money, but it was never easy, and he was scrambling over plans and possibilities of how to recoup his great losses.
It was hard to think through the anger still filling his mind.
He had had a plan! A perfect plan! And that interfering wench had appeared with her unladylike ways!
Who was she? Where had she sprung from? Why had she interposed herself in a situation which was none of her business?
It was not as if she was his personal enemy; he was certain that he had never seen her before she had peeked out of the inn.
The doorknob rattled slightly, and Wickham hastily banished baleful thoughts of the interfering young woman, straightened his spine, and arranged his face in a practiced smile. The door opened and his hostess stepped through, and Wickham brightened his smile in greeting.
“Hannah, my dear,” he said, and then his throat clogged as a well-dressed gentleman appeared close behind her with three sturdy, coarsely dressed men at his heels.
“Hannah?” he repeated piteously.
“Did you really think I would conceal you here after you tried to abduct a lady, Wickham?” Mrs. Plantner demanded, her dark eyes snapping.
“Mr. Wickham,” the gentleman said, stepping forward, “you are under arrest for the unlawful attempted abduction of Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
***
Study
Pemberley
The Next Morning
Wednesday, 12th June 1811
Darcy stared out the window toward the rising sun, which was almost fully over the horizon now, clad in blankets of orange and pink. It was a glorious sight, and usually a soothing one, but today nothing could settle his roiling soul.
He had almost lost Georgiana, his precious and only sibling. He had chosen a traitorous woman to be his sister’s governess. He had failed her.
The worst had not happened, thanks to the courage of Elizabeth Bennet and a couple of honorable bystanders, but he knew this terrible event would cast a shadow over Georgiana’s life for a long time.
The door opened behind him, and Darcy turned as his butler entered with Lord Throckmorton at his heels.
“Lord Throckmorton, sir,” the butler said and withdrew.
Darcy stepped forward eagerly. “Do you have news, sir?”
The magistrate nodded and said, “Yes, both Wickham and Zimmer have been captured.”
Darcy’s shoulders slumped in relief, and he said, “That is wonderful news, my lord. Wonderful news. Where were they discovered? Oh, I have forgotten my manners. Would you care to sit down? It is rather early for brandy, but would you like some tea?”
The magistrate waved a hand and said, “I do not need any refreshments, but I would like to sit down.”
Darcy gestured toward a comfortably padded chair, waited until his visitor had taken it, and then sat down across from the older man.
“Wickham was discovered hiding with a widow named Mrs. Plantner in Lambton,” Lord Throckmorton said.
“It appears that she and he were intimately involved a decade ago, but she had no intention of protecting a kidnapper, and prior to his arrival, her maid told her about Wickham’s attempt to kidnap your sister.
When he appeared on her doorstep, she took him upstairs, installed him in her guest bedchamber, made him a meal, and surreptitiously sent a boy to tell me of his presence in her house. We arrested him without difficulty.”
“I am grateful to Mrs. Plantner, then,” Darcy said solemnly. “And what of Zimmer?”
“He was discovered hiding in the barn of his second cousin, Mr. Stokes. Stokes did not betray his cousin’s presence, but his farmhand did.”
“Excellent. What will happen to them?”
“That is why I am here,” Lord Throckmorton said, planting his hands on his knees. “Fortunately, next week is the local assizes in Derby. The attempted abduction of a lady is a very serious offense, and thus the three will be tried there.”
Darcy was startled. “Next week? I did not realize … but then, why would I? I have never been involved in a criminal trial before and have not paid attention to the timing of the circuit courts. Will my sister be required to testify?”
Lord Throckmorton nodded gravely. “She will, yes, along with the young lady who intervened in the attempt. Miss Bennet, I believe?”
“Yes. She is staying here, you know. But my lord, I am not … my sister is greatly distressed over this dreadful event, and the thought of having her speak in open court against her abductors will be difficult and, I fear, cause most unpleasant rumors to circulate.”
“I understand, and I promise to do my best to keep the details of this affair as quiet as I can. The last thing any of us wants are rumors in the press.”
Darcy relaxed. “Thank you.”
Lord Throckmorton nodded. “Now, would it be acceptable for me to speak to your sister and Miss Bennet?”
Darcy nodded. “Of course, as soon as possible, though I am not positive whether Miss Bennet is up yet.”
“Perhaps you could find out? I have a great deal to do today.”
***
Library
Pemberley
A Few Minutes Later
A comfortably plush chair had been drawn over to the window for Elizabeth’s use, with a padded stool elevating her aching foot.
She was grateful that, so long as she was careful not to jostle her foot, the pain had subsided to a mild ache.
She had to be equally cautious of her face.
More than once she had tried to rest her cheek on her hand, only to remember too late the magnificent bruise discoloring her face, which sent throbbing little aches through cheekbone and jaw.
Still and all, she was comfortable. Molly had been attentive the previous night, sleeping on a small cot in the same room and rising with alacrity every time Elizabeth needed anything.
When Elizabeth had looked into the mirror after breakfast, she had been genuinely shocked, taking in with horrified fascination the shades of purple and blue like some sort of perverse stained glass mosaic.
However, Elizabeth thought philosophically, it would heal in time and, as long as she was cautious, she could safely ignore it.