Chapter VI
Hurst was a difficult man to move at the best of times. When it pertained to dealing with George Wickham, however, he confounded Darcy.
“It is about time, Darcy,” rumbled he when Darcy raised the subject of going to Meryton to investigate Wickham’s dealings. “You have my support, of course.”
Darcy regarded him with no little interest. “I offer my apologies, Hurst, but I had not thought you would consider this business anything other than a bother.”
“A bother it is, but a necessary one. As it must be done, the sooner we are about the business the better.”
“Do you mean to return before luncheon?” asked Mrs. Hurst when informed of their errand. She did not even bat an eyelash at the news.
Darcy looked to Bingley who considered the question. “Perhaps, unless we go to Longbourn.”
“Yes, I understand the lure of Longbourn at present,” said Hurst, appearing diverted. “Louisa, I believe you may expect me back for luncheon, for I should prefer to return to Netherfield. Our lovesick swains here will no doubt succumb to the enticement of the ladies.”
Though Darcy pierced Hurst with a look, the man appeared pleased with his witticism and did not notice.
Mrs. Hurst was not so blind, but other than a look at Darcy, she made no comment.
A few minutes later, they were all dressed in their great coats, seated in the carriage bearing them toward the town.
“Where do you mean to start?” asked Hurst when they were underway.
Darcy considered the question. “Wickham may accumulate debt at any number of places. The cordwainer, linen-draper, tailor, haberdasher, and inn are all possible. If the proprietor is unobservant, even the milliner or the moneylender might hold some debt.”
“That is most amusing, Darcy,” said Bingley. “Is your friend in the habit of wearing bonnets?”
“No, but Wickham might purchase a bit of ribbon for a young lady as part of his seductions.”
“Any moneylender worth his salt would want more assurance than Wickham’s charm,” said Hurst.
“One would think,” Darcy agreed. “But I have seen it before.”
“Then we must investigate thoroughly,” said Bingley.
“The trick will be to ensure Wickham does not see what we are about,” said Darcy. “If he has any notion of it, he will flee at the first opportunity.”
Hurst eyed him. “Perhaps that may be for the best. Desertion may bring about a severe punishment such as a transfer to the fighting in Spain.”
“I should think the consequences will already be severe,” said Bingley. “If he flees, the hunt for him will be a bother—better he does not escape.”
Though Hurst nodded, he said nothing further.
For the rest of the journey, they spoke of how they would go about their business, Darcy insisting he would take on the expense himself.
Neither of his companions gainsaid him, both knowing of his implacable nature when he set his course, and understanding it was, in part, because he had not seen fit to warn the community against Wickham before.
Once they arrived in Meryton, Darcy looked about, and seeing no sign of Wickham, nodded with satisfaction. Then he turned to his companions.
“It is possible that Wickham is far too focused on his activities to notice us, but his sense of impending danger is almost occult.”
“Then I suggest we conclude this business as expeditiously as possible,” said Hurst with a curt nod. “There is no need to learn the extent of his debts at once.”
“That would be for the best,” said Darcy. “If we confirm he has existing debts at a few merchants I suspect are most likely to hold them, we can take our findings to the colonel. Then he can investigate the true scope of Wickham’s activities.”
“Very well,” said Bingley. “Perhaps we should split up the most likely merchants between us.”
Darcy agreed and they separated. Darcy’s first stop was the linen-draper, a shop that had a prominent place on Meryton’s wide thoroughfare.
The proprietor was a bluff, pleasant man, perhaps five and forty, with kind eyes and an efficient manner.
As Darcy had never frequented the shops, the man did not recognize him, which was perfect for Darcy’s purposes.
When Darcy spoke of his errand, the man frowned, not liking what he was hearing.
“Mr. Wickham, you say?” The man nodded, reaching for a metal box under the counter. “He visits my shop often, sir. I’ve given him some credit, but he paid me some of it just last week.”
Not wanting to alarm the man without reason, and above all to prevent him from doing something that would alert Wickham to the danger, Darcy nodded, allowing him to open the box and rummage through the papers it contained.
For several moments the man separated the papers into several piles, muttering to himself, his expression going darker the longer he worked. Several moments later, he looked up.
“What have you to do with Wickham?”
“Can I assume you have found more than you expected?”
Grimacing, the man spread out a stack of more than ten papers. “I had no notion it was so much. There may be as much as two or three pounds in total.”
Darcy offered a grim nod. “That is Wickham, to be certain. He is skilled, building trust by paying a few markers here and there, but always accumulating more.”
A shrewd glance was the man’s reply. “You are here to expose him.”
It was not a question, and Darcy did not treat it as one. “I am,” said Darcy. “Wickham has long been a millstone around my neck—I mean to remove it once and for all. To that end, I should like to purchase his debts.”
The merchant brightened. “Of course, sir. Let me tally them and give you a total, then we may settle his accounts.”
“Very well. Please say nothing to anyone—I have friends speaking with the other merchants. When we have enough, we will take the receipts to the colonel.”
After Darcy left the establishment with the merchant’s assurances, his last glimpse of the man was his frown as he inspected the other papers.
Darcy had no notion if they were from other members of the regiment or the townsfolk, but he suspected that giving credit would become less attractive in the near future.
That was likely for the best, especially as there was an entire company of men all but unknown to the merchants in the district for the next several months at least.
From there, Darcy visited two other shops and found the same result—Wickham did not owe as much at either, but any debts at all were troubling.
It was nothing less than Darcy expected, of course, as he had seen the same pattern before.
Being proven correct gave him no satisfaction.
It did, however, fill him with a greater resolve to make certain Wickham did not prey on any more unsuspecting victims.
“This friend of yours has been busy,” said Hurst when they met again by the carriage.
“What astonishes me is that none of the merchants confer with each other,” said Bingley, shaking his head. “If my ancestors ran their business this way, I could not even consider the purchase of an estate.”
“They are too trusting, to be certain,” agreed Darcy. “What have you found?”
The amount when totaled was less than Wickham had owed at Lambton, but more than Cambridge, ruinous by any reasonable standard, and they had only canvassed the most likely shops.
When all the merchants had added their receipts to the total, it would be a prodigious amount, indeed.
Darcy could only shake his head in disgust.
“Wickham has become even more proficient. This is beyond anything I might have expected.”
“And he has done it in only two months,” said Bingley. “What sort of man is he?”
“A bad one,” growled Hurst. “The sooner we clip his wings, the better.”
A few moments later, they had made their way down the street to the regiment’s headquarters, and after a quick request to the man on duty there, they entered the colonel’s office.
When he espied them, the colonel rose and nodded, greeting each with a shake of the hand—he was curious, but he did not neglect the social niceties.
“Gentlemen, I had heard of your return to Netherfield. I hope your journey here was pleasant.”
“It was, thank you,” replied Bingley, the most gregarious. “How is the business of protecting English soil?”
Colonel Forster offered an agreeable smile.
“Well enough. My officers are more interested in chasing the ladies and my men will do anything to avoid training, but I cannot complain. Meryton has been quite welcoming, though I suppose that is as much because of the plethora of young ladies than any other concern.”
Bingley laughed. “There do appear to be many agreeable ladies here to be certain.”
“I apologize, Colonel,” said Darcy, having no patience for useless civilities, “but I fear we must interrupt your morning with news that cannot wait.”
The colonel regarded him shrewdly. “Is this about Lieutenant Wickham?”
Nonplussed, Darcy asked: “Do you know about Wickham?”
“Little enough,” replied the colonel. “He is rather close-mouthed about himself, but he has much to say about you, sir.”
“That is unsurprising,” muttered Darcy.
“Yes, I suppose it must be to you,” mused the colonel. “Though some men have listened to him, I have always suspected he tailored his tale to suit his needs. As it does not concern regiment business, there was no need to involve myself.”
“Understandable,” said Darcy. “What we have come to discuss does not concern Wickham’s tales of me, except in a most indirect fashion.”
“Then let us sit,” said the colonel, gesturing to several chairs in one corner of his office.