Chapter 4 #3
“I am not intoxicated every day.” He hesitated before telling his cousin what had been weighing on him. “Richard, listen to me. The constable was here. . .” Darcy recounted what the inspection revealed without divulging his own suspicions.
“Wickham!” The colonel paced while he ran his hand through his hair.
So, Richard came to the same conclusion he had!
“That dog is the only person who would try to kill you and Georgie, and lay waste to the house in which you slept. After you interrupted his plans to elope with your sister last summer, he was clearly out for revenge of the cruelest kind. Thankfully, she was with my parents when the fire was set. You should have let me run him through after Ramsgate.”
Darcy leaned forward. “It is the only thing I can think about. When I prevented him from eloping with Georgiana last summer, he knew he could never get his hands on her ￡30,000. Perhaps he thought this was one way he could exact the ultimate revenge: killing us both.”
“Yes, that is possible, but how. . .how could he financially benefit from your deaths?” It was an idea Darcy had not given any thought.
“Money is all Wickham cares about. He would not inherit a farthing if you died. Wait! Is anything valuable missing from the house? He may have used the fire as a distraction to steal the Darcy jewels or other valuables from you.”
“But all those things were locked in a safe in my study.”
“Where is the key?”
“It was in my desk.”
“What is in the safe now?”
“I cannot say. I have not yet summoned the courage to enter the house. You may be onto something, Richard. If it was Wickham, stealing everything in the safe could have been his primary motivation. Killing us was just an added bonus. The sun is setting, but in the morning, we can go through my study together and see what we can find. I must force myself to do what is right by my parents and all those who came before them.”
“I return to my troops in two days. Before we search your study, will you ride with me in the morning? Mrs. Reynolds told me the stables suffered only minor exterior scorching.”
“Look at me! I cannot ride!” Darcy barked out the statement. “I am a disabled man who will never ride again!” Richard said no more, but he had a question in his eyes. Did he doubt Darcy’s claim of being unable to ride or think him unwilling? Darcy could not know.
* * *
Even though he tried to walk with grace, Darcy’s gait was unsteady as the cousins made their way towards the manor house the next morning.
He wiped his hand over his face in an effort to revive himself since he had not slept.
Instead, he had lain in bed all night and trembled at the thought of entering Pemberley.
Was it fear or anger that held him back?
He could not be certain. Now, they stood in the grand entry, faced with the charred portraits of the Darcy ancestors scattered across the ash-covered floor, and he shuddered.
He had been tasked to follow in their noble footsteps, to be a fair landlord and master as well as a devoted brother.
His failure to fulfil his responsibilities weighed heavily on his mind.
“These paintings hung in the upstairs gallery. The floor must have been completely destroyed.”
They made their way through the ruins and entered the study. The solid oak desk was badly singed, but to Darcy’s surprize, the contents of the drawers had not been affected. Darcy took the key from the same box he and his father used and showed it to Richard.
“There is a lever behind these books which releases these shelves from the wall.” Darcy inhaled and stepped towards the bookcase.
What would he find? Would all the priceless valuables he placed within remain unharmed?
The wood was charred but separated from the wall when he pulled the handle.
The key had not been necessary. The unlocked safe was open and empty.
What the devil? “Only one man could have done it. I know in my soul it was him! He has the deed for this estate and all my other properties. More than five hundred pounds and the family jewels are gone! He always wanted Pemberley for himself. I would wager everything that at this very moment he is in London trying to have the titles changed to his name. How can he believe he would ever assume ownership of my properties? He has always wanted to be a member of the bon ton. I am certain he has used the money he stole to purchase a new wardrobe and let a residence at a fashionable address. Wickham always thought himself a gentleman worthy of all the best things money can buy. If he attempts to sell any of my mother’s jewels,” Darcy paused and ran his hand through his hair.
“I shall never allow him to get away with it! Never! My father guided this estate through years of droughts and floods but safeguarded the estate and all the tenants. Wickham is responsible for all this.” He waved his hand around the burnt remains of his study.
“The constable would never suspect a robbery since the safe was concealed. How did Wickham know where to find the key?”
“No doubt, the reprobate spied on my father every chance he got and watched him open the safe and replace the key in his desk. I would not put anything past that snake. How long has he been planning his revenge?”
“He has always held the misguided belief that he should have what is yours. I shall let you know what I find out in London. If necessary, I shall contact a number of my former troops who are now Bow Street Runners. I would have liked nothing more than to see Wickham hang after what he tried to do to Georgie last summer. The fire and theft will ensure he pays the ultimate price for his life of degeneracy.”
“Pray contact my solicitors as soon as possible and tell them everything that has happened here. No one would believe I would sell Pemberley to that wastrel, but George is devious and clever. When the authorities are informed of what he has done here, he will spend the rest of his decadent life in gaol if not worse. My bankers and solicitors should know enough not to believe he is acting on my behalf. I pray my assets are still intact.”
“I imagine you will not be in town any time soon and you sent Georgie away. I am troubled by you being here alone. You need some kind of companion. There must be a few lovely young women living at nearby estates.”
“Have you taken a good look at me? I can hardly walk, and my face is hideous.”
“The right woman will love you as you are. Being all alone for so long is not healthy. You have always taken care of everyone you love but you need a lady who will take care of you. Find a woman to love and stand beside you when you decide to rebuild.”
He shook his head and looked down at the ground.
Who would ever look at him without the same revulsion that was on Lady Beatrice’s face?
Richard was often among wounded men and had seen burns like his on the battlefield, so he was inured to such injuries.
No woman would ever love him for himself, only for his wealth.
“We had better leave now. The beams above us are creaking, and for all I know, the ceiling could collapse on top of us at any moment.”
“How do you think Wickham got in? I assume all the doors are locked at night.”
“Yes, the footmen go around and ensure that the house is secure before retiring.” What was Richard getting at?
“Can you get back on your own?” Richard asked. Darcy bobbed his head. “I wish to do a bit of investigating and will join you as soon as I can.”
* * *
An hour later, Richard entered the cottage.
“It is just as I thought. I walked around the back of the house and found a window that had been forced from its frame. All the library windows were shattered by the heat of the fire, but that particular window was placed against the stone wall and remains intact.”
“We must find that miserable rat and see that he pays for the many years of agony he has inflicted on my family.”
“I shall start the search as soon as I get back to town. Rest easy, we shall find him no matter how long it takes. George Wickham will live to regret ever harming the Darcy family.”
* * *
Several days later
Darcy stared out the drawing room windows without focusing on anything in particular. A knock on the door disturbed his solitude. “Go away!”
Disregarding his command, Mrs. Reynolds poked her head into the room. What did she want now?
“Sir, a courier from Mr. Hartford’s office has arrived with a satchel. I offered to take it from him, but he was instructed to place it in your hands.”
“Very well. Let him in but show him to the door as soon as possible.”
Within minutes, the courier had departed and Darcy opened the bag. The deed for Pemberley and all his other properties were within, as well as a letter.
London, 15 July 1811
Sir,