Chapter 8
London
“Enter!” Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was in his quarters reading his correspondence when his aide knocked on the door.
“An express for you, sir.”
“Thank you, Hastings; that is all.” Richard tore open the letter and read the information he had been anxiously awaiting.
The Bow Street Runners had discovered where Wickham had been living several weeks ago, but they would need to catch him in the act of selling the stolen jewels to have proof of his crime and have him arrested.
The letter stated that after they watched him and observed his habits, the investigators were prepared to capture Wickham in the morning.
Richard’s instincts managed to keep his anxiety on track to the purpose: Wickham was going to pay for his crimes.
* * *
The next day
To prepare for their business of the day, Richard joined the Runners at a pub across the street from a less than reputable jewellery shop.
As soon as his prey entered the building, he stated, “I shall confront him; two of you go around the back of the building and two of you wait out front. Use any means necessary to stop him if he tries to escape, and I mean any means.”
“Aye, Colonel, he will not get away from us.”
When the shop door opened, Wickham turned to see who had entered. The colour drained from his face when he locked eyes with Richard.
The colonel moved to position himself near the glass counter where a sparkling necklace was laid out.
“You know,” he said, “I remember my dear Aunt Anne wearing that to a dinner party at my parents’ house.
I was quite young, but I still remember how well the colour of these sapphires complimented her beautiful blue eyes.
” The calm he was able to maintain amazed him, but he must put on an act for Wickham.
He feigned disinterest in seeing the degenerate again, and when he lifted the necklace and pretended to look at it more closely, Wickham ran out the back door of the shop.
Not a minute later, the Runners brought him back with his hands tied securely behind his back.
“Oh, George. Whatever shall we do with you?” Without waiting for a reply, the colonel punched him as hard as he could in the face.
Blood poured from the blackguard’s nose and mouth.
“That is for what you tried to do last summer. Perhaps I should feel badly about spoiling your pretty new clothes—but somehow, I do not.” Wickham looked up in time for the colonel’s powerful fist to strike him in the stomach; he would have fallen to the floor if he was not being held up by the Runners.
“You know, you are fortunate that Darcy is alive and Georgiana was not at home when you tried to kill them and burn Pemberley to the ground.”
Wickham’s mouth hung open. “What? Darcy and Georgiana are alive?”
“You have always harboured the desire to live as a Darcy, but the only way you could do that was by setting a fire and stealing that which was not yours. I fear your next accommodations will not be as fashionable as the current lodgings my cousin’s money paid for.”
“Mr. Darcy always loved me more than his own son and everyone knew it!” After his loud, angry retort, Wickham spat out the blood that had pooled in his mouth.
“Telling yourself that does not make it true. You are a bigger fool than I assumed to believe such nonsense. Have you forgotten that you are the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward?
Every farthing he spent on you and your education was in appreciation of your father’s hard work not because of any affection he had for you.
My uncle left Pemberley and all the other Darcy properties to his son.
I seem to remember he left you a significant bequest as well as all the money my cousin paid to be rid of you.
You no doubt squandered the ￡4,000 on all the depravities of which you are so fond. ”
The men, as they held Wickham, scowled while they listened to his ranting. When he, as their former commander, spoke of all the money their captive had wasted on his vices, they pulled his arms tighter behind his back.
“Why should I not have what he has?” The prisoner’s voice came out high-pitched, almost as if a scream, whether in his defence or due to the pain of his detention, it was unclear.
Richard grabbed Wickham’s cravat and twisted it to make sure he was paying close attention.
“You are not a Darcy and should have been content when my uncle paid for your education. He wanted you to make something of yourself. How disappointed he would be if he could see the useless excuse for a man you have become. Fitzwilliam Darcy is the finest man I know, and you… you are lower than the mud I scrape off my boots. If your plan to kill him had succeeded, you would not have lived long enough to utter a sound when I found you in this shop. You tried to murder a man who has bailed you out of more situations than I can count, not to mention all the debts he has bought up for you. Greed has always been your worst flaw, Wickham, and now it is your undoing. Those vowels alone will land you in Marshalsea until you are too old to walk, but for intentionally setting a fire, as well as stealing money and priceless jewels, you will undoubtedly hang.” He released the neckcloth he was holding tight in his hands and pushed his nemesis away.
His heart was pounding rapidly so he had to breathe slowly through his nose to relax himself.
Better to concentrate on the glee of capturing the man and not let his ire get up.
“No, Richard, not that.” Wickham whinged. “I shall tell you everything you want to know about the fire, about everything, but I beg of you, do not let them hang me. I am begging you for my life!”
“Take him to gaol, and we shall see what the future holds for this poor excuse of a man.” The men pulled their prisoner out of the door where a cart driven by one of their fellow Runners was waiting.
As they began to move, Richard could hear Wickham’s screams for pity as he was taken away.
He turned to the jeweller cowering in the corner.
“I am not here to accuse you of anything illegal. These jewels were stolen from my cousin’s home in Derbyshire.
I can show you the mark of the Mayfair jeweller who created them.
Since these were stolen, they must be returned to their owner, but I wonder if that. . .that person sold you any others.”
The man’s voice was shaking as he answered. “I brought them all to Mr. Carter’s shop. Even I can recognise his exquisite work.”
“Good man, carry on.” The colonel pocketed his aunt’s necklace and smiled as he walked out the door. Finally! Justice for my cousin!
London, 25 April
Darcy,
With the help of the Bow Street Runners, we caught Wickham in the act of trying to sell your mother’s jewels.
After he was taken to gaol, he confessed to everything: first, stealing the contents of the safe, then setting fires in several areas and waiting around to make sure the inferno engulfed the entire house.
He had been under the impression that he killed you, Georgiana, and all the servants, so rightly, he was sentenced to hang.
But I knew my uncle George would not desire that punishment despite that miscreant’s behaviour.
Therefore, I asked my father to intervene on his behalf, and Wickham is well on his way to Botany Bay.
Let us hope he never reaches his destination.
Yours faithfully,
R.F.
* * *
Pemberley, Derbyshire, 30 April 1812
Richard,
Words are not enough to express my gratitude to you and the Runners.
Knowing my mother’s jewels will soon be back where they belong makes the pain of the fire’s destruction a little easier to bear.
I shall authorize Mr. Hartford to provide you with the funds needed to compensate the detectives and the jewellers.
Pray add my personal thanks to them as well.
Your grateful cousin is looking forward to seeing you soon.
F.D.
* * *
Pembrook Cottage
Darcy deliberately failed to mention his betrothal when he responded to Richard’s letter. Announcing his decision would leave him open to questions from every member of his family, and he was not ready to face the scrutiny.
* * *
While he was in the middle of doing business with his housekeeper, Darcy brushed invisible dust from his sleeve.
Chagrined because he had been contemplative and inattentive to their conversation, which necessitated a change of subject, his face heated.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Reynolds, do you remember when you asked me what Mr. Franklin told me during his inspection shortly after the fire?”
“Yes, I remember you being preoccupied after you spoke to him.”
“That day, he told me he believed the fire was intentionally started.”
“I cannot believe it! Who would do such a terrible thing?”
“I did not want to say anything until we were certain—it was George Wickham. He has been captured and has confessed to starting the fire and stealing everything from my safe.”
The housekeeper frowned as she shook her head.
“I always believed your father was too generous to that boy. Wickham never took responsibility for his actions. I continue to hear stories from people in the village about how wild he turned out, stealing from anyone he could, and charming the shopkeepers’ daughters.
Why would he burn down a place that had once been his home? ”
“Last summer, he tried and failed to extort a great deal of money from me.” What would have happened to his dear sister if he had not arrived in Ramsgate in time?
And now this—Pemberley. “Wickham was desperate for funds and set the fire to distract us from the theft. Killing me and everyone else in the house was just a way to exact more revenge on the Darcy family. I am not telling you this to upset you; I thought you should know. Colonel Fitzwilliam and the Bow Street Runners not only captured him but also reclaimed the Darcy jewels.”
“Where is the reprobate now?”