Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
"... Here again I shall give you pain -- to what degree you only can tell. But whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character -- it adds even another motive."
At this point Darcy could go no further. Just the thought of Elizabeth Bennet's heart betrayed by George Wickham, deceived by that man's smooth charms and devious designs, brought his anger to a boil. He was consumed with a desire to immediately ride from Rosings, seek out Wickham in whatever filthy hovel he occupied and expose him to the world for all of his worthlessness.
So intense was this emotion that it could not be attributed to merely the history between the men. That this history involved Darcy's sister was inescapable and certainly added fuel to the fire that now burned. It was, however, a jealousy that until now lay untapped which tore his usually composed mind into undisciplined fragments.
"This shall not be!" hissed Darcy, his eyes focussed on the name written upon the page before him. "You will not blight another young woman's reputation." Those eyes now narrowed and with renewed vigour Darcy drew a fresh sheet of parchment forward to hastily scratch a note for his cousin. His absence would need to be explained, of that there was no doubt. Lady Catherine would not rest until she gleaned every last detail from him concerning such an abrupt departure.
The note finished, he sanded it and pulled the bell for a servant. Not wishing to waste a moment, the waiting time was spent in locating his cast off waistcoat and cravat, tying the latter with a complete lack of attention to his normal fastidiousness. At last there was a knock upon the door and Darcy's own manservant appeared, his curiosity under good regulation.
"Deliver this to the Colonel's room and come back here at once," the Master said curtly, thrusting the folded paper into the servant's hand. The man knew better than to loiter, giving a quick bow and backing out of the room once more. When he was gone Darcy looked at the surface of the desk, the half composed letter to Miss Bennet strewn across it, and began to pick up the pages. It would not do to leave them about for prying eyes to read. Carefully he folded the sheets and touched the wax where they met, removing his signet ring to finish the seal.
A discreet knock at the door announced the return of his man. His Master bade him enter the room and forthwith directed him to pack an overnight case while Darcy himself went to the stable to arrange the readiness of his horse. Servants are efficient no matter the time of night and within a half hour Darcy was far enough from Rosings Park that only his intention kept him warm as he rode.
***
What is fifty miles of good road? I call it a very easy distance.
Darcy stretched the cramps from his legs as he ruefully contemplated his words to Miss Bennet. "A very easy distance, indeed," he muttered, "when one has a carriage and travels by daylight." He considered the rashness of his leaving but as it was done there was nothing but to go onward and finish what had been begun. Fortunately the horse had suffered no injury during the long ride in the darkness; no ruts or badger holes to break a leg, not even a thrown shoe. His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, would have plenty to say on this adventure. Time would be a precious commodity if Darcy hoped to accomplish his task before the Colonel could catch up with him.
A nightbird cried out to his left, startling both man and his mount. Soothing the tired and frightened animal, Darcy considered his next move. From his previous visit to Hertfordshire he knew where the army was encamped and where the Colonel of the regiment had taken lodgings. Daybreak was still too far away to entertain a direct route to that door, however. That would have to wait a while longer. It was just as well as Darcy had one or two things to do before facing Colonel Forster and, quite probably, Wickham would prove more elusive than anticipated.
Turning to the path he led his horse down the steep slope, glad to have chosen not to ride. The fatigued state of them both would have made an accident certain. They reached the bottom without mishap and, pausing for a moment to adjust the tack, the sound of laughter was carried to Darcy's ears on the still night air. He listened long enough to determine it was a party of young men in high enough spirits that they would fail to notice his own presence nearby. Nonetheless, Darcy tied his horse in the cover of a hedge before moving close enough to see what direction the young men were taking.
The sight of five young officers in dress uniform startled him. The lateness of the hour suggested that they were returning from a social engagement which had the sanction of Colonel Forster. As Darcy watched and listened there was no mistaking the nature of the conversation and the presence of George Wickham in their number came as no surprise.
"She is as pretty a thing as any man may hope to charm, even you Wickham."
'Come now, Denny," the taller man said with a shake of his head and a condescending smile. "You must set your ambitions higher than that. A pretty face is one thing but has she fortune to go with it?" The other men muttered in agreement. "You have no substantial income of your own on which to rely. Consider your future when you are looking over the merchandise."
Rough laughter followed this remark accompanied by various nods, winks and elbows poked into ribs.
"You've sampled most of the local merchandise first hand already, Wickham. What is your bet?" Denny stabbed a finger at his friend.
"No doubt you are referring to the Misses Bennet."
"Too right!" another man added with a cluck of his tongue.
Darcy's fingers clenched and unclenched as he awaited Wickham's reply.
"A fine representation, I admit. Some complying natures and a promising indifference where parental supervision is concerned. I am, however, constrained to point out that a short term investment will yield the better return in this case."
"You are too demanding by half!" cried one of the others.
"Your inexperience does you credit," chuckled Wickham, "but at least your own fortune is plump enough, Saunderson, that you can afford to sacrifice a little."
"Have you someone in mind since your plans with Miss King were scuppered?" leered Denny. Wickham shrugged and remained silent. "You have! Tell us who she is. I'll have laid down a hundred your chances were nil while we remain in this county."
"Let us say only that I've received some intelligence that puts me in a good way to retrenching some lost territory."
Darcy's eyes widened with these words, his mind jumping to thoughts of his sister. Although she was safely in the care of his uncle and aunt in the North he was well aware of the insidious nature of Wickham's sources of information. No cost was too great to protect Georgiana from the clutches of this man. He had no fear that her young heart would be touched a second time but that Wickham's desperate straits would lead to less scrupulous means of acquiring her fortune. He would not be the first to kidnap an heiress and transport her to Scotland, there to marry without consent of either guardian or bride. If this was Wickham's plan then Darcy would not fail to act with dispatch.
While preoccupied with his thoughts, the young men had come to a point in the path where they parted ways. Denny and Saunderson, together with a third officer, were scheduled for duty, Colonel Forster adhering to strict routines regardless of the peaceful nature of the countryside. Wickham and the remaining officer continued on the main path which would eventually lead to their own lodgings.
Darcy scowled in the darkness. He could not take his horse yet he was loathe to let Wickham out of his sight so he followed as close as he dared.
"By heck you are a sly one, Wickham," came the voice of the other officer. "No doubt you've got another pretty heiress on the coals, eh? What I'd give for a portion of your charm."
"You'd not know what to do with it, Blakeney."
A guttural oath was the response. Another few yards and Blakeney left the path, a coarse parting remark as he stumbled his way over the uneven ground. Wickham sauntered on alone.
The moon was high though obscured by light clouds. The officer was in a merry mood, a fine evening of dancing, pretty ladies and good wine raising his spirits. He began to whistle, his steps marking the rhythm of the song. It was some minutes before he realised that someone else had joined in. Wickham stopped in his tracks, the whistle dying on his lips. The tune continued, however. He turned quickly to see a figure on the path behind him. There was not enough light to distinguish who it was and the whistling did not stop. Slowly the clouds pushed past the moon, its light now cast upon the landscape and revealing the identity of Wickham's shadowy companion.
"Darcy," he breathed, but he was puzzled. "How is it that we meet under such unusual circumstances?"
Quiet settled around them. "You find it unusual that you should be confronted on a dark, lonely footpath at such an hour?" Darcy took a step forward. "Is it surprising that you should be met by the brother of a young woman whose honour you intended to ruin?"
Wickham spread his arms out in a placating gesture. "Really, Darcy. I thought we had settled all of that. Do not ell me that you have been waiting all these months to exact some revenge upon me?"
"Revenge?" Darcy cocked an eyebrow at him. "Nothing so distasteful. I leave it to you to engage in such petty pursuits. It is justice I seek. I made an error when I let you go unpunished last summer."
"Is that so? I thought you never erred," smirked Wickham.
Darcy took another step forward. "Oh but I did. I failed to consider that leaving you free to roam the country would put other innocent young women at risk. I cannot allow that to happen."
Wickham stiffened. "Just what do you intend?"
"I have no doubt that Colonel Forster will be interested to learn of your history,"Darcy began. "It would not surprise me if a good number of the local tradesmen haven't been persuaded to issue you credit. Then there may also be several of your fellow officers to whom gambling debts are owed."
"What do you want?" Wickham licked his lips nervously.
Eyebrows rose on Darcy's forehead. "I have already stated my intent. Have you forgotten so soon? I am putting to an end your capacity to harm another lady's reputation."
"No-one here would believe you," bluffed Wickham.
"We shall put it to the test then, shall we?" Darcy began to close the distance between them.
Stepping back, Wickham's hand rose to rest on the hilt of his sabre. "That would be inadvisable."
Darcy halted. "You are threatening me."
"Not exactly."
"Then what, exactly, do you mean by putting your hand on your sword?"
Wickham's fingers twitched then his hand relaxed at his side. "Can we not come to some arrangement?"
"Arrangement!" snorted Darcy. "What could you possibly offer me to buy my silence?" The other man had nothing to say. "As I thought. Come," Darcy commanded. "Enough talk. We shall end this once and for all."
"Yes," agreed Wickham between clenched teeth. "Once and for all," he said as the sabre whispered from its scabbard.
Darcy's head came up, his chin thrust forward. "Have you fallen so low as to murder me where I stand?"
"Self defence, my old friend. Not murder."
Spreading his arms wide Darcy smiled grimly. "I have no weapon."
"It is of no consequence. These things can be arranged."
"I should have taken care of you long ago," Darcy growled.
"If you had just honoured your father's will -."
"Let us not cover that well trodden ground." Both men were silent for a few minutes, eying each other. Finally Darcy spoke. "Are we to stand out here until dawn? If you intend to run me through then by all means let's be done with it."
Wickham shook his head. "Even when I hold the sword you must still give the orders!"
"Military training has taught you nothing, then."
"Enough!" Wickham had come to a decision. He signalled with his sword. "Move!"
Darcy complied, retracing the path he'd taken while following his captor. Wickham maintained a safe distance; close enough to discourage any action from Darcy and far enough to be out of easy reach in case he decided to risk a move.
"Have you a plan in mind?" Darcy blandly enquired.
"Yes. Does that surprise you?"
"Not particularly." Darcy's eyes were continually scanning his surroundings for an opportunity. When Wickham directed him to turn off the main path and follow a narrower track up a slight incline he began to formulate his own plan. He didn't have long to wait until the landscape cooperated. Ducking under an overhanging branch Darcy quickly swung around to grab Wickham's sword arm as the second man bent low to follow. Swinging his other fist up to connect with the officer's nose, Darcy yanked the weapon free. Before he could stand clear to hold Wickham at bay, however, the other man lunged forward, butting his head into Darcy's midsection. Both men tumbled to the ground and the sword flew into the shrubbery beside the path. They scrambled to their feet, each eying the still quivering branches and calculating how to reach the sword before his opponent.
Wickham leapt first, landing in the thicket with some force but unable to locate the weapon before Darcy crashed in on top of him. Wickham struggled to free himself and with some effort managed to throw Darcy off. On his hands and knees he searched beside him, branches and twigs tearing at his hair and skin. He could hear Darcy struggling nearby and hoped his luck was no better.
Having landed on his back, Darcy wasted precious seconds righting himself then decided to abandon the search for the sword in favour of disabling Wickham. He pushed through the branches until he felt the other man's boot under his hand, grabbed it with both and twisted. Wickham cried out in pain but slammed his other foot out to catch Darcy's elbow with the booted heel. Darcy hung on stolidly, leaning away from the flailing boot and twisting the first mercilessly.
Wickham at last gave up on using his other leg and rolled onto his back, pulling Darcy off balance. Grabbing Darcy's hands with his own, he pulled the other man forward, planted his foot against Darcy's chest and pushed him away with as much strength as he could muster. The bushes parted as Darcy's body sailed through, allowing a quick glimpse of a now clear sky and the stars twinkling above. Wickham took not time to appreciate this. He searched about him hurriedly, gave a triumphant cry when his hand touched upon the hilt of his sword and got to his feet, brandishing the weapon with a flourish.
All was quiet. Darcy was nowhere to be seen.
Calculating the trajectory from which he had last seen his opponent, Wickham cautiously stepped through the bushes to find that the land dropped sharply away. He stared in alarm at the motionless form laying face down at the bottom of the rocky incline.
There was no easy way down especially if one wished to leave no trace of his passage. A full quarter of an hour was taken for Wickham to reach Darcy. There had been no sound, no sign of movement from him during that time. Close examination now revealed a large rock to be the cause of Darcy's current condition. His head had clearly struck it with some force, a lump already formed around a substantial gash and the dark shadow on the ground below him was obviously blood.
Wickham wrestled with indecision. He had never wished this sort of conclusion to their association. Nevertheless it was done. Darcy had been prepared to ruin him completely, to blast any chance of finding a comfortable establishment. What choice had there been? It was not as if this had happened by design.
Still, another choice waited to be made.
Wickham knelt beside his old friend, felt the chill when he touched Darcy's hand where it lay half submerged in the small trickling stream. Biting his lip he slowly rose.
Chapter 2
Fitzwilliam read the note a third time. "What on earth ever possessed him to....?" He tossed the paper aside and yelled for his man. As he dressed, the servant fussing with the uniform, the Colonel continued puzzling over his cousin's strange behaviour. "After all these months it should just be forgotten. Why can't he just leave well enough alone? And what is he doing leaving in the middle of the night?" The servant eased the jacket over his master's shoulders and began brushing away imaginary lint as the Colonel picked up his gloves from the table. "A little military training would have done him no harm, I say, and a lot of good." Slapping the gloves against one palm he strode toward the door. "Now I must satisfy our aunt's demands to know why Darcy has left."
The breakfast room was already honoured with the presence of the ladies of Rosings Park. Anne's eyes remained focussed on her bowl but Lady Catherine looked up at her nephew's entrance. "Is Darcy still unwell? He has not come down yet."
"No, nor will he be coming down." Fitzwilliam took his seat and motioned to the waiting footman to bring him a cup of coffee.
"This is disturbing news," his aunt frowned. "I shall send for the doctor at once."
Shaking his head the Colonel replied, "There is no need for a doctor, Ma'am. Darcy was called away on urgent business last night. He felt it was too late to disturb anyone and so I only discovered it this morning when I read a note he left for me."
"Highly irregular!" Lady Catherine sniffed, obviously quite put out. "I'm sure the business could have waited until a reasonable hour for him to leave. Young men are forever exaggerating the seriousness of these things." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You will stay until his return, of course."
"I fear that will be impossible, Aunt. Although this business required Darcy's immediate attention there are still matters connected to it that concern me as well. I must leave after breakfast." He could see that the note of finality in his tone did not sit well with her. "The coachman has already been instructed."
A notion occurred to Lady Catherine. "Something has happened to Georgiana! I shall accompany you to town." She waved a footman closer and directed him to have her maid pack a case. "No doubt my niece will be desirous of a woman's counsel."
This was, of all things, not a welcome development. Fitzwilliam frowned in thought. "I assure you there is no need, Aunt. This matter does not concern Georgiana although I am persuaded to agree that she would welcome your visit. My destination is not London, however."
"Not London? Do not say that Darcy has gone all the way to Pemberley!"
The Colonel was growing frustrated with the direction this conversation was going. "I am not at liberty to discuss his personal affairs, Lady Catherine."
"Nonsense! His concerns are mine, as are yours. Do not be so wearisome, Fitzwilliam. Tell me at once what this is all about." Her commanding words drew a nervous glance from her daughter. "I cannot abide prevarication. I am beginning to suspect there is a woman involved in this." Lady Catherine turned to her daughter. "Anne, leave us."
Fitzwilliam silently watched his cousin leave the room and the servants follow at a wave from their Mistress. He slowly put down his cup and leaned back in his chair. "It is not what you suspect."
"What would you know of my suspicions?"
He nodded to the closed door. "You have dismissed Anne and the servants to prevent their overhearing. Plainly speaking, Ma'am, you think Darcy has a mistress and there is some trouble brewing in that quarter. I will set your mind at ease. This is not the case."
Lady Catherine's indignation swelled. "I shall not thank you for the vulgar expression of your information. It does not set my mind at ease. Mark my words, there is something distasteful in this affair and I will discover the truth."
Fitzwilliam rose from his seat. "I will not be the means of your discovery. Good morning." He turned on his heel and left the room. Just outside the door sat his cousin, waiting to be allowed back inside to finish her breakfast. She looked up with apprehension. The Colonel smiled gently and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry to leave you like this. It was entirely unexpected. Please forgive me," he said. "And Darcy, as well."
Anne's voice was very soft. "Of course I forgive you both. I wish you a safe trip."
Fitzwilliam kissed the back of her hands and released them then crossed the hall to the front doors. Darcy's carriage was waiting outside as he'd instructed. Darcy's man was also waiting.
"Sir," the man began in answer to the Colonel's questioning look. "Mr. Darcy left these things which may be of some importance." He placed a ring and a letter into Fitzwilliam's open palm.
"His signet?" said Fitzwilliam in surprise. "How did he come to leave this?"
"I surmise that he had just finished placing the seal on this letter, sir," the man quietly explained. "I was instructed to return to the London townhouse and await him there but as he'd left no directions pertaining to these objects I felt it prudent to entrust them to your care."
"Very wise." The Colonel examined the letter. "Hmm, he did not address this. If he had meant to take it with him and forgot in the rush..... I don't suppose you have any idea who this was destined for?"
"No sir," the servant said without a pause.
Fitzwilliam nodded and reflected that Darcy's man was as discreet as his master. He tucked the ring and letter inside his jacket. "I shall deliver them into his hand personally."
"Very good, sir. Thank you, sir."
Climbing inside the carriage, the Colonel threw his gloves and hat onto the opposite seat and settled himself as the driver put the vehicle in motion. He would have many hours to consider what to say and how to act when he finally caught up with his cousin.
***
The morning was clear and promised to bring a later warmth to the spring day. Elizabeth inhaled yet again, the fresh air dispelling the last vestiges of her headache. Would that the memory of the previous evening could be so easily forgotten, however. It had taken her several hours to finally lapse into sleep but it was far from restful. The image of Mr. Darcy kept surfacing, his words taunting her with his arrogance. She was unable to leave him. He followed her from room to room of the Parsonage and when she at last ran from the house he was waiting for her in the copse of trees down by the lane, telling her again how much he loved her while proudly declaring that Jane wasn't good enough for his friend. Elizabeth had never before awakened so exhausted. Choosing to forsake breakfast for the solitude of an early morning walk, she was just approaching the lane when the rattle of carriage wheels could be heard approaching. There was no mistaking Mr. Darcy's carriage. The distinctive crest on the side she had seen several times in the previous weeks. A part of her was tempted to face him, to show him she had no regrets for her refusal of his offer. Yet she knew that her anger had not abated enough to curb her tongue and as much as his words had offended her, Elizabeth was not insensitive to the pain that he must have felt with her rejection. She therefore turned away from the wall to avoid looking at the carriage as it passed. To her dismay she heard the driver call the horses to a halt and reluctantly peered back over her shoulder.
"Miss Bennet!" Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice brought welcome relief even though she thought less of him than she had a day earlier. "Miss Bennet, how fortunate I am to have seen you. I am afraid I am forced to be quite uncivil and cannot take the time to say a proper goodbye at the Parsonage."
"Goodbye, Colonel? You are leaving?" Elizabeth surprised herself with her interest.
"Unfortunately it is so. Please convey my regrets to Mr. and Mrs. Collins and Miss Lucas." The Colonel smiled sincerely.
Elizabeth could not help herself, her eyes stealing a glance over the man's shoulder toward the carriage. "And your cousin, Colonel? Is he also leaving?"
"Ah," Fitzwilliam said, noting the direction of her gaze, "Darcy was called away last night on some urgent piece of business. I shall join him today."
"I see." Her eyes quickly returned to her companion's face but Elizabeth was aware of an odd feeling that she couldn't identify upon learning of Darcy's departure. It seemed to be a mix of satisfaction and concern. Something whispered to her that he had left because of her. That a strong willed and proud man like Darcy should be reduced to such an action brought her no pleasure, however, and she truly wished that this urgent business was real and that it did not involve anyone else. "I shall pass along your regrets to the others. I'm sure I can speak for us all when I say that you will be missed."
"Thank you, Miss Bennet." He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "It has been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope to see you in Town sometime in the future."
Elizabeth was convinced by his words that his cousin had told him nothing of their unhappy meeting. Despite her former opinion she found it difficult to summon up any enthusiasm for seeing the Colonel again for that would put her in Darcy's path once more. "I thank you, sir. Your company has been a delight these past weeks."
With a smile he touched his lips to her hand in a final goodbye, then entered the carriage. Elizabeth watched it drive off. There was relief in knowing that she did not have to face Mr. Darcy after the scene they'd had. She was puzzled, though, at his abrupt disappearance. He hadn't seemed like the kind of man who would, quite frankly, turn tail and run after a disappointment. In all of their previous encounters she had been admittedly impressed with his eagerness to engage in spirited debate. If she was completely truthful she had gained a marked pleasure in being able to provoke him into an argument. In light of his recent confession, however, Elizabeth began to wonder how she could have mistaken his participation for disapproval rather than the attraction he claimed to have for her. She shook her head at her own blindness.
A recollection of Colonel Fitzwilliam's words during their walk, that Mr. Darcy had put off their departure twice already, only served to further confuse Elizabeth. The temptation was strong to cling to the comfortable belief that his arrogance and the discovery of his malicious treatment of Mr. Wickham were the cause for his leaving yet she could not completely dampen the little voice that urged her to consider that her crushing refusal had destroyed his pride, leaving him unable to face the world until the pain had subsided.
She suddenly laughed at her fanciful imagination. One had only to remember Jane's unhappiness and the reason for it to bring her anger back full force and hear once more the expressions Mr. Darcy had used to convey how great an honour he was bestowing upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet in proposing marriage to a woman of her lowly station. It was ridiculous to think of him with anything approaching sympathy when his views had been made so insultingly clear.
Elizabeth was resolved to think no more of Mr. Darcy nor of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Both had left Rosings and she would make the most of her final week in Charlotte's company.
***
Fitzwilliam was jolted awake as the carriage wheel struck a deep hole in the road. He sat up and attempted to gain his bearings with a look at his surroundings through the window. A hotel came into view, the carriage slowing to halt before it to change the horses. The Colonel got out to stretch his legs and called for some refreshment from he innkeeper. By the time he'd emptied his tankard the horses were ready and he quickly re-entered the compartment. The driver brought the horses up to a smart pace, the landscape flashing by. Fitzwilliam was wide awake now, his mind turning over the contents of Darcy's note.
He had been aware, of course, that George Wickham had joined Colonel Forster's regiment but not that this same regiment had been stationed in the area where Darcy had lately spent some weeks. His cousin's explanation for his sudden departure was as unexpected as it was incredible. Fitzwilliam could not understand why Darcy had decided after all this time to pursue a punishment when they had agreed after Ramsgate that any such action could only cast a negative light on Georgiana and stain her reputation before she had even been launched into society. Darcy's note had not provided any further details. What could have occurred to prompt this change of mind?
The Colonel suddenly recollected the letter in his pocket and pulled it forth. The wax seal was unbroken and certainly Darcy's. There was nothing, not a mark on the outside of the sheet, to indicate to whom this letter was intended. He considered the possibilities and concluded that it was likely Georgiana to whom he had been writing. The letter was put away and he put his energy into thinking what his plans should entail.
When the carriage rolled through the streets of Meryton Fitzwilliam knew what his first task would be. He instructed the driver to stop when he spied some red-coated officers standing outside a shop window speaking with some young ladies.
"Lieutenant!" he called. Three of the men snapped to attention at the commanding tone. "Where may I find Colonel Forster?"
"Sir," quickly responded one of the officers, supplying directions to his commanding officer's quarters. "I believe you will find him at home, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Fitzwilliam signalled the driver to go on. It took only a few minutes to reach the house. The Colonel was admitted immediately and was greeted by Mrs. Forster.
"I don't believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you, Colonel," she smiled, extending her hand to him.
Taking her gloved fingers, he executed a polite bow over them and released her hand. "No, we have not met before, Mrs. Forster. I understand that your marriage is quite recent."
"It is, indeed," giggled the young woman.
The door opened to admit her husband who advanced upon their guest with a determined stride. "Fitzwilliam! Is it pleasure or business that brings you here?" He clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder and steered him to a seat.
"Not pleasure, unfortunately."
"Ah, well then...." Colonel Forster glanced at his wife. "My dear, I beg you would excuse us to discuss some military matters."
"Of course," she demurely answered, rising from her seat and dropping a curtsey to Fitzwilliam before she left the room.
Taking a seat facing the other man, Forster grew serious. "What problem has arisen that brings you to this out of the way place?"
Fitzwilliam frowned. "I was hoping you would be able to tell me. Have you not seen my cousin, Darcy? I understood him to be coming here to speak with you."
"Darcy? No, I've not seen him since he left last autumn with that friend of his, Bingley." He rubbed a hand along his chin. "Coming to see me, you say? When was this? Do you know what it was about?"
Pulling the note from his pocket, Fitzwilliam handed it to Forster. "Darcy left me this last night before leaving our aunt's home. He knew I'd try to stop him or at least follow him here. I was sure my arrival would be in time to prevent any unpleasantness. This makes me very uneasy."
Forster finished reading the note and grimly asked, "What is this about Wickham that he feels I should know? You had already warned me to keep an eye on him. Is there more that you didn't tell me?"
"I apprised you of his tendency to gamble, to accumulate debts that he could not honour but there is more that I was not at liberty to reveal." Fitzwilliam sighed. With no knowledge of Darcy's whereabouts he was unsure what should be said. "It involved a young lady."
"Your cousin defended this lady's honour?"
Fitzwilliam nodded. "He extricated her from an intended elopement. There is no need to tell you, I'm sure, that if this information becomes public knowledge the young lady's reputation would be ruined. That is something neither of us wished to see happen and thus Wickham's own reputation remained clear."
"Why has he changed his mind?"
"That I don't know. It's the reason I wanted to get here so quickly. I don't like it that Darcy hasn't come to you yet." He got up and began to pace the room. "My cousin is not a rash man. This action is highly out of character for him. I cannot imagine what information he received to send him off in the middle of the night but it must have been dire. I feel I must make some further enquiries and attempt to locate him."
Colonel Forster's voice was steady and calm. "How can I help you? Shall I have Wickham brought here?"
"Yes, I think that would be a good place to start."
Chapter 3
Lieutenant Wickham was not readily available for questioning. He had been sent on an errand by a superior officer and was not expected to return for some time.
"I cannot sit here and do nothing!" declared a frustrated Colonel Fitzwilliam. "Forster, I would ask that you lend me a horse that I may search the surrounding area. Darcy is an excellent rider but should his mount have stepped in a hole or something else have caused him a fall I must do what I can to find him."
"But of course you shall have whatever you need!" Within minutes Colonel Forster had assembled a dozen men and horses, assigning them to Fitzwilliam's authority. "I hope you find him," he said, standing by his friend's stirrup, " and in good health."
Fitzwilliam nodded his thanks and turned his horse, the others following him. He quickly split their number into four parties to better cover the landscape. After an hour of fruitless effort he led his group across an open field which was flanked on one side by a stone wall and on the other by a low rise of trees.
"What's that place?" he asked, pointing to a large manor house in the distance.
"Netherfield, Colonel. The tenant isn't in residence now. He left before winter set in."
"Do you know his name?" enquired Fitzwilliam, a suspicion forming in his mind.
"Bingley."
For a moment he considered riding to the house to see if his cousin was there and realised that if that were the case he was wasting a lot of time traipsing about the countryside. However, Darcy wasn't likely to have altered his plans after riding all the way from Kent and knowing that the Colonel would follow. With renewed determination Fitzwilliam headed for the trees. At first glance there did not appear to be any opening in the greenery but eventually a path was found and he quickly steered his horse through the twists and turns. Avoiding the branches that slapped at his face, Fitzwilliam scanned the area to either side of him. When the path joined with another, wider one he pulled up and waited for the others.
"Where does this lead?" he asked, pointing to the left.
One of the men answered after a pause. "To Meryton, Colonel. The other direction would take us back to camp."
Fitzwilliam swung his horse to the right and urged him on. Frustration and worry were driving him now. There was no logical explanation for Darcy's failure to make his destination other than some accident befalling him. He did not wish to think of the other alternative which involved Wickham although this one seemed the greater possibility with every moment that passed.
"Colonel!" cried one of the young officers.
Without missing a stride, Fitzwilliam turned his horse around and hurried to where the young man was excitedly pointing. "What is it?" he demanded.
"A horse, sir. In the trees there!" He quickly dismounted, brushed aside the shrubbery and approached the animal. "Looks like he'd been standing in there for some time, Colonel," the fellow said when he brought the horse back to the path. A soft nicker from Fitzwilliam's mount welcomed the stray.
"That's Darcy's horse. What else was back there, Lieutenant?" The Colonel did not wait for an answer but jumped down from the saddle to explore the area for himself. The land offered no other information, however. It was well trampled. He swore under his breath. "Where are you, Darcy?" he muttered. Military training proved useful at this moment. Having been trained to make split second decisions, Fitzwilliam immediately began directing his men. "Spread out. I want each man to be able to see the others on either side of him. We are going to search every inch of this area." He sprang back onto his horse and waited impatiently while the others took up their positions. With an abrupt signal of his arm, they moved forward.
***
"They are lovely, aren't they?"
"I beg your pardon?" Startled out of her reverie, Elizabeth looked up at her friend. "I'm sorry. My mind was far away."
Charlotte's smile was understanding. "I thought you were admiring the warblers there, in the trees. You seem to still be out of sorts, Lizzy. Has your headache not subsided?"
"I have been thinking about Jane," she replied. "Her letters have lost their optimistic quality. She seems so sad."
"Has she not seen Mr. Bingley in town?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "She did visit with Mr. Bingley's sisters but even Jane was able to discern their disinterest in her welfare and their blatant discouragement of her feelings for their brother."
Charlotte was aghast. "Did Jane actually say that? What happened?"
"Far more than Jane realises!" came the sharp retort. "If only she recognised Miss Bingley's insincerity for what it is and knew how much she has done to keep her brother from ever seeing Jane again."
"Lizzy! What is this you are saying? How could you know anything about it?" Pulling her friend away from the vicinity of the house and possibly being overheard, Charlotte demanded to know more. "You have heard something, I hope, and it's not just fanciful speculation on your part that has created all of these accusations against Miss Bingley."
All of her anger threatened to burst forth from Elizabeth, tears beginning to obscure her vision. "Charlotte, if even Jane could see that Miss Bingley had no desire to further her brother's interest in a penniless young woman from Hertfordshire then it must have been more than obvious. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst visited Jane at my uncle's home but they made it quite plain that it was no pleasure for them. It is so unfair!" cried Elizabeth. "Why should Jane be made to suffer like this? She is the sweetest person and would hurt no-one."
"Lizzy," said Charlotte in a soothing tone. "Is this what brought on your headache yesterday, worrying about Jane? How I wish I could do or say something to bring you reassurance. It is unfortunate that Mr. Bingley's sisters should hold so much influence over him but -."
"It is not his sisters who influence him but his friend," Elizabeth snapped, "Mr. Darcy!"
"Mr. Darcy!" Eyes wide, Mrs. Collins quickly lowered her voice, hoping that her companion would do the same. "What do you mean? How is he involved in this and where did you learn of it?"
"He admitted the truth of it to me yesterday evening in your front parlour, taking great pride in his accomplishment," Elizabeth related while drawing herself up straight. "In his own words Mr. Darcy congratulated himself on separating Jane and his friend."
Charlotte knew not what to say. How had Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy come to discuss such an intimate subject? Why was he in the Parsonage parlour with her friend while everyone was at Rosings wondering about his absence? This aspect, in particular, piqued her curiosity above all else. "Please explain to me how you could allow yourself to be put in such a compromising situation? What if someone had discovered you alone together? Think what Lady Catherine would say!"
"As if I am at all concerned with Lady Catherine's opinions!"
"Lizzy, please!" Charlotte's entreaty went unheard.
"Mr. Darcy sounded just like his aunt. If only you could have heard him, Charlotte! Nothing could possibly compare to his arrogance," Elizabeth said scornfully.
Her friend, however, was becoming increasingly confused. The more she heard about Mr. Darcy's shortcomings the less she felt she knew Elizabeth Bennet. What had become of that sensible and refreshing character? "You have yet to tell me what he was doing here and what possible excuse there is for you two to be discussing such things. I have always suspected Mr. Darcy to have an interest in you but you always denied it! I am now encouraged to believe that you have been deceiving us all and there existed some understanding between the two of you. I sincerely hope that while Mr. Collins and myself played host to you we were not unwittingly being used to further an association about which no-one seems to have known!"
Elizabeth's mouth fell open in astonishment. "How could you think so little of me! I have never for one moment harboured any desire to encourage our acquaintance and sincerely believed Mr. Darcy to feel the same way. I was mistaken in his opinions, that is certain, but considering his behaviour, Charlotte, how could I believe otherwise?"
"His behaviour has, to my reckoning, always indicated a high regard for you, Lizzy. I could never understand your denial of the obvious." She placed a hand on Elizabeth's arm. "Tell me what happened last night while the rest of us were being subjected to Lady Catherine's temper. What was Mr. Darcy doing here?"
Drawing a steadying breath, Elizabeth began, "I was never so surprised to see anyone as I was when he walked into the room, Charlotte. You can imagine my shock when practically his first words were a declaration of his love for me."
Mrs. Collins gasped. "I knew it."
"Was there ever a more offensive proposal? If it were not for the necessity of relating some form of tender emotion it could not have been recognised as an offer of marriage. Do you know, are you completely aware of just how undeserving a creature am I to have been so honoured, Charlotte?" Bitterness tinged Elizabeth's words. "My parents, my sisters, even my aunts and uncles are all beneath his notice. How I came to be permitted into his good graces I cannot imagine!"
"Surely you are exaggerating, Lizzy, due to your feelings for him," Charlotte said in an attempt to restore her friend to a more rational state of mind. The result was the opposite of her intention, however.
"Do not attempt to supply me with fragile feminine wiles, Charlotte! Mr. Darcy could not possibly have addressed me in any more insulting a manner. Only a man of his arrogance would think he was bestowing an honour with that speech."
"But what did he say about Jane?"
The distraction was effective. Elizabeth drew herself up tall. "I demanded an explanation for his role there since I had long suspected him of steering Mr. Bingley away from Jane. He admitted his involvement with no pretense of deceit. In fact, he observed that he'd been kinder to his friend than to himself, implying, I presume, that at least Mr. Bingley was spared the indignity of making a proposal to an unworthy subject."
"I can understand your anger, Lizzy, but -"
"But what?" Elizabeth interrupted. "You would have me accept an offer made in such a way, from a man I despise? No, I refused him and I have no regrets. Mr. Darcy has left Rosings and hopefully Kent. I, for one, am heartily glad of it and do not wish to see him ever again!"
***
The shadows were growing longer. Fitzwilliam looked up at the sky in dismay. With less than an hour of good daylight left he was becoming more concerned than ever that no sign of Darcy had yet been discovered. He began to consider plans for continuing the search when the light would
begin to fade completely. A cry to his left disturbed his thoughts. Instantly, he urged his horse over the distance to see what had prompted the shout. Another young officer had arrived simultaneously and they found a dismounted lieutenant examining the shrubbery.
"What is it, Lieutenant? What do you see?" Fitzwilliam barked impatiently.
"There is someone down there, sir, at the bottom."
The Colonel quickly swung down from his horse. "Let me see." He shoved his way through the bushes, branches ripping at his uniform as he passed. "Where?" The younger officer pointed down the steep incline to where an inert form lay in the gathering darkness. "Darcy!" called his cousin before leaping forward to begin a rushed and dangerous descent despite the warning cries from his men.
The loose rock shot out from under his boots and scattered around him. He almost lost his footing once or twice but managed to recover and avoid falling the rest of the way. It seemed like forever but took less than a minute for Fitzwilliam to reach the still form. Dropping to his knees, he gently rolled over the figure before him. A mixture of relief and fear took hold of him when he saw Darcy's face and the ugly wound marking his head.
"Get a horse down here!" he yelled back to the men still looking down from the edge. "Find a way and do it now!" He was gratified to hear the cracking of branches which indicated their obedience. Now he could turn his attention back to Darcy's injury. A gentle probe with his fingers produced a low moan from his cousin but no fresh blood appeared. Fitzwilliam's next concern was to remove Darcy from the damp ground where he had obviously lain for quite some time. He stripped off his coat, wrapping it around the other man's body for additional warmth. "Blast it, where is that horse?" he muttered, holding Darcy close. Just as he was about to lose patience and thought about carrying his cousin out on his own two horses appeared.
"Colonel, the terrain is rocky but manageable. It may be tricky getting back up, though."
Fitzwilliam signalled the young officer to dismount. "I have no intention of going back up that way. I'm taking him to Bingley's house, Netherfield you said? I can ride on the flat from here with Darcy in front of me. Here," he said, shifting his cousin's limp body into the arms of the other man, "help me get him up on my horse and hold him there until I'm settled behind him."
Within minutes the task was accomplished. Colonel Fitzwilliam charged his men to return to camp, to inform Colonel Forster where he had gone and to send for a doctor to go immediately to Netherfield. He then set off at as brisk a pace as he thought safe under the circumstances. The manor house was not far and some staff, at least, were still in residence, keeping the house in readiness just in case the master should return. Fitzwilliam had every intention of sending for Bingley as soon as he could write a letter.
His first concern, however, was in getting Darcy's medical needs attended to. After that Fitzwilliam hoped that Bingley would have arrived and he would be free to track down Wickham and wring the truth out of him.
Chapter 4
"An express you say? From Netherfield?" Charles Bingley stared at the servant. "What could it possibly contain?" His thoughts immediately flew to Miss Bennet and he fervently hoped, as improper as it may be, that it was she who had written him.
"For goodness sake, Charles," said his sister, shaking her head. "Just open it and find out." Miss Bingley was not concerned that the missive may have been penned by that woman who had attempted to ensnare her brother. She knew that Jane Bennet was still in London and would not be leaving for Hertfordshire for at least another week. "It is likely just some boring estate business that those country people mistook for something urgent."
"My solicitor looks after all the lease matters," Bingley absently replied as he tore open the letter. His habits of reading were as careless as his writing, however. His eyes jumped to the names without absorbing anything else. "Hmmm... It seems that Darcy and his cousin are staying at the house for a while. I wonder what they were doing in the neighbourhood?"
Miss Bingley's attention was drawn to the mention of Darcy. "I cannot imagine any reason that would take Mr. Darcy back there. What else does the letter say?" Her heart began to beat faster for fear that the worst had happened and that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was the cause for Darcy's return to Hertfordshire.
"Oh, let me see," hummed Bingley, concentrating on the opening lines. "Good Lord!" he cried.
"What? What is it?" Fear gripped Miss Bingley.
"Darcy has suffered an injury in a fall from his horse. Colonel Fitzwilliam asks that I allow them the use of Netherfield for his recovery. But of course they shall stay there! Caroline," Bingley said as he at last looked up from the paper. "I shall leave first thing in the morning to join them."
The news of Darcy's ill fortune had at least settled Miss Bingley's nerves where a Bennet sister was concerned. "Surely there is no need for you to go there, Charles."
"There is no need for me to stay here!" he replied with feeling.
"I shall come with you, then."
"Certainly not!" Her brother looked aghast. "Stay in a house with three men and no female companion? I will not allow it. Hurst and Louisa are out of town so the discussion ends here."
Miss Bingley was not pleased. Such an opportunity was not likely to happen again and she was loathe to let it slip away. "What about Miss Darcy? She would want to be with her brother -."
"Two single ladies in a house with three single gentlemen! Caroline, you are staying here and that is final."
Reflecting that Darcy had probably only wrenched a shoulder at worst, Miss Bingley relented, comforted in the knowledge that no more than a few days would be necessary for recuperation. Perhaps Mr. Darcy would even return to London with her brother!
***
The road to Meryton was not paved, nor cobbled, but the time travelling it was spent in reliving many happy memories. Bingley spared hardly a moment thinking of his friend's plight. Fitzwilliam's note held no details and so his impression was much as his sister's. Darcy's superior horsemanship was well known thus a fall could not have resulted in any serious harm. A few days of rest in the comfortable surroundings of Netherfield should set him to rights. That it should occur in precisely this location was not something that made Bingley suspicious. He was only thankful for the opportunity to return and hopefully renew his acquaintance with Miss Bennet.
He sat up straighter as the outskirts of the town came into view. The roofs of Longbourn were visible beyond the tops of the smaller homes lining the road. Bingley's gaze lingered on the tiles until they disappeared from sight. He sighed but not in dismay; it would not be long before he would see the lovely Miss Bennet again. The town was behind him now and Netherfield was only moments away.
The carriage clattered over the stones near the front steps. Bingley was eager to get down as soon as it came to a halt. He greeted the servant who opened the door for him and proceeded to the parlour, sure that his friends were already there. The room was empty, however. He rang the bell and waited for the servant to appear.
"Ah, Wilkins. Where is Mr. Darcy?" Bingley asked when a footman opened the door.
"Welcome home, sir," the man said. "The physician is with Mr. Darcy, upstairs in the blue room, sir. You will find Colonel Fitzwilliam there as well."
"Physician, eh? Serious as that, is it?"
"It is quite a serious head wound, sir." The servant maintained his poise despite his desire to relate every detail.
Bingley frowned. "Fitzwilliam didn't say anything about that in his note to me." Throwing his coat onto a chair he left the room and the footman behind in the hurry to see his friend. When he entered the bedchamber two men looked up, the uniformed one immediately coming forward with a hand extended.
"Bingley. I'm Fitzwilliam. I'm sorry to have dragged you down here from London under these circumstances but as you can see," he gestured back toward the bed, "Darcy isn't going anywhere soon."
Bingley let the Colonel's hand go, stepping closer to where Darcy lay. "It is no trouble at all to have him stay here but I say, Fitzwilliam, what happened? I had imagined some trifling sprain or twisted shoulder but this!" He winced in sympathy as the physician examined the gash on Darcy's head. "When did it happen?"
"I don't know exactly. I found him late yesterday afternoon following an extensive search of the neighbouring countryside.
Suddenly struck with the strangeness of the situation Bingley turned a demanding gaze upon the Colonel. "Why this countryside? What were you doing here?"
Fitzwilliam was already prepared for this question. There was much that he did not want the doctor to hear despite that man's long association with his patient. It was enough that the Colonel had urgently sent to London for Darcy's personal physician and was required to provide an explanation for the situation. To reveal the intimate details of their family's unfortunate dealings with Wickham was another matter entirely. "I had business with Colonel Forster, the commander of the regiment currently quartered here. I believe you met him last autumn?"
"Yes, yes," murmured Bingley, his momentary suspicions allayed. He scratched his head. "How did he fall?"
Fitzwilliam sighed. "Until Darcy himself can tell us how it occurred we must be satisfied with the story of a fall from his horse."
Staring hard at his companion, Bingley quietly said, "You think there is another explanation?"
"This injury is consistent with a fall," the physician interjected. "Mr. Darcy's head must have struck a rock when he landed. There are, however, some other injuries which are not as easily reconciled with that scenario." His expression was grave.
"Keep in mind that he was found at the bottom of a rocky incline. Could his other injuries have been caused by rolling down a hill like that?" asked the Colonel.
"Ah, that just might be able to explain the heavy bruising to his elbow, the scratches and small punctures to his skin." The doctor moved away from the bed to a table near the fire. Pouring himself a cup of tea from the pot provided, he sat down to more comfortably discuss his patient. "Recovery from such an injury as this is never quick. The greatest obstacle facing a successful recuperation is the patient's own.. er... impatience. Mr. Darcy is not, if I may be so bold, a man who will tolerate a long period of inactivity."
"Bingley, do you think you can keep him quiet for as long as the doctor indicates is necessary?" Fitzwilliam enquired.
"Leave it to me," assured the younger man. "If he won't stay put then I'll make sure he doesn't leave his room by inviting my sister to stay here. Darcy wouldn't dare set foot outside his door while he's not in any condition to fend her off." He grinned. The other men smiled, too. "Seriously, how long do you anticipate his recovery to take?"
"Don't let the graphic appearance of the wound worry you. The bump to Mr. Darcy's head doesn't concern me as much as the time he'd spent laying on the damp ground before being found. You say he was half in a stream too, didn't you Colonel?" Fitzwilliam nodded and the doctor continued. "He shall be fortunate indeed to escape pneumonia after that. We must keep a close eye for any signs."
"He has been conscious then?" Bingley's frown lifted a little.
The physician shook his head. "No so much conscious as not unconscious. He has not been cognizant enough to speak during the times he has opened his eyes although it is clear that he did recognise us both. An excellent sign and I'm sure with time he'll soon regain his senses." He rubbed at his weary eyes. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I need some sleep myself. I've left instructions for the nurse who will arrive this afternoon from town."
Fitzwilliam thanked the doctor and waited until the door closed before turning back to Bingley. "Thank you for your patience. I know you must have questions that need answering. I'll do what I can to provide you with them. The first is, of course, the reason for Darcy coming to this part of the country. I cannot say what prompted him for I don't really know the cause but it was he who had business with Colonel Forster and not myself. Darcy was intent on warning the Colonel about George Wickham. I can only presume he had received some information that Wickham had formed some design on a local lady and, believe me, that is a most undesirable business."
"A local lady? Who? How would Darcy have come by this information?"
"The details are not known to me. I have only the note he left me and that provided very little in the way of information. You may read it if you wish, to see if anything means more to you." Fitzwilliam tossed the note onto the table and then looked at his cousin who appeared to be peacefully sleeping. "If you would stay with Darcy until the nurse comes I would be grateful. I have some business with Mr. Wickham." The name was uttered with undisguised contempt.
"Would it not be better for you to wait until you are rested? You have been up all night, too." Bingley's suspicions were once again aroused. "You believe Wickham responsible for Darcy's injuries!"
"I have no doubt of it although exactly how it happened I have yet to determine." The Colonel's expression was fierce. "He'll not get away with this!"
The implication that Wickham had gotten away with other things was not lost on Bingley. "Be careful. A man capable of doing that," he nodded his head toward Darcy, "won't be easily caught."
Fitzwilliam smiled grimly. "There is no need for concern. I'll have a regiment of soldiers backing me up." He went out the door with a determined stride.
Bingley shook his head when the Colonel had gone. What had begun as a trip full of hope for his future happiness had become a confused afternoon of disturbing information. He walked to the side of the bed, his gaze instantly drawn to the discolouration of Darcy's brow. The normally placid Charles Bingley felt a surge of anger that anyone would harm his friend. With a frustrated sigh he returned to the table to pour himself some tea before it grew cold, then settled into a chair. He caught sight of the paper that Fitzwilliam had left and was reminded of the suggestion that one of the local ladies may have fallen victim to Wickham's schemes. Suddenly fearful for Miss Bennet's sweet innocence, Bingley snatched the note from the table and opened it with trepidation.
"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you,......"
Chapter 5
Lieutenant George Wickham felt very uneasy. His errand accomplished, he had returned to camp to learn of the sudden arrival of a Colonel Fitzwilliam who had then been granted the service of several young soldiers for the purpose of performing a minute search of the countryside for a missing man. Wickham was well acquainted with this Colonel; too much so to be comfortable in the knowledge that he had turned up so soon after Darcy's sudden appearance. He had obviously followed his cousin and was more than likely aware of Darcy's motive for coming to Hertfordshire, much as Wickham himself was in the dark about it. This brought him more uneasiness for the Colonel was as relentless as Darcy with more authority where Wickham's current position was concerned.
As more details unfolded there was more cause for anxiety. Darcy had been found, alive; not what Wickham had foreseen when he had left the man unconscious, injured and alone in a remote area of the wood many hours before. No idea had entered his mind that Darcy may have informed someone of his plan to come to Hertfordshire and expose his old friend. It had seemed to have been a sudden and ill-prepared action, not at all like the Darcy he knew, but considering the wine muddled state his own head was in it wasn't surprising that he would make a mistake. Had the two of them planned it all along, to drive Wickham to desperate measures and have him arrested? However, things had gone awry when Darcy had fallen down the hill and split his head open on a rock.
Wickham was in a dilemma. By all accounts Darcy was still unconscious when found and could very well not survive after all. There was no witness to their meeting in the dark earlier that morning. Colonel Fitzwilliam was sure to be demanding an inquisition, however, with the lieutenant on the receiving end. Should he admit to seeing Darcy, to their argument and subsequent scuffle? If Darcy never regained consciousness and died from his injuries then Wickham would surely be tried for murder with no chance of a defence! On the other hand, if he kept quiet and denied any knowledge of Darcy being in the area let alone what had befallen him then any accusations would be purely circumstantial without a shred of evidence. Darcy could quite easily have fallen from his horse and suffered the same fate and in spite of their differences, Wickham knew his old friend well enough to believe that he would not compromise his own honour to lie about how he came to be laying at the bottom of that hill with a broken head. There was also the possibility that he would not remember. The more he thought about it the more it seemed he should keep the truth to himself.
When he saw the expression on Colonel Fitzwilliam's face as he approached, Wickham knew that he must.
***
"You refused him? Refused Mr. Darcy!" Charlotte Collins stood in her garden, stupefied. The sculptured cedar she was addressing did not respond. "Oh Lizzy, how could you be so foolish? He clearly worships the very earth you tread upon and you have thrown his regard back in his face. You foolish, foolish girl!" There was not a moment to waste. Charlotte picked up her skirts and ran, unladylike, along the path Elizabeth had taken. It was not many minutes before she caught up with her friend. Thankful, at least, that Lady Catherine would have no way of seeing her so dishevelled and breathless, Charlotte took Elizabeth's arm. "Lizzy, please do not be angry with me," she managed between breaths.
"I am not angry with you, Charlotte," Elizabeth gently replied. "It is for Mr. Darcy that I save all my ill feelings."
"Do not make so light of it, I beg you. It is a serious matter! You are understandably distressed by what you have learned and if you need to talk about it I will try to refrain from sounding judgmental."
Elizabeth bit her lip, slightly anxious for her friend. "I would not wish to put you in a precarious position, Charlotte. Mr. Collins being dependent upon the good will of Mr. Darcy's aunt....."
Waving that concern aside, Mrs. Collins shook her head. "You are my dearest friend, Lizzy. I do not like to see you so upset. What can I do to help? I feel you may wish to return home earlier than planned."
"Would you be very offended if I said that I do?"
"No. I know how close you are to Jane and I'm sure this information only serves to make you want to be with her to comfort her. It is too bad that things have turned out in this fashion." She felt the stirring of her curiosity again.
"I cannot understand it," huffed Elizabeth. "Why should Mr. Darcy think he had any right to interfere in his friend's choice?"
"Don't we all interfere in one way or another when our friends' hearts are involved? Tell me, did you not encourage Jane to like Mr. Bingley?"
"Oh, but Charlotte, that is completely different!" For some reason even Elizabeth was beginning to doubt her own objections. "I only wanted Jane to be happy."
"Do you think Mr. Darcy wished differently for his friend? I know your opinion of him is low, Lizzy, but to the extent that you believe he does not care about his own friend's happiness is not reasonable. It is possible that he thought Mr. Bingley would be unhappy married to Jane."
"Unhappy for reasons that make Mr. Darcy unhappy! Mr. Bingley did not appear to care about the lack of fortune nor our less worldly connections." Elizabeth frowned. "He made it abundantly clear that his objections lay with those obstacles when he made me his offer."
Charlotte's mouth twitched, holding back an amused smile. "I can perfectly understand these being obstacles where Mr. Darcy is concerned. The man is of the first circle and his family and friends would expect him to take a wife from their ranks. I'm sure he never thought he'd fall in love with someone of your standing, Lizzy. Not that I fault him for loving you, of course, but perhaps he should have taken greater care in ascertaining your feelings before he proposed. It is such a shame that he had to find out your true feelings the hard way." She studied Elizabeth's expression for a moment before adding, "He left Rosings, you say?"
Looking up sharply, Elizabeth replied, "Yes. It's not what you are thinking."
"I said nothing." Charlotte's face reflected innocence.
"You are thinking that he left because I rejected him."
"That is one way of looking at it." There was a satisfaction in seeing the startled flash in Elizabeth's eyes. "I think that a man in pain does not want to expose his suffering in public. That would be unavoidable here. Would you stay in the same house as Lady Catherine under the circumstances?"
"No," her friend quietly replied. They walked on in silence for a few moments before Elizabeth said with less anger than disappointment, "But I cannot forgive him for being the means of breaking Jane's heart."
"There isn't anything I can say on that subject, Lizzy. I fear that it is with Mr. Darcy that you must find satisfaction." Feeling as though she had made some progress, Charlotte offered to make excuses to Lady Catherine for Elizabeth's change of plans. "I shall simply tell her that a family matter has arisen that requires your presence at home. She will ask impertinent questions, of course, but I am used to managing those. I am sure some arrangement can be made if you wish to leave today." Relief was written on Elizabeth's face. "Maria may stay on with us. My father may be persuaded to bring our mother for a visit to retrieve her."
"Oh, Charlotte. You are too good to me. What trouble I shall cause you!" Elizabeth was beginning to feel the effects of emotional strain.
Charlotte, all too aware of the real trouble that would surface should news of Mr. Darcy's offer come to Lady Catherine's ears, was able to sincerely assure her friend that she was more than willing to brave the Old Lady's displeasure for Elizabeth's peace of mind. It was therefore decided between them that she would leave that very afternoon in order to reach London before the hour grew too late.
***
Bingley blinked. He looked up from the paper and over to the bed where his friend lay. Confusion creased his brow. His eyes returned to the letter, the opening words leaping out at him.
Be not alarmed madam
Madam? He turned the paper over and ran his finger over the cracked wax that had formed the seal. This letter was meant for a lady, not for my eyes, he thought. Bingley felt a sudden flush of embarrassment at having read even so little of a private correspondence. Whatever the rest of the contents held it obviously did not concern him. Another glance at Darcy's quiet form brought a second possibility to mind. The more he considered it the more likely it seemed. That Darcy should be corresponding intimately with a lady was unthinkable; the man was too strict in his notions of propriety to engage in an indiscretion of this nature. The letter must therefore belong to Colonel Fitzwilliam who had mistakenly left it in place of the note he'd received from Darcy.
This was acutely embarrassing for Bingley. To have accidentally opened and read a sealed missive of Darcy's he could expect to be forgiven. Colonel Fitzwilliam was not known to him, however. There could be some unpleasantness as a result.
Bingley folded the letter and placed it on the table, withdrawing his hand. With the seal broken the paper would not lay flat and slowly spread open. Bingley got up from his chair, crossing the room to put distance between himself and the letter. He tried to distract himself by talking to his friend who lay silent but for an occasional deep exhale. He wondered anew how any lady in this district would engender Darcy's concern that she would be compromised by Wickham.
"Who were the ladies that you met while here?" Jane Bennet was the first name to come to mind yet his recollection of Darcy's objections to his involvement with this lady were still fresh in his memory. This gave Bingley a momentary feeling of relief. He knew very little of Lieutenant Wickham but he trusted Darcy's judgment implicitly. Darcy had voiced his disapproval of the officer shortly after learning of Wickham's presence in the neighbourhood. He had warned Bingley to keep Caroline closely guarded while the man remained in the vicinity. Again Bingley took stock of the Hertfordshire ladies whose acquaintance they had made.
Miss Lucas. Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet's sisters. Miss King. Miss-
Miss Bennet's sisters! "Miss Elizabeth stayed with us while Jane was ill! If I'm not mistaken you appeared to enjoy arguing with her. Didn't you also dance with her at the ball? That is the nearest I have ever seen you come to showing a preference for a lady. Was Wickham dallying with her feelings, Darcy? Perhaps you were a bit sweet on her after all. I never pay attention to Caroline's rambling but now I think there might have been some truth in her fear that you were in danger of being snatched up by some 'country nobody'. There was some mention of fine eyes by not only my sister. I'm sure I heard you say it once or twice. You just couldn't bring yourself to look beyond her family's foolishness and their lack of money, could you? Well, at least you didn't let that stop you from preventing disaster befalling them in the form of Lieutenant Wickham." Bingley noticed Darcy stir a little as he spoke. He did not appear to be in any distress so Bingley pulled a chair up beside the bed to be more comfortable while continuing to talk.
"I did wonder why you followed me from Netherfield so soon. Now I know. You were afraid of her, weren't you!" He leaned closer to Darcy's ear. "If I married Jane then you would be exposed to Elizabeth almost continuously. You couldn't bear that thought. Fitzwilliam Darcy prides himself on being able to withstand anything, but the charms of Miss Elizabeth Bennet were too much for even you to fend off!"
A muscle in Darcy's cheek twitched.
"What's more," continued Bingley, "I think you were wrong about Jane. I've had months to think about this. I was sure she cared for me yet at a vulnerable moment I believed your opinion over my own. That was a mistake. I hope it will not be irreversible."
There was another movement, more pronounced this time, as Darcy rolled his head to one side and then back again. Bingley smiled, wanting to believe that his words were affecting his friend.
"I won't be dissuaded this time. As soon as the nurse arrives I shall head to Longbourn and enquire after Miss Bennet. If she accepts my attentions then this time I will not waste a moment. And when I am happily married to Jane," he paused, "you will be on your own in defending yourself from Elizabeth's charms. I am not going to help you. It will be quite amusing to see how long you can hold out." Bingley sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his face.
Chapter 6
"Lock him up."
Colonel Forster looked sharply at his counterpart then drew a breath before nodding to the young sergeant at arms. When Wickham had been led away and the room was empty but for the two of them, he addressed Fitzwilliam. "He must be charged to justify keeping him confined. What do you intend?"
"He was lying. You heard him," Fitzwilliam snapped.
"I heard what he had to say, yes. It is your opinion that he is lying. I have heard no evidence to back up your claim that Wickham is to blame for your cousin's condition." Forster poured them each a drink and held out one glass to his companion. "Come, you must see it from the point of view of a tribunal. Darcy has not been able to tell us what happened and Wickham denies seeing him. It is only yourself who contends that the Lieutenant is guilty of attempted murder."
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked into his glass and quietly replied, "When Darcy is sufficiently recovered he will tell us what Wickham has done."
"Or he will tell us how his horse stumbled and pitched him down that hill. You want to believe Wickham guilty so you have convinced yourself that it is so. No matter what the truth is, someone is going to be proven wrong. I don't know which way I prefer it to unfold. Having known you for many years I have a great deal of respect for you, so much that I'm concerned you may have confused your feelings with the facts. On the other hand, I thoroughly dislike the notion of a murderous scoundrel in the ranks under my command."
Fitzwilliam shook his head. "George Wickham has a history of gambling, unhonoured debts, seductions and slanderous gossip. I find it no great leap to believe him capable of anything to save his own skin."
"You may believe as you wish," replied Forster. "What you can prove will be the means to keeping Wickham under guard. I'm sorry but I have no intention of holding him prisoner on the basis of your dislike of the man. That is what it comes down to. I shall grant you until tomorrow morning to bring me some evidence that Wickham could have been involved in your cousin's accident." Colonel Forster's voice had taken on a more commanding tone.
Fitzwilliam recognised the change and altered his accordingly. "Yes, sir," he said, mustering up all of his self control.
"You had better get started then."
"Yes, sir," said Fitzwilliam again, turning smartly and leaving Colonel Forster's company.
***
The afternoon sun was weakening. Bingley considered that it was a bit late in the day for paying a call but then again, his purpose couldn't be made any clearer than by turning up on Longbourn's steps so unexpectedly at such a time.
He had just about run out of things to say to Darcy's silence when the nurse had been announced. She had already been apprised of her responsibilities since the doctor had been good enough to leave her written instructions. Bingley was pleased to see that she was a genteel sort of woman, middle aged and plump. The footman had called her Mrs. MacLean and the faint brogue in her words confirmed her Scottish origin.
Sparing only a few moments in greeting this new member of the household and thanking her for such a prompt attendance, Bingley managed to extricate himself from the room with the intention of changing his clothing and setting off for Longbourn. He was almost through the door and into the hallway when he recalled Colonel Fitzwilliam's letter on the table. What a wretched thing it would be leave that laying about!
Swiftly, Bingley retrieved the letter, stuffing it into his jacket pocket for safekeeping. Within fifteen minutes he was sporting his finest tweeds and cantering down Netherfield's long drive.
***
Elizabeth watched the countryside roll by. How ironic, she thought, that I should be sitting in a carriage of Lady Catherine's as if I deserved the honour bestowed upon a relation. Why she should grant me the use of her carriage and servants under the circumstances is incredible! However, the truth of the situation was not known to Lady Catherine. She was under the impression, conveyed expertly by Charlotte, that Elizabeth was required to return home immediately due to some pressing family emergency.
Lady Catherine did ask and Charlotte was suitably evasive in an inoffensive manner which allowed the older woman to form her own conclusion regarding the state of health of Longbourn's owner. As she was not contradicted, indeed who would dare, there was no alternative to consider. Naturally the only charitable thing to do was to offer safe and speedy passage to London. Miss Bennet, obviously surprised by this show of solicitude, graciously accepted. Lady Catherine was sorry to see her go, particularly in light of the recent departure of her nephews, one of whom she would be hard pressed to forgive even if he brought forth an acceptable explanation.
And so Rosings was left to the charming entertainment of Mr. Collins.
***
The remainder of the afternoon had proven less prosperous for Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had been unable to find any evidence that would place Wickham in the area where Darcy had been found. As he returned to Netherfield he was joined by Bingley who was en route home from Longbourn.
"What news, Fitzwilliam?" called Bingley. "Did you find Wickham? What did he have to say for himself?"
The Colonel smiled grimly. "Nothing helpful, unfortunately. I was hoping for better news from you. How was my cousin when you left him?"
"Oh, I gave him something to think about," grinned the younger man. "I'm sure he could hear me while I spoke to him, too. For a minute I thought he was going to wake up, he seemed to be moving around a lot, but the nurse arrived and he was quiet again."
Fitzwilliam was encouraged by this report. "Perhaps we won't have long to wait to hear his story after all. He may even be awake now!" He urged his horse on faster with Bingley following on his heels.
"Do you think," puffed Bingley between strides, "do you really think Wickham tried to murder Darcy?"
"I think he knows what happened, was involved in what happened and was content to leave Darcy to die to save his own hide." The Colonel stared straight ahead down the road. "I have no forgiveness for that." He spurred his horse forward and left his companion behind.
"No, I shouldn't expect you would," Bingley said to the empty air.
***
The streets of London soon made themselves known by the noise and bustle of people, animals and various forms of conveyance. Elizabeth was grateful, indeed, for the elegant equipage in which she rode. The streets were cleared ahead at the mere suggestion of wealth passing among them. The closer they drew to Cheapside the more impatient to see Jane that Elizabeth felt. She'd had several hours to consider everything that had transpired and although reluctant to reveal all of the previous evening's altercation there were some things that directly affected her sister. Elizabeth felt that Jane should know the truth.
When at last they arrived at her uncle's house Elizabeth was relieved to find that he was not at home but that her aunt and Jane were. It was much easier to relate her recent woes to sympathetic female ears. Still, she hesitated when it came to revealing the devious nature of Mr. Darcy's involvement in his friend's failure to continue courting Jane. Miss Bennet clearly remained distressed on this issue and Elizabeth did not want to cause her sister more pain.
Mrs. Gardiner was at a loss what to think of her niece's tale. She had listened with two minds; that Elizabeth had been grossly insulted by a rude young man heedless of the feelings of other people or that she had just refused a man who had the intelligence and heart to see beyond the practical limitations of their situations and appreciate Elizabeth for who she was. Mrs. Gardiner knew little of either Darcy or Wickham. The latter she had at least had the pleasure of meeting and liked his charming manners though his circumstances were regrettable. As for Darcy, she knew him by reputation alone and, amongst the people of Meryton where he recently had appeared, he was far from being highly recommended. She considered that her connections in Derbyshire may be able to provide more information. The fact that such a man had made an offer to her niece was reason enough to enquire further regarding his character.
This impassioned discussion was interrupted by a servant announcing the arrival of a letter which had come via an express rider. Most surprising of all was that the letter was for Jane! A dreadful anticipation suddenly fell upon the ladies, the good health of the family at Longbourn now being in question. With trembling fingers Jane broke the seal, quickly confirming that the missive had been written by their mother that very afternoon.
"Oh, I cannot read it!" She held out the paper to her sister. "Lizzy, please read it to us."
Elizabeth drew in a deep breath to bolster her flagging courage before taking the letter.
I pray you will beg your uncle to bring you or send you, it matters not which he chooses, back home at once!
You will never guess! Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield! He arrived today and do you know what was the very first thing that he did? Why, he came to Longbourn! To visit us, he said, but we all know it was YOU he wished to see. Jane, the disappointment was clearly marked on his face when I said you were not at home. No, you were in London and had been for some weeks. His astonishment could not have been any less than ours upon seeing him ushered into the parlour, my dearest Jane! He had no idea you were in Town. I believe he might have left for London right then and there but for my assurance that you were due to return tomorrow.
And so, Jane, you see that you MUST come home tomorrow. I am sure that my brother can arrange for your travel only do not make it too late in the day! We cannot waste a minute while he is here!
Oh, and he has not brought either of his sisters this time. I'm not entirely certain what he said was his reason for returning but I think it is just some estate matter. You never know how long these things take so hurry back, Jane!
Your loving Mama.Dear Jane,
With the first mention of Bingley Jane had turned white but as embarrassment and hope filled her the colour returned and deepened to a dark pink. Their aunt was equally amazed at the turn of events and looked to her other niece to see what she thought. Elizabeth's mind was awhirl, however. The timing of Mr. Darcy's departure from Rosings and Mr. Bingley's return to Hertfordshire was too much of a coincidence. Had he left to seek out his friend and suggest that he was wrong in interfering? It seemed highly unlikely. For Elizabeth it was easier to believe that Mr. Bingley had returned of his own choosing once the restraints of Mr. Darcy had been removed.
No matter the reason, Elizabeth was as eager as their mother to send Jane home to see Mr. Bingley for herself and to encourage their mutual regard.
"I shall speak with your uncle," their aunt was saying. "Perhaps he will be able to arrange for a few days away to accompany us to Longbourn."
With this development Elizabeth was even more reluctant to reveal the rest of her information.
What good could it possibly do now that Mr. Bingley was really at Netherfield? She decided to wait and see if Mr. Darcy showed up to rescue his friend again. Hopefully that would not occur until Jane's and Mr. Bingley's future happiness was settled.
***
Fitzwilliam touched his cousin's shoulder lightly. Darcy's eyelids fluttered slowly before they opened to stare unfocussed at the figure above him.
"Ah, there you are," Fitzwilliam said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"
Darcy tried to speak but his mouth and throat were dry, resulting in a faint croaking sound. The nurse came forward with a glass of water and brought it to his lips. Allowing only a short sip she then retreated to give them more privacy.
Fitzwilliam sat in the chair next to the bed. "Don't speak. I'm sure your head must be pounding. Do you remember anything?" Darcy carefully inclined his head in reply. "Good. Did you see Wickham?" Again his cousin nodded. "I thought as much. Don't worry, I've got it all under control. Wickham isn't going anywhere nor will he be able to cause anyone trouble where he is. He has definitely gone too far now and will pay for it."
A frown began to form on Darcy's face as he listened. He shook his head which unfortunately only set his senses spinning and frustrated him.
Fitzwilliam steadied him with a hand. "Don't distress yourself about Wickham. I'll make sure he ends up in Newgate at the very least. I can't believe he thought he'd ever get away with murdering you!" Angered, the Colonel left his chair and began to pace the room, failing to notice his cousin's greater agitation.
Darcy tried to get Fitzwilliam's attention but his voice would not cooperate and he ended up in a fit of coughing which brought the nurse to fuss over him. Once the coughing had subsided Darcy's strength had ebbed and his head pounded mercilessly. Fitzwilliam, satisfied that he had enough evidence to secure Wickham's continued captivity, determined that it would be better if he left Darcy to rest instead of enquiring further. It was obvious that he wasn't in any condition for a prolonged interview. The Colonel thought it unfortunate, his fingers running along the edges of a paper in his pocket, since he had wanted to ask Darcy where to send his unaddressed letter.
"I'll leave you now, Darcy. I hope the morning finds you much improved. We can speak longer, then." He turned to go, a glance passing between himself and the nurse.
His mind was busy on the walk to his room but while changing for dinner Fitzwilliam emptied his pockets, drawing out the folded paper. At first glance nothing struck him as odd until he realised that this letter had no seal. He hurriedly picked it up for a closer examination. A muttered oath was on his lips when he discovered that the letter was the one he had intended to give Bingley to read. A quick search of his belongings did not produce the sealed one. This brought Fitzwilliam some disturbance of mind. Had he left that letter with Bingley and, if not, what had happened to it? Admittedly there had been little opportunity to ask his host what he had thought of Darcy's explanation for pursuing Wickham yet neither had Bingley mentioned anything unusual in the note that he'd left. There was always the possibility that the letter had been meant for Bingley after all. Sighing, Fitzwilliam resolved to address this as soon as he went downstairs.
Dinner was ready to serve when he joined Bingley in the dining room. As soon as there was some relative privacy to converse Fitzwilliam broached the subject. "I fear I made an error this morning when I directed you to read the note Darcy gave me. I found that I'd left you the wrong one."
His host looked a bit discomfited. "Yes, but I didn't read past the opening line or two before I realised the mistake. I'll return it to you."
The Colonel nodded, no more enlightened about whom the letter had been intended for although it plainly was not his cousin's friend. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I caused you any uneasiness as a result"
Bingley considered that the Colonel was likely to have suffered more unease in this instance and so he politely refused any apology. They finished their dinner with little conversation but for the progress of Darcy's health. Both men were distracted by their thoughts and when they concluded the meal Bingley went directly to his room to get the letter. He spent some moments trying to recollect where he had put it before remembering it had been in his pocket before changing for his visit to the Bennets. His man was efficient, however, and there was no sign of those clothes. Bingley rang the bell and waited.
Chapter 7
Both Jane and Elizabeth had missed their nightly ritual of chatting before bed. The glow in Jane's face bespoke her excitement at the possibilities for the morrow. Elizabeth was equally pleased and more than hopeful of a resolution that would give happiness to all; all but Mr. Darcy, of course. She listened to the shy expressions of her sister, disappointed at the absence of her characteristic optimism that usually marked her outlook. Jane made an effort to keep her hopes from rising, to attribute Mr. Bingley's return to anything but a renewed interest in herself.
"Oh, but Jane," Elizabeth gently reminded her. "Even if Mama has exaggerated it is clear that he still feels something for you else why would he visit Longbourn at all?"
"He may have been paying a polite visit as he would do with any of our neighbours while he is in the area."
"Jane, I give you leave to hope for more. I know you care for him. Do not give up, I beg you." Elizabeth took her sister's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"But Lizzy, it has been almost five months since he first left Netherfield," Jane reminded her, the closest she would allow herself to arguing. "Surely if he cared as much as you would have me believe then it would not have taken so long to come back, would it?"
"I don't think that is entirely fair." Elizabeth paused at Jane's look of astonishment. If ever that was a person endowed with the power of fairness for all it would be Jane Bennet. Elizabeth was at a loss to explain herself. "Consider the pressure put to bear on him from his sisters alone. Jane, even you have come to realise that Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst did nothing to encourage his interest in you. From Mama's letter alone it is confirmed that he knew nothing of your being here in Town! You don't believe him capable of lying any more than I do."
"Oh, no," cried Jane. "I would never believe him capable of such deceit."
"His sisters, on the other hand, are more than capable. Having just said that Mr. Bingley did not lie about his ignorance it then falls to his sisters to have kept that knowledge to themselves." Voicing this thought gave Elizabeth a start. She was suddenly aware that Mr. Darcy had not been alone in separating his friend from her sister even though Elizabeth had assigned him all of the blame.
"Lizzy, how can I allow myself to hope for so much?"
"You can," her sister soothed. "We shall be home tomorrow and I'm sure Mr. Bingley will be visiting as soon as he knows you are there. Believe, Jane."
Jane's smile was tentative but lit up the room nonetheless. "I would like to think he cares, Lizzy. I just...." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I just don't want to get hurt again."
As much as Elizabeth was convinced that Mr. Bingley's feelings were as genuine as her sister's she could not guarantee that everything would turn out as it should without someone being hurt. Miss Bingley would certainly be displeased. "I suppose I shall just have to have enough hope for the both of us, then," she teased. In an effort to lighten Jane's mind she changed the topic. "Would you like to hear how our cousin and Charlotte are doing?"
Jane snatched at the change eagerly. "Yes and I want to hear all about the grand estate of Rosings Park, too. Did it live up to Mr. Collins' praise?"
Elizabeth giggled and proceeded to entertain her sister with tales of their cousin's daily rituals.
***
Colonel Fitzwilliam penned a brief note apprising Colonel Forster of his new information then summoned a servant to arrange for it to be delivered immediately. Having seen to this he felt some comfort in knowing that Wickham would remain under guard until Darcy was well enough to relate the whole story. His mood suitably lightened, Fitzwilliam went in search of Bingley to retrieve Darcy's letter.
Bingley was not difficult to locate; the sound of his voice carrying through the upstairs hall to the stairs. Fitzwilliam paused with his foot on the first riser, eyebrows rising in astonishment. He had imagined Bingley to be a calm, easy going sort, not prone to outbursts of temper. As he listened, however, it became apparent that his host's tone was one of distress, not anger. Fitzwilliam started to return to the parlour when the words letter and laundry came to his ears. Alarm overtook his sense of propriety and he found himself at the door to Bingley's room in a few moments.
"I don't care what you have to do, find it man!" Bingley was saying to his wide-eyed manservant.
"Yes, sir," responded the man, quickly bowing and leaving the room.
Bingley muttered, "Of all the inconvenient, ridiculous, dangerous places to end up, why did it have to go to the laundry?"
"This wouldn't be the letter would it?" Fitzwilliam asked from the doorway.
Bingley gave him a sorrowful look. "Yes, I'm sorry. Unless my staff have been unusually efficient I have high hopes of the letter being returned intact. It probably hasn't even been removed from my pocket."
Amused, the Colonel offers some words of consolation. "Good help can be so hard to find."
"In this instance I shall be grateful for their lack of aptitude!" His mind was filled with lurid possibilities should those below stairs have read the contents of Fitzwilliam's letter.
Fitzwilliam, however, was unconcerned. It was far from probable that any of Bingley's menial staff would possess the ability to read. That Darcy's letter should end up decomposed in dirty wash water was a sad blow to the Colonel's pride. Considering how careless he'd been with the document it might have been better to have left in with Darcy's man at Rosings.
There was very little for either man to say and so they waited in silence for several minutes until the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard approaching. The servant was relieved to offer into his master's hand a folded set of papers.
"Ah! You found it!" cried a vastly appeased Bingley. "I must know, though, where it was and how many may have handled it."
Fitzwilliam was about to interject with a comment that it was unimportant but the servant was already speaking.
"Molly had just emptied the pockets, sir, prior to setting them to the water."
"Yes, well... thank you. That will be all Atkins." Bingley waited until he was sure the man was out of hearing then handed the letter to Fitzwilliam. "I am sorry about the confusion."
"It was my own carelessness, really. I'll just put this safely away," the Colonel said with a wry smile. He left an apologetic Bingley to his melancholy reflections and headed back to his room. There he took up a seat at the small writing table and considered the letter.
The seal was broken, of course, but that could be repaired. Fitzwilliam fetched Darcy's signet ring and a stick of wax from the wooden box where he kept his own valuables. Heating the wax with a candle, he added a few drops to that which already marked the edges of the paper and pressed the ring to it. Satisfied with his work, Fitzwilliam let it cool then he put it away with the other things, into the wooden box where he wished he'd put it the night before.
***
Bingley had consulted with the nurse and arranged for a light but bland breakfast to be sent up to Darcy the next morning. After his own meal, he took the time to visit with his friend, pleased to see an improved colour in his face and that he was actually awake.
"Good morning! You had us quite worried for a while," Bingley cheerfully said upon taking a seat next to the bed. He had suggested that the nurse take her own breakfast downstairs while she had the opportunity, leaving the two men free for a more private conversation. "You look much better today."
Darcy replied with a sceptical grunt. His head ached too much to expend more effort.
"Sorry about the breakfast," continued Bingley. In a lowered voice he added, "The nurse has forbidden anything she hasn't personally approved. However I have here," he said, sticking a hand in his pocket and pulling forth a cloth wrapped object, "a couple of your favourite apple dumplings. I remember how you appreciated my cook's dumplings last summer."
Darcy would have raised his eyebrows were it not for the fact that it hurt his head to do so. Instead he gratefully accepted the offering with a quietly uttered, "Thank you."
"It has come to my attention just how much was neglected in my absence these last few months," Bingley said, settling comfortably into the chair. "I don't mean that the staff has been remiss but that certain matters I, as master of the estate, had a responsibility for seeing to but didn't. I'm sure you are better acquainted with the kinds of decisions to be made but it was all new to me. I hope I may count on you for some advice over the next week?"
"Of course." Darcy's voice was not much more than a whisper.
"Excellent! For I am sure I shall need it. I may even begin planning some improvements to make things more comfortable. Just small changes, of course, since I realise it is not my own home, only a lease." Darcy listened with surprise at the enthusiasm his friend exhibited. Despite his distraction, Bingley soon noticed the puzzled look on Darcy's face and hastened to explain. "Did you know - no, of course didn't know! How foolish of me. Let me start over."
Bingley collected his thoughts while Darcy attempted to make sense of what he'd just heard.
"Yesterday I arrived here midday after your cousin had sent me a note about your ... er... accident. I thought that while I was in the neighbourhood I would pay a call at Longbourn. Be polite, you know. To my disappointment Miss Bennet was not at home. Her mother informed me that she had been in London these past two months at least! Can you imagine? If only I had known! Oh, but I was prepared to pack up and head back to Town that very minute until Mrs. Bennet saved me from committing yet another grievous error, for Miss Bennet is in fact due home today! You will call me dreadfully boorish but I will pay another call as soon as I am reasonably certain she has arrived." He looked a trifle embarrassed and sheepishly added, "Alright, I admit that I have sent one of the young lads from the stable to keep an eye on the London road and to inform me at once of any sign of her carriage. I do not want to lose a minute's advantage!"
Darcy could only chuckle quietly at the sight of Bingley grinning like a fool.
"No argument this time?" his friend challenged. "Or has something happened to make you change your mind?"
Darcy summoned up strength for more than a whisper. "I gave you advice. If you choose to disregard it that is your right. I will not condemn you for it."
It was Bingley's turn to be surprised. He had not thought his old friend's opinions would be so lightly brushed aside. "Could it be that crack on your skull has given you a new outlook on things? I may yet see you dance a reel at my wedding!" He laughed at the image this invoked. "Perhaps with one of my soon to be sisters!"
The thought of dancing with Elizabeth at such an event only brought more pain to Darcy's head. Her words of reproach rang in his memory, accentuating his own sense of the arrogance of his actions, particularly the latest which resulted in his present condition. If her opinion of him wasn't low enough this could only compound it by demonstrating his complete lack of control of his emotions, something he had previously boasted about successfully accomplishing. First had come his surrender to attraction, then love, but it was that peculiar uneasiness that was jealousy which was his real downfall.
"Don't look so sour, Darcy. If dancing brings you that much displeasure I'm sure there's a way to help you avoid it. They don't bite, you know."
Darcy's deep frown changed to a self conscious look of embarrassment. "Who?" he croaked.
"Women!" replied Bingley with a wide grin.
Oh, some of them bite, alright, thought Darcy with just a touch of amusement. "I'm not afraid of being bitten."
Bingley gave him an appraising look. "Does that mean there is something that you are afraid of?"
"At the moment, I'd say he's afraid of another breakfast like this one." Colonel Fitzwilliam held up the bowl of tepid porridge with a grimace of revulsion. "For pity's sake, man, bring the poor fellow some steak and eggs."
"Sadly, the mere mention of eggs makes me afraid this morning." Darcy concentrated on keeping his protesting stomach under good regulation.
"Well," said Fitzwilliam, "if you aren't feeling up to breakfast I am pleased to at least see you more talkative than last night. How is your memory?"
"You are my cousin, aren't you?" Darcy studied the Colonel with a nonchalant air. "The second daughter of my aunt Catherine. How is your dear mother?"
"Very funny. Do you need a knock on the other side of your head?" countered Fitzwilliam sarcastically.
Bingley vacated his seat. "I'll leave you two to sort this out, then. I have some things to do before going to Longbourn today."
Fitzwilliam shook his head as Bingley jauntily stepped from the room. "That young man is thoroughly besotted. Do you know the young lady in question?"
"Yes. Miss Bennet's elder sister, actually." Darcy preferred not to discuss the subject and hoped that his cousin would change it. Unfortunately, what was on Fitzwilliam's mind wasn't far from the first topic.
"Darcy," the Colonel said, putting Bingley's oddities behind them. "Tell me why you came in search of Wickham. Why now? Was Georgiana in some danger?"
"No." Struggling for words, Darcy shook his head. "Not Georgiana."
Fitzwilliam spread out his arms. "Then why was it so important to expose Wickham after all this time? If he was putting another young lady in jeopardy we can spare Georgiana's name when we explain his motivation for assaulting you."
"Assaulting me?" This brought Darcy out of his preoccupied thoughts. "What are you saying?"
"I should think it's quite clear. Wickham is in confinement and under suspicion of assault and attempted murder. That should keep every young lady safe from him for a good many years!" His voice took on an intensity in proportion to his anger.
"What has he to say to these charges?"
Fitzwilliam waved off the question. "What does it matter? Another lie to add to his history of deception and vice. I will be glad to finally see the back of him, knowing he won't be able to cause you or Georgiana any more grief."
Voice straining, Darcy replied, "Nothing would satisfy me more than to know I'd never see him again but... not this way."
"What do you mean?" His cousin stared hard at him. "That man split your head open and if I hadn't gone looking for you it's certain your sister would be mourning your death now. You obviously haven't recovered your senses if you think Wickham deserves some leniency in this!"
"That isn't what happened." Darcy took as deep a breath as he dared while Fitzwilliam stood, arms crossed, waiting for further explanation. "Yes, I confronted him. He wasn't cooperative and we came to blows but in the struggle I ended up going over a ledge. I remember hitting the ground hard then rolling several times before coming to an abrupt stop with a lot of pain. That must have been my head hitting a rock. I don't recall any more than that."
The Colonel was silent for a moment, one hand stroking his chin as he considered what he'd heard, then he pointed a finger at Darcy. "You came to blows. He assaulted you."
"I threw the first punch."
"Not without provocation, I'm sure! Do not be so obstinate, Darcy. Wickham doesn't deserve the consideration."
"Consideration for Wickham doesn't enter into my reasoning," Darcy wearily responded. "I will not be party to sending a man to the gallows for something he did not do."
"Gallows! Aren't you being a little melodramatic?" Resigned to sitting at last, the Colonel steepled his fingers and peered over the tips as they rested along his nose. "I'll settle for sending him to France and letting Boney take care of him. Just give me something I can use to arrange it."
"What would you have me say?"
"Darcy, I followed you from Kent after you left me a most disturbing note. I want to know what drove you here but if you won't tell me that, at least let me know what happened when you met up with Wickham. The truth is all I need. I'm sure he compromised himself no matter what you think. Just start at the beginning and state what you remember. I'll take care of the rest."
***
The sight of home had never felt so sweet. Elizabeth's throat tightened as the carriage drove up to Longbourn's front doors. The turmoil of the previous days had drained her; she felt close to tears at the smallest provocation.
Jane had exhibited unbelievable patience on the journey but in the final miles she was clearly straining for a glimpse of Netherfield's roof in the distance. The nearer they drew to Meryton the more Jane fidgeted. She found it impossible to sit still and attempted to engage her aunt and uncle in polite conversation in an effort to take her mind off of Mr. Bingley. Once home, however, Jane had no time for anxious anticipation as her mother briskly whisked her upstairs to change after a hurried greeting to her brother and sister and bidding them to make themselves comfortable in the sitting room.
Elizabeth gave them a resigned smile as her mother and sister disappeared up the stairs. She led the way to the sitting room, thankfully noting that Hill was just setting down a fresh pot of tea. As they were taking their cups to their seats the door burst open, Lydia and Kitty running in.
"Lizzy, you are home at last! You will never believe the news!" cried Lydia.
"Let me tell her," Kitty loudly objected. "I heard it first!"
"What does that signify?" sniffed her younger sister.
"Lydia! Kitty!" Elizabeth admonished them, embarrassed for their rude manners. "Say hello to your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner."
Lydia dropped an impertinent curtsey. "Hello aunt. Hello uncle," she said with obvious disinterest then turned her attention back to Elizabeth. "You will never guess what has happened! It is too much! I couldn't believe it when Denny told me."
"He told me!" pouted Kitty.
"I'm sure it is of little importance either way." Elizabeth was becoming more embarrassed by the moment.
"You won't think so when you hear it," taunted Lydia, giving Kitty a knowing look. "It concerns a certain gentleman that we all know."
"For heaven's sake, Lydia," Mrs. Gardiner finally spoke up. "If you have something to say then say it. These dramatics are unnecessary."
Lydia's face reflected her annoyance but only momentarily for she did not with to surrender the opportunity to Kitty. "It concerns Mr. Wickham. He is being held under guard by his fellow officers and for what, you may ask!"
Elizabeth was too shocked to say a word. Kitty saw her chance, however, and quickly took over the telling. "They say he killed a man!"
"What!" cried Elizabeth.
Kitty was nodding vigorously. "It's true! I mean, it's what Denny said. Colonel Forster has Wickham being watched by two guards night and day."
Mr. Gardiner had until now kept silent but talk of violence compelled him to learn more of the situation in case there was some danger to the ladies. "Just whom is he purported to have killed and why?"
"He didn't kill anyone." Mr. Bennet stood in the doorway, an amused smile on his face. "Hello Gardiner, Margaret. I trust that your journey wasn't unpleasant?"
"The road was a trifle rough in some parts but all in all it was pleasant, indeed. Spring is a lovely time to get out of the city."
"Papa," Elizabeth said with impatience. "What do you know about this business with Mr. Wickham?"
Her father moved further into the room and stood with his back to the fireplace. "Ah, it seems the young man has got himself into some trouble with his old friend, Mr. Darcy. You remember him, don't you Lizzy? I'm sure you won't be too distressed to learn that Mr. Darcy apparently suffered a grievous injury at the hands of another man, allegedly Lieutenant Wickham. He likely would have succumbed to this injury had his cousin, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, not arrived on the scene and discovered him in time."
Elizabeth was having difficulty accepting her father's words. She had seen Mr. Darcy not three evenings previous; he had stood in Charlotte's drawing room, proposing in a most horrid manner. How could he have then been in Hertfordshire and supposedly attacked by Mr. Wickham? It was not possible and she was determined to say so.
"That is not what Denny said," Lydia defiantly countered Mr. Bennet's tale with details she had not even heard firsthand, presenting them in gothic fashion. "He said Mr. Darcy stalked Wickham along the trail back to the encampment and then lured him from the path into the woods where he tried to kill Wickham! Only Wickham was too strong for him and managed to throw Mr. Darcy off where he fell off a rock ledge to his death and now they are trying to hang our poor Wickham for murder!"
Sensitive to Elizabeth's distress, Mrs. Gardiner scolded her youngest niece. "Lydia! You should not be spreading such malicious gossip. Your father is in a better position to know the right of it so let's hear no more of this melodramatic nonsense."
Lydia was quite offended at this reprimand and promptly huffed from the room to seek a more receptive audience. Kitty, properly chastised, took a seat and said no more. Elizabeth's head was spinning with questions, however.
"Papa, tell us again what you have heard. This cannot be true!"
"It is as I said, Lizzy." Her father shrugged his shoulders. "Mr. Darcy was found in a rather precarious state of health which seems to have been precipitated by a sharp blow to the head. He was taken, unconscious, to Netherfield where he has been closely tended by his physician but has been unable to confirm the identity of his assailant as he remains unconscious. Colonel Forster has, indeed, placed Lieutenant Wickham under guard at the request of Colonel Fitzwilliam, apparently a cousin of Mr. Darcy, who appeared from nowhere but initiated a search, having suspicions of foul play."
"Then there is no charge of murder," sighed Elizabeth.
"There has been no murder," Mr. Bennet pointed out. "Should Mr. Darcy die, however, I would not think it bodes well for Mr. Wickham's future."
Mrs. Gardiner, knowing what had so recently transpired between her niece and Mr. Darcy, fervently wished to speak privately with Elizabeth. It was clear that she was greatly troubled by what she had heard. There was no discreet way to remove them both from the company of the others, though.
Elizabeth was trying to find an excuse of her own to leave the room. She simply could not reason away Darcy's presence in Hertfordshire the day after she had so forcefully thrown in his face the truth of his shameful treatment of Mr. Wickham. What had he hoped to accomplish by returning here? To Elizabeth it was simple; Mr. Wickham had become an obstacle in Mr. Darcy's life and needed to be removed. Only his plan had been too hastily concocted and instead of Mr. Wickham meeting a swift end it was Mr. Darcy who had nearly suffered that fate. She could not feel any sympathy for him. Had he not brought it all upon himself? Elizabeth resolved to speak with Mr. Wickham as soon as possible, to show him that she was aware of the true circumstances of their meeting and that she was truly sorry for being the cause of this latest dispute between the two men.
If only I had realised what a dreadful temper that man has I should never have brought up Mr. Wickham's name! It is my fault that jealousy was so ignited, that an innocent man could pay the highest price of all.