As soon as the colonel had finished reading the letter from Darcy, a search for Wickham had been undertaken, and he was found within the hour at a sporting house. The next morning, Wickham had been interrogated by the colonel, but denied any plans to leave Brighton with Lydia, insisting that all he had done was to renew an acquaintance that he had formed while encamped near Meryton. When confronted with details of assignations provided by Lydia and documented in her diary, Wickham admitted he had had some harmless fun with the girl. However, he continued to insist his purpose had never been the seduction of one so young and concluded by saying that he had never intended to marry Lydia Bennet.
At that point, the colonel had stood up and said, “That is the first statement you have made that I actually believe.” After informing him that he was confined to quarters indefinitely, Colonel Forster left.
“The long and the short of it, Mr. Darcy, is that your letter prevented Wickham from carrying out his plans. When Miss Lydia came down to breakfast this morning, her room was searched, and an overnight bag was found. When asked for an explanation, she revealed all. She was actually quite proud that she had been able to secure the affections of such an admirable fellow. Even after we told her unequivocally that he had said it was never his intention to marry her, she just laughed, explaining that was what he had to say in order to protect his position in the regiment. To my utter astonishment, she actually thinks our discovery of her plans merely delays the marriage, and the nuptials will take place quickly ‘now that everything is out in the open.’”
From the room above, a loud cry could be heard, and Darcy looked to the colonel for an explanation. “That is our young lady grieving for her lover. That caterwauling has been going on all morning. ‘My dear Wickham,’ she cries, ‘when will you come for me?’ She sobs and moans for about fifteen minutes and then takes a rest before starting up again. My wife attempted to console her, but because she is with child, her nerves were fraying. So she has departed and our housemaid, the poor girl, is sitting in the room with Miss Lydia.”
“Thank you, Colonel, for your quick response. You have saved that girl from certain ruin,” Darcy said, standing up. “I believe her father is on the road to Brighton as we speak, but since I have no way of knowing when he will arrive, I intend to talk to Miss Lydia after I have eaten and have had the use of a wash basin. The young lady needs to know Wickham’s history, and although I doubt it will do much good, she will hear it.”
Lydia looked startled when the maid opened the door to reveal Mr. Darcy. She had heard the colonel talking to someone, but when she did not recognize the voice, she assumed it was one of the soldiers who had been running back and forth to headquarters. The colonel had told her he was not budging from the house until he had safely delivered her to her father. He had then droned on about “a betrayal of trust and violating the rules of hospitality,” and other such drivel. Didn’t the old goat remember what it was like to be in love, especially since he had married a woman half his age?
Grabbing a wooden chair from the hallway, Darcy brought it into the room and sat opposite to Lydia, and he thought what a little shit she was. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in her demeanor. Instead, she was trying to defiantly stare him down, and he wanted to laugh—he of the furrowed brow, steel gray eyes, and look of thunder yielded to no one—except Elizabeth.
“Let us get right to business, Miss Lydia. First, if you intend to reproduce the hysterical crying I heard when I first entered this house, your confinement will continue, and I am sure that at this point it is getting rather close in here.”
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Lydia said, outraged. “You are not my father, and you are not my guardian. I know about these things because my uncle is a solicitor.”
“Secondly, I see you have not eaten your breakfast,” he said, looking at the untouched tray on the side table. “There are three hungry men in the kitchen who have been traveling for more than a day because of your thoughtless actions, and they will be glad to have the extra rations. Of course, that means you will go without any nourishment until breakfast.”
“Mr. Wickham told me how arrogant you were and how you denied him his proper inheritance,” Lydia said, practically spitting out the words, “and he warned me that everything that comes out of your mouth when talking about him are lies.”
“Lies. That is a good place to start because, Miss Lydia, you have been used most grievously. You have your sisters to thank for your rescue. When Jane read of Wickham’s excessive attention to you, she wrote to Elizabeth at Pemberley. Unfortunately for Wickham, but fortunately for you, I knew the truth about his meanness of character.”
Lydia turned her back to him and went to the window.
“And I have the documents to prove it, and since you have a solicitor in the family, he may wish to examine the receipt for three thousand pounds paid to Wickham by me in lieu of a living or another receipt for one thousand pounds as settlement of my father’s will. That is a lot of money, Miss Lydia. Where is it?”
Lydia turned to face him, and he could see by the look on her face that he had succeeded in planting seeds of doubt. But a defiant Lydia insisted that she would have married him anyway.
“You see, Miss Lydia, the problem is, he would never have married you. You do not solve his problems. He is knee deep in debt, and if the colonel cannot bring charges against him, he will turn him over to the debtors’ courts. Since he has no way of coming up with the many hundreds of pounds he owes, probably just here in Brighton alone, he will be sent to debtors’ prison. Wives are allowed to join their husbands if they can pay for their board, but I would not recommend it. Marshalsea Prison is right on the Thames, and it gets very cold there, and the dampness creeps right into your bones.”
Chapter 42
The only other time Darcy remembered being this fatigued was when he had received word that his father had died. Richard and he had been on the Grand Tour, and they were making their way south through France with a destination of Nice when the news had reached him. With his sister’s wellbeing in mind, Darcy had made record time in reaching the port of Calais, but then there was still the Channel crossing and the long journey to Derbyshire. When he had finally arrived, he was unshaven, bedraggled, and in need of a bath, much as he was now. Thank goodness he was back in his own home, and he would shortly be asleep in his own bed.
“Will, let me have Mercer draw you a bath,” Georgiana said to her brother, who was slumped in a leather chair in the study, saying he was too dirty to sit anywhere else.
“No. Please don’t. He is more tired than I am.”
“Then I shall ask Rogers.”
“No, first I want to have something to eat, then a bath, and then I am to bed, hopefully, until late tomorrow morning. I am weary to the bone. I do not even know how long it has been since I left Pemberley.”
“This is the sixth day since you departed, but tell me what happened in Brighton. Hopefully, you were in time.”
“We were in time. When I left Miss Lydia, she was sobbing in her father’s arms. Mr. Bennet was very grateful for my intervention, but all he wanted to do was to get his daughter home. I assume your return to London was uneventful?”
“Perfectly so,” Georgiana answered. “The three of us left the day after you did. Richard has returned to his regiment, and as for Antony, well, he is staying here—not permanently, of course, but please allow me to explain.”
“Please do.” Darcy was so tired he did not have the energy to protest.
“Before leaving London, Antony hired an agent to find someone to take up the lease on the townhouse, and in the short time we were gone, the agent found someone—a Mr. Whitby. Antony says he’s as rich as Croesus and made his money in hemp, whatever that means.”