The next morning, following his cousin’s instructions, Darcy presented his application to the proper authorities and within an hour was in possession of assurances that, when all the military wheels had ground, his request for a commission in the —— th Regiment, stationed in Newcastle, would be granted.
Upon returning to Erewile House, he embarked upon the singularly uncomfortable task of apprising his secretary that certain changes in his financial arrangements would be necessary. For the first time in their long association, Darcy saw Hinchcliffe actually start and stare. “Mr. Darcy,” he croaked, unable to find his full voice, “you cannot understand what you are saying! To raise that amount above the normal requirements of your interests would involve considerable shifting of assets and inevitable loss. Sir, I respectfully submit that you reconsider! Perhaps there are other ways such a sum —”
Darcy shook his head. “Not in so quickly a manner, I fear, and time is my adversary.” Seeing the concern in the older man’s eyes, he continued, “Do not fear that I have done something rash or unprincipled, Hinchcliffe. I have not turned gamester, nor am I the victim of blackmail. Rather I have hope that these funds will do some good…right a wrong, at least.” He stopped and tapped the desk between them. “I put it into your hands, Hinchcliffe,” he said to the man who had taught and guided him in all his financial affairs since his father’s death, “and have every confidence in your decisions. Proceed with what you think best: I will countersign without requiring explanation or justification.”
“As you wish, sir.” His secretary rose and looked down upon him, his reserve recovered but his concern still apparent to one who had grown up under his tutelage. “But hope, the kind of which you speak, rarely returns principal, let alone interest, sir.”
“Yet, if we have any humanity in us, we must continue to invest; must we not?” He spoke softly but with a sudden, heartfelt conviction.
Hinchcliffe inclined his head and then, for the first time in both their lives, made him a full bow. “Your father would be very proud, sir, very proud.” So saying, his secretary turned from the surprise and flush of appreciation on Darcy’s face and left the room, shoulders set to do financial battle with the world in his master’s interest. Hinchcliffe’s words, Darcy knew, had not been lightly spoken. Accompanied by his bow, they were the first tokens of a deep and genuine esteem that his secretary had ever offered him. Oh, the man had always been exceedingly polite and patient, even when, at their first meeting, when he was twelve years old, Darcy had bowled over the young, new secretary in the hall outside this very door. Your father would be very proud. Darcy’s eyes traveled to the small portrait of his sire on the wall and nodded his acceptance. “Yes, thank you, I believe he would.”
With the financial pledges he had made Wickham set into motion, it was incumbent upon Darcy that he speak with Wickham again before he could present it all as a fait accompli to Elizabeth’s relatives in London. Entering once more into a rough hired cab, he believed himself prepared for any dodges or demands that might arise. Wickham was ever one to surprise his fellows with erratic actions, depending on their sheer audacity to confound his adversaries. But such tricks were become old to as long an acquaintance as lay between them. This time Wickham had ever so much more to lose; and Darcy, a host of allies that could pin him down whichever way he might jump.
Darcy arrived at the inn just before three. Ducking his head to enter the public room, he spied his “shadow” watching for him from the doorway leading to the stairs. With a toss of his head upward and a broad wink, the boy silently informed Darcy that the pair was still to be found above. Casually placing a guinea on a nearby table, Darcy acknowledged with gratitude the urchin’s information and was rewarded with a look of surprise that, he imagined, rarely crossed the world-weary child’s face.
This time, the place was set into order. Wickham opened the door upon a room where clothing had been packed away, bottles removed, and a sturdier table and chairs had replaced the former hazards. “Darcy,” he greeted him awkwardly and motioned for him to enter.
“Miss Lydia Bennet.” Darcy bowed to the young woman perched on the windowsill. At a look from Wickham, she scrambled down and offered him a curtsy. “Mr. Darcy,” she replied guardedly.
“Lydia, my love, go down to the cook and bespeak something to eat.” Wickham took her hand and led her to the door. “Wait for it and bring it up yourself; there’s a good girl. Darcy and I have some things to discuss.” With a face that clearly indicated her displeasure at such a task, Lydia pulled her hand away and flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her lest there be any doubt of her feelings.
“Disagreeable chit!” Wickham grimaced. “See what you wish to chain me to!”
Darcy would not allow it. “That was determined when, by your own choice, you bundled her into your carriage in Brighton.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “She is little more than a girl, George, and you encouraged a girlish fantasy that you have yet to fulfill. It is not to be wondered that she is disappointed and behaves like the child she is.”
Wickham granted the possibility with a grunt and took the other chair. He did not look well, even though his clothes were in order and he had shaved. He ran his hand through his hair several times before sitting back into the chair, but even then he did not relax. Noticing Darcy’s observation of him, he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Nervous as a cat! Could not sleep last night, and I do not know why, but I feel as if I am being watched. Makes my skin crawl.”
“ ‘Something in the wind…,’ ” Darcy quoted.
“Yes, that is it exactly! Damned sick of it.” He bit his lip. “Yesterday, you agreed to cover my debts no matter the source, yes?”
“Yes, from your time in Meryton until your wedding day, I will cover them all.”
“It may take some time to collect them. Except for what is owed the officers, I really have no notion of the amount.”
“That shall be yours to accomplish in the next week.” Darcy brought forward the leather case he carried and took out paper, ink, and pens. “Write what you can remember and send for those you cannot.” At Wickham’s alarmed look, he amended, “Have them sent to Erewile House.”
“Oh,” Wickham breathed out, “that will answer.” He looked at the items laid out for him for a moment and raised his gaze back to Darcy’s. “And when I have done all this and married the girl, what next? If you will not give me a living in one of your parishes…” He paused, but when Darcy did not naysay him, he continued, “Then how am I to support this new style of living you insist upon?”
Here was the second hurdle, and to make it all work, Wickham had to be made to jump it with some degree of willingness. “I have purchased you a lieutenancy in the army,” Darcy answered him.
“What!”
“In a regiment that will likely never see action abroad,” he assured him.
Wickham fell back against his chair, his face twitching as he absorbed the revelation of his future. Slowly, he appeared to come to some terms with it. He looked at Darcy. “But I shall need —”
“I know what you shall need and shall provide you the credit to purchase it — what is needful and no more. With prudence, you should be able to live comfortably; with advancement, quite well.”
“Comfortably!” Wickham laughed derisively as he rose from his chair. “And what is your idea of comfort, Darcy? Would you be ‘comfortable’ living so?” He spread his arms, indicating their current surroundings. “I think not!” He leaned against the frame of the room’s one small window and turned his face to the courtyard below.