Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

WHEN THE CARRIAGE threw a wheel, Mr. George Wickham had to go off and seek someone to repair it. Well, no, this wasn't likely true. He could have stayed in the carriage with Lydia Bennet and sent off the driver for help, but he left before anyone could protest his plan.

He thought he'd simply leave.

He would not seek a new carriage wheel. He would consider this enterprise madness and decide that fate had intervened. He must, obviously, cease his attempts.

He was decided in this, and then he somehow found himself doing the exact opposite. He sought out a man who was skilled in the repair of carriages and they found a wheel that was roughly the same size, and he went back with that man to put the wheel on the carriage.

Why he did this, he did not know.

It wasn't romance.

He didn't mind Lydia Bennet, he supposed. She was pleasant in a number of ways. She was the tallest of the sisters, the most gregarious, and the youngest and silliest. She had been beside herself in joy at the thought of becoming his wife and allowed him to press several wet kisses to her in the carriage, more than Jane Bennet had allowed. Why, every time he got close to Jane, she put up armor, in that way of properly refined ladies, refusing to succumb. But Lydia was pliant and eager. He touched her breast, and she had let out a sigh like nothing he'd ever heard in his life. He remembered her face, inches from his, eyes closed, panting prettily. "Do that again , that was lovely ."

So, he… hadn't.

He had understood, right in that moment, that she was his for the taking, and he could have lifted her skirts right then and plundered her in the carriage.

But he…

Well, there was a reason he was doing this, after all, and it wasn't really about Lydia, it was about something else, something strange and ephemeral and good, and he was actually beginning to despise himself for doing the thing he always did when something good happened in his life.

He had a tendency to destroy every bit of good fortune that came his way.

He didn't want to destroy Lydia Bennet, pretty Lydia, and he didn't want to destroy his connection to the Bennet family, and if he took advantage of the youngest sister like this, it meant that they might be forced into having him in their family, but that they would never really welcome him, that they would always hate him for having done this.

He regretted it all.

But he couldn't get out of it anymore. He was going to have to marry one of them… Jane wouldn't have him. Lydia would do. Maybe he simply needed to do it properly. Or as close to properly he could at this point.

He didn't think he should take her back, because he had kissed her and fondled her and absconded with her. He should take her to Scotland, marry her, and wait until after they were married to do anything with her, do it all with as much uprightness as he could manage at this point.

Then, he arrived back at the carriage and Mr. Darcy was there.

Along with Mr. Bennet, who shot him a look that wasn't reproachful but rather full of confusion and hurt.

Mr. Wickham didn't like that look. It reminded him too much of the look his own father had given him, before his father had said, Georgie, I think it's best if you don't try to come back here anymore, not after what you did to the little Darcy girl. I shall always love you, but that is not the way I raised you, and you know it.

Mr. Wickham hung his head.

Mr. Darcy approached him. He gestured with his head for Wickham to come with him, and Wickham left the carriage repair to Mr. Bennet and the driver and the man who'd come along with the new wheel.

They walked off into the darkness. It was dark at that point. He had left in the darkness with Jane Bennet, and now it was dark again.

Mr. Darcy had his hands in his pockets. He had never seemed hurt when they spoke after the incident with Georgiana. Darcy had seemed cold and disgusted. He'd washed his hands of him and told him, Because of the love I bore you when we were boys, I shall go easy on you.

He supposed, in the end, there had been little consequences, but the punishment had been the way Darcy had shuttered himself that way, cutting off everything between them.

"You just like them young, then," was the first thing that Darcy said, his voice deadened and resigned.

"What?" said Wickham.

"It's some perversion in you, liking barely grown girls," said Mr. Darcy.

"Perversion? Men marry women that age all the time."

Darcy snorted.

Wickham cringed. "In truth, Lydia was just the first of the Bennet girls I came across after I left London this morning."

"What were you doing in London?"

"Attempting… I don't know," said Wickham. It didn't even make sense, that was the thing. Why not marry Jane? Why try to simply bed her? How had he thought that was going to end up?

"You don't know why you were in London?"

"I was there with Jane Bennet."

"What?" Darcy rounded on him, his expression horrified and bewildered .

"I just… I decided I needed one of them and it didn't matter which one."

"What were you doing with Jane Bennet?"

"I…" He shifted on his feet. "Much the same thing as I am doing with this one, I suppose. I don't know if, when we stopped in London, if I meant that I was never going to take her to Gretna Green, but I started second-guessing it, and she took that badly and ran off. I swear, I've firmed it all up now, and I shall see it through with this one."

"Oh, Christ," said Darcy. "You can't marry both of them. What do we do about this?"

"Well, Jane doesn't want to marry me—"

"She ran off, in London? What? On her own? What were you thinking, letting her do that? You have already shredded her reputation, you imbecile. You utterly shortsighted, cowardly blackguard!"

"Don't hold back," muttered Wickham.

And then there was nothing but the darkness and Darcy swearing incoherently under his breath.

"Fitzwilliam?" said Wickham eventually.

"What?"

"Do you remember the way your father could be?"

"What are you on about?"

"Those lectures he would give us both about how regard was never given, always earned, and how anyone could be cast out if they made a poor choice."

"It's surprising you remember that."

"Did you ever wonder if he loved you?"

"What sort of question is that?"

"What if you'd done what I did," said Wickham. "What if you'd run through money or made mistakes with women or—"

"I didn't."

"But what would he have done if you did?"

"Well, you waited to do all of those things until after he was dead."

"I did," said Wickham. "I knew… I knew he didn't, I suppose. Love me. Or you. Or anything. "

"Attend to me, George, and closely. You know nothing about my father." Darcy's voice had grown heated.

"I thought you and me… never mind."

"What I'd like to do right now is knock you down," said Darcy through clenched teeth.

"Oh, yes, I think you'd manage that," said Wickham sarcastically, who had many memories of physical contests between the two of them and knew quite well that he'd likely prevail.

"To the devil with you," said Darcy. "We're going to London, I think. We must find Miss Bennet, and then we must sort through this right mess you've created—"

"I thought, you and me, it was us against him in this way. We'd get in trouble together and I remember you saying it to me, more than once, that if you ever had a son, you wouldn't treat him the way your father treated you. So, I suppose I thought that you and I, that we were…"

"I said a number of things when my father was harsh with me," said Mr. Darcy tightly, "but he taught me lessons about the way the world works, and I am grateful to him for that, in the end, and I don't think my boyish whining means anything."

"I thought we were brothers, I suppose. Really brothers. But we never were."

"If we'd been brothers, you wouldn't have treated Georgiana like that," Darcy rejoined hotly. "Maybe I thought we were… maybe I thought…" He sucked in a noisy breath, holding Wickham's gaze. "How dare you?" he seethed, and then he stalked off, through the darkness, back towards the carriage.

MR. DARCY ESCORTED the party to London. Mr. Bennet's worry and ire was mightily increased when he heard about the plight of his eldest daughter, but in that, they were pleased to discover that she was safe and sound with the Gardiners when they arrived at Gracechurch Street that evening.

The Gardiners had been apprised of the situation with Lydia due to a frantic letter delivered from Mrs. Bennet. They were obliged to send word back to tell her the situation was evolving.

Mr. Darcy left Mr. Bennet and Lydia there and took Wickham back to his house in town. He didn't want to give the man a place to stay under his roof, but neither did he wish him to escape. He sent word to Rosings to summon the help of Colonel Fitzwilliam, but his cousin arrived sometime after midnight, with a breathless tale of his day.

He and Bingley had been to Meryton, seeking Wickham with the regiment there. When they discovered he was missing, they had gone to inquire with the Bennets, and from them, they'd had the rest of the story.

Richard told him that both he and Bingley were competing for Miss Bennet's hand, and Darcy said that was rather quick. He pointed out that if the situation weren't what it was, he would likely not be speaking to Richard.

"You had every chance to ask her to marry you," said the colonel. "I assumed you simply weren't going to do it."

"You knew how I felt about her," said Mr. Darcy. "Some things are not done between friends and relatives, you blackguard."

Richard shrugged.

"And now, you've just switched to Jane Bennet?"

"Oh, it seems there's been a lot of switching back and forth between these two sisters," said Richard. "I hear you claimed to like her first. That's what Bingley said."

"I only said that because I didn't want to take Elizabeth from Bingley."

"Except you did," said Richard. "It's hypocritical for you to judge me, that's all I'm saying."

They had a conversation with Wickham about how he would marry Lydia, and he agreed readily enough before he started in on how they should have a bit of seed money to establish the marriage and Mr. Darcy had to rein himself in from strangling that man.

They locked Wickham in, he and Richard, and took it in turns guarding the door.

And then, the morning came, and Wickham was gone.

Out the window, even though his chamber had been on the second story. He ought to have broken his leg going out of it, but he seemingly hadn't done so.

Richard said that when they found him again, they should put a bullet in his throat.

"Or maim him permanently so that he cannot get away," said Darcy.

But they were lucky in this, for one of his servants had spoken to Wickham when he went to the stables—claiming, of course, he had the will of Darcy himself to be there and to have a horse. Darcy was furious that anyone had believed him, but he was grateful for the information about where Wickham was heading, so he decided not to sack the fellow.

Wickham was on his way back to Rosings.

Why?

"Anne," said Richard.

"Oh, but that…" Darcy grimaced. "Why?"

"I think she gives him money sometimes," said Richard. "Or maybe they're still lovers, I don't know. He convinces women to do mad things for him, you know. Look at Mrs. Younge."

"I think we should shoot him after all," said Darcy.

"I've been saying this all along," said Richard.

Well, there was one good thing about going back to Rosings. Elizabeth was there.

ANNE DE BOURGH coughed on pipe smoke. Perhaps that was enough of that for one morning. She pressed down on the tobacco inside with a pipe tamper, extinguishing the smoldering bit inside, and then dumped it out onto the grass .

Mrs. Jenkinson was here somewhere, because she was required to be nearby, but Anne did not see her anywhere, which was exactly the way she liked it. She gazed out at the spring flowers, thinking to herself that she was lucky that Georgiana had not decided to accompany her this morning. She liked Georgiana, actually, but she was always being scolded not to be a "bad influence" on her younger cousin, and Anne had little means of being anything other than that.

Across the stream, a rider appeared. She squinted, for a moment thinking that it was Fitzwilliam Darcy back, but then recognizing it as Wickham, on one of Darcy's horses.

Wickham saw her and waved frantically, motioning for her to come closer.

Really? Another visit from Wickham so soon?

She wasn't sure if she wanted to speak to him. She simply stared at him, doing nothing.

Eventually, he urged his horse to jump the stream and trotted over to her. Dismounting, he said, "Didn't you see me there?"

"Yes," she said with a shrug.

"So, why didn't you come to me? I was motioning for you to come."

"I'm not a dog to be summoned," she said tersely.

Wickham rolled his eyes. "I want you to go back to what you were saying the other night."

"About wanting me to fund your marriage to Jane Bennet, because—"

"No, not that. About how I didn't have an elusive defect."

She didn't even remember saying that.

He sighed. "You said that maybe the reason that the Darcy family disowned me was because of my behavior, not because of, you know, me . That if I'd behaved better, they wouldn't have disowned me."

"Yes," she said. "Well, I should think that was rather obvious."

"For most people," he said. "But you and I…" He shrugged.

She had to admit that it was true. She took pity on him. " Yes, I suppose," she said. "I suppose we are both constantly testing people to see if they will really and truly accept us. For my part, I would say that I don't hurt other people, Georgie. You have done material damage to people you claimed to love like family—"

"Well, you're all right," he said, looking her over. "And you're the only one of them I actually managed to get my prick into."

"Thank you for saying it like that ," she said witheringly.

"You know what I mean," he said. "I never did anything with Georgiana, not really, and nothing with either of these Bennet girls. Well, I might have been a bit too wayward with my hands with Lydia—"

"George! Is there some part of me that looks interested in hearing about this?"

"You're really rather mean, did you know that?"

She only smiled.

"Right, right. Well, I didn't come here to talk. I came to listen. So, you think…" He blew out a huff of air. "What if I started behaving better, instead of testing to see if people would betray me or not? What if I assumed that as long as I wasn't awful, they'd like me? Do you think I could ever win them back?"

"That's not up to me, George, but people are frightfully sentimental, sometimes, so it's not out of the realm of possibility, I suppose." She shrugged. "But how is it that you're going to behave better?"

"I just will."

"Oh, as if it's easy?"

"Maybe it's not easy for you," he said. "Maybe you do have an elusive defect or what have you. I think maybe I just thought there was something wrong with me, likely because of things that old Darcy used to say to me. He'd make me feel like I was bound to go wrong sooner or later, as if I must be on guard against it all the time. But what if I'm not? What if I could just have a life, a nice life with a pretty girl who likes it when I put my hands on her, and dinners with her family, and a place to belong? What if I could have that? "

"I suppose you could," she said.

He nodded, as if he were thinking hard about this.

"Is that all?" she said.

"Maybe there's nothing wrong with you either, Anne."

"Depend upon it, George, I am horribly flawed," she said.

"I guess so," he said, nodding at her.

Something about that, about how readily he agreed with her, made her deep-down furious.

Later, she had an urge to smoke a pipe, but she took the pipe and the pouch of tobacco and her flint and went all the way down to the stream and tossed it all in and watched it float downstream.

She wasn't giving up the pipe to be ladylike or anything.

She just was beginning to think it was stupid to want to do something only because it ruffled other people's feathers. That was a kind of control, really, wasn't it? If she did a thing to upset people, was it any different than doing a thing to please people? Their reactions still ruled her. It was a sort of reverse control, truly.

Anne was never going to be controlled.