Chapter 18

Eighteen

London

Dusk was settling by the time Colonel Fitzwilliam entered Darcy's study; irritation was palpable in his scowl. "Although I am never surprised by the depths of Wickham's malevolence, this is a new sort of low."

The venom in his tone heightened Darcy's own anger. Tired and occupied by thoughts of Elizabeth, he had come to town by carriage rather than riding; he quickly regretted his decision as the inactivity had led only to dark musings. Now it appeared he was right to think only the worst. "What more have you uncovered?"

"His wife is Mrs Younge's younger sister."

It was a grim twist to an already shocking series of revelations. Fitzwilliam fell into the chair across from him and leant forwards to tell the sordid tale.

"She is ensconced in Sheffield, apparently unwell, and as unhappy as Wickham with their marriage. Mrs Younge made him marry her after he did what he does well and put a babe on her." Tapping his fingers impatiently, Fitzwilliam shrugged. "Could be why she is poorly—the child is yet to be born—but no matter. He is married and makes the chief of his income from mortified fathers.

"He charms them, sweet talks them, shows off his fine clothes and boasts of his prospects and estate, and when the father cannot supply the dowry he demands, he threatens to exit with tales of her dishonour."

Aghast, Darcy stood and paced across the room. "Proposing to innocent young women in a short-lived scheme aimed at ruining them and bankrupting their fathers. He is a degenerate. The lowest of the low." He returned to his chair and leant over it, clutching its back. "He is a fool playing such a dangerous game with the hearts and bodies of young women."

"And their fathers' pocket-books."

"He abandons his wife and unborn child and plays at the edges of bigamy!" Darcy's stomach roiled. Wickham had not an iota of decency in him, disrespecting the name of his upstanding father, squandering the best education and opportunities he was offered, ruining lives and happiness wherever he went. At least, he thought, Georgiana was safe and well, and Miss Bennet would be as well. Now it was incumbent on him to dismantle the wastrel's scheme and end his trail of ruin. "Mrs Younge has proved herself as venal as Wickham if she has been a part of this all along. Which of them was the architect of the scheme to entrap my sister?"

Fitzwilliam shrugged. "I believe she thought Georgiana to be his perfect victim. You would pay him off, and he would have enough to support his wife and child and confine his escapades to cards and gambling."

The cruelty of it! "Quite a dangerous stratagem."

His cousin's eyes hardened as if imagining battle. "Yes, and at some point, he realised the risks in wooing Georgiana. She had the fortune he wanted, but you have the will and power to land him in prison. He dallies with the daughters of tradesmen and minor gentry who can toss him a thousand pounds to go away and leave their girls' hearts and virtues intact. He cannot do this for long. Families and the law would close in on him."

"Had Georgiana not got away, I would have done all in my power to ruin him," Darcy vowed, "and I shall do so now." Sighing, he realised he must protect Wickham's wife and child. Assured by Fitzwilliam of her apparent innocence in the schemes, Darcy vowed to find her a place on an estate far from Pemberley.

A thought came to him. "Wickham told Miss Bennet that he wished to travel to America. Much as he prevaricates, that may be his plan to escape his wife and the law."

"Perhaps we should hasten it or find him a ship to Australia."

Darcy managed a grim smile at that proposal. "We have his direction. Shall we seek him out tomorrow and see which ship his behaviour dictates?"

Fitzwilliam nodded. "I hear Australia is filled with poisonous spiders and lizards. It seems the ideal place for a scaly goat like Wickham."

His disgust had not ebbed two days later, when he finally laid eyes on Wickham.

"Darcy, what is this?"

Wickham rose quickly, visibly alarmed by Darcy's approach towards the corner table he had secured in The Cock his voice took on a hauteur as he read it aloud.

Mr Wickham, I thank you for sending me your direction. However, the complaints of my indolence are quite true, so in lieu of meeting you or forwarding the funds you requested, I have asked our mutual friend Mr Darcy to come in my stead.

He passes on no regards to you; only my lack of regrets, for I cannot release the hand of my beloved eldest daughter to a man such as yourself.

T Bennet

Wickham's face drained of colour; he stared coldly at Darcy for a moment before speaking. "You have no right to interfere in my business. You have intruded enough in my life. Now you wish to ruin my happiness?"

"Your happiness, indeed." Darcy's temper remained high, but he lowered his voice to say, "You endeavour to ruin young ladies?—"

"Ruin?" Wickham chuckled meanly. "Women enjoy every moment in my company. As for Miss Bennet, she is no ordinary lady! Have you met her? Never have I seen such delicate loveliness as hers. It is enhanced by the goodness of her soul. I was enamoured before I realised what was happening. A beautiful woman is my weakness, but she?—"

"Not your only weakness. Money, and the fine life you think you deserve, is your Achilles' heel. Women, drink, gambling, and general dissolution have destroyed your decency. If a shred is left, you will stay away from Miss Bennet and her family."

"Bennet is worthless. He has yet to reply to one letter, to any of my praise for his eldest daughter, or to my requests for her dowry or like compensation."

Darcy slapped the table. "You went after a lovely, kind-hearted lady, not caring how you hurt her, nor that she has four sisters whose reputations also could be ruined."

Wickham looked stricken. "That is the thing of it. I do love Jane. It is as if a thunderbolt struck me from overhead. I wrote her letters full of sincere words of love, and in return, she was faithless to me."

The man was despicable; truth and honour were unknown to him. And yet, if his heart truly was touched, Darcy could not mock him. He was himself learning the pain and joy of loving a woman, yet unlike Wickham, who had set himself on a venal path long ago, Darcy had the right to earn his lady's hand.

"Miss Bennet may have wanted to love you, but in the end, without even knowing of your wickedness, she realised you simply were not good enough for her."

"Liar! Why do you care about Jane, or any of her sisters? Why do you make it your business?" Wickham's eyes narrowed. "You have engaged your honour by involving yourself in my business—in the business of my dear Jane's engagement."

He grasped his glass and swirled the amber liquid in it, his expression changing from peevishness to something more familiar: cruelty. He leant across the table. "Have you stolen her for yourself? Has the great and stoic Darcy fallen for my country jewel? She has the beauty that matters to you, but oh—how your family will protest. You may as well wed a portrait of your mother, so similar are they in beauty."

Darcy had recognised Miss Bennet bore some likeness to Lady Anne—fair haired, with a cool, classic sort of beauty—but he was not drawn to it. Something in his expression must have given away such thoughts, for Wickham laughed. "Ah, perhaps it is her sister who led you to it. Elizabeth is not Jane's equal in looks, but she is far more astute—and far too curious about me. She had more questions for me than did her father." He smiled meanly. "Fortune matters little to you, but had Elizabeth better connexions, and of course, fewer insufferable relations, her fine eyes and pert?—"

Darcy's hand on Wickham's throat stopped his next words. "Do not dare disparage any of the Bennet daughters. Do you understand me?"

Wickham's eyes goggled as he nodded; Darcy threw him back into his seat, his fury now polished to a fine sheen. "Miss Bennet is a friend. I have no further interest in her beyond restoring her reputation and freeing her of you. Which you have made easy," he said, drawing out the words, "by creating a situation which threatens you with utter ruin."

Darcy tapped a finger on the empty glass he would not trust with his lips. "Belated felicitations on your marriage. The poor girl. Do you truly wish to take on another wife, and the charge of bigamy?"

The glass Wickham had been raising to his lips slid from his fingers; uneasiness overtook his features.

"You… I-I was not to marry Jane! No promises were made."

"These letters, and the good and honest word of Miss Bennet, Miss King, and Mr Bennet, say otherwise." Darcy flexed his jaw. "As does the testimony of two other young ladies and their fathers, both of whom require repayment of their dowries and investments into your future."

"I do not have it!"

Darcy's eyes swept over Wickham, noting his panic and taking stock of his watch—a finely polished gold—his silk cravat, and his well-cut jacket. "Duly noted. You lack the coin yet your need for life's niceties is unabated."

"It is my right! I too was raised at Pemberley. It is what your father would want for me."

Disgusted by this particular argument, Darcy rose and walked a few steps to push open a window; he breathed deeply of the fresh air. "My father—and yours as well—would wish your conduct to be that of a gentleman. The fathers of the women you wooed with promises, whose money was extorted and whose daughters' trust and honour were injured? My father would side with them—and with your wife !"

"My wife." Wickham groaned, looking as if he had more words of disparagement for the woman.

"Had you studied law or ever bent your mind towards the education provided you, you might understand what slandering a wealthy gentleman and sporting with bigamy means in a legal sense."

"I abandoned my designs on Georgiana! You should be grateful to me!"

Darcy again gave in to his anger, pulling Wickham from his chair and holding him against the wall. "Never let my sister's name fall from your lips again lest I tear them off!" He took some satisfaction in the fear overspreading the worm's face.

"Should you have attempted to make my sister—and hence me—your victim, I would have found a thousand ways to destroy you. You did not abandon your pursuit of her because you fell in love—you ran from the risks because of your lust."

Wickham squirmed. "No man could resist Jane Bennet's beauty. I was taken in by it, unaware Longbourn is entailed or that her father had saved so poorly"—his expression darkened—"or that she is so very dull and proper. Elizabeth and Lydia, now those two are not only pretty, but their liveliness ensures a pleasurable time could be had?—"

The impact of Darcy's fist pushed Wickham sideways into the wall. He crumpled to the floor, howling. "You broke my nose!"

"Then I am satisfied. You were warned."

Wickham's instincts had slowed due to drink; he had not anticipated a punch . Disgust rose in Darcy as he rubbed his fist and stared down at the man. "Not only is Miss Bennet free of your claim of affections, but word has gone to the magistrates of surrounding counties that George Wickham is not a man to be trusted with wives, daughters, or investment schemes."

Cupping his nose, Wickham struggled to stand. "See here?—"

Darcy reached for his hat. "You have constructed your own ruin. I desire we may be better strangers."

Stepping outside the door, he nodded at the two men awaiting him. Colonel Fitzwilliam gestured for the constable to precede him in and turned to Darcy.

"Well done. Our girl is safe, and so is your lady. Blonde, eh?"

Darcy, careful to withhold his own anticipation, only smiled. "As usual, Cousin, you have it only half right."