Chapter 10

C harles Bingley had been vastly surprised when his sisters and Hurst had arrived at Curzon Street in a rented carriage the that evening. He had enquired about why they were not at Netherfield Park, and it had not taken long for Caroline’s untruths to be exposed.

Caring nothing for his happiness, his sister had closed the house, and he was certain she had not paid off the servants like she should have in that case. She proceeded to rent a conveyance, prevaricated to Louisa, and made for London. It did not take much to understand that these were Caroline’s machinations to separate him from Miss Bennet, who in his younger sister’s opinion was not a good match for him. According to her, Jane Bennet was too poor, a fortune hunter, was not of high society, and worse, had relatives in trade.

The first thing Bingley had done was to write instructions, to be sent at first light on the morrow with his courier, to Netherfield Park, to inform the Nicholses that his sister had had no authority to close the house, nor did she have his permission to sack any of the servants. He begged the butler and housekeeper to make sure everyone knew they were still employed, and he promised them extra money to be gifted to each person employed at the estate for all of the unnecessary trouble the former mistress had caused them. In addition, he asked Mrs Nichols to send a note to Longbourn.

Rather than confront his sister after travelling, Bingley decided he would do so on the morrow. Given that his sister did not bestir herself from her bed before midday, Bingley had his man inform her maid that he wanted to meet her with the Hursts at one o’clock in the afternoon.

Miss Bingley cared not for the tantrum her brother was about to have, but she sauntered into the drawing room a quarter of an hour after the time he set. She needed to show him who was in charge.

“Caroline, as you are a quarter of an hour late, it will cost you a quarter of your next allowance, and I will be deducting all of your overspending from it as well,” Bingley barked as he looked at his fob watch.

Before Miss Bingley could launch a vociferous protest, the butler entered the room and bowed to all. “Mr Darcy to see you, Sir,” the man intoned.

“Show him in, he is here to see his friends,” Miss Bingley interjected.

“He is waiting in your study, Mr Bingley,” the butler bowed and left the drawing room.

“We will talk when I return,” Bingley said as he stood to leave. He saw his audacious sister stand to follow him. “As my friend is in my study, he is here to see me. Sit Caroline!”

Something in her brother’s tone told Miss Bingley to be seated. She did so with no good grace, sniffing loudly to convey her displeasure.

Bingley made the quick walk from the drawing room to his study. “Darce…” Bingley stopped speaking when he saw his friend’s extremely serious mien. “What ails you?”

“Your sister! And I do not refer to Mrs Hurst,” Darcy bit out. “I am assuming you did not ask her to join you in London and close the house?”

“I did not, in fact when you arrived, I was about to take her to task for that very thing,” Bingley stated. “If she thinks I am still that puppy over whom she can ride roughshod, she has erred greatly.”

“Then my arrival is at an opportune time,” Darcy responded, looking a little more like himself. “You will not be well pleased, but Mr Bennet sent me a copy of a letter Miss Bingley sent to Miss Bennet before she made her escape to Town. It is a copy made by Miss Bennet. If you or I want to see the original, Mr Bennet is holding it in his study.” Darcy had no intention of allowing Bingley to see the letter from the master of Longbourn which accompanied this one. Before he departed, he made sure he left it on his desk in his study. He was still too embarrassed and felt like he used to feel when his late father would call him on the carpet for something he did as a young boy.

“What on earth did Caroline write that caused Mr Bennet to send it to you?” Bingley asked in amazement. “Can it be so very bad?”

Without a further word, Darcy handed the missive to his friend. He watched as his friend sat in his chair behind the desk and began to read. Like had occurred with Darcy’s reading of the missive, Bingley’s anger built the more he read. “How could she!” he exclaimed in anger, throwing the paper down on his desk. “Not only does she tell more lies in one letter than most of us do in years, but she intimates that I am a rake who toys with women’s affections.” Bingley paused after he said the last. “I am not, am I? I know I have a tendency to fall in and out of love with speed. Am I capricious?”

“You have never acted the rake, and yes, before you matured, you were as you just stated,” Darcy responded with brutal honesty, “However, what I noted of the way you are with Miss Bennet is nothing like I have seen before.”

“So you think I should return and undo the damage my dear younger sister has done? Are you advising me to pursue her?” Bingley wondered. He had matured, but he was still used to relying heavily on Darcy’s advice. He waited while his friend cogitated.

“What I think about your romantic future is not what matters, the only opinion you should give weight to, is your own. Follow your heart, Bingley, I do not believe it will lead you astray,” Darcy replied. Just then the thought struck him. ‘ Do not be a hypocrite. You are in love with a lady, and you ran away like a coward. Yes, you have an almost Sisyphean task ahead of you, all because you did not think before you spoke. However, is she not worth it? ’ At that moment, Darcy realised he needed to follow his own advice.

“That is what I will do, but first I need to go beard the dragon. At least that is what my younger sister thinks she is, an all-powerful being who will bend us all to her will,” Bingley stated as he stood up, a look of determination in his eye. “Will you attend? I am sure you have some choice words for her, and there is no need for you to be polite. It is time Caroline discovered her own insignificance.”

“Yes, I will join you. I do in fact have a few items I would like to discuss with your sister.” Darcy followed Bingley out of the study.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

George Wickham was well pleased with himself. He had been in London on the militia’s purse, and he had bedded two serving wenches. The only negative was that he had not had enough time to convince some young maiden that he was in love with her, and they should anticipate their vows to demonstrate their undying love. The wenches he had tupped worked in the tavern of the inn close to Karen Younge’s house. They were around twenty years of age, older than he preferred, but they were good tumbles, nevertheless.

Spending the two nights in Karen’s boarding house had cost him having to bed her and declare his still undying love for her. It was worth the effort as it saved him the money he had been given for the nights in an inn. Wickham had intended to use the money to win more funds at the tables, unfortunately lady luck had not smiled on him.

All in all it had been positive, so as he rode the regimental horse back into Meryton, his mood was light. As such, he did not notice the disdainful looks aimed at him. His belief in his ability to fool the populace of the towns he frequented gave him a confidence, which would not have allowed him to look for the signs that the opinions regarding him in Meryton had changed significantly.

What Wickham did not know was the extent of his debts to the merchants in the town had become known. Very quietly, so as not to arouse suspicion, Colonel Forster had had the merchants canvassed, after Mr Phillips had reported the few he spoke to were all owed money by the former lieutenant. The amount he owed was more than a few years of a lieutenant’s wages would cover.

When he returned, dismounted, and removed the pouch from militia headquarters from his saddle bag, and handed the reins to the waiting private, Captain Carter’s telling him to report directly to the Colonel’s office did not sound any warning bells for Wickham. Like a conquering hero, he strutted towards the offices. Not even seeing Denny waiting in the adjutant’s office seemed out of place. Wickham entered Colonel Forster’s office and gave him a lackadaisical salute. Denny entered next to Wickham and gave a proper salute.

“Here are the dispatches from headquarters,” Wickham stated proudly as he handed the pouch to the Colonel with a flourish.

Colonel Forster looked past the depraved man who stood before him looking for the entire world like he had single-handedly vanquished the Corsican Tyrant. He looked at his adjutant who gave him a nod telling him the men were in place. Forster looked at the door, and Carter pulled it closed. Neither Wickham nor Lieutenant Denny noticed the door which led into the residence was cracked open.

“Wickham, are you a wealthy man, and none of us are aware of it?” Forster barked.

“No, Colonel, I am not. You are aware of how Mr Darcy cheated me out of the living which had been left to me, so thanks to him, I have not been able to earn a decent living,” Wickham responded with feigned sorrow.

Denny was not sure why he was present, but he knew better than to question the Colonel. He was not aware Wickham owed more than two hundred pounds to the merchants, or that with his loans from some of the officers, himself included, and the debts of honour owed to many was above an additional three hundred pounds. Knowing this would not have told him why he was present.

“Actually, I do not know that. You did tell me all about how you were ill done by Mr Darcy, but if memory serves, you never offered any proof.” The Colonel turned to Denny. “What about you, Lieutenant, did this man show you proof to assure he was telling the truth?”

“No, I was told the same as everyone else, but he never offered any substantiation,” Denny replied.

Wickham shot his friend a look conveying the betrayal he felt. It was ignored.

“You warned me Mr Darcy may try to blacken your name, did you not?” The Colonel asked Wickham.

“Yes, it would not be the first time he has blasted my prospects,” Wickham shook his head sadly. “I suppose he has done so once again, which has led to this inquisition.”

“Mr Darcy has not said one word about you, but I hear you have not been shy in telling your tale of woe to those not associated with you. In fact, you are the one who has been blackening Mr Darcy’s name, and not only to myself and some of my officers, while the gentleman has not uttered your name to any we know,” Forster responded.

“Other than some of my brother officers, I have not spoken of the way I was cheated to anyone. I respect my late godfather too much to do so,” Wickham claimed self-righteously.

Neither man standing before the Colonel’s desk saw Mr Bennet step into the office from the residence.

“That is extremely brown, Mr Wickham. Have you forgotten the hogwash you tried to feed my second daughter at Mrs Hamilton’s card party? Did you forget that when she mentioned her dislike of Mr Darcy, you spun the whole of your tale for her?” Bennet enquired.

His head whipped around, and there standing off to the side was Mr Bennet. Wickham began to worry. Surely if Darcy had said nothing, they could not know the truth. “I-it slipped my m-mind,” Wickham managed.

“Did my daughter mention her aunt used to live in Derbyshire? In fact she lived in a market town where she still has many friends,” Bennet toyed with the man.

“Miss Elizabeth did not mention that,” Wickham ground out. Things were not looking good. He had to begin to think about escape, the doors were both closed and the windows were as well. He thought about diving through one of the two windows, but that thought evaporated when he saw the backs of soldiers outside of both.

“You know the town where my sister-in-law lived. I am sure you have not forgotten the name of the town where you left debts and ruined young ladies, more like girls really,” Bennet drawled. “Then again, given how you have a propensity to run up and then leave debts behind you, you may not remember all of the towns. This one is Lambton, and there are no fond memories of you there. On the other hand, Mr Darcy is known as a fine upstanding gentleman, who paid your debts so the shop keepers would not be ruined.”

Before Wickham could answer, the Colonel turned to Lieutenant Denny. “Were you aware this man is a profligate libertine and seducer of young girls? It was you who brought him to the regiment. I demand to know if you knew that you were bringing a silver tongued devil into our midst.”

“I was not aware his character was rotten, as you have now enumerated. My family and I moved from Lambton when I was twelve, and I had only good memories of Lieutenant Wickham,” Denny responded forthrightly.

“I believe you, Lieutenant, you are dismissed,” Forster granted.

A relieved Denny exited the office. He was not surprised to see four burly soldiers on the other side of the door. Wickham had nowhere to run. Denny was pleased the Colonel had absolved him, but he had seen things which he ignored since Wickham joined the corps. For that he chided himself.

“If Darcy had not cheated me, I would be able to pay my…” Wickham stopped when Mr Bennet interjected.

“Did you take orders?” Bennet demanded.

“No, because Darcy…” Again Wickham was cut off.

“Are you incapable of telling the truth?” Forster shook his head. “We know you were paid three thousand pounds when you refused to take orders, and that was on top of the thousand pounds that the late Mr Darcy gifted you in his will. You signed away any rights to the living, and then when you had wasted the money in two years, you demanded the living, still having never taken orders.”

Wickham was knocked back on his heels. How could they know all of this if Darcy did not reveal anything? “What will happen to me?” he queried dejectedly.

“You are no longer an officer in my, or any other regiment. You have contravened the Code of Conduct you signed, more times than I care to count, so you will receive twenty lashes. There is also the matter of the debts in Meryton to the tradesmen, loans from your fellow officers, as well as the debts of honour which together are more than five hundred pounds. That on its own will have you placed in a debtor’s prison for a good many years. If all of that is not enough, I intend to write to Mr Darcy to ask him to turn over any debt receipts of yours he holds. That will see you in gaol for the rest of your natural life,” Forster pronounced as Wickham became pallid. “We have found two girls you were trying to seduce. Thankfully they did not gift you their virtues, but we will find others if they exist. If it were up to me, you would face a firing squad, but unfortunately you have not deserted or stolen enough to make it a capital offence.”

Bennet saw a look from Wickham towards him, almost like he was about to address him. The libertine looked away, so Bennet dismissed any thoughts about it.

It seemed to Wickham that his legs were unable to support him any longer. Flogged, then debtor’s prison! How could this be? He remembered his almost elopement with the mousy Miss Darcy who had not allowed him to do more than kiss her hand before they were married. He was a lot of things, but even he drew the line at rape. He straightened his back and got a smirk on his face.

“Unless Mr high and mighty Darcy wants his sister embroiled in a scandal, you will have him come here forthwith. He will pay every penny I owe, or I will tell everyone how I compromised his dear little sister at the house in Ramsgate before she agreed to elope with me,” Wickham threatened.

“Tell me, how old was Miss Darcy when you claim you violated her?” Bennet barked.

“She was fifteen or sixteen, old enough to marry, as we planned to do in Gretna Green. I would have had her fortune had Darcy not arrived and interfered. He convinced his sister she did not love me and went away,” Wickham growled.

“And how old were you at the time?” Bennet questioned.

“As I am now, eight and twenty,” Wickham replied proudly.

“Firstly, who will believe the disgraced son of a steward, one who has been cashiered out of the militia, facing the rest of his life in a gaol cell, a man who will say whatever he thinks will help him, with no regard to the truth?” Bennet challenged. “If you had done what you claim to have done, I doubt you would be alive. Is not Mr Darcy related to an earl?”

Suddenly Wickham saw the face of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam in his mind’s eye. What had he done? If Fitzwilliam heard he had said one word against Miss Darcy, his life would be forfeit, and it would not be a pleasant death. He felt a cold shiver traverse the whole of his spine, from his neck to its ending. “I-I m-misspoke,” Wickham stammered. “T-there w-was n-n-no c-c-compromise.”

Bennet and Forster looked at one another. Each man came to the conclusion that allusion to the earl had put the fear of God into the man. Along with that fear, he threw away what he had believed was his trump card to save himself from this fate.

“As I suspected, you are nought but a coward. You will receive your well-deserved punishment at dawn on the morrow. Then once you are well enough to be moved, you will go to debtor’s prison,” Forster pronounced. “Carter,” he called. The Captain entered with two large soldiers. “Clap him in irons, and then throw this wastrel into the brig.”

It was fortuitous that the two soldiers held onto the depraved man’s arms, because his legs would not have supported Wickham as he was taken away.

“You realise he only denied the compromise, not that he attempted to elope with Miss Darcy,” Bennet observed. “She must have an enormous fortune for him to have attempted that. It is not something I will speak of, and certainly not publicly.”

“Nor will I,” Forster vowed.

With the danger to the community Wickham had represented curtailed, Bennet was more than satisfied the man would never be free to ply his dastardly trade again.