A Ride with Mr. Darcy Page 12

  The work soothed Darcy, and he was grateful. He needed the distraction from the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Anger and disappointment vied within him for his attention. And, for now, Darcy was glad to allow anger to take hold. His anger towards Wickham and, to a much lesser extent, Lydia, was fearsome. His hands shook as he tightened the saddle girth and checked the other straps and reins.

  “Are you alright?” Darcy had heard someone enter the stables behind him, feeling their eyes on him as he did his work. He turned to face his best friend.

  “No,” Darcy answered honestly. “No, Bingley, I am not. And at this moment, it is beyond my ability to pretend.”

  “I figured it to be so,” Bingley said with a sigh. “I sense your disappointment, it matches my own. But there is something else here that I do not understand. I know you and Wickham shared a childhood, and I know you have grown apart as men. But there is anger here that goes beyond what we have seen today.”

  Darcy finished preparing the horse without answering Bingley’s question. He was Darcy’s best friend and a confidant, to be certain, but Darcy had never shared the depths of Wickham’s depravity with Bingley. There had never been a reason for it, and Darcy wished to save Georgiana from gossip. However, circumstances had changed and Bingley deserved an explanation.

  “To say Wickham and I grew apart is a misstatement,” Darcy said grimly. “For our relationship did not simply dim over the years. It was more than that. I have not said anything to you before because there has been no need, but now I cannot avoid bringing certain facts to light.”

  “Facts?” Bingley asked, confused. “About Wickham?”

  “Indeed,” Darcy said. “You have long known my distaste for the man and his company, it is time you knew why. I cannot bear to relate the entirety of the story, but I will share the most important details.”

  Bingley held up his hand and glanced behind him. Darcy saw a third man enter the stable, and called out to his future father-in-law.

  “Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said. “If you would not mind, I fear I must enlighten you about the character of this man, Wickham.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Bennet said, looking weary already. “Lizzy hinted that there was more to be said and advised that I seek the truth from you.” Darcy’s heart leapt with affection and love. Elizabeth was protecting him already, for she knew how Wickham’s story pained him.

  “She is correct,” Darcy confirmed. “I was about to tell Bingley all and would be grateful to share the tale with you as well. I will only relate as much as I believe will help. However, I think it best if we begin our journey first, for my words are as easily heard on the road as here.”

  “A wise suggestion,” Mr. Bennet said, his eyes darting for the door. He was evidently eager to be off. “There are several directions we will need to check, but all start in Meryton. We can ride together until the village and then break apart for our search.”

  The three men, as well as several servants from both Netherfield and Longbourn, gathered in the courtyard to say goodbye to the Bennet women.

  “You must find her, Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet sobbed. Mr. Bennet held her in his arms, and awkwardly patted her on the back. Mrs. Bennet’s tears and hysterics called attention to her pain, but Darcy could see deep pain etched upon Mr. Bennet’s face as well.

  Anger swelled in him once more, and his determination that Wickham be tracked down and stopped redoubled. He did not notice how tightly his fist clenched his horse’s reins until Elizabeth’s cool hand lightly touched the fist. He gingerly released his grip, and his hand ached with the sudden release of tension.

  “It isn’t fair,” Elizabeth said softly, still touching his hand. Darcy looked down and could see tears in her eyes.

  “No,” Darcy agreed. “It isn’t.” He sighed and wished he had more words of promise, words that would give his intended heart and strength while he was away. But he had no such words.

  “You will be back soon,” she said, as much to bolster her own faith as his. Tears began to run down her face, and Darcy watched with a growing sense of helplessness. He gently wiped away one of her tears.

  “We both know why I must go,” he said quietly. “I am long overdue to collect the debt Wickham owes me. I only wish your sister could have been spared.”

  “Me too,” Elizabeth agreed. “In that, I am much to blame. I knew what Wickham was, knew his past and his sins. I should have warned my sister. Perhaps I would have if I thought it would matter; Lydia is not easily swayed,” she said bitterly. “Does my father know?”

  “He will,” Darcy said. “He must know, though I loathe to tell him.”

  “Nothing you say to Papa will lower his view of you or your family,” Elizabeth assured him.

  Darcy gave her a small smile. It was not the Darcy family honour that he wished to spare.

  “I regret having to alter his opinion of his daughter,” Darcy explained gently. “Georgiana’s honour has been assured, but the same cannot yet be said of Lydia’s.”

  Elizabeth gave a sharp intake of breath.

  “When you phrase it as such,” she said, looking about the yard. “It reminds me that every moment counts.” She pushed away from him and he took to signal to mount his horse. Glancing about, he saw that he was the last one on to be ready.

  “Bring her home,” Darcy heard Jane call quietly. Looking about the yard, Darcy noted that tears streamed down the faces of all the Bennet women. Even Kitty seemed to realise the trouble Lydia had found herself in.

  Mr. Bennet raised his hand in goodbye as he trotted his horse through the gate, servants and not-yet-sons following. They rode in silence until the point where Longbourn’s drive met up with the main road towards Meryton.

  “Now, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said, rubbing his eyes. “What information can you give me that will help us track down this…man?” He spat out the last word as if it tasted foul. Darcy sighed, wondering where to begin.

  “Wickham was a favourite of my father,” Darcy said, settling on the beginning. “Wickham’s family served my family for generations, as the stewards of our holdings. My father loved Wickham as a son, and he was brought up with many of the same advantages as I.”

  “Your father sounds like a generous man,” Mr. Bennet observed.

  “He was,” Darcy agreed. “However, his affection blinded him to the sort of man Wickham grew into. My father’s greatest desire was for Wickham to join the church, and as such, upon my father’s death, his will left Wickham the living of a parish near Pemberley. I believe you know this?” Darcy arched an eyebrow toward his companions.

  “Yes,” Bingley answered. “Such is the tale Wickham tells.”

  “Ah, yes,” Darcy said darkly. “I too have heard Wickham’s version. Allow me to guess what Wickham says next: I refused to give him the living? That he was forced into a soldier’s life because I denied my father’s wishes?”

  “That is what he has told most of the maidens in Meryton,” Mr. Bennet confirmed. “And their fathers.”

  “Lies,” Darcy said flatly. “Utter falsehoods. The living was offered to him and he declined it. Instead, he asked for the value of the living in a lump sum. Knowing my father’s wishes, I gave it to him. I hoped, against my better judgement, that Wickham would use the funds to build himself a life.”

  “You gave him the value of the living?” Mr. Bennet asked, clearly startled.

  “Yes,” Darcy said. “But he had gambled it away within a year. He again came to me asking for more money. This, I declined. I had followed my father’s wishes, but I had no interest in helping Wickham continue his wicked lifestyle.”

  “I’ll wager he did not like that,” Bingley said. “I know Wickham only by reputation, but his reputation is as a man who gets his way.”

  “He was furious,” Darcy confirmed. “And promised me that I would regret spurning him.” Darcy’s hands gripped the reins tightly. His knuckles turned white and he gritted his teeth. “He almost succeeded,” Darcy said, his
jaw tight. “He almost succeeded in eloping with my fifteen-year-old sister. Her inheritance and revenge upon me being his sole motivation. I found out about the elopement in time to stop it, however, Georgiana begged me to allow them to marry—she was convinced she was in love. Against my better judgement, I relented. But it was made clear to Wickham, by myself and my lawyer, that he would never see a shilling of Georgiana’s inheritance. At that point, he left her. She was heartbroken and is only now recovered.”

  Darcy looked up and saw shocked looks upon both men’s faces.

  “I never suspected,” Bingley said. “I knew there had been some trouble a year back with your sister, but I never dreamt it was something like this!”

  “Very few know the truth,” Darcy said, rubbing his forehead. “Not even my aunt knows the extent of it all.”

  “A wise choice, knowing Lady Catherine,” Bingley said, an amused smile on his lips.

  Darcy nodded in agreement. However, he noticed that Mr. Bennet rode along, looking ashen.

  “He has tried this before?” Mr. Bennet asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Darcy confirmed, guilt welling up within him. “I should have told you the moment I noticed Wickham paying attention to your daughters, please forgive me.”

  “No,” Mr. Bennet said, shaking himself. “There is nothing to forgive. I knew the measure of the man as soon as he opened his mouth, and I did nothing either. The fault lies with him and him alone, not with the honourable men who have the misfortune of knowing him.”

  Darcy felt a flood of relief go through him. He did not know how much he feared Mr. Bennet blaming him until he learned the man did not hold him accountable. Darcy hoped he could take Mr. Bennet’s words to heart and stop blaming himself as well.

  “Do you think they are headed to London?” Bingley asked as they came upon Meryton.

  “I pray they are headed north, to Scotland,” Mr. Bennet said weakly. “If we cannot stop them, elopement is the only possible outcome that will save the family.”

  Privately, Darcy agreed, but he doubted Wickham’s willingness to actually marry the girl he had carried away. He prayed he was wrong, but he thought it unlikely they were headed north.

  “There are two roads north from here,” Bingley said. “I suggest that you, Mr. Bennet, take your man and go one way. Darcy, you take the other. Though I hope that London is not their destination, I think it best to check that way as well. I and my man should take that direction.”

  “Well said, Bingley,” Darcy agreed. “At most, they only have a few hours’ head start on us, and will be travelling by coach. We are well placed to overtake them. Let us search until late afternoon, when the coach must have stopped for the night. We should still be able to return to the village by full dark. By then, one of us will have found them.”

  Darcy hoped he sounded confident in his plans, for in truth, he was anything but.

  “And if we have not?” Mr. Bennet asked quietly, giving voice to Darcy’s own doubts.

  Darcy glanced back at him. Colour had not yet returned to his lined and worried face. However, at this time, giving into despair was the worst thing they could do.

  “Then we will have a better idea of what we are looking for,” Darcy said confidently. “If one of us discovers the trail, but cannot overtake them, send an express rider back here for the others, agreed?”

  Bingley and Mr. Bennet nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Good luck, gentlemen,” Mr. Bennet said, turning his horse northward. “I am grateful for your help and pray that our efforts are fruitful.”

  Darcy watched the other men move swiftly down their trails. He turned his horse to the second northern road and kicked into a gallop. The mount would not be able to keep this pace for long, but Darcy needed to feel the wind in his hair, needed the rush of excitement the gallop provided. He knew there was an inn a few miles down the road. Perhaps they had seen something, perhaps this would be a quick hunt, Darcy prayed it would be so.

  Two hours later, Darcy saw another inn in the distance. He had already checked in three others, and while two of them seemed to recall a coach driving by, none of them remembered a man and a woman stopping.

  If Darcy found no sign of Wickham and Lydia here, he was certain that they had taken a different road. His horse had been keeping up a quick, easy pace for the last hour, and Darcy judged that the animal was ready to gallop once more—especially since Darcy planned on resting the horse at this inn. He too was ready for a rest; his throat was caked with road dust and his stomach rumbled.

  Darcy kicked the horse into a gallop, and the animal responded quickly. It seemed it was as ready to run as Darcy, and the momentary joy of the movement overshadowed Darcy’s growing anxiety. He did not truly think that he would find Wickham—this was the road leading toward Gretna Green, and Darcy did not believe Wickham truly intended marriage. What Wickham’s goal was, Darcy could not say, but marrying Lydia Bennet was most likely not his end game.

  Drawing near the inn, Darcy saw that a coach was just turning a bend in the road ahead. Darcy sighed, knowing he should check the coach before he stopped. He truly did not think it would be them, but he was a thorough and careful man—now was not the time to set aside those qualities, he thought. So, he bypassed the front of the inn, and urged his horse forward.

  As he drew closer, he slowed the horse to a walk, not wishing to startle the inhabitants of the coach or the animals pulling the conveyance. His horse still outpaced the coach, and he had just come into earshot when he heard a high-pitched giggle break through the air. A jolt ran through him, a flash of memory—a public ball, a girl holding the attention of a circle of militia officers, that laugh. Excitement slowly began to build. Unless he was much mistaken, that laugh belonged to Miss Lydia Bennet.

  However, Darcy waited to take action. He had to be certain, so he kept his horse at the same pace to slowly overtake the coach. His patience was rewarded with the sound of conversation.

  “Wickham, I’m bored,” the whining words floated back to Darcy. “Why could we have not stayed at that inn for a bit longer?”

  “Darling, aren’t you eager to be on our way?” Darcy heard the impatience in Wickham’s voice. It seemed that the man had got more than he had bargained for with Miss Lydia. “You know that we must hurry. If your parents were to find us…”

  “Oh, they won’t care,” Darcy heard Lydia say and he could picture her pouting. “All they care about is Jane and Elizabeth. They probably haven’t even noticed I’ve gone.”

  “Hush,” Wickham said harshly, and Darcy knew that he heard they were being followed. The time to act had come.

  Darcy kicked his horse forward and shot in front of the team pulling the small carriage. The two-horse team neighed loudly in surprise, and their front hooves came away from the ground. Cursing, Wickham struggled to control them.

  “Mr. Darcy?” Lydia breathed in amazement. “What are you doing here?” She seemed neither to notice or care that the carriage had stopped.

  “I have come to take you home,” Darcy said flatly, remembering that some of his anger was directed toward the girl. At his words, Lydia grabbed onto Wickham’s arm.

  “No,” she said, sticking out her bottom lip. “You cannot make me. Wickham and I are going to be married!”

  “Miss Lydia, I have neither the time, nor the patience to fully explain to you what you have done, but please, come home.” Darcy sighed deeply. “Your parents are sick with worry and your sisters cannot believe you will miss their wedding. Everyone wants you home.”

  Darcy hated playing to the girl’s already inflated arrogance, but he suspected this was the only way to get her to agree.

  “Everyone?” Lydia asked, confirming Darcy’s thought.

  “Everyone,” Darcy agreed. Lydia’s grip on Wickham’s arm loosened.

  “See here, Darcy,” Wickham said, sensing that he was losing control of the situation. “You cannot simply show up and stop us. Lydia has agreed to marry me and nothing you ca
n say will change her mind!” Wickham’s eyes flashed, and Darcy’s flashed to match.

  “Perhaps it has never occurred to you, Wickham,” he said through clenched teeth. “But there is a proper way to marry and elopement is not it!”

  “Don’t listen to him, darling,” Wickham said, pulling Lydia close to him. “He cannot understand how we feel about one another, about the impatience of our love!”

  “Lydia!” Darcy said sharply. “If you truly wish to marry him, then your parents will give their consent. But not like this!” Darcy resisted the urge to pull the foolish girl from the carriage and shake sense into her. Instead, he continued to appeal to her desire for attention. “Don’t you want your friends and family to be at your wedding?”

  “It would be nice to have them there,” Lydia said slowly, looking up at Wickham. “I could wear a new dress, and you in your regimentals. It would be such a sight!”

  “Lydia,” Wickham said, attempting to counteract Darcy’s influence. “Our plans…”

  Lydia bit her lip, looking uncertain. Darcy, however, had just about lost his temper.

  “You are not the first,” Darcy said harshly, staring into Wickham’s eyes. “Did he tell you were his only love? Ask him about Mary King.”

  Wickham’s eyes narrowed. Darcy was grateful he had taken the time to ask the first two innkeepers about Wickham and his reputation. Lydia was a gossip, but she evidently did not trade in the same talk as roadside innkeepers and their wives.

  “Mary King?” Lydia screeched, pulling away from Wickham. “That ugly goose?”

  “Yes, apparently, Wickham was in talks with her uncle,” Darcy said ruthlessly, wishing he did not have to break Lydia’s heart to break Wickham’s hold. “Until her uncle realised what a truly awful human being he is.”

  “Shut up, Darcy,” Wickham said through gritted teeth. “Don’t you believe him, Lydia.” Wickham, it seemed, was not giving up without a fight.

  “Did you not wonder why he would not simply ask your father for your hand?” Darcy continued, now taunting the other man. “With two sisters engaged already, your father seems in a mood to accept as many sons as ask.”