A Most Civil Proposal (43 page)

“Still, we
must
send word, for Lydia
is
his daughter,” Elizabeth said. “But is there not something else that can be done? An express to Colonel Forster, perhaps?”

“I have another idea,” said Darcy. “I think an express to my cousin Fitzwilliam might bring more immediate results. He is with his regiment near London, and he can be in Brighton the same day after receiving it.”

“But will he be willing to simply go immediately to Brighton?” asked Mr. Gardiner. “And would he be able to do anything once he arrived? Lydia is not even a particularly close relation, and she certainly will not listen to his advice.”

“As I told you, my cousin is very well acquainted with Wickham’s transgressions with regard to my sister. I assure you that, once Colonel Fitzwilliam reaches Brighton, Lydia might do any number of things, but she will
not
do them with George Wickham. My cousin will make sure that any attempt by Wickham to flee before we arrive, with or without Lydia, will result in his urgent need for a surgeon. My cousin, you see” — he smiled grimly — “is not a particularly forgiving man, and it took considerable effort on my part to convince him to allow George Wickham to continue breathing our air after the affair at Ramsgate. I am not disposed to go to that effort again.”

“Before we arrive?” Elizabeth asked. “What do you mean by that?”

“Our first task, of course, is to notify Mr. Bennet and my cousin immediately. Fitzwilliam will be on his way within the hour of receiving his letter. He can talk to Colonel Forster as a fellow officer and thus ensure that Wickham makes no sudden departures. As for ourselves . . .” He looked at Mr. Gardiner. “The express will not arrive at either destination until tomorrow evening. If we leave within the half-hour and push hard, we can be in Brighton early on the day following. Even if Mr. Bennet acts immediately, he could not be there sooner.”

“I agree, Mr. Darcy. It is exactly this kind of bold, forceful move that could possibly thwart Wickham’s plans, and I am gratified that you would involve yourself to save the honour of my family.”

“My family now also,” returned Darcy, and Elizabeth’s uncle nodded gravely in agreement.

“I will go as well,” said Elizabeth. “I will be needed for Lydia. She will be hard enough to handle even for the two of us.”

“It will be a hard trip, Elizabeth,” warned Darcy. “It might be better if you stayed to attend to your sister and Georgiana.”

“But sir,” answered Elizabeth impudently. “What is fifty miles of good road? And is not the Darcy coach up to the task?”

“Touché,” said Darcy with the hint of a smile curling his lips. “Though in this case, it is closer to two hundred miles than fifty.” He paused then smiled in defeat. “I shall have to be more careful of what I say in the future, my dear,” and he and his wife shared a look of both humour and understanding.

“Very well, Elizabeth,” he continued decisively, “it shall be as you wish. In a half-hour, then?” he suggested, and the travelling party nodded agreement. Seeing that all minds were in accordance, he rang for servants to prepare his coach and to pack a travelling kit of clothing and provisions for the three of them.

Chapter 31

Thursday, July 30, 1812

It was somewhat beyond the half-hour before the travelling kits, provisions, blankets, and cloaks were stowed into the coach and the travellers were ready to begin their journey, but it was a testament to the efficiency of Pemberley’s staff that all was accomplished as soon as it was. After saying their goodbyes to a still-pale Georgiana, a tearful Kitty, and Mrs. Gardiner, they boarded the coach.

“Heigh-up, Stephens,” called Darcy, and the coach rattled off down the road, attended by the stares of the three ladies in the rear courtyard. They watched silently until the coach drew out of sight, and then, equally silently, turned and entered the house, made so much quieter by the departure of the rest of their party.

* * * * *

In the coach, the travellers tried to make themselves as comfortable as possible. Though the coach was well sprung, Darcy had ordered a pace that would maximize their speed with changes of drivers and teams arranged accordingly along the way. Thus, even the springs of his coach were not equal to the task of smoothing all the bumps and jerks of the road.

Though their bags were tied out of the way on the top of the coach, Darcy had kept one satchel with him. Elizabeth said nothing as he opened it to disclose a brace of pistols, inspecting each one in turn to make sure they were loaded and primed but not cocked. Elizabeth did not know Wickham to be a dangerous man or prone to violence, but if it came to a choice between his life and the infinitely more precious life of her husband, she would much prefer Darcy to be armed than otherwise.

When he finished checking the pistols and secured the satchel in a pouch on the door, Darcy put his left arm around his wife and drew her close. He looked over to see the smile on Mr. Gardiner’s face as she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, and he smiled back, both men joined in their love and concern for her. Darcy knew that Elizabeth had planned to tell her aunt and uncle of her pregnancy, but with the events of the day, there had not been time. The paternal look of affection on her uncle’s face, however, made Darcy believe that Mr. Gardiner, or perhaps his wife, had already surmised her condition. He held her tightly as he felt her breathing slow and deepen, and he prayed for her safety, wondering anew if he should have allowed her to come.

As if you were going to stop her,
his common sense told him dryly, and he smiled at that as he closed his own eyes. On a trip like this, he knew, it was advisable to sleep when possible before the accumulation of aches and pains made it impossible.

The long miles passed slowly. Darcy passed out food from the baskets—bread and cheese and fruit, washed down with warm wine in thick mugs. About every two hours, the coach stopped to change teams, and the passengers were able to get out, stretch out the kinks, and relieve and refresh themselves before climbing back in to return to the bouncing journey. Elizabeth napped off and on well into the night, waking once to find the others asleep. It was dark in the coach though the moon was bright, lighting the roads and passing fields so that the driver was able to guide the coach easily. They were travelling more slowly than they had done during the day, which was only sensible, and she could occasionally hear the voices of the driver and his assistant. She knew that her uncle and husband had kept their own conversation to a minimum so that she could sleep, so she sat silently and watched the moonlit fields pass by until they stopped at the next coaching inn.

So the long journey continued with the passengers conversing when they were awake, discussing what might be done at Brighton or moving on to lighter topics such as the theatre or books they had read. When Darcy and her uncle fell to discussing the war news from the continent, Elizabeth listened with interest though she could contribute little. Dawn broke, and the day stretched on, but the unending monotony continued as the miles crept past. It was after dusk when the coach finally clattered into the courtyard of Darcy House, where lanterns were lit and the staff was prepared to assist them. The hot baths awaiting them were a particular delight after the dust of the journey had worked its way into every part of their clothing and skin. When she was clean, Elizabeth joined Darcy in his bed and fell asleep instantly in his arms, only to be roused while it was still dark for the last leg of their journey.

The coach rattled through London and onto the road to Brighton as the sun began to come up, and the routine of the day before continued. It was just short of noon when the driver called, “Mr. Darcy, sir! Brighton ahead!” The passengers became more alert at the signal that their excruciating journey was nearing an end. But shortly afterward, the driver called out again, this time with a note of urgency in his voice. “Mr. Darcy! There be a red-coat up ahead, a’wavin’ to us! Do we stop or ride on?”

Darcy reached into the satchel on the door and pulled one of the pistols out then leaned out the window to take a look. “Pull up!” he called suddenly, replacing the pistol as the coach came to a halt. “It is Sergeant Henderson, my cousin’s man. He must have been sent out here to intercept us.”

He opened the door, jumped down without bothering to lower the step, and strode quickly out of sight. He came back with a uniformed soldier Elizabeth remembered seeing at Rosings.

“Sergeant Henderson, may I introduce my wife, Mrs. Darcy, and her uncle, Mr. Gardiner. Sergeant Henderson has been with my cousin for at least ten years.”

“Ever since he was but a lieutenant, sir. He sent me out here to look for ye, so that ye din’t go clatterin’ into town and alert the rascal.”

“Very good. I assume that means he has not yet flown away.”

“Aye, sir. The colonel has had words with this Colonel Forster, and a watch has been set on Wickham and on the young lady.”

“Excellent. Then we are in time. How does my cousin want us to proceed?”

“If yer coach will follow me, I’ll take ye to the stables and then lead ye to the colonel.”

“Very good! Lead on, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Henderson led them around to the other side of town before he then took them through a number of winding streets until they came to a large courtyard. Two red-coated soldiers swung the heavy gates open at their arrival and quickly guided the coach inside.

The door was opened immediately and the step swung down. Darcy took the satchel with the pistols with him before he helped Elizabeth out.

She grimaced as her feet hit the ground. “I do not believe I have ever hurt so much before,” she told Darcy, trying to stretch the kinks out of her back.

“But, Elizabeth,” Darcy said with an innocent expression, “what is two hundred miles . . .”

“ . . . of good road! Yes, yes, I know, and you
did
warn me, sir. But I still hurt.” Darcy only smiled at her and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“If ye could follow me, sir, I’ll take ye to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

The three followed Sergeant Henderson into a building and then out the side door, going down an alley for several minutes before coming to a whitewashed house. The sergeant knocked on the door — three quick raps followed by one more. The door opened a crack as the person inside verified who desired entry then was opened by another red-coated soldier. They were led down the hallway to the front of the house, where Colonel Fitzwilliam sat at a table looking out the window.

“Darcy!” he exclaimed, jumping up. “You made excellent time!”

“And every joint in my body aches from every rut and hole on the road between here and Derbyshire,” Darcy said, clasping Fitzwilliam’s hand.

“And I see you brought your courageous wife with you! And her uncle! Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Gardiner, it is grand to see you both, though I wish the circumstances were different.”

“It is always a pleasure to see old friends, Colonel,” said Elizabeth, smiling, “especially when they are showing their worth as you are doing.”

“It is the least I could do, considering you have now given me the opportunity to see Wickham locked up good and proper!”

“Locked up?” said Darcy. “Can that be accomplished? I aimed to prevent him from ruining Elizabeth’s sister, most probably by removing her to Longbourn, but I was unsure of what we could do beyond that.”

“Henderson and I arrived last night and made sure our friend had not disappeared. Once we had him located, the good sergeant did a little nosing about among the local tradesmen. Show my cousin what you found, Sergeant.”

“Aye, sir.” Sergeant Henderson pulled out a folded piece of paper from his tunic. “This be a list of at least some of his debts, Mr. Darcy. He owes near every tradesman in town, and they been starting to make noise about it, so the lads tell me. Almost a thousand pounds, sir, or possibly more. That should be good enough for a spell in debtor’s prison, and Wickham without a friend to get him out.”

Sergeant Henderson’s smile was that of a hungry predator. He had spent his professional life serving a true gentleman, both a good soldier and a good man, and he well knew the strengths and weaknesses of the class. What disturbed him more than Wickham’s offences against
his
gentleman, was Wickham’s pretences to such a distinction himself when he was not prepared to meet the obligations that went with the title. Thus, the sergeant was only too happy to lead the pack to pull the impostor down.

“And Colonel Forster was only too pleased to help,” said Fitzwilliam. “When I told him of what we suspected, he took a closer look into Wickham’s affairs. He found out about the debts, of course, and he also discovered that Wickham has hired a chaise for tonight and was evidently planning to disappear since he does not seem to have requested leave. This is desertion since Wickham is a serving officer, and for good reason, the army really, truly frowns on desertion. Capital offence, at least in some situations, though probably not, unfortunately, this one. Anyway, once the good colonel understood Wickham’s intentions, he became quite offended with our old friend. A good part is due to the intent to desert, of course, but, even worse, Wickham’s plan involved a friend of his wife who was under his personal protection. It was he who suggested that we catch him in the act rather than simply thwarting his plan by arresting him now. That will allow him to be held on any number of charges, from desertion to dereliction to conduct unbecoming.” Fitzwilliam’s teeth gleamed behind his hungry smile. “It does appear that friend Wickham has well and truly stepped into the smelly stuff
this
time, old sport.”