“It is Georgiana; she is in grave danger.” His voice was hoarse as he handed off the letter to his cousin. “Her letter was dated yesterday. I shall tell you more after we leave.”
“Wickham!” Richard nearly spat through gritted teeth when he read the missive. “I shall kill him if he lays a hand on her.”
Perceiving that something was amiss, Bingley and Lord Deming immediately came forth. Richard had already stepped aside, asking the rider to wait for instructions, and had one of the footmen transfer his bags from his family’s carriage to Darcy’s.
“Darcy,” said Bingley. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“Apparently there is some danger where my sister is staying at Ramsgate,” William hurriedly said to his friends. “She writes that George Wickham is there, and is fearful. As you both know, he is not to be trusted. Thankfully, we are about to leave and shall address this situation as soon as we are able.
“Lord Deming, if you would kindly escort my aunt and Mrs. Walden along with your family back to Town in Richard’s stead I would appreciate it.”
“Of course, Darcy.”
“Bingley, it is good that you are staying on here. Please continue to look after the Bennets and do your best to quell their anxiety over anything they may have overheard just now.”
“You have my word.”
“I charge the two of you to keep this unexpected news as quiet as possible and I shall update you when I am able. As soon as I have spoken with my aunt we shall be off.” Within another fifteen minutes, all was arranged. William handed Elizabeth into the carriage and the Darcy party left Longbourn for London.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
APPREHENSION
Darcy’s Carriage
William sat staring out of the window, obviously disturbed. He had asked Richard to allow Elizabeth to read Georgiana’s letter.
“Who is this Wickham?” she asked with alarm on finishing. “And why would Mrs. Younge allow him unchaperoned access to a young woman not yet sixteen?”
At this point Richard took over the telling of Wickham’s connection to the Darcy family, also revealing some of his unscrupulous habits. As he talked on and Elizabeth asked more questions, William was plagued by unpleasant thoughts of the past.
George Wickham was a man without principle and one who had no qualms in doing whatever it took to get what he wanted. The fact that Wickham had managed to manoeuvre himself into Anne’s good graces while William was at Pemberley with Anna and Georgiana did not sit well. Not only had he been seen about Town as her escort, but it was later discovered that his wife had lent Wickham and his friend, Lord Webster, large sumsof money to cover their gaming debts. Needless to say, Anne’s indiscretion had become the source of yet another argument between the unhappy couple.
“What in Heaven’s name were you thinking, Anne?! Your so-called friends are known gamesters, and they have been using you to finance their addiction. You have no business giving Lord Webster or George Wickham money! Are you aware that these sums total more than eight thousand pounds?”
“Fitzwilliam, how can you be so callous?” she flippantly answered. “My friends were in need, and I found myself in a position to assist them. Between my inheritance and yours, we certainly have plenty. The papers I had drawn up by our solicitor are perfectly legal, and I have no doubt we shall be reimbursed at some point.”
Reimbursed, indeed! George Wickham had been a taker all of his life, and after Anne died, instead of making good on his loan, had the nerve to come around asking for additional monies.
“What can you possibly need money for this time, George? More gaming? Women?” William scoffed.
“If you must know, I am bound for France. It is a personal matter.”
William looked at him with suspicion. “You mean to tell me you would go to France in the middle of a war? What kind of inane excuse is this to garner more funds?”
“It is no excuse, Fitzwilliam; it is the truth. I have a medical condition which needs immediate attention, and there is a physician in Paris who has been successful with his treatments.”
William’s eyes narrowed with the realisation of what Wickham was saying. “George, I am not your keeper. If you have managed to get the French Disease, it is no concern of mine, nor is it my responsibility to fund your little trip to Paris.”
“Need I remind you that I was your father’s godson, and just as your father did, my dear Anne promised me I would always be taken care of?”
“YOUR DEAR ANNE?!” William bellowed. The familiarity with which Wickham spoke of his wife drove William to lose his temper and forcibly grab the man by the throat.
“Let me never hear you speak of my deceased wife in such a manner. She was not ‘your dear’ anything.” He abruptly released Wickham, causing him to stumble.
“And how would you know that, Fitzwilliam, when you spent most of your time at Pemberley? How do you know I did not provide the satisfaction which Anne craved in your absence?” he boasted, while straightening his cravat and pulling his coat taut. “A woman has needs.”
“NEEDS?!” With that, William stepped forward, made a fist and struck Wickham on the jaw. “Get out of my sight, you poor excuse for a man, and never let me see your sorry face again, or you will be bound for debtor’s prison.”
