Elizabeth watched in the mirror while he worked on her hair. She told him how she and Jane would tend each other’s hair every night and how much she enjoyed brushing Anna’s hair. She could not help but giggle as she watched his expressions change from extreme concentration, to frustration, and finally to one of satisfaction.
All in all, it took William nearly three quarters of an hour to slowly untangle Elizabeth’s mass of curls. When he was finished, he proudly stated, “There now, you look as lovely as ever. Although, for my part, I would not mind if you wore your hair loose like this every day.” He leaned over, pushed her hair to the side and kissed her neck. “Not to mention it smells heavenly and is quite alluring.”
Quickly rising and turning in his arms, she said, “It would not be practical in the least, dear husband. Even so, I am delighted with your sentiments and above all your efforts. It will make it much easier for my maid, who is not nearly as adept at dealing with my hair as Molly is.”
“Does this mean I may try again this evening?”
Giggling, she responded, “Without question.”
As the two of them laughed out loud, William picked up Elizabeth and twirled her around in his arms. When he finished, however, he did not immediately put her down. Instead he held her close and tenderly kissed her on the lips. As their kisses deepened, and his ardour began to rise, William carried her to her bed, where they stayed for another hour before getting up to begin their day.
Reluctantly putting those thoughts aside, William reached into his desk drawer and removed a fresh sheet of paper. Taking a sharpened pen in hand, he began addressing the first correspondence. He had just finished sealing the second letter when his butler knocked on the door, announcing the Earl of Matlock.
“Uncle,” said William rising from his chair. “I did not expect to see you this morning. Has something happened that I should know?”
“Yes. Wickham has regained consciousness, although he is in a very bad way. The message I received says he is asking to see you.”
“Me?! Unbelievable! I nearly lost my wife, my daughter, and my sister because of that man!”
“I understand. The note says Wickham continues to be fevered and has developed some respiratory issues. Because he is so weak, he is not expected to last the day. Perhaps he wishes to make amends and clear his conscience.”
“Huh! I highly doubt that!” Raking his hand through his hair, William finally said, “Very well, give me a few minutes. I would like to inform my wife where I am going.”
“Certainly. I shall wait for you in the carriage.”
The Gaol
William was not in the mood for conversation as the two men travelled the distance to the gaol located in an undesirable section of Town. The area was not kept up, and the visible sign of garbage and rot in the streets was disgusting. The building itself was little better. Though there were no signs of human waste, a foul stench permeated the halls as the two men asked for admittance to where Wickham was being held. The dimly-lit room was not large, and there were three other inmates in poor health who shared the space.
On entering, William said through gritted teeth, “Uncle, this place is appalling. It is no wonder Wickham has not shown any improvement. Heavens! My cattle are treated far better than these poor souls.”
“Darcy,” a gravelly voice barely audible called out. “Is that you?” Wickham’s enquiry was followed by excessive coughing, drawing the men’s attention to where he was laying in the corner.
“I am here, Wickham,” William answered, moving to the side of the bed. “What is it you wanted?”
Wickham managed to choke out a brief laugh before saying, “Always to the point, are you not? No niceties for your old chum?”
William did not respond.
“How do you like my accommodations? I thought surely you would provide better for old time’s sake.” He tried to laugh butended with another violent cough. “Too bad you never paid up while you had the chance.” His speech remained broken. “You will wish you had when I tell all.”
“Tell me what, Wickham? What could you possibly have to say that would be of interest to me at this point in time?”
Trying to calm his breathing, he mockingly said, “I had them both, you know. I admit, there was little sport in your sister, a mere child who was heavily sedated, but your wife was … so very lively and full of passion. Did she tell you of our night together at the boarding house? How I fondled her and how she writhed in my embrace? I doubt it,” he laughed sardonically. “You may have been the first to have her, but assuming she is now with child, you will never know if your firstborn is from my seed or yours. Such a good joke! What is more, after our joining she is now infected with the French disease, as is Georgiana. And assuming you have had your way with her since her recovery, you, too, are infected! A fitting end to our relationship, is it not?”
“Wickham, you disgust me. I shall not demean my wife or sister by listening to you and your vulgar lies any longer. Uncle, let us leave. I have had enough.”
“Yes, Darcy, walk away. Leave me to die in this hell-hole! If you had lowered your standards a bit and paid me the money I asked for after Anne died, this never would have happened. I could have gone to France and you could have gone on with your self-righteous life and your precious wife. Instead, you have deprived me of the best years of my life!”
“Wickham, you are mad. You were given more than you deserved from my family, many times over. It is not my fault that you chose to throw it away and bedded every whore from here to God knows where. I have no qualms about what has passed between us. It is now on your head, and I have nothing more to say.”
At that William and his uncle departed, leaving Wickham to croak out obscenities as they did so. His rantings did not cease until moments later when they were interrupted with uncontrollable coughing, followed by a choking sound. Wickham screamed out in pain and suddenly all went silent. William and his uncle stopped where they stood, looking at one another, speechless.
Just then, the jailor exited the room and hurried towards them, calling out, “Your Lordship, Mr. Darcy, George Wickham is dead. May God have mercy on his soul.”
Sighing, William opened his purse and removed a few coins. Placing them in the jailor’s hand, he said, “Here is something for all of your trouble. Be sure that Mr. Wickham is placed in a proper coffin. I will make arrangements to have his body removed later this afternoon.”
“Thank ye, sir,” the jailor greedily said, looking from side to side before accepting the coin and hurrying back to the cell.
