“We have not decided if you should face the justice of the army, when your crimes against the residents and travellers in Hertfordshire are so much more vicious than simple desertion. Our intention is to deliver you to The Old Bailey for a criminal trial.” Fitzwilliam watched as the blood drained from Wickham’s face.
“No! I am a deserter of the army! The execution will at least not be public! Darcy, the least you can do for the memory of your father is to ensure I do not die a slow, public death, if my death by hanging is not swift!” Wickham was panicked. “And what if someone makes the connection, you know many people attend the hangings, your father took me everywhere with him while you were too busy studying, I am known to be connected to your family! You must do something, for both our sakes!”
“The least?” Darcy demanded. “The least I could do? Wickham, I think theleastI could do is return to my betrothed, and assure my sister that she never need fear your name again. Instead, I am here on behalf of another pitiful young girl whom you have harmed irreparably, so if I do anything to improve the end of your short life, it will be for her, not for you.”
“You will marry Miss Chickering by license before you leave this house.” Fitzwilliam was forbidding. “Upon signing the register, you will take your mother’s maiden name of Lovett. You will then be conducted to London, where you will be tried and die under the name of Wickham. Whether this occurs at The Old Bailey or the army barracks will be determined by your obedience in this matter, and your conduct in the presence of Miss Chickering and her father. You will not play the devil-may-care rascal, Wickham. You will be solemn and subdued. You will make little to no eye contact with anyone, especially the girl, and you will speak as little as possible. You will say nothing to your bride other than to refer to a pressing need to go and make your fortune on the sea, and that you will miss her terribly until your return.”
Fitzwilliam’s voice turned even more menacing. “If you stray from these instructions, if you say anything to anyone other than these instructed responses, if you lash out at any point and say something hurtful to Miss Chickering, or insulting to her father, I assure you, Wickham, I will ensure that the trip to London will be the most painful journey you have ever made in your life. I can promise you with equal dedication that Icouldensure thatcertainmen in the army get their hands on you, and if that happens, your fond dream of a swift death by firing squad will be the furthest thing from your end that you can possibly imagine. Do you understand?”
Wickham, knowing that he was well and truly finished, and accepting that there was nothing that Darcy could do to help him even if he wanted to, nodded, trembling in terror of the few days ahead of him. His last days.
“Darcy, will y-y-ou make him keep his p-p-pro-m-m-ise?” Wickham stammered in fear.
Darcy sighed. “Wickham, if you can show this one simple kindness in your whole miserable life, if you can just quietly marry this girl, sign the register, do or say nothing that will bring her or her family more pain, and give legitimacy to what I pray will be your last-born child, I will do what I can to make what remains of your short life reasonably comfortable, and to attempt to ensure you the most merciful possible execution, which is more than you deserve. I assure you, I do it for the poor young lady, not for you, but you have my word.”
An hour later, the new Mrs Lovett was sobbing into her father's coat over being parted again from her true love, and Wickham had been shackled (out of sight of his young wife) and loaded into a padlocked wagon. The party then headed for London.
What followed in London was swift. As promised, Wickham was delivered to the army barracks, along with a packet of evidence from Sir Gregory Sayles, and from Wickham’s victims, many of whom had visited Flitwick Hall to identify him and sign statements once he was caught. Darcy produced his numerous debts, and by some miracle, his commanding officer just so happened to be visiting headquarters. Colonel Forster was able to testify as to the general useless at best, and outright selfish and ruthless at worst, nature of the disgraced officer. Wickham was sentenced to die the following dawn by firing squad. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam kept their word, and ensured that the cell in which he spent his last night had a decent bed and blankets, and that a hearty last meal be sent to the doomed man. In one last attempt for mercy – of a sort – Darcy also arranged for a bottle of strong whiskey to be sent to Wickham late that night, hoping the man would be intelligent enough to save it for the last hour or two before dawn. Wickham hadneverenjoyed being sober, always preferring the dullness of inebriation, and so if–for the sake of his father–Darcy could at least dull the terror of execution for his old playmate, he would try.
They spoke little as they rode on horseback to Matlock House. “Will you come in and speak to the pater?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“I will, but not immediately. Allow me to visit Darcy House and change for dinner. Tell Aunt Eleanor to set a place for me at the table.”
“Very well,” answered Fitzwilliam agreeably. “I believe I will stay with my parents. Since I will be here for only two nights, I might as well give my mother the thrill of having me at home.”
“In that case, I will take all of my meals at Matlock House. I am certain your mother will be agreeable, and it will save my staff from wasting effort on me alone for such a short stay. I can easily walk over to Grosvenor Square from Curzon Street in under ten minutes.” Darcy had no objection to spending some time with his aunt and uncle before he wed. It would give him an opportunity to undo any damage to Elizabeth’s reputation that might have been caused by Lady Catherine, who had gone to London upon leaving Meryton, and was sent on her way again by the Matlocks, His Aunt Matlock had already responded positively to Mrs Bingley’s invitation to her ball and their nephew’s wedding. They would even travel on Boxing Day to arrive early for it.
The following morning, an hour before dawn, Darcy left his house to find his cousin waiting for him on horseback. Darcy mounted his horse, and the two men grimly made their way to the army barracks. Darcy would not usually have been admitted to a military execution, being a civilian, but no one questioned his presence with Fitzwilliam.
Wickham’s death was as disappointing as his life. The bottle of whiskey was an utter failure. Instead of numbing Wickham and enabling him to face the moment calmly, the opposite occurred. He died without honour, having been dragged–sobbing–to the execution post, and at the prompt to speak, his last words had been a blubbering gibberish of terror. Darcy regretted attending, and knew he would live with Wickham’s begging in his ears for the rest of his life, but it had been necessary for him to see that the end was indeed final.
The men returned silently to Matlock House and broke their fasts with Richard’s parents and brother.
“It is too bad about Wickham, but I always knew that boy would come to a bad end,” Lord Matlock observed as he cut into a thick slice of ham. “You are not wrong of course, Richard. There would have been nothing I could have done in such a situation, it simply went too far for anyone’s intervention. Even if it had been one of my own boys, the only way I might save you would be to put you on a ship and send you away before you could be caught, as so many families have done in the past with their fallen sons. Since Wickham was already in the custody of the magistrate, there would hardly be anything anyone could have done, even your father, Darcy.”
“I think that by this point, even my own father would have given up on Wickham, as everyone else had.” Darcy was subdued, but trying not to let his disposition from such an unpleasant early morning experience affect his short visit with his family.
“When are you young men returning to Hertfordshire; can we not convince you to stay for Christmas?” Lady Matlock wheedled just a bit.
“I am afraid we must return early tomorrow morning, Aunt. We have promised Georgie.” Darcy stirred his coffee. “I am to meet with my solicitor for the marriage settlement today, and retrieve a few items frommy strongbox. After breaking our fasts with you tomorrow, I believe we ought to be on the road immediately after.”
“Do not object, Mater.” Fitzwilliam grinned at his mother. “We shall all be together again in Hertfordshire in less than a sennight.”
“Tell me about this girl I have been committed to dancing the first with at this ball, brother,” drawled Viscount Heatherden. “Rather forward of you to just select my first partner of the evening without my ever having met the chit.”
“Miss Mary Bennet is the next younger sister of Darcy’s bride,” Fitzwilliam answered. “A perfectly lovely girl, and ever so kind and friendly to our Georgie. Well ironically, Bingley’s sisters look down upon the locals, and a guest of the house party who is connected with one of them–a clergyman, no less–snubbed her and all of the ladies of Meryton by association quite openly,andin her own mother’s drawing room. If you can believe it, only a few days later, he had the temerity to ask her to dance the first at the ball at the breakfast table! As you can imagine, I could not countenance her being obliged to accept or sit out, so I only interrupted and said that her first was spoken for, but not by whom. I can partner her if you object, which is likely what she is expecting, that I must intend to dance it with her, but I believe that she could do with a degree of distinction amongst her peers. It would not harm you to place a feather in a young lady’s cap.”
“What sort of young lady is she?” Heatherden asked curiously.
“A good girl, but not what London would call fashionable, though Georgie is dragging her out of her shell in that regard.” Fitzwilliam dipped his toast in his egg. “She is twenty or so, I believe. A pious girl, who has not found her confidence, but has many merits. A good young woman who does not deserve to be degraded, most certainly.”
“Richard, you are such a hero.” His mother tittered.
“I know, Mater.” Richard gave a long suffering sigh. “That is the lot of the second born son. To charge into battle, defend fair maidens, and uphold the family honour…and I do it all so well, do I not?”
The following morning, Fitzwilliam and Darcy broke their fast with his family, then Fitzwilliam kissed his mother’s cheek and clapped his father on the shoulder and informed them that he looked forward to seeing them soon at Netherfield. Then with Darcy’s marriage settlement and a selection of jewels for Elizabeth and Georgiana to wear at the upcoming ball stowed in his cousin’s saddlebags, the men mounted their horses and departed London, heading north to Hertfordshire.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
