Chapter 25
After sending Mr Bingley off on his romantic errand, Darcy did not remain in Netherfield House for long. It was essential to tie up any last ends that needed his attention before he departed for Pemberley. He was at once eager and reluctant to go. The first thing weighing on his mind before he exited the Meryton scene was to ensure Wickham answered for his crimes. He must not be allowed to slip away from responsibility as he had so easily done in years past. And so, on that dreary winter day, he made his way to the county prison.
Motivated equally by the inclement weather and his own weariness, Darcy took the coach. He had not slept well the night before, and he suspected it would be some time before he did again. Elizabeth did not want him. He had known it was a possibility that he might not win her heart by the time they proved their innocence. And yet he had begun to hope…
When that hope had been crushed the evening before, he had known he could not simply sit about feeling sorry for himself. If he was to recover his spirits, he would have to keep himself busy at all costs. He would return to Pemberley and seek the solace of his sister’s unchanging affection for her big brother. He would try to forget.
But how could he forget the woman who had become a part of his heart and soul?
“Can I help you, sir?” a constable asked as he entered the brick-and-mortar building. Iron bars covered the glass-paned windows, of which there were few. No doubt to keep those incarcerated from getting any ideas of escape. The overall effect was impressive, even foreboding — exactly right for a man who had showed himself to be as unremittently depraved as Wickham.
Darcy pulled himself out of his private musings and back to the present. “Yes, I hope so,” he replied. “I am here to speak with Constable Rathers. It concerns a case involving a Mr George Wickham.”
The constable raised a brow. “Chap they brought in late last night?”
“Yes,” Darcy said, wondering if something had happened to make them release the louse already. “Is he still here?”
“To be sure, sir. Not about to let that one out of our sights. I heard a little of what happened with the — gentleman, I suppose I shall call him — last night. Constable Rathers is here as we speak,” the man said. “I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Darcy only had to wait for a few minutes before he was shown to a dim, colourless room, its only furnishings a table and two wooden chairs. Constable Rathers bowed and offered him a seat across the table. “I am surprised to see you here this early, Mr Darcy. Is all well at Netherfield?”
“To the best of my knowledge. I came to ensure that Wickham does not escape justice this time. As I am sure you can guess, he has had a wild past, and answered for none of it.”
“Well, there is one thing you can do to help us ensure he answers for his actions. You can file a charge against him,” Constable Rathers said.
“What would the charge be? I should like to keep Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s name out of the scandal as much as possible.”
Constable Rathers thought for a moment. “I suppose assault might do. He did attack you after all, if not in any particularly deadly fashion. It is a charge we could pursue without having to bring Miss Elizabeth into it —”
A knock sounded, and Constable Rather looked up at the door, looking rather peeved at the interruption. “Come!” he called brusquely.
The constable that had greeted Darcy in the foyer pulled Rathers aside and spoke low, though not low enough to escape Darcy’s hearing. “There is someone who says they urgently need to speak with you in confidence. It is about the Wickham case.”
It took all Darcy’s self-control to avoid demanding an explanation without delay. He listened intently.
“It cannot wait?” Constable Rathers asked. “I am speaking with Mr Darcy about that same case now.”
“I do not think you will want to put this person off, sir. He says it is urgent.”
“Please go, Constable Rathers,” Darcy said quickly. “I have no objection to waiting, not when the delay may bring forth valuable information.”
Constable Rathers nodded. “We can only hope. In that case, please excuse me, Mr Darcy. I will do my best to make it short. Please wait here.”
Though he could have no regrets in sending Constable Rathers off for an interview that might be of material importance, Darcy was not ecstatic about being left alone with his thoughts. He had already spent much too much time pining over Elizabeth. It was foolish, idle, for nothing could change the painful truth that she did not want him. He had tried, and he had failed. Her relief at the chance to dissolve their engagement made it all too clear. She did not love him, and that was the end of it.
Yet his thoughts still wandered to her. Darcy could not help but wonder what she was about at that moment. It was late morning. Perhaps she was in her parlour, sewing something, or reading to her sisters. She had a very expressive way of reading that pulled her listeners in. Darcy had often daydreamed of what it might be like for them to spend the evenings together in the informal drawing room at Pemberley, listening spellbound as Elizabeth read aloud. Georgiana would have gained a wealth of knowledge and insight from her would-be sister-in-law. Now, they would never know what joys could have awaited them. Georgiana would continue to pine in loneliness and silence for the wrongs Wickham had done her.
Darcy took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. He must not allow himself to forget why his interview with Constable Rathers was so important. Though Elizabeth was safe, he must ensure that Wickham could not hurt any other unsuspecting young ladies.
The door opened again after a quarter of an hour, and Constable Rathers poked his head around the frame. “Mr Darcy? I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Will you come with me?”
“Has something happened?” he asked, his wariness growing at the look on the constable’s face. Darcy rose from the chair, going around the desk to the door. “Has Wickham escaped?”
“No, there is no way he could have escaped, I assure you of that, Mr Darcy.” Constable Rathers said. “I have just had a very interesting conversation. If I am not mistaken, you will wish to learn what my visitor has come to impart. Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Darcy said. He followed Constable Rathers to another room, which looked more like a study than the cheerless room in which he had waited. “Mr Darcy, may I present Colonel Forster? I believe you may have been introduced in Meryton. He is the commander of Mr Wickham’s regiment.”
Darcy did recognise the man. While he was about ten years his senior, and his hair showed the first touches of grey, he was a powerfully built man with the upright spine of a long military career. They had been at the Meryton assembly, and had greeted each other at the Netherfield ball, among other events.
