“Unknown, sir. He had a falling out with the carriage driver, who left thereafter, heading south at speed. Mr. Wickham disappeared soon after; there were some murmurs that he had gone to the tavern, but I investigated, and he is not there.”
“Then he may still be skulking about,” mused Fitzwilliam.
“Be that as it may,” interrupted Lady Catherine, “the most important consideration is the need to secure my daughter’sreturn. You may hunt for Mr. Wickham when Anne is in my care.”
Darcy turned a look on Fitzwilliam, noting his cousin caught it and agreed. Though the need chafed at him, it was still not the time to wrest control of her five-and-twenty-year-old daughter from her talons. That conversation was becoming more urgent, though Darcy was aware it would need to involve his uncle. For the moment, he pushed the matter to the side.
“Very well,” said Darcy. “Thank you, Barnes, for you have done well. Now, ride to Luton and gather the men searching there. Once you round them, send someone to Stevenage to retrieve those men, as there is no need to go further north. Then return to Meryton, for we will likely need to mount a search for Wickham.”
“Aye, Mr. Darcy, I will leave at once. The men have orders to wait for further instruction should they find no trace of Miss de Bourgh’s passage, so it should be no trouble to find them.”
“Good man,” said Darcy, with a nod. “Howard, you stay with me and follow us to Longbourn.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Howard.
Given their orders, both men mounted, Barnes already cantering out of the town toward Luton, while Howard waited behind the carriage on his steed. The four travelers returned to the carriage and settled themselves in for the last short leg of their journey to find Anne.
“I say, Darcy,” said Bingley, the moment they were back in the coach, “who would have thought we might find your cousin at Longbourn? I am highly gratified, for it will return me to my friends more quickly than I imagined.”
“Happy for you though the reunion must be,” sniffed Lady Catherine with disdain, “I suspect this Longbourn is nothing but a hovel, and I shall not endure Anne staying in such circumstances for one instant longer than I must.”
“If you recall, Aunt,” said Fitzwilliam, a note of censure in his voice, “Longbourn is the estate that Miss Elizabeth Bennet calls home. I seriously doubt that a woman such as she lives in squalor.”
“Furthermore,” said Darcy, “It shows a remarkable lack of tact to speak in such a fashion.”
“It appears,” added Bingley, “that we must offer our sincere thanks to the Bennet family. While events are unknown to us, it seems they had a hand in protecting your daughter from Wickham. Is that not a reason to offer them some measure of gratitude?”
“Perhapsyoudo not recall,” said Lady Catherine, ignoring Bingley as if he did not exist, “but the Bennet family also claims my jackanapes of a parson as one of their members. I allow Anne to visit the parsonage in her phaeton when she wishes, but they are not the sort of people with whom I wish to allow her to consort.”
“I believe I have had just about enough of your attitude, Aunt,” growled Fitzwilliam. “Kindly recall that these people are gentlefolk. If they do not possess the wealth of the Darcy, Fitzwilliam, or de Bourgh families, they are still excellent people, and as Bingley has said, a family to whom we should offer our gratitude given the succor they gave Anne.”
“Do not make them into more than they are,” said Lady Catherine with a contemptuous wave of her hand.
“I do not.” Fitzwilliam’s reply was clipped, containing enough displeasure to capture even Aunt Catherine’s attention. “I only state the truth about them. Heed me well, Aunt—if you cannot behave yourself, I shall make you wait in the carriage while we retrieve your daughter.”
“You would not dare,” gasped Lady Catherine.
“Believe me, I would,” replied Fitzwilliam, giving not an inch of ground.
“And I will support him,” added Darcy. “Remember, Aunt, that I claim some acquaintance with these people.
“As do I,” said Bingley, his displeasure clear in his glare.
Darcy nodded to his friend. “Whatever their position in society, their descent, or the exact state of their finances, I insist on civility. You will say nothing anyone can construe critical or judgmental, or I will turn the carriage around this instant and leave you at the inn. You may wait for us there if you find it impossible to control your temper.”
While Lady Catherine glared at them all, put out with their demands, she appeared to sense they would do as they suggested and bar her from Longbourn. She huffed her annoyance, but it was an admission of defeat. Darcy had little faith in her ability to refrain from wedging her foot in her mouth, but perhaps if she did, it would give her less opportunity to spew her vitriol.
With that, silence descended in the carriage as they passed the last half mile between Meryton and Longbourn. Darcy had never seen the estate, not having visited it while he was in residence, and as a result, had some interest. The lands had been guided by a hand that knew its business, for it was well maintained, the fields orderly the green shoots that would become the autumn harvest already rows of grain waving in the breeze. The lands to the right of the carriage, which belonged to Lucas Lodge, also appeared to be neat and prosperous, more so than Darcy would have given the proprietor credit when he had been in Meryton the previous year.
Soon the rolling hills, fields, and groves of trees gave way to a small community clustered before the entrance to an estate in the distance. It, too, was tidy, with a few small houses, a blacksmith, and perhaps one or two merchants serving the estate beyond. Then, the carriage passed through a gate onto a gravel drive, smooth and free of weeds as it should be to an estate house beyond, its walls whitewashed with ivy growing inseveral places. It appeared they had come at last to Longbourn.
As the carriage drew away, Wickham watched it go, rage swelling within his breast. He was not too proud to confess to himself that his anger mixed with a healthy measure of fear. Darcy had come, and with him Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. That last name filled Wickham with even more disquiet than he had felt upon seeing the evidence of Darcy’s presence. Fitzwilliam hated Wickham beyond measure and would think nothing of running his cavalry saber through Wickham’s chest should even a trace of an opportunity present itself.
The arrival appeared to put all consideration of any attempt to retrieve Anne de Bourgh from the estate and the custody of those at Longbourn, for she would not long remain there. Wickham did not think he could go up against both Fitzwilliam and Darcy and emerge with his skin intact, not if he had ten men at his back.
Wickham shrank further back into the alley and considered his options. Making for Bristol at once and claiming a cabin on the next ship bound for the Americas was appealing, for now that Fitzwilliam had his scent, Wickham knew he would not rest until Wickham was hanging from a gibbet. That he had no money to purchase passage on a ship Wickham considered a minor inconvenience—he was no stranger to a bit of petty larceny, all that would be required to procure the funds necessary. The question of whether he could claim Rosings was now answered, for he did not think they would allow him to take control of the place, even if it meant murdering him and dumping his body into an unmarked grave.
Was there still a chance to salvagesomethingfrom this business? Perhaps there was, for Wickham could think of several options that would provide him with consolation for the utterruin of his machinations.
