“Hold your tongue!” He heard his name called and swung his head around. People were emerging from shops the length of the street. His fellow officers were running back towards him. “Look what you’ve done, you infuriating tart!”
“Release me!” the wench squealed then stamped hard on his foot. “Mr Darcy was right about you!”
“Be quiet!” he snarled in her face. Half the town was bearing down upon him, and she was about to spill all his secrets at the top of her lungs. His pulse thundered in his ears.
“You are vicious and unprinci?—”
“I saidbe quiet!” Addled by alcohol and fear alike, Wickham was unable to think of aught but silencing her before she exposed him to the world as a fraud. His fist connected with her temple, and she crumpled into an insensible heap at his feet.
The other four Bennet women reminded him of their presence with a collective scream. He looked up. People were yelling and running—and very close. He did the only thing he could do. Without a backward glance, he ran as fast as his drunken legs would carry him to the nearest tethering post, purloined the first horse he came upon, and then he ranthatuntil it went lame.
Many hours later, as he cowered in the back room of a pounding house in Edmonton, Wickham cursed Darcy for probably the thousandth time that day. It was all his bloody fault.
THE BEGINNING OF DESPAIR
Thursday 28 May 1812, London
Darcy was midwaythrough a meeting with his housekeeper when Godfrey brought him the morning’s post. Atop the pile sat a new missive from Bingley, bringing an abrupt end to his brief interlude of Elizabeth-free thoughts, which on this occasion had lasted almost half an hour.
He was in no humour to subject himself to Bingley’s raptures on all matters Bennet and particularly unwilling to learn, as he feared he might, that Elizabeth would now be sister to one of his closest friends. He opened a desk drawer, tossed the letter in and slammed it closed again. The rest of the post he put aside to read later and returned to reviewing the ledger before him.
It was not until later in the day, upon returning to the outstanding correspondence, that his niggling guilt was assuaged. A reply from Colonel Forster assured him that Bingley had not written with news of his engagement after all; thus, his letter could be ignored with impunity. Regrettably, the news with which Colonel Forster—and, he presumed, Bingley—had written was far less agreeable.
Meryton
25thMay
To Mr Darcy,
My sincere thanks for your recent communication. It grieves me to report, however, that your warning has come too late. On Saturday last, whilst in his cups, Wickham seriously injured a young woman and left the scene without being apprehended. By all accounts, her condition is considered very grave, and recovery becomes increasingly unlikely. Thus, the charges against him look set to be for considerably more than assault alone.
My men have traced him as far as Edmonton but no farther. If you have any information that might help locate him, I should be grateful to hear from you, or you can pass details directly to Col. Dempsey of the Eight Regiment of the City Militia.
Lastly, I enclose a list of debts accrued in the area by Wickham up to and including Friday 22ndMay, the total of which I have offset against his last month’s salary. I pass on the profound thanks of all the local merchants for your generosity.
Yours sincerely,
Colonel Forster
Friday 29 May 1812, Kent
“Mr Collins, ma’am,” announced the aged butler.
Mr Collins ducked past him and scuttled over to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, bowing as deeply as his corset allowed.
“This is most inconvenient,” she said with a sniff. “I was not expecting you until tomorrow.”
“My humblest apologies, your ladyship, but I come bearing news of a most distressing nature, which I felt it my duty to impartwithoutdelay, for it is imperative in circumstances such as these, and in particular when such cherished and venerable personages and their futures are involved, that no time is wasted that could be better spentputting into place measures that will prevent events progressing to a point at which they cannot be undone.”
“To what events and which personages do you refer?”
He thought he had just told her that. Perhaps he had couched the news in too gentle terms. “I have received word that your nephew Mr Darcy has expressed serious intentions towards a young ladyotherthan your most illustrious daughter—that he intends to affiance himself to another!”
“That is impossible.”
“It ought to be, your ladyship, but my wife has received a letter this morning from her father. The whole of Hertfordshire is apparently alive with the news that?—”
“Hertfordshire? Who is there for my nephew inHertfordshire?”
