“There is more!” His cousin relished his role as storyteller. “The lady is some sort of invalid. She is often in Bath taking the waters and is quite on the shelf, but some months ago she came to fancy herself in a love match. She had been secretly engaged to some doctor in Bath, and from what the gossiping ladies say, they almost convinced Lord Hindley to agree to the marriage. I guess the earl is not long for this world and wanted to see his sickly niece hap—”
“Get to the point! What has this to do with Wickham?”
“Miss Hareton and her uncle were in London when she somehow caught Wickham’s notice. After he learned about her fortune and the likelihood she might be married, he seems to have formed a desperate resolution. He paid the lady’s maid to let him into their house. Wickham purposely allowed himself to be found in her bed, and there was not a servant in the house who did not know about Miss Hareton’s tainted reputation by the end of the morning. They say her screams of outrage could be heard three houses down the square, and Wickham eagerly told all who would listen how he—”
“Spare me the shocking details.”
Fitzwilliam smirked at his modesty. “Whether or not Wickham was successful, Miss Hareton was considered ruined, and her uncle insisted they marry immediately. Apparently, even Wickham was better than a lowly surgeon. The earl purchased a special licence. They were married on the tenth, and the newlyweds have gone on to Bath.”
Fitzwilliam crossed his ankles and placed his hands behind his head. It was all well and good for Fitzwilliam to be entertained by a scandal, but Darcy was preoccupied with poor Lydia Bennet. George Wickham had left debts with tradesmen and debts of honour wherever he travelled; he had blackened Darcy’s reputation at every available opportunity; he had attempted to seduce his sister for her fortune and had successfully seduced Lydia for revenge; and now he had ruined a lonely invalid. Darcy needed to think, so he rose and paced.
“That man’s manoeuvres of selfishness and duplicity are revolting,” Darcy muttered as he walked by. “He is a dreadful man.”
“You look as though you are planning something, but I cannot comprehend what,” Fitzwilliam interrupted after Darcy paced by a third time. “Wickham cannot be worked on to marry Miss Elizabeth’s sister—he is a married man. I am sorry to be blunt, but your soon-to-be sister-in-law is ruined, and the stigma will follow her and her bastard child.”
Darcy stalked up and down the room, and Fitzwilliam knew enough of his character to leave him alone to think. By the time Fitzwilliam walked to the brandy decanter and poured himself a glass, Darcy was standing in the centre of the room, his jaw set in determination.
“I must go to Bath.”
“Why?”
“Lydia is resolved against marrying anyone else, and her father will never exert himself to force her. Wickham cannot marry Lydia, but he ought to acknowledge his transgression and be made to provide for her child.”
“What do you propose to do? Appeal to his sense of honour as a gentleman? Tell him to take in the child? I recommend you go back to Hertfordshire, marry your pretty betrothed, and then shun the rest of her family as everyone else must and undoubtedly will.”
Darcy heaved a heavy sigh and idly touched the sleeve buttons Elizabeth had given him. “I could not do that to Elizabeth. I will not resign the Bennets to social ostracism without having tried everything. The only way to now preserve part of the Bennet family’s honour is to have Wickham recognise the child. Now that he has access to Miss Hareton’s fortune, Wickham cannot argue that he cannot provide for it.”
“You cannot expect him to bring up the child in the same household with whatever legitimate heirs he produces,” his cousin cried. “The invalid bride already hates Wickham. She would never permit his sideslips to be brought up on equal terms with her own children.”
“The father of an illegitimate child has the duty of maintenance of that child,” Darcy replied firmly. “I will go to Bath to see that Wickham acknowledges it. It is all I can do—save for calling the man out—to see Elizabeth’s family maintain some semblance of respectability.” If Wickham was now married to an heiress, her wealth alone would improve his own social standing. Wickham’s wealthy gentleman’s status as the acknowledged father would determine the acceptability of the illegitimate child. It was not as much as Darcy could have hoped for, but his sense of justice told him to do whatever was in his power to see that Wickham did one good thing in his dishonourable life and recognise Lydia’s child.
“I know you will arrange the business just as you please,” Fitzwilliam replied, “and if you wish to go to Bath to convince the gamester to acknowledge this girl’s bastard, then I wish you well. Shall I accompany you?”
He felt enormously grateful to his cousin. “That would make an unpleasant venture more palatable, thank you. We should leave immediately.”
His cousin laughed. “Some of us have employment. My royal regiment will not allow me to join you in Bath until Friday.”
“Your duties with the Blues are largely ceremonial,” Darcy scoffed. “Can you not leave just as you please?”
“We do not all possess your means to have our own way all the time.” His cousin winked. “Be thankful my expensive commission is in a regiment stationed in London and not the Peninsula.”
Darcy immediately apologised for his thoughtlessness. If Fitzwilliam found this humility at odds with what he expected of Darcy’s behaviour, he was too generous to mention it. He told Darcy to go on to Bath alone and promised to join him by Friday.
“Do refrain from running Wickham through with your blade when you first encounter him, Darcy,” the colonel said with a laugh as he rose to leave. “Or, at the very least, wait until I have arrived before you do.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
Darcy hated Bath. It was already the last place he wished to visit, and that he was travelling to this wretched city to find George Wickham made his approach all the more distressing. He was arriving on a scorching afternoon, and driving to the lodgings he had acquired in Camden Place in such heat, amidst the noisy dash of other carriages, had given him a headache.
His hand came up to his coat pocket and lingered over Elizabeth’s letter folded therein. He had read it twice, devouring her sweet and witty words as a man starved for sustenance. Her spirits seemed improved over what they had been when he left Hertfordshire, but his last letter reporting the devastating news that Wickham was married had yet to arrive in her hands.
Darcy knew he ought to go to the Grand Pump Room, where he was most likely to encounter his quarry. Now that Wickham was married to the niece of a wealthy and prominent earl, Darcy was unlikely to find him in a hidden gambling hell since he could now afford to play with more affluent gentlemen. Darcy would almost certainly be barred from admittance if he followed social niceties and called at Laura Place, where he had learned the new Mr and Mrs Wickham had taken residence. His only option was to engage Wickham socially, and so he resignedly made his way to the centre of Bath’s social life.
The crowd and the heat were unbearable. The Pump Room was full of customers and those wishing to see and be seen, and all the while, the orchestra played from one side of the room. There was a mixture of invalids taking their daily dose of medicinal water alongside parading young ladies attempting to catch a man’s eye. He hoped to avoid being asked to sign in to the subscription book and keep his name out of the newspaper. He did not wish to make Wickham aware of his presence by having his name published along with the other visitors to Bath.
Darcy loitered in and around the Pump Room for the greater part of the day, but did not see Wickham. Today was Wednesday, and tonight’s amusements would be confined to concerts instead of dancing. Darcy had little reason to hope that he might find Wickham in a concert hall. He walked back into the brilliant sunlight, too tired and in too distressed spirits to loiter in the card rooms tonight to look for Wickham. Unwilling to draw attention to himself by visiting every place in Bath that might have a card table, he instead left his card for Bingley, who was still in Bath with the Hursts.
The first instinct of Darcy’s heart had been to give in to his resentful nature and cut all ties with Bingley, but he had thought better of it. While he could not condone Bingley’s treatment of Jane, Darcy could at the least let him know he was in Bath; it was the civil action to take. He walked in the heat and humidity, which kept him in a perpetual state of inelegance, from the Pump Room to Hurst’s lodgings near the Crescent to leave his card.
