“Until recently, my wife had entertained only one man in that manner,” said Wickham, casting a superior glance about the room. “Her husband.”
Her husband had seduced her four years ago with ruthless efficacy, but it had all been for sport, the pursuit of winning a bet with their mutual friend. That may have been the most shocking of the things Lydia had learned six weeks before. Had Wickham everlikedher? Or was she always a means to besting others and lightening their pocketbooks?
A man lifted one finger to signal that he had a question. “Until? You see, most of us could find a missish wife at home. With no need for a wager.”
Wickham shifted against Lydia’s side, clearly attuned to something in the crowd. Some new opportunities for perfidy.
George’s fingers pressed into the underside of Lydia’s breast. His message was clear: allow him to talk, play along.
“I see your point, Mr. Fuller, well taken,” said George, his mood lifting suddenly. “I should tell you that Mrs. Wickham recently entertained three men.”
All chatter in that dark room ceased.
“Three men in one night. Officers. Men of experience and taste. I begged her not to go, but what rights does a husband have in these sorry days?”
When Lydia gasped, George’s fingers dug into her flesh most painfully.Hehad wagered her.Hehad lost. And she’d gone to the officers — after years of neglect by her husband — and then trotted home despite their very tempting offer to stay under their protection.
She’d returned to being George Wickham’s wife and drudge only to end up more humiliated and exposed than ever before.
“What rights doesn’t a husband have?” Lydia whispered under her breath for George’s benefit.
“You could divorce her for that, you know,” said a man who spat on the rough floor in disgust.
“Nothing but a slut,” muttered another man, whose tone suggested that he liked the idea in spite of his words.
George cast a baleful look about the room, Lydia still well in hand. “But you see, gentlemen, I cannot renounce her, as I love her dearly. Some parts more than others,” he added with a leer.
It was a lie. All lies. George didn’t love her, and he never had. As for enjoying her favors? He’d left off so much as a friendly touch since just before their wedding. A visit from Mr. Darcy just prior to their hasty nuptials appeared to have turned Wickham off from Lydia for good. That didn’t stop him from romancing other women, though; Lydia wasn’t unaware of her husband’s affairs.
“You must treasure Lydia, my dear wife,” said George, giving her a rare admiring glance. “I cannot control her — you know how women are — but she can at least contribute to the maintenance of the household in other ways…she refuses to lift a finger for domestic chores, the uppity bitch.”
Lydia turned, ready to give her husband the set-down of his life. He spewed many lies about her, but claiming that she hadn’t taken over the labor performed by a maid-of-all-work when theirs left after going unpaid was too much. It was far too much, since her hands were callused and cracked from washing and hauling water.
“Perhaps a man here might test the goods,” said Wickham, squeezing Lydia’s breast painfully, “and report back on whether she’s worth the wager.”
“How much?” shouted one man before Lydia could launch into a diatribe.
Wickham made a show of surveying her body, his fingers over his mouth as if in consideration of her value — but mostly to hide a smirk of delight. Lydia had been humiliated by George’s public affairs and indifferent service in the regulars.
But openly selling her at Meryton’s inn? She’d never been laid so low by this man.
“How much indeed…” mused Wickham. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to one of you fine men staking me in tonight’s game. Use her as you wish, butdo notstick a cock in her. We must leave something for the lucky winner. How does that sound?”
There was a disturbance at the back of the room. Lydia couldn’t bring herself to look up and see what fresh new humiliation approached. But she felt the force of whatever drew nearer; it was irresistible and terrifying.
She pinched her knees together and tried not to consider how she might suffer twice over this night. In her younger years, she might have screamed for help or justice, but she knew none was coming, not for Lydia Wickham. She’d hitched herself to George at all of sixteen, and she’d spend the rest of her days regretting that mistake.
Shoes clicked across the floor, moving decisively towards her. Lydia felt a tear escape her eye.
“You need someone to back you in the game, do you, Wickham?” drawled a familiar voice. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Well, that’s very good of you—”
“Come along, Lydia,” said the man, his aristocratic accent sharper than ever before. “It seems I’ve bought you. For a time.”
Chapter 2
Captain Denny wordlessly ledLydia to one of the sleeping rooms on the first floor of the inn. He’d taken her gloved hand the moment he slapped down some coins in front of Wickham and fairly pulled her out of that dark room, elbowing anyone in his way. Men extended their hands to touch her as she passed, causing Lydia to turn this way and that to avoid their nasty fingers.
