Soon enough, as filthy as he was, Wickham was riding in the most comfortable coach he had been in since riding in a Darcy conveyance some years past. After about a quarter of an hour, they arrived at a house. It was not as large as Darcy House, but like the clothes this St Claire wore, it spoke of wealth.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Charlotte, who was heavy with child, and Richard Fitzwilliam were seated in the drawing room of Fitzwilliam House, the former de Bourgh House, on Berkeley Square when their butler showed their cousin, William Darcy, into the room.
As Ian Ashby had his own house in London, Anne had gifted the house to Charlotte and Richard when they married. She had refused to take no for an answer.
“William, sit,” Fitzwilliam suggested. “What is it? You look rather perturbed. What has overset your equanimity so?”
“Bloody Wickham…please pardon me for my indelicate word, Charlotte,” Darcy stated contritely. When his cousin nodded that she was well, he continued. “He is free! Someone paid what he owed a few days previously. I just received the funds due to me after the fee the prison deducts.”
“As far as we were aware, the parasite did not have any connections who would pay well over a thousand pounds forhim.” Fitzwilliam paused. “Were you told who the benefactor was?”
“No, it was a writ saying Wicky had been set free once his debt had been paid in full. I should go to King’s Bench…” Darcy stopped speaking.
“Do not do that,” Fitzwilliam interjected. “Just leave it with me.”
Thanks to Richard sharing what his true vocation was with her as they rode towards Seaview House after their wedding, Charlotte understood why her husband was so calm. The men and women he employed would soon discover what they needed.
“We cannot do nothing!” Darcy exclaimed.
“William, do you trust me?” Fitzwilliam queried.
“With my life,” Darcy declared. “What has that to do with that bas…miscreant escaping paying the price for his planned actions?”
“Everything,” Fitzwilliam shot back. “Believe me that I will discover what this is about.”
“But...”
“No, William, I cannot tell you more. All I will tell you is that if this is some nefarious scheme, it will be uncovered.”
Darcy knew that look. He raised his hands in surrender.
“William, I am sure you were notified that Jane and Andy were blessed with a son, were you not?” Charlotte asked to change the subject. She did not miss the look of thanks Richard flashed at her.
“Yes. Gigi and I received a letter from Aunt Elaine. We were both very pleased that little Robert and Jane are both healthy,” Darcy responded.
Knowing that Richard never said things he did not mean, Darcy soon took his leave. As much as he did not like being kept in the dark, he knew he needed to step back and allow Richard to do what he needed to do. As he rode the less than half mile back to Darcy House, he wondered if Richard’s reticence about his position was connected to Hurst not being able to tell Darcy more than he had.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
After a week at St Claire House, Wickham was feeling much more like himself again. He was clean and well-groomed, and his benefactor’s valet had found him clothing that fit rather well.
When he looked in the mirror, he saw the old George Wickham staring back at him, a little thinner, but otherwise the same.
Thanks to the bountiful meals, he was quickly regaining all of the bulk he had lost while subsisting on gruel, bread, and water. So far, Mr St Claire had not bothered him, and Wickham was not inclined to leave the man’s house as long as he was living in the lap of luxury, just like he believed was his due.
Darcy and Fitzwilliam had failed. They had left him to rot in that hellhole for many years. Instead, here he was, free and thriving.
One thing Wickham had noted was that there were not many staff and servants in the house, and several of them were deaf. He thought he may have recognised a new manservant whohe had seen in the last day or two as the deaf one who worked for his traitorous wife, but he had never paid attention to the man so he would not be able to be sure it was him. So far, the man had not shown any signs of recognising him.
Wickham was enjoying a cigar and a glass of excellent cognac when the butler told him the master wanted to see him in his study. Wickham stubbed out the cigar and threw the remaining liquor down his throat before following the butler to St Claire.
“Come in, Wickham, come in,” St Claire welcomed jovially. “Take a seat. I wanted to give you time to recover from the forced slavery you had to endure. Very barbaric of our country to allow that. Do you know that since the revolution the emperor reaffirmed that France no longer has those inhuman prisons?” St Claire knew it was a lie, but he was sure that the man before him would have no way of knowing that.
“I always believed the French are more enlightened than the English,” Wickham spat out.
“Indeed. You know, I came to this country during the revolution, and it has been good to me, but in many ways, I think it has lost its way,” St Claire revealed. “To lock good men up like animals just because they are temporarily unable to pay a debt is not the way of a civilised nation.”
