What his host was saying aligned very closely with Wickham’s thoughts on the subject. “I could not agree more,” he said.
“Have you thought about how you will earn money now that you are free?” St Claire asked. As hoped for, the man shook his head. “I have something with which you could assist me.”
“Is this something I must do because you hold my vowels?” Wickham wondered.
“No, Mr Wickham, it is not that. It would be rather hypocritical of me to tell you how much I abhor the way a man’s debts are used against him and then turn around and do the same to you. You wound me to think I am a hypocrite, Sir. You are free to go whenever you chuse, and these,” St Claire lifted a pile of debt markers and consigned them to the fire burning in the grate, “are no more. No man can ever use them to hurt you again.”
“Please forgive me,” Wickham begged. There was no missing the disappointed tone of Mr St Claire’s voice. “Please, call me Wickham, and tell me what I may do to help you.”
“It will benefit you as much as me because if you are able to assist me, at the end of it, I will pay you fifteen thousand pounds. Enough to leave this island and start anew in another country, is that not so, Wickham?” St Claire sat back and allowed his words to sink in. He had not missed the way the man’s eyes had got big when he had mentioned the ultimate reward. The information that he was avaricious had been very useful.
“I am willing to help you for assisting me, but the incentive of the reward is certainly something very attractive. What is it?”
“I work for a secret department in the government, and we suspect that some militia regiments are not following orders as they should and sometimes, even worse than that. What I need you to do is join one and report back anything of significance to me. I will compare what you report to what I know the real orders to be. There are times when militia Colonels contact regiments of the regular army, which they are not supposed to do. That especially is important to notify meabout, and send me the details, so I may have the wrongdoers dealt with properly.” St Claire paused and allowed his words to sink in. “Is this something you think you are able to do?”
“Yes, that should be a task I can accomplish with ease.” Wickham had a thought. “How much does the militia pay, and I assume I would be an officer?”
“Yes, you will be an officer. In fact, a Lieutenant so you do not stand out to the Colonel too much.” Asking about money was so predictable but St Claire schooled his features. “The pay is negligible because most officers are second sons supported by their families. However, I will give you fifty pounds for now, and you will receive twenty pounds per month from me while you are in the militia. If you chuse to gamble, do not incur debts of honour or debts with the merchants. Also, no meddling with young maidens. If you do this for me, you cannot do anything to bring unwanted attention to yourself. Now, is this something you will commit to doing?”
He would be flush, and Wickham knew he could manage to refrain from his preferred activities for the time he was working for Mr St Claire. “I am your man,” he averred.
‘Yes, you are, in more ways than you know,’ St Claire thought. He extended his hand. “Call me St Claire. Welcome to serving your king, Wickham.”
St Claire thought he had slipped by mentioning the king and not the new regent, but thankfully Wickham’s thinking about all the money he would have did not allow him to think of that fact.
“I just realised something,” Wickham said just before he opened the door. “You employ deaf servants because of the sensitive nature of your work.”
“You are correct,” St Claire confirmed. As soon as Wickham left the study, St Claire relaxed. He had thought for a moment that Wickham had realised his error with the king and regent. His hand had been on the pistol in the one drawer, but thankfully he had not needed to use it…yet. The man he reported to would not have been pleased had they lost Wickham before he could be of use.
Wickham was beyond pleased. Like a cat, he had well and truly landed on his feet and his debt markers had been destroyed. Even better, he would come into much blunt, and the militia remained in England so he would not see a battlefield.
Chapter 26
The Bingleys and Hursts arrived at Netherfield Park on the Monday before Michaelmas. One of the party was rather disappointed at the time they had departed Hurst House, which had been as the sun rose, at a quarter before six.
Miss Bingley had fought not to issue the set-down she so much wanted to when her brother told her the time of departure; amazingly, she restrained herself. She was too close to Mr and Miss Darcy joining them—she had dismissed what her drunken sot of a brother-in-law had said about Miss Darcy being hosted at the Bennets’ estate—for her to vent her spleen yet. As soon as she was Mrs Darcy, she would finally be free to let her brother and the Hursts know how she felt about them.
Even if the former Miss Bennet was a viscountess, Caroline Maleficent Bingley did not intend to give the Bennets consequence by noticing them. It had been enough to tolerate their company for the weeks they had been hosted at Hurst House when she had begun her campaign to fool everyone.
Even better, once Caroline married Mr Darcy, the man she deserved to—more accurately his wealth, connections, and properties—she would never be in company with the Hurst brats again. What cared she for a boy of seven, the girl of four, or the newest male whelp who would be one in a few months? Since she had begun her campaign to pull the wool over her family’s eyes, she had needed to refrain from showing the brats they were not welcome. How unfashionable of her sister to pay her children so much attention and spend time with them when she employed nurses and a governess. Children were to be seen only briefly each day when they were needed to be shown off to callers.
At least, she was only riding with her brother in the Bingley coach.
Unknown to Miss Bingley, the manner in which everyone was seated and the carriage they would travel in had been decided with the purpose that none of the Hursts would be subjected to the youngest Bingley’s pinched and sour looks—the ones she thought she hid—or generally be in her company more than they absolutely needed to.
The first Hurst conveyance—the one which had been the wedding present— contained Leticia, Hurst, Louisa, Arthur, and Tisha. Ignatius was in the one following—the old Hurst conveyance—with his wetnurse, two nursemaids, and the governess. The final Hurst carriage conveyed Holcomb, Leticia’s and Louisa’s maids, and one more nursemaid. Bringing up the rear of the convoy was a horse-drawn cart with the bulk of the trunks.
Johns was on the backbench of the lead Hurst equipage, while Biggs manned the one on the conveyance which contained little Master Ignatius.
To a certain degree, Hurst felt bad that Bingley was stuck in his own carriage with the shrill shrew, but he had the comfort of being sure that she would not attempt anything yet. He had told Louisa, and she had agreed, that whatever Caroline intended to do would not happen until Mr Darcy was in residence. He grinned to himself when he imagined how his sister-in-law would react as soon as she realised that he had been serious about Miss Darcy not being hosted at Netherfield Park.
Of one thing Hurst was certain: Caroline would have to be watched at all times, especially once Darcy was in residence.
“Louisa,” Hurst called his wife’s attention to himself. She had just completed reading to Arthur and Tisha. “I had a thought. You know a certain someone will attempt to take charge at some point, do you not?”
The Hursts had agreed they would not speak negatively about Caroline in their children’s hearing, no matter how much the talk was warranted.
“Yes, I am. What of it?” Louisa responded.
