“I made it worth everyone’s time. To me, it was a bargain to have the thorn permanently removed from my side.”
“Of a surety, he will never be able to fulfil his ambition to marry for money. You have neatly crushed that dream. The notices were a nice touch, but it is possible he might still find someone to prey upon, perhaps farther away from London than he usually prowls.”
“The notices might thwart one in twenty schemes, I grant you. Not everyone thinks of having a man’s history investigated before signing a marriage settlement. That was only a flourish meant to torment Wickham.”
“He was told his marriage would go into the notices?”
“Yes. But you see, Richard, we are only at half the story of what our old friend has endured.”
“What?”
“You did not think I would leave him loose, did you? I cannot think of anyone more dangerous than Wickham, penniless and displaced, roaming the northern counties.”
“Go on. What did you do?”
“It just so happened that the blacksmith and his sons celebrated the wedding a little too much. They made a great show of being sprawled out, insensible and snoring, in the public room of the inn where Wickham and his new wife were housed. Predictably, Wickham tiptoed away from his new relations in search of some means of escape, and who would he encounter almost half an hour later but Reese?”
“No!”
“Yes, Reese the coachman, known to Wickham from Pemberley, was tooling down the very same street in a gig, having come to Scotland on holiday. He had a little money in his pocket and a few days of liberty and was feeling quite magnanimous. He hailed Wickham as an old acquaintance, expressed shock at how ill he appeared, and you have only to know Wickham to believe that Reese was soon told a specious tale of woe.”
“I am utterly lost, Darcy. You sent Reese to Scotland to rescue him?”
“Bear with me. Wickham claimed villains had taken all his money and meant to do him bodily harm, and Reese, good natured man that he is, offered what help he could. He suggested his means would perhaps buy Wickham steerage on a packet to Canada to be repaid when Wickham made his fortune in America. It was perhaps the last idea Wickham would agree to, but upon hearing shouts behind him, agree to it he did. Theblacksmith’s daughter, you see, did not fancy being abandoned by her new husband and sent her family to retrieve him.”
“You are sure he did not jump ship?”
“I am sure Wickham thought he could take Reese’s money and abort the plan somewhere along the way. But the blacksmith’s sons and a mob of willing confederates recruited from Gretna pursued Wickham all the way to Edinburgh and set up a visible presence on the docks until the tide turned. Wickham is truly gone, Richard.”
The clock ticked in the silence that followed. “It might have been more merciful to kill him.”
“Would it have been more merciful if Wickham killed my sister outright rather than seduce her into an elopement? Think of how Georgiana would have suffered. Someone wise once pointed out the sad fact that what is considered ordinary abuse of a woman is decried as unthinkable and inhumane when applied to a man.”
My cousin leaned his head back in his chair, and after a moment of reflection, he began to chuckle. “I must admit, you exacted a brilliant revenge. When did you become so almighty wicked, Darcy?”
“I believe I have always been so. Either that or some evil spirit has overtaken me of late. I may have sent Miss Caroline Bingley halfway to the madhouse.”
“What? No.”
We talked long into the night, having been separated for some time. As we wandered up the stairs, Richard said, “I say, who is this Bennet fellow?”
I knew better than to squirm or deflect my cousin’s questions regarding my guest. I stood by with an expression of passive goodwill as he expertly quizzed Georgiana on the subject of our stay at Longbourn, her new friends, the Miss Bennets, and her understanding of why Mr Bennet was now a fixture at Pemberley. My sister related the very same information I had given Richard, and though he still looked askance at me from time to time in an effort to ferret out what I was clearly disinclined to tell him, he temporarily gave up the hunt.
Campaigning was hard duty,and my cousin spent time recuperating by the fire. This left Mr Bennet and me time to ponder the shelves in my library, to debate why the Greek literature was placed in proximity to the material I had amassed on the Roman empire, and other friendly arguments common to men who read widely. When we were not thus agreeably engaged, we sat in total silence. We were in just such an attitude when Mr Bennet roused from his reflections.
“I suppose I had better write to Jane.”
“Have you not done so?” I admit I sounded a little shocked by his neglect.
“I should have, but I am a famous laggard when it comes to letters. My daughters would not yet be anxious at having no word from me.”
“The inkstand is just there. Would you like another lamp lit?”
I herded him towards his duty and hovered over him to assure he wrote something to his family. Mr Bennet dutifully scribbled out a few lines.
“What do you think, Darcy?” he said a little proudly and began to read.
Pemberley is just what I think a great house should be. The rooms are chilly in winter, and there are draughts in the halls, but all such miserable elegance is overset by the liberal use of warming pans and bed drapes of imported brocades—double hung, no less. I sleep more like a mouse in a humble nest of down in the barn than the duke down the road who shivers in his palace, and I am striving to be philosophical in my disappointment.
