“We met Mr Wickham last April, on our way to Lambton, at an inn where we stopped,” the woman continued. “He told us he grew up at Pemberley and that your father was his godfather. He was so polite and charming that even I liked him. We were travelling by post, but he offered to take me and my daughters the rest of the way to Lambton in his carriage, which of course we gladly accepted. We arrived in Lambton, and we did not see him again for a while. But a month later, when we were due to return to London, he offered to convey us in his carriage again. He said he would spend the summer in Ramsgate, and I was sure that was the end of our dealings with him.”
The woman paused before she continued. “However, in the autumn, my daughter fell ill, and only then did we discover she was with child. I did not even know when and how it had happened, but she told me — and I believe her — that she had never known any other man but Mr Wickham. I have been trying to find him ever since. I wrote to my cousin Martha, but nobody knew anything about him. Martha told me our only hope was you. She insisted I should apply to you and ask whether you knew where to find Mr Wickham. He must know he has a son. He must take responsibility for it. My daughter has been ill since she gave birth, and the boy is not well. I fear they both might die! I have wasted my meagre savings on doctors. I have nothing left. I do not know what to do,” Mrs Crawford said, apologising for the tears that overwhelmed her.
“Mrs Crawford, you did well by looking for me,” Darcy said, hardly controlling the tumult of emotions. So Wickham had been in Derbyshire last April. How was that possible? Had he plotted then with Mrs Younge to deceive Georgiana? That was very likely, indeed. His head was spinning, and he could not think properly. He finally looked about and, on impulse, said, “Mrs Crawford, Wickham is a wretch who does not deserve to be a father. I shall find him and hold him responsible. But until then, you cannot remain here. You and your daughters and your grandson will be moved into my house. The servants’ quarters are large, and there are several spare rooms. My housekeeper will take care of everything, and you will be provided with everything you need.”
Mrs Crawford stared at him in disbelief, without even wiping her tears.
“If you agree to this plan, of course,” Darcy added, and the woman nodded. Then she suddenly took his hand and tried to kiss it in gratitude.
“Mrs Crawford, for heaven’s sake, do not do that. There is no need, really. I must leave now, but Porter will return very soon with a maid to help you all move. Take only things you value. Everything else will be provided.”
With that, he bowed and left the house, taking a moment to breathe in front of it and calm his rage. Lives were continuing to be destroyed by Wickham because Darcy had not exposed the scoundrel. It was time for drastic measures.
