Ha!” Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed, almost spilling his tea on the newspaper.
“Richard?” his father enquired.
“Listen to this.” The Colonel read aloud:
The body of a young, fair-haired man was found last night in Whitechapel. His hands were tied behind his back and his feet were tied as well. He had been stripped of his boots, coat and shirt. There is nothing to indicate his identity. If his body is not claimed within two days, he will be buried in a pauper’s grave.
“Wickham, you think?” the Earl asked. He had been given all the details of his son’s visit with Mrs. Younge.
“It must be. Truly, I could not be happier. He is dead, but not by my hand.”
“I would not care to defend that position, since you left him tied hand and foot in Whitechapel, but no matter,” his father said, dryly, shrugging and returning to his coffee.
“I must go tell Darcy.”
***
But, as he soon discovered, Mr. Darcy had seen the article himself, for he greeted his cousin by saying, “Best of all possible outcomes, is it not?”
“It certainly is!”
“Let us toast the end of George Wickham,” Mr. Darcy suggested, and the two were soon seated in Mr. Darcy’s study with a bottle of brandy.
“Will you tell Georgiana?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“I think we will have to,” Mr. Darcy said. “For I must tell the Bennets, and I do not want their relationship with Georgiana to be complicated with secrets.”
“You are placing a good deal of trust in the Bennets,” the Colonel complained.
“And they have placed a good deal of trust in me,” Mr. Darcy replied. “For I know the truth of Miss Lydia’s situation and they trust me not to spread the tale.”
The Colonel sighed. “I cannot pretend to like this state of affairs. My parents are completely opposed to the idea of you marrying Miss Lydia’s older sister, you know.”
“I do know, but this will not deter me.” Mr. Darcy spoke evenly.
His cousin continued, “And, Darcy, I have received word from my General that he requires my presence. I have, perhaps, three more days and then I must abandon the search, though the Army men we hired will continue on. You must know, of course, that the girl could not have survived in Whitechapel; and if she did survive, she is not in any condition to be returned to her family. I think you take my meaning.”
“I do,” Mr. Darcy said. “It was likely a hopeless task to begin with, and I do appreciate that you took it on.”
“I do not recall you giving me a good deal of choice in the matter, cousin, but I am sorry it did not come to a better conclusion. Tell me,” the Colonel said, leaning forward. “When do you travel back to your Miss Elizabeth?”
“Soon, I hope. I will visit the Gardiners one last time to tell them of Wickham’s demise, and then I will take Georgiana to Netherfield.”
“You know that Georgiana dislikes Miss Bingley, do you not?”
“Of course; but I think she will very much like the Bennet sisters.” With Lydia gone, it appeared that Miss Kitty had improved a good deal; he believed that the Bennets were now acceptable acquaintances for Georgiana.
“I will tell Georgiana to be ready in – what, two days’ time?”
“Yes. Is it not wonderful how much she likes Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy could not keep the fond tone from his voice.
His cousin shook his head. “You are utterly besotted. Never thought to see the day. If my parents could see your expression just now, they might understand your determination.”
***
The next day, Mr. Darcy returned to Gracechurch Street. “I am sorry, Mrs. Gardiner, to disturb you again,” he began.
“You need never apologise for a visit, Mr. Darcy,” his kind hostess assured him.
