Page 57 of A Life Diverted
W hen he woke up, his head was throbbing, and he felt like he wanted to cast up his accounts.
When he tried to move, he discovered that his hands and legs were bound.
The only option was to scream and pray that one of his friends discover him.
He tried to make a sound and that was when he realised that he was gagged in addition to being trussed up like a bird before it was to be roasted.
He began to panic, and as he lay there, under some straw in the stables he thought back on how he had ended up in this position.
He attempted to remember what had occurred.
One thing struck him forcefully, except for the fact he was not drugged, he was tied up in the same manner he had tied up that troublesome brat all those years ago.
As much as his head was hurting, he forced himself to remember what had occurred that led to his being in this state.
A quarter hour previously:
The huge men had demanded he marry their sister, Jenny Biggs.
“I will happily marry Miss Biggs as I always planned to do. I was planning to return to marry her as soon as my business here is completed. It is all done except for one thing. I need to complete a task which will get me the funds I am owed before I can marry your sister. I have a proposition for you which, if you assist me with it, I will be able to travel back to Dadlington with you and marry Miss Jenny.” Wickham was sure the men were as unintelligent as they were big, and he was banking on them believing him without question.
Brian turned to John with a look passing between them that said, ‘let us hear what this liar has to say.’ “Speak, we don’ ‘ave very much patience,” Brian barked out.
“There is a lady who is holding up my receiving the inheritance I am due, and as long as she is able to do so, I will not have the money I need to marry your sister,” Wickham told.
His self-confidence began to return the more he became convinced he would have them eating out of his hand.
“As soon as she is no longer a problem , I will receive all of the funds I am due and then return to Dadlington to marry Miss Jenny.
The brothers looked at one another. This was the ‘does he think we are simpletons’ look. They needed to know more. “‘Ow can we ‘elp yer?” Brian asked gruffly.
“There are some dishonourable people around the woman who would recognise me, otherwise I would have dealt with the problem myself and already have returned to set a date with your sister,” Wickham claimed. “I did attempt to get close, but alas, it was not possible.”
“Agin I ask yer, ‘ow can we ‘elp yer?” Brian demanded.
“I need you to bring the woman to me, or better still, dispose of her,” Wickham said nonchalantly. “As soon as she is not a problem, I can go to the solicitor’s office to claim my money.”
“We need summin’ to assure yer be ‘ere when we come back,” Brian stated after he saw John nod his agreement.
“Would that I could,” Wickham said with feigned sadness, “but I am short of funds thanks to the woman I mentioned. I am but a poor lieutenant now, that is until my funds are released to me.”
“Yer do ‘ave summin,” John growled. “We seen it in Dadlington, an’ I see the chain now.”
“You mean the gold fob watch my dear departed father left for me. It is all I have of his and could never part with it.” Certain that the men would be moved; Wickham put on his best display of mournfulness.
They were not; they made to turn around.
It was ironic that the watch he had liberated from her father’s safe would be the instrument of her death, at long last. “As much as it hurts my heart, you may hold it until you return.” Wickham had been able to hide this from the men he owed money to in the past, but he had made the mistake of flashing it in Dadlington and wearing it today to impress ladies in Hatfield with his supposed wealth.
He detached the chain from the special hole in his pocket and handed it over to the brother who had been doing most of the talking.
“Now ‘o is this ‘ere lady, and where do we find ‘er?” Brian asked.
“She is called Elizabeth Bennet, or it could be Wendell. But she is at the estate of Longbourn, only a mile to the east,” Wickham pointed.
“She likes to walk and ride. She is about twenty, has black hair and green eyes. If you end her, I will add…” There was a hard knock and a sharp pain to his head, and everything went black.
The Present
He had been so sure the big oafs had bought his story without question. Could it be they simply wanted to steal his watch, and they had left?
How would he eliminate little Ellie Wendell now? His mind drifted back to when he had started to think about punishing the Wendells by stealing money and the precious watch from them, the one which was supposed to be given to David when he reached his majority.
A few days before the thirtieth of January 1794
George Wickham, who at fifteen was the eldest of the group of friends, had become more and more frustrated. Before the little brat, the one the uncle and aunt called little one, came along, he used to garner all of the attention he desired when with the group of friends.
At first when she, Little Ellie , was born, other than Mrs Wendell and the Countess proclaiming her birth a miracle, nothing much had changed.
By April of 1792 that was no longer true.
The brat was walking, running really, and talking, and all of her male cousins were enthralled by her.
This caused them to want to play with her when the group of friends were at Willowmere.
By the time she turned two in March 1793, anything little Ellie wanted, the rest of the group was willing to indulge her. Rather than do the things he wanted, more often than not, they would gratify the brat, especially with her fixation with faeries and pixies.
As time went on, it got worse, not better.
George was well pleased to be invited to spend time with his friends at Willowmere towards the end of January 1794.
For the first day, things had been good again and George had received the attention he believed he was due.
Recently having turned fifteen, he was the tallest of the group of friends, and he was strong for his age.
Unfortunately, he was not as strong as Richard Fitzwilliam, the one in the group of whom he had a healthy fear.
From the next day on, his friends gave in to the little brat’s whims. After two days, George began to plan how to punish the Wendells for spoiling his fun.
He had seen where Mr Wendell placed the key to the safe, the one behind the portrait of Mrs Wendell.
He knew there was a fair amount of banknotes and coins in the safe, as well as something he had coveted since the first time he had seen it when Mr Wendell had shown it to him and others one day.
It was a solid gold fob watch which, according to Mr Wendell, had been handed down through three generations from father to first born son when said son reached his majority .
On the day of the thirtieth of January, Wickham feigned illness and remained in his chamber the whole day.
When his friends —how could they be friends if they indulged that little brat all of the time—came to see him, he acted as if he was quite sick.
Hence, that evening when he said he needed to sleep and make himself well again, no one questioned him.
Mrs Wendell said she would call the doctor if George was not better by the next day.
Sleeping drafts were left, as well as other elixirs.
In order to maintain the illusion he was ill; Wickham poured an amount from each into his chamber pot. That way it looked like he had been taking what he had been told to drink. That fateful evening, he feigned sleep, allowing everyone to believe the sleeping draft was doing its work.
A little after the clock struck one in the morning, dressed in clothing a manservant would wear, he slipped out of his chamber.
Wickham was grateful Mr Wendell did not have footmen patrolling the house at night like they did at Pemberley and Snowhaven.
He slipped down the stairs and into the study, leaving the door cracked in case there was noise to be heard.
The key was in its place; he swung the painting open and exposed the safe door. Using the key, Wickham opened it and removed the strongbox and the fob watch. He opened the strong box, shoved the banknotes into his inside pocket and was busy secreting the coins when the brat walked into the study.
“Come now, Little One, why are you wandering around at night like this?” George used the endearment to make her relax.
“Icky, what you do in Papa’s swudy?” Ellie asked. “It late now, is it not? Why you here,” she demanded, her arms akimbo.
“Are you sure you are awake and not walking in your sleep?” Wickham suggested.
“Why, you silly? I awake. I looking for faeries and pixies. I sure they come into the house at night,” Ellie explained.
“I have seen them,” Wickham claimed. What luck!
He would use this. He thought quickly and remembered the bottle of laudanum in the kitchen.
“There is a magic potion you must drink, and then you will be able to see all of them, even the faerie queen who is flying right there.” He pointed behind Ellie.
“Queen here?” Ellie exclaimed excitedly.
“You cannot be loud, or you will scare her and the rest of them away. Do you not want to see them?”
Ellie nodded emphatically as she placed her one forefinger over her lips.
“Come with me and I will make the potion which will allow you to see all of them. You must remain quiet. Now give me your hand.” Wickham reached out his one hand, and the girl took it without hesitation. Using her love of the damned faeries was perfect.