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Darcy did his best to shake off his melancholy and those who knew him certainly noticed that he smiled more and appeared easier in company than was his usual tendency.

He stayed close to Elizabeth and she smoothed his way through conversations, giving him small smiles or brushing his hand when she saw he needed a bit of encouragement.

It was quite late by the time the last guest was shown to the door.

Elizabeth and Jane joined Georgiana and their fiancés outside for a few minutes as they all waited for the Darcy carriage to be brought around.

While the others chatted about the party, Elizabeth and Darcy strolled arm in arm down the street a short ways, enjoying the gathering twilight as well as the chance to be together.

Seeing the coach turn out of the mews and knowing that they had only a few moments left, Elizabeth turned to the tall man beside her. “Mr. Wickham’s trial is tomorrow.”

Darcy nodded, no longer surprised that her mind had followed a similar path as his own.

“Fitzwilliam.” He stopped and gave her his full attention while she reached to take his hand in her own.

After standing thus for a few moments, she gave a small laugh.

“There are so many things I want to say… and others I feel that I should say. When I think of what Mr. Wickham tried to do to Georgiana and Lydia, and what he did do to so many others who were less fortunate… I have a most unchristian desire to see him punished to the full extent of the law.” She paused for a moment, but then words tumbled out.

“Yet, to argue for the death of one whom I once considered to be a friend seems almost like matching his betrayal with my own. A death sentence is so very… final. Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say… ”

Elizabeth would have turned away had not Darcy pulled her toward him. “No, you’re expressing exactly the struggle that I feel; it is just that you have attempted to articulate it, while I did not even dare to try.”

Will rested his forehead against hers and they stood thus for several moments before he whispered, “I don’t know what I will do tomorrow. I can only hope that the General is impartial enough to make a fair decision, for I fear I’m too full of conflicting emotions to see any of it clearly.”

Lizzy smiled up at him. “You’re a good man. Whatever you do shall be correct.”

“Darcy!” called Bingley, and the couple turned to see that the others were awaiting them at the carriage. United, they turned and retraced their steps.

Before he followed his sister and friend into the carriage, Darcy squeezed her hand and whispered, “Thirty-six.”

The next morning, Mr. Wickham was woken early, allowed to shave and given a clean uniform to wear.

After spending several nights in a dim cell with various other prisoners, the man was a little rattled, but he still managed to assume an air of brazen confidence when he found himself conducted to the staff meeting room.

“Ah… Darcy, Fitzwilliam. How excellent to see you both again. Now we can work out this little misunderstanding.” Even sporting some impressive bruises, a broken nose, and a missing eyetooth, George Wickham played the carefree gentleman with ease.

His greedy eyes worked to gauge the moods of the two men opposite, guessing at how much money he might demand to keep quiet.

Hearing the door open behind him, Wickham turned and his confidence slipped slightly. “Colonel Forster. Sir…”

“Lieutenant Wickham… This is General Arlington and his adjutant, Mr. Pickering.”

The two colonels and the general acknowledged one another before seating themselves at the table while Wickham was left to stand at attention before them.

Darcy moved quietly to take a seat in the back where he could watch all the faces.

Despite the gravity of the situation, it amused him to see that George did not appear to recall Pickering from school and had immediately set about trying to impress the stranger with his most gentlemanly manners.

Once the officers had settled themselves and arranged their papers, all eyes turned on the defendant. Mr. Wickham began to suspect that he was in rather more trouble than he had assumed.

As they had decided beforehand, Colonel Forster began. “Lieutenant George Wickham. You have absented yourself from my regiment without approval. Do you have an explanation?”

“Of course, sir. Miss Lydia Bennet requested that I take her to town…” Wi ckham paused to smirk at Darcy and relaxed a bit, certain that his godfather’s son would quickly put a stop to the proceedings in order to preserve the reputation of his fiancée’s family.

Colonel Forster removed two sheets of paper from his folder.

“Yes. We have an affidavit from Lieutenant Sanderson indicating that he observed you in a regiment vehicle at a quarter past five in the afternoon on Tuesday, on the south road out of Meryton, stopping to speak with a Miss Lydia Bennet for several minutes. You then assisted her into your vehicle and departed at speed toward London.” Forster handed this note to the General who skimmed it before nodding.

Squaring another paper before him, the Colonel continued, “Second, we have an affidavit from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Forster nodded to the silent gentleman in the corner, “stating that you delivered the young lady to her father, Mr. Thomas Bennet, at the White Hart in Buxton, eleven miles south of Meryton, at approximately seven that evening.”

“That was a fast trip,” muttered the General, taking the second page from Forster and eyeing it carefully.

The Colonel nodded and looked sharply at Wickham. “Indeed, sir; one might say excessively fast. I myself examined the mare he took when I was in Buxton on Wednesday. She was lamed, perhaps permanently.”

The General grunted and frowned—one of his greatest headaches was keeping the militia adequately supplied with horses. The unnecessary injury to one was not viewed lightly.

Forster continued, “I have interviewed Mr. Bennet myself and, although he received his daughter and took her under his protection immediately upon her arrival in Buxton, it had not been arranged beforehand and there was no emergency. Mr. Darcy has testified that, after delivering Miss Bennet to her father, Lieutenant Wickham attempted to depart immediately for London. Upon realizing that the horse he arrived with was too lame to continue, Lieutenant Wickham then attempted to steal a saddle horse from a civilian on the street, but was rendered unconscious in the attempt.” All four men looked at Wickham’s blackened eyes and swollen jaw.

“The owner declined to press charges, but Mr. Darcy, having known Mr. Wickham since childhood and, guessing his intentions, took charge of the Lieutenant and delivered him here to Colonel Fitzwilliam on the following day.”

The General nodded to Mr. Darcy, “My thanks, sir.” Arlington then turned to the accused.

“Lieutenant George Wickham. As I understand it, the charges against you are absence without leave from your regiment, misappropriation of a regimental horse and vehicle, and injury through maltreatment of said equine. You are not charged with attempted theft of the civilian’s horse, but the action will be considered as evidence of your intentions on the day in question.

Do you have a response to these charges, Lieutenant? We will get to the others in a moment.”

At this point, Wickham was mildly concerned but still believed that he could force Darcy to halt the proceedings in order to save the Bennet name.

Thinking quickly, he began with an obsequious smile, “Certainly, sir. This is all a misunderstanding, you see. I arrived in Meryton on Monday evening rather late—my squad had been set a special assignment to pack up some last equipment and bring it up from Brighton after the flood, you see—and we were given Tuesday off. After making sure that my men were settled, I went for a walk—I’ve always loved the countryside, you see, and wanted to explore a bit.

I came upon Miss Lydia Bennet in the lane.

I’d met her and her family on a number of occasions and considered her a friend—a little sister, if you will. ”

He couldn’t resist smirking at Darcy to see if his remark drew a response.

Seeing nothing from the stone-faced gentleman, Wickham could only turn back to the General and continue spinning his tale.

“Miss Bennet was wild to get to London and convinced me that there was no time to spare. I knew that her two eldest sisters were traveling to town with their father and her desperation made it seem that was some sort of family emergency. Miss Lydia assured me that she was acting according to the direction of Mrs. Bennet; as an officer and a gentleman, I felt obliged to assist.”

Wickham thought quickly over what bits of truth and lies would best suit his needs before setting his silver tongue to work.

If he could make it clear that Lydia Bennet had spent a great deal of time alone with him, unchaperoned and not in a speeding gig, he was certain that Darcy and Fitzwilliam would step in to shield him from the charges.

“I did take a horse from the regimental stables, sir, but I assure you that I explained the situation to the man in charge of the pickets and received permission and, in fact, encouragement on my mission.”

Wickham paused and the General interjected a question. “What was the name of this man? And the time?”

Wickham shifted his weight but still felt sure of his ability to weasel his way out.

“Mid-morning, sir. I’m afraid that my watch was stolen last week.

” He looked to the General with an expression that had never failed to generate sympathy from his godfather.

In reality, he had lost the watch in a card game.