Page 51 of Hidden Desires

“I would suggest that we stop at the next inn,” he said at last. “The horses will be tired and in need of tending, and I would like the chance to regain my energy. Let us pause for a few hours.”

“I agree, we need rest,” Bennet said. “Perhaps clearer heads will afford us a fresh perspective.”

He knocked on the cabin’s ceiling to attract the driver’s attention and directed him to stop at the nearest inn.

“I see a spot of light up ahead,” Darcy said, pointing. “With any luck, we will find a tavern or inn where we can rest.”

As the carriage drew near, the light resolved into a roadside tavern with rooms to rent.

“This will do,” Bennet said when the carriage stopped before the establishment. He climbed down and entered without waiting.

Darcy assisted Elizabeth as she stepped down from the coach. “With your permission,” he said, offering his hand. “I suspect weariness has claimed your father’s attention and driven thoughts of you from his mind.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, placing her hand in his. “I will see that he is properly chastised, but not until he has rested for a spell.”

Together they entered the building and approached Bennet, who stood at the desk, speaking to the innkeeper.

“I do not have three rooms,” the man was saying. “I have only two remaining, as I let the other to a newly married couple not more than an hour ago.”

“I let rooms to many couples enjoying their first night of married bliss,” he added with a chuckle, “but I can say these two did not appear caught up in the throes of love.”

“In what way?” Darcy asked, his interest piqued.

“He was all impatience, as are most men on their wedding night. She, however, looked resigned to her fate, as if the marriage were a burden.”

“I was much the same my wedding night,” Bennet said, a tired smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I was impatient to be alone with Mrs. Bennet, but anxious she would find me lacking as a husband.”

“Papa!” Elizabeth cried. “I do not need to hear this.”

“Much the same as what the young lady said to her husband,” the innkeeper went on. “She seemed upset with him. The tone of her voice conveyed no affection. ‘Mr. Wickham,’ she called him—”

“Which is their room?” Bennet demanded, speaking over the rest. “Give me the key at once.”

“I will do no such thing,” the innkeeper said. “And I suggest you take your business elsewhere; I do not cater to such as you.”

“You misunderstand,” he said, stepping beside Bennet. “They are not married, and the woman is this man’s daughter. Wickham convinced her to elope, and we have been pursuing them all night. It was only luck that led us here.”

The innkeeper’s expression changed at once. He reached behind him and snatched a key from a cabinet. “Had I known, I would have notified the nearest magistrate.” He placed the key in Darcy’s hand and stepped back, as though expecting Bennet to strike him.

“Up the stairs,” he said as they turned away. “Second door on the right. If you like, I can call Thomas in from the servant’s quarters to help. He is a large fellow, afraid of neither man nor beast.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, “but that will not be necessary.”

“He is ours now,” Bennet said as they climbed the stairs, “but we must be quiet, so we do not alert them.”

“Have no fear,” Bennet added, his voice low. “He will not escape. One way or another, his days of freedom are at an end.”

At the top of the stairs, they followed the innkeeper’s directions until they reached the door to the room where Wickham had taken Mary.

Darcy regarded the key in his hand, anticipation urging him to throw open the door before their quarry could guess their presence and flee through the window. His temper, until now constrained, fought for control as he recalled the wrongs Wickham had already committed.

He reached for the lock but stopped when his hand began to shake, his heart pounding so fiercely he feared he might collapse.

Turning, he met Bennet’s gaze, whose calm manner seemed out of place in that narrow passage.

“Take this.” Darcy thrust the key into Bennet’s hand. “You should be the first to confront him. It is your daughter he has ruined.”

Bennet took the key and set it to the lock. He paused to look at Darcy. “Are you ready?”

At Darcy’s nod, Bennet turned the key and flung the door open, revealing a scene neither expected.

The small room held a bed and a chair, with a bureau beneath a narrow window. Mary stood beside the bed, an air of acceptance in her posture. In the chair sat Wickham, his head bowed as he slept, unaware that his pursuers had found him at last.

Anger overcame Darcy’s self-control, and he crossed the room. Upon reaching the man who had haunted his thoughts for months, he closed his hand around the other’s throat.

Wickham’s eyes flew open, horror widening them as he jerked upright. He thrashed in the chair, knocking it against the wall with a thud. A gurgling gasp escaped his lips as his hands clawed at Darcy’s wrists, fingernails scraping deep grooves into the skin.

Darcy felt every ragged breath shudder through Wickham’s body, but he could not loosen his grip. His vision narrowed to the man’s face—red and contorted, the lips struggling to form words. Somewhere at the edge of his mind, Elizabeth was crying out, but her voice sounded distant.

Wickham twisted violently, nearly throwing himself from the chair. One hand scrabbled inside his coat as if reaching for a hidden blade. With a curse, Darcy seized his wrist and slammed it against the wall. The thud jarred through them both, and Wickham let out a strangled croak of pain.

“Mr. Darcy, please,” Elizabeth’s voice was raw, her hands tugging at his arm. “He cannot breathe!”

He did not look at her. Wickham’s eyes were rolling back, his lips turning blue. Still, Darcy’s hand refused to let go, every muscle locked by a rage he had waited months to release.

Bennet’s voice cut through the haze, quiet but hard as iron. “Darcy. Enough.”

Something in the tone reached him. His breath came in harsh gulps, and he realized he was shaking. Slowly, inch by inch, he forced his fingers to unclench. Wickham slumped forward in the chair, choking down air in great, broken gulps.

Darcy stepped back and wiped a hand across his mouth, though it was Wickham who was gasping and bruised. He could not look at Elizabeth.

“I spent my days dreaming of revenge,” he said, his voice low and ragged. “For a time, I wanted nothing more than to see him dead. But Georgiana’s peace matters more than my pride.”

He turned to Bennet. “His fate is yours to decide.”

Wickham sat hunched, eyes hollow. “Take me,” he said. “I will face whatever punishment you choose. Just take me now.”

Darcy glanced at Bennet, whose stunned expression mirrored his own, then to Miss Mary, who stood beside her father, untroubled by what had just passed.

“What of your plans for my daughter?” Bennet demanded. “You will answer for the damage done to her name and to our family. When I am finished, you may wish Darcy had killed you after all.”

“I am sorry,” Wickham said, sounding beaten. “Had I known what misery lay ahead, I would never have made such a choice. Please, take me before I lose my mind.”

Bennet sat on the edge of the bed and regarded him in silence. “I think we deserve an explanation. If you are willing, I can wait.”

“I am also confused,” Darcy said. “What happened to the arrogance that once defined him? I do not believe one failed tryst has changed him. In my view, this humility will pass. Be careful.”

“I give you my word,” Wickham said. “I will not run.”

“And I give you mine,” Bennet replied. “If you try, I will see you chained and gagged the rest of the way.”

“I understand,” Wickham mumbled. “Believe me, I regret involving myself with your daughter. Yes, I told her I loved her and urged her to elope. I claimed you would never consent to the match. I wanted her dowry, which she suggested was generous.”

“None of my daughters has a dowry large enough to support you.”

“So she informed me,” Wickham said with a bitter laugh, “but not until we had already left. The news forced me to change my plans.”

“I can see how it might.” Bennet smiled at Mary, who offered no response.

“Then why did you come here?” he asked. “What did you hope to gain? You must have known we would follow. Stopping made it easier for us to catch you.”

“I pressed on as long as I could,” Wickham said. “But when I reached this inn, I had nothing left. No plan. No strength. No will.”

He glanced at Mary, offering a weak smile. She stared past him as if he were not there. Wickham looked away and bowed his head.

“From the beginning, I have had no respite from her sermonizing. If she was not calling me to repentance, she was quoting scripture or speaking of a clergyman named Fordyce.

“I told the innkeeper we were just married and stopping for the night, but by then I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and escape her continual hounding.

“Please, take me away. I want nothing more to do with this woman.”

“You took advantage of my daughter,” Bennet said, his voice hard. “Though I count forgiveness among the virtues I try to practice, you have made it difficult. Still, I will offer you two choices. Take either, and I will consider the matter closed.”

Wickham looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “I may choose either, without fear of further reprisal?”

“As I said, the choice is yours,” he said and smiled, baring his teeth in a fearful grimace. “You may either marry her or accept a commission to the front lines in Egypt. From what I hear, life there is short but exciting.”

He stepped forward. “Make your decision. This night has been long, and I am needed at home.”

“Can you not find it in your heart to give me another choice?” Wickham asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I was prepared to demand satisfaction with pistols. But chasing you through the night gave me time to reconsider. I will not lower myself to murder to soothe my pride.”

He straightened. “You have your options. Now make your choice, or Darcy will make it for you.”

“No,” Wickham cried. “I will marry your daughter.”

“A wise decision,” Bennet said, turning to Darcy. “Would you not agree?”

“I wish you a long and happy union,” he replied. “May your wife present you with many healthy daughters.”

“The wedding must occur without delay upon our return,” Bennet declared. “I shall visit the parson and ask him to forgo the reading of the banns. If he agrees, I expect to see them married within days.”

Wickham said nothing as Darcy and Bennet gathered the few belongings Mary had brought.

“Would you like to rest an hour before we begin the journey?” Darcy asked. “The sun has only just risen, and we can afford a short delay.”

“No, I would rather leave now,” Bennet said. “I have no wish to give Wickham time to contrive a plan of escape. The less freedom he is given, the better I shall feel.”

“As you wish,” Darcy said and turned to Wickham.

“Hold out your hands,” he instructed. “Your horse will carry you to Longbourn, but I intend to bind your wrists and tie them to the reins. That way, I need not watch you every moment. Once you are seated, I will secure your feet beneath the horse and to the saddle. When that is done, we will begin. Ride carefully. It would not end well if you were unseated.”

Darcy led him through the inn and outside, where the carriage waited beside the tired mount the fugitives had ridden.

“Roland,” he said to the stable hand, “please help our guest into the saddle. We would not want him injured before his wedding.”

“Sir,” Roland replied, and with apparent ease, lifted Wickham from the ground and placed him on the horse. Once seated, a length of rope was tied to each ankle, running beneath the girth and cinched tight, making it impossible for him to dismount or control the animal.

With Wickham secured, Darcy poked his head through the coach window.

“I borrowed a horse from the innkeeper,” he said. “This will allow me to control your future son-in-law and give you privacy.”

“I am impressed with the man’s generosity,” Bennet remarked.

“That came with a promise of generous payment,” Darcy told him.

“So, his charity has a price,” Bennet said, giving a short laugh. “I am not surprised. He likely owns only one or two animals. Still, it is fortunate he had a horse at all.”

“Fortune seems to favor us,” Darcy agreed. “Let us be on our way.”

With a nod to the driver, the party set out, leaving behind an innkeeper whose thoughts had already turned to how best to spend his unexpected windfall.