Page 15 of I am Jael (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
“I am, but I am not the reader you are, nor do I enjoy debating as you and Mr. Darcy do. Mr. Bingley is a much gentler soul, and he and I share a desire to spread peace whereas you and Mr. Darcy ...”
“Yes, I suppose we are well matched in that way, dear Jane. We love to argue.”
/
The room was simply furnished but clean. Wickham threw his coat on the bed and gave Mrs. Younge a quick kiss and a longer embrace.
“Phoebe,” he murmured seductively. “You are as lovely as ever.”
Mrs. Phoebe Younge allowed herself to enjoy the man’s strong arms for a moment before pushing him away, “I’ve work to do, George, and don’t think I’ll be putting you up for free here.”
“I have money,” Wickham assured her, “though I won’t be staying long. I am afraid I’ve managed to displease Mr. Darcy again.”
Mrs. Younge allowed an unladylike snort to escape from her.
She was a poor gentleman’s daughter, married young, widowed only a few years later, left without either children or monetary resources and thus forced to take on the position of paid companion to richer women.
Her education was excellent and she had even liked her last charge, Miss Georgiana Darcy, but she had liked both Mr. Wickham and the possibility of a major payout more.
Then it had all fallen apart. Miss Darcy’s imposing brother had arrived unexpectedly at Ramsgate before Wickham could sweep Miss Darcy away to Gretna Green. Mrs. Younge was summarily removed from her post and metaphorically tossed out into the street.
Darcy had warned her that if she dared take on the post of companion again, he would expose her alliance with Wickham to all of London society.
She had been forced instead to take her meager savings and open a boarding house in one of the fouler areas of London.
Now she worked long hours providing meals and minimal cleaning services for her boarders, and her hands were rough with her toil.
She knew that George Wickham was not a reputable man, but his admiring eyes made her feel like young Miss Crandon again, before marriage and widowhood and unwise decisions had brought her to ruin.
“I will see you soon, George,” she murmured, leaving his room with a swish of her skirts.
It was late and she was nearly finished with her tasks for the evening, but she must prepare dough for tomorrow’s bread, else there would be nothing for breakfast. She turned the corner and stepped into the kitchen, which was lit with only a few candles and a few glowing coals in the fireplace.
She gasped in shock at the sight of the man sitting in a wooden chair.
“Mrs. Younge, I presume?”
/
George Wickham, very recently of the militia, sauntered over to the window and looked out into the still busy street.
He was on the ground floor, allowing the malodorous air to seep into his fastidious nostrils.
Even with the stench, though, it felt good to be in London again, though he would ensure that after the immediate danger wore off, he moved into a more pleasant part of the metropolis.
But the great city buzzed with energy day and night, so different from the dreariness of the small market town of Meryton.
There was a soft click at the door and Wickham turned, prepared to welcome Mrs. Younge with his signature charm. His sultry smile drained away into a look of horror at the sight of the man standing in the doorway.
“Wickham,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said grimly.
Wickham cast a despairing glance at his coat, which contained his money, and made a dash for the window, which was firmly closed and sealed against the December cold.
He struggled with the pane and managed to get it a few inches open before he felt the Colonel grab his arms. He turned and tried to land a blow, but his attempt landed wide.
Fitzwilliam drew back his own arm and landed a crushing strike on Wickham’s left jaw, knocking the steward’s son to the floor.
“This time, I can honestly say it is good to see you again, Wickham.”
/
“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed in surprise.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied with a polite bow. “You are up early.”
“As are you, sir. I thought that given your late night, I would not see you this morning. My sister Jane and I hope to leave Netherfield after breakfast.”
“I fear that I naturally wake early, Miss Elizabeth, regardless of when I reach my bed.”
Darcy had, indeed, not gone to bed at all after a long and busy night. Given that he expected Richard would return shortly, he had chosen instead to bathe and shave and go to breakfast. He was famished after the exhausting activity of the previous day.
“I am the same,” Elizabeth commented. “I cannot sleep long past dawn, but then I treasure the quiet, early hours so I do not mind.”
“I have long believed that the hours after dawn are the best of the day.”
“I trust,” Elizabeth continued carefully, “that all is well?”
Darcy sighed deeply and held out his cup to a maid, who filled it with coffee. He waited for the girl to leave the room before continuing, “Yes. Mr. Wickham was captured in London late last night.”
“London! I did not think he would get so far!”
“My cousin’s men could have caught up with him earlier, but under Richard’s orders they merely followed him to the boarding house where he took refuge. Richard wished to be certain that Wickham did not escape at the last minute, so he ensured he had several men waiting at the exits.”
“I am glad. Wickham is an evil man.”
“He is indeed, Miss Elizabeth. He stole his Colonel’s horse as well as all the ready money of a number of the men in his regiment.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask a question, only to close it firmly. She was curious about Wickham’s likely fate, but it was perhaps unladylike to express that curiosity. Nor was she sure she wanted to know any dismal details.
There was a murmur of voices and Mr. Bingley, Jane, and Miss Darcy entered the room.
The conversation grew general as, by silent agreement, all those in attendance chose to discuss weather, roads, sheep, books, and even bonnets instead of the wicked Mr. Wickham.
When all had eaten their fill, Jane and Elizabeth expressed their thanks for Mr. Bingley’s hospitality and walked to the Longbourn carriage.
Elizabeth entered first and waited, smiling, as Jane and Mr. Bingley exchanged a few more words.
Given the heightened color of both faces, she believed that the two were coming close to a formal agreement.
Then Mr. Bingley handed her precious sister into the carriage, and the carriage wended its way back to Longbourn.