Page 16 of I am Jael (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

“He is being confined in a small prison connected to the army headquarters in London,” Richard said, leaning back and taking a long draught of tea. Darcy, Georgiana, and Colonel Fitzwilliam were in Georgiana’s sitting room, hidden away from the inquiring ears of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

“I presume he will be well guarded,” Georgiana inquired worriedly.

The Colonel chuckled softly and patted his young cousin on the arm, “Do not be alarmed, dear Georgie. Wickham will not escape.”

“What will be his fate?” Darcy asked, feeling a lump rise in his throat.

Richard sat up and began ticking off his fingers, “He deserted the militia in a time of war. He stole his Colonel’s horse.

He entered the living quarters of some dozen fellow militia men and stole their money.

Any one of those crimes would garner the death sentence.

Taken together, it would take significant lobbying on our part to keep him from being executed in short order. ”

Darcy clenched his teeth and shook his head, “He is hardly worthy of such intervention.”

“No, he is not,” Georgiana stated coldly.

“I stopped by Meryton before arriving here,” the Colonel continued.

“Colonel Forster was almost pathetically grateful for our actions. He is sincerely attached to the horse we retrieved, and is relieved that his men’s money has been returned intact.

It would have gone hard for many of them if Wickham had successfully absconded with their hard earned coin.

Forster is recommending execution as well. ”

Georgiana gazed at her brother, whose gaze was fixed on the carpet.

“William?” she asked softly.

Darcy lifted his head and his eyes were grief stricken, “Thus, it ends. What a waste of a life.”

She rose to her feet and came over to sit down beside him, to clasp her arms around his broad form, “You did what you could, Brother. Mr. Wickham made his own choices.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

/

Not surprisingly, the fall from grace of Lieutenant George Wickham was the only topic of conversation in the sitting room at Longbourn.

“How could such a charming, handsome person be a villain?” Kitty asked, her cornflower blue eyes bewildered.

“Perhaps it is all a mistake,” Lydia said dubiously, though her words lacked conviction.

“There is no mistake,” Elizabeth said firmly. “He robbed both his Colonel and many other members of the militia. Yes, I too thought him agreeable and delightful, but it was but the white washed exterior of a cold and vicious heart.”

“He is like Absalom,” Mary said unexpectedly.

“Who?” Lydia demanded.

“Absalom,” Mary repeated, taking on her sermonizing voice. “Son of David.”

“David Lowe from the village, Mary?” Mrs. Bennet asked abstractedly, her attention on a bit of torn lace on her skirt.

“I believe that Mary refers to Absalom in the Bible, from the book of 2nd Samuel,” Mr. Bennet murmured aloud.

He had unexpectedly chosen to sit with the women of the household instead of retreating into his library.

Elizabeth guessed that her father, who thoroughly enjoyed the foibles and follies of others, was fascinated with Mr. Wickham.

“Yes,” Mary agreed, her expression brightening.

“Oh, from the Bible. The David who killed Goliath?” Kitty demanded.

“Very good, Kitty,” Mr. Bennet replied.

“What does this Absolan person have to do with Mr. Wickham?” Lydia asked in bewilderment.

“Absalom,” Mary corrected. “The Bible says he was the most handsome man in the kingdom of Israel. He enticed the people of Israel to turn away from his father, David, who was King, and Absalom started a revolt and tried to claim the crown. He tried to kill his own father!”

Lydia looked startled.

“I had no idea that the Bible could be so interesting!” she cried naively.

“That is dreadful!” Kitty chimed in a moment later.

“David, King of Israel, had a complex family life and more than one of his sons were less than satisfactory,” Mr. Bennet stated drily.

Elizabeth looked down at her hands, which were shaking slightly. She remembered that Absalom’s first act of violence was not against his father, but his brother Amnon, who had raped his half sister Tamar. Absalom, Tamar’s full brother, had responded by murdering Amnon in revenge.

Like Wickham, Amnon had given in to his lustful desire for a woman. Eventually, the man had paid with his life.

Elizabeth Bennet hoped and prayed that Mr. Wickham would also receive his due justice, and soon.

/

Wickham was unkempt and unshaven, which Colonel Fitzwilliam found grimly satisfying. The scoundrel had always maintained an impeccable appearance. That, combined with his good looks and gentlemanly manners, had encouraged all too many people to trust and admire the rogue.

In spite of the unpleasantness of nearly two days in prison, Wickham strutted arrogantly into the room and sat down without permission, his face a mask of irritation.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, how charming to see you again,” he said sarcastically. “What do you want?”

Fitzwilliam sauntered over and lowered himself to the chair across from Wickham, “Nothing from you, Wickham. I’m enjoying the fact that this is the last time I will ever see you.”

Worry flickered in Wickham’s brown eyes, but the man retained his insouciance, “I am delighted that you now see fit to leave off your persecution of me, Fitzwilliam.”

The Colonel grinned unpleasantly, “That is not what I meant. You deserted your post without leave in a time of war, stole a horse from your commanding officer, and robbed numerous fellow soldiers. This time you will pay the ultimate price for your arrogance. The penalty for your crimes is death.”

George Wickham turned absolutely white at these words, and he swayed in his chair, “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I am not the officer in charge. It was not my decision to make, if that pleases you.”

“But surely,” Wickham implored, “surely your family will intervene. The Darcys and Matlocks have great influence.”

“Indeed we do,” Fitzwilliam drawled, “but why should we sully our good name in defending you?”

The prisoner’s eyes were wild now with fear, dismay and yes, incredulity, “Darcy will not permit such a thing to happen to me. We were boyhood friends, and I’m his father’s godson.

I realize we have had our differences but still – you are merely provoking me.

Darcy will not allow them to put me to death! ”

The Colonel bit back his first response in favor of a second, more vicious one, “My cousin insists on your death, Wickham. Far be it from me to disdain that desire.”

“Darcy?” Wickham sputtered, rising to his feet so quickly that his chair pushed back from the table and nearly tipped over. “He’s always been jealous of me. He’s always hated me!”

Fitzwilliam chose not to point out the lack of logic between Wickham’s statements in favor of a more devastating explanation, “It is not Mr. Darcy who insists on your execution, Wickham, but Miss Darcy.”

Wickham wobbled slightly and sank back down on the chair, barely keeping from tipping off the front of it, “Georgiana? Impossible! She loves me!”

The Colonel’s face grew dark with fury at these words and the prisoner shrank back slightly, “Not, er, I realize that Ramsgate — I mean, we played together as children. I devoted hours to her entertainment. I know that regardless of her feelings about last summer, she must harbor some kindness for me.”

The Colonel forcibly relaxed his hands and took a deep breath, “I spoke to Miss Darcy recently concerning you. She does remember your times together when she was but a child, but she is now aware of your dealings with the maid, Jenny.”

Wickham blinked in bewilderment, “Jenny? Mrs. Reynold’s niece?”

“Yes, I doubt you remember her with any clarity, but Miss Darcy does. Apparently the woman was a valued maid at Pemberley until she was forced by your actions to leave because she was bearing your progeny.”

“So Miss Darcy is jealous?” Wickham demanded with a sly smirk.

“You can tell her there is no need. Young Jenny didn’t come willingly.

She was a downy one and had no time for the likes of me.

It took a strategic advance in the still room, and a locked door, to convince the wench that I would get what I wanted from her. ”

The Colonel’s blood ran cold at these words. He was not of Pemberley but Mrs. Reynolds, along with being an excellent housekeeper, was a wonderful woman. To think that this foul man ...

“You raped the girl,” Fitzwilliam grated out.

“Such harsh words.” Wickham grinned, leaning back. “She was only a maid. What is the purpose of such a woman but to please men, either through service or ... service.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam rose to his feet, his expression one of rage and disgust, “Georgiana is right, Wickham, and my position is confirmed. You are too dangerous to be set loose on the women across the ocean and thus I would not dream of arguing for transportation. If you are so inclined, I suggest you pray for mercy from God above, because you will be hanged soon.”

Wickham’s mouth dropped open in horror, “But ... but you can tell Georgiana, Miss Darcy, that there is no reason to be jealous! I did not care for Jenny!”

“No, Wickham, you did not,” the Colonel growled, leaning forward to scowl into the other man’s greenish face. “You care for no one but yourself. Miss Darcy isn’t jealous, she is heartbroken that a man raised in the shadows of Pemberley would ruin a good girl like Jenny Reynolds.”

He turned on his back and strode out of the room, ignoring the frenzied cries from behind him.