Page 24 of Longbourn’s Son (Pride and Prejudice Variation #22)
“Luke!” Kitty cried out, rushing to her twin’s side and dropping to her knees. “Oh Luke, are you badly hurt?”
“I am all right,” Luke said quickly. His other sisters had followed Kitty into the sitting room in the Milton home, and all wore similar looks of anxiety and distress. “Mr. Jones thinks I may have a cracked rib or two, but my breathing is unaffected.”
“Thank God!” Kitty cried and promptly embraced him, which caused him to flinch and yelp in pain. “Oh, Luke, I am so sorry!”
The apothecary, who had just finished winding bandages around Luke’s chest, chuckled and said, “My dear Miss Kitty, I fear you must restrain your natural desire to hug your brother for at least a few days. I am hopeful his ribs are merely bruised and that he will feel much better within the week.”
“What happened?” Elizabeth demanded, now that her terror for her brother had abated a little. “Mr. Milton said something about Mr. Wickham?”
Luke leaned back on the Miltons’ most padded chair, trying and failing to find a comfortable position.
“Yes, he and two privates barged into the stable and attacked Will, the stable boy.
Colonel Forster no doubt spoke to him about Father's complaint, and Wickham came to the erroneous conclusion that Will was the one who overheard his talk with Williamson a few days ago. I intervened, and they attacked me; I might have been badly hurt, but Mr. Milton heard the uproar and pulled them off of me with ease.”
He grinned and added, “My dear sisters, you should have seen it. Mr. Milton is incredibly strong! With two punches, he dealt them such blows they had difficulty rising to their feet!”
Kitty’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, you could have been so badly hurt!”
“But I was not,” the youth asserted. “Please do not cry.”
Elizabeth was filled not with sorrow but fury. “That vile man! I cannot believe Wickham would do such a thing! I can only hope and pray that Colonel Forster will take appropriate steps now!”
“I hear Father!” Mary said, lifting her head. All fell silent at the sound of Mr. Bennet, his voice raised, asking Mr. Milton about Luke’s well-being.
“I will go talk to him,” Elizabeth offered and rushed out of the room to find her father, his face pale. He was standing near the blacksmith, who was speaking in soothing tones.
“Father!” Elizabeth cried out, hurrying to Mr. Bennet’s side.
“How is Luke, Lizzy?” the Bennet patriarch demanded, reaching forward to grasp her hands tightly in his own.
“Luke is fine, Father,” she said reassuringly. “His ribs hurt, but Mr. Jones says he will be entirely well.”
Tears welled in the older man’s eyes. “He is certain?”
“He is entirely certain. Do not worry about him, Father. There is no danger.”
He stared gravely into his favorite daughter’s eyes and relaxed in relief. When the short note had arrived at Longbourn saying that Luke had been attacked by Wickham and two militia privates, he had been stricken by a deep, horrified terror. Would he lose Luke even as he had lost his wife?
“Do you wish to see him?” Elizabeth asked tenderly.
“I will shortly, my dear,” he said, pulling himself together, “but first, Mr. Milton, will you kindly describe in detail what happened to my son?”
/
“Mr. Darcy!”
Startled, Darcy looked up as Jacob, one of the Darcy footmen tasked with guarding Georgiana, ran toward him with a white paper in his hand.
He, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Bingley had just finished riding along the northern border of Netherfield and were now tired and looking forward to a quiet hour by the fire.
“Urgent message for you, sir,” the liveried footman explained when he reached the three horsemen.
Darcy reached forward to pluck the missive from the man’s hand.
He opened it, rapidly read it, and turned to his friends, his face grim.
“Wickham and two privates attacked young Mr. Bennet at the stables.”
“What?” Colonel Fitzwilliam roared in disbelief. “Why?”
“Apparently he learned that Mr. Bennet had overheard the conversation regarding cheating the local youths of their money.”
“Is he badly hurt?” Bingley demanded in distress.
Darcy glanced again at the paper and shook his head in relief.
“It seems that Milton, the local blacksmith, intervened before any great damage was done. The elder Mr. Bennet is requesting our assistance at Milton’s home, since Colonel Forster dismissed his concerns before and cannot be trusted to punish Wickham appropriately.
Forster will almost certainly respond readily to a colonel in the Regulars and a wealthy gentleman like myself, especially as both of us are closely related to the earl of Matlock. ”
“That is likely,” the colonel agreed. “We should go immediately.”
“Yes, we should,” Darcy said. “Bingley, would you kindly inform my sister that an urgent matter has arisen, and I will be home after dinner?”
“Should I not accompany you?” Bingley asked eagerly. Miss Bennet would, he hoped, appreciate comfort in her family’s time of need.
“I would feel better if you stayed here,” Darcy replied. “Georgiana will be greatly dismayed if none of us gentlemen return for dinner, and Fitzwilliam and I are best suited to deal with my father’s loathsome godson.”
Bingley nodded gamely, though he was disappointed. “I quite understand.”
/
Mr. Bennet clasped his hands behind his back and pressed his lips together, determined to allow his friend and neighbor to manage the current situation. He was too angry to be completely sensible.
Major Darracott, a thin, brown haired man with a prominent Adam’s apple said, “You cannot lock up members of the militia, Sir William. They are not under your jurisdiction.”
“I most certainly can,” Sir William Lucas declared, puffing his chest out and stepping a little closer to the man.
“I am the justice of the peace for this area of Hertfordshire, and Lieutenant Wickham and the two privates, Hodges and Gann, attacked Mr. Luke Bennet, the heir of Longbourn. If Mr. Milton had not intervened, Young Mister Bennet could have been seriously injured or even killed.”
The major scowled at this and looked at Mr. Bennet, who said coldly, “Wickham is responsible for the injury of my son and heir, and he and his minions will remain here until we decide what to do with him. Is that entirely clear, Major?”
Darracott, who was two and thirty years old, gritted his teeth.
He was the third son of a baron with a large, if rather encumbered, estate in Derbyshire, and thus he ranked higher socially than Mr. Bennet and Sir William Lucas.
It was exasperating to be lectured by two country gentlemen on the supposed failures of Mr. Wickham, who was quite one of the most charming officers Darracott had ever met.
The major could not remember meeting the Bennet heir, but no doubt the youth was at fault.
He was not in command of the regiment, however, and must yield to the authority of his superior officer.
“Colonel Forster must be consulted on the disposition of his men,” he insisted.
“Where is Colonel Forster?” Mr. Bennet demanded. “I have more than a few words for him on this matter, as Sir William and I both warned him of Wickham’s despicable proclivities.”
“Colonel Forster went to London today but is expected to return by nightfall,” Darracott said.
“Very well,” Mr. Milton said. “The three prisoners will remain in the basement under guard until the colonel graces us with his presence.”
/
Mr. Bennet gazed at his two eldest daughters, who had retreated with him to the front vestibule in the blacksmith’s house in order to speak privately. The house, while relatively spacious, was full to bursting with people running to and fro.
“Jane, I wish for you to escort Lydia and Mary home, while Elizabeth remains here with Kitty and Luke,” Mr. Bennet said.
“Would not Luke be more comfortable at Longbourn, Father?” Jane asked worriedly.
Mr. Bennet patted his eldest daughter’s cheek affectionately and said, “He will need to stay here to describe what happened in the stables, and with Mrs. Milton and Mr. Jones in attention, Luke will be well enough, especially as he will have Kitty at his side.”
“What do you wish for me to do, Father?” Elizabeth asked.
“I will be going out to the stable to look over the ground of the attack, and I need you to look after Luke while I am gone. You will not, I know, be cowed if any of the militia members seek to bully Luke verbally, and the local people respect you as much or more as they respect me. Of course, they honor Jane as well, but she is not quite as fiery, my dear.”
“If anyone says so much as a word out of turn to Luke, he will regret it exceedingly! I only wish that I could stab Wickham through the heart for his perfidy!” Elizabeth snapped, her petite form rigid with outrage.
A soft step behind her caused the Bennets to turn toward the main door as Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy made their way into the vestibule.
Elizabeth flushed becomingly at her impetuous words but Colonel Fitzwilliam, after bowing, said quickly, “I understand your feelings completely, Miss Elizabeth. I am grieved and furious at this news. How is young Mr. Bennet, sir?”
“He will be well, thanks to Milton’s timely interference,” Mr. Bennet said coldly, “but I am determined that Wickham and his cohorts will pay for their crimes against my son.”
“I assure you that we stand with you in that noble endeavor,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and then turned his attention on Jane, whose face was wan in the candlelight. “Miss Bennet, I hope you are well?”
The lady managed a tremulous smile and said, “Thank you, Colonel, I am greatly distressed over what has come to pass, but praise God that my dear brother was not badly injured.”
The colonel nodded and his own eyes flashed dangerously. “I promise you that Mr. Wickham will not escape justice.”
Darcy, who had felt his heart do an odd flip at the sight of Miss Elizabeth’s impassioned expression and fiery brown eyes, managed to murmur in agreement.
/
George Wickham swallowed thickly and grimaced at the metallic taste of blood which still lingered in his mouth.
His nose, while still extremely painful, had stopped bleeding, as had his mouth, though his tongue kept questing incredulously to the place where his front tooth used to reside.
He had long been rightfully proud of his even, white teeth, and now every time he smiled, he would show a gap like a country yokel.
He would need to find a dentist who could replace the tooth with a donor from some poor fool willing to exchange a tooth for ready coin.
He groaned softly and turned an indignant eye on his guard, a Mr. Hawkins, the local butcher.
The man lived two doors down from the Milton stables and had been recruited by Milton to watch over him.
Wickham did not know where the two militia privates Hodges and Gann were being held, nor did he particularly care.
All he knew was that he was seated on a cold, slightly damp floor, surrounded by bits of wood and metal from the smithy, his hands bound with rope.
It was not a propitious situation for a gentleman.
“You had best release me,” Wickham insisted indignantly, peering through swollen eyes at Hawkins. “You can and will be prosecuted for holding a militia officer against his will.”
Hawkins, a short, middle aged man with unnervingly muscular arms, merely guffawed unpleasantly and said, “I think not, Lieutenant Wickham; Sir William Lucas is justice of the peace, and he is in charge of law and order here in Meryton. Now I advise you to keep silent, or you will find yourself missing another tooth; we do not take kindly to an outsider attacking a fine young gentleman like Mr. Luke Bennet.”
Wickham winced at this threat and subsided into sullen silence. Even if he could divest himself of his bonds, he would hardly be able to overpower the butcher. No, he could only hope that Colonel Forster would return soon and take his officer’s side in this matter.
That was, Wickham admitted to himself, not a certainty.
He had made a grievous mistake in attacking young Mr. Bennet; he would have to use all his charm and winsome speech to make the appropriate apologies.
He could and would blame the gin from the Golden Daffodil; it was rather more potent than he was accustomed to.
The wooden door to the room swung open, and Hawkins turned rapidly, only to relax at the sight of Mr. Milton with a red coated officer at his heels.
“Hawkins, this is Colonel Fitzwilliam of the Regulars,” the blacksmith explained. “He wishes to speak to our prisoner.”
Wickham, who had scrambled to his feet at the newcomer’s entrance, found himself retreating to a corner of the room.
“Good evening, Wickham,” Fitzwilliam said with a wolfish grin. “I can say with complete honesty that it is a pleasure to see you here.”