Page 20 of Look on the Heart (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #10)

Chapter Eleven

Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived shortly after six o’clock that evening. Dressed in his red coat, he waited for Darcy in the parlor.

“I believe I surprised your hostess, Darcy,” he said jovially. “She seemed quite flattered that the son of an earl would grace her with his presence.”

“Miss Bingley is easily impressed,” Darcy remarked. “My horse is ready. Shall we depart?”

“Yes, I think so. Better to see it done. My men are standing by to escort our mutual friend to the Marshalsea. He made a grave error last summer.” The colonel’s tone hardened. “I will accompany them, for I shall not rest easy until he is safely locked away.”

“There is no guarantee that he has not already escaped.” Darcy did not know whether Wickham was aware that Richard hunted him, but he suspected that merely seeing his old rival would be enough to send the blackguard running, especially after Ramsgate.

Richard shrugged. “I believe he is still in the village. The notion of riding to town in a cart would be abhorrent to that rat. No, he will have purchased whatever comfort he could afford. I shall send one of my men to Forster. We may need the extra support.”

“Do as you will.”

They left the house and mounted their horses. Richard’s men fell in behind them. The ride into Meryton passed swiftly. There was no moon, and the night was dark, so they kept to the main roads, to avoid mishap.

The inn at Meryton blazed with light. One of the soldiers departed, to fetch assistance from the colonel’s residence, while the other followed Darcy and Richard inside.

Within minutes, they spotted their quarry in a shadowed corner.

He had a barmaid in his lap and a full plate of food before him.

Upon seeing them approach, he shoved the woman aside and tried to stand.

Richard stepped forward, pressed a firm hand on his shoulder, and forced him to sit.

“I am pleased to see my understanding of your nature was accurate.” Richard’s broad, mocking grin was devoid of warmth.

His eyes were steely as he regarded his prey.

With a sharp tug, he pulled out the chair opposite and sat.

“Darcy thought you would flee. I knew better. You never could resist your comforts.”

“This hovel is hardly comfort,” Wickham scoffed. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“Judgment has come, Wickie. Did you truly believe you would escape consequences for your actions last summer?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No, I am afraid you crossed a line even Darcy’s patience could not abide.”

“I did nothing wrong. The wench is unsullied and, sadly, unmarried.” Wickham sneered. “’Tis likely for the best. Had I married her, I might have sired a beast as ugly as her brother.”

Darcy smiled—a cold, unaffected smile. “Such petty insults, Wickham. I expected better.”

Richard leaned forward. “Unfortunately for you , we have evidence of your wrongdoing.” Richard reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of markers tied with twine.

“Debts collected from Lambton to Ramsgate. Let us see… fifty pounds in Lambton— quite the sum. Twenty pounds in Ramsgate. And in London, a total of three hundred pounds. Tell me, how did you manage it? Did you move on each time a debtor came to collect? Two pounds alone is enough to see a man imprisoned for life in the Marshalsea. Darcy here bought the debts—did you know? And now he has called them in.”

Wickham’s face grew paler with each word. “You know I cannot repay it,” he spat. “All this for wooing your sister?”

“On the contrary, Wickham. Our score stretches back years.”

Darcy’s words drew Wickham’s attention, and he scoffed.

“Still trying to best me?” he mocked. “Your wealth and connections are all you have. It must be pleasant to have funds enough to waste on something so frivolous as revenge.”

“Revenge? No, Wickham. This is justice. Justice for my sister, and for everyone you have harmed through your profligacy—”

“And justice for you, I suppose?” Wickham interrupted. “Is it my fault you were born with such unfortunate features? They say your mother cried when she beheld you—”

Richard moved so quickly that Darcy could scarcely follow what happened. In an instant, his cousin had Wickham by the coat and dragged him out of the corner and across the table. “Not another word, scum!” he barked. “Higgins, help me with this baggage.”

The soldier stepped forward and seized Wickham’s arm.

Colonel Fitzwilliam took hold of the other.

As they made their way to the door, Darcy could feel the eyes of the other patrons upon them.

He ignored their stares and felt a measure of relief when Richard’s other man appeared accompanied by Colonel Forster and two more soldiers.

“Forster! Good man,” Richard greeted him cordially. ”Help us prepare this dastard for transport to London, will you?”

“As you say,” Colonel Forster replied. “We have the irons. Let us move this spectacle outside. I am sure the proprietor would appreciate it.”

A man at the bar gave a grateful nod as they filed out through the door.

Wickham protested his ill use, his cry rising in volume as they clapped the irons onto his wrists. Richard presented the markers as evidence, and Colonel Forster gave them a quick inspection.

“I am afraid these men have every right to arrest you, sir,” Forster said coolly. “I must say, I am relieved Denny did not sign you on. I should hate to find a wolf in our midst.” He turned back to Richard. “I can provide a cart in the morning to transport the prisoner. Will that suffice?”

“Perfectly, old friend. Is there a secure place to hold this wretch? We shall need a solid guard. Wickham is a slippery one.”

Forster agreed to see it done, and Darcy watched as the red-coated soldiers escorted the prisoner away. Wickham continued protesting until the very last.

“It seems as though I shall not be departing so soon,” Richard mused. Do you think Bingley will give me a room for the night?”

“I half expected you to say you would sleep outside Wickham’s door,” Darcy jested dryly.

Richard laughed. “No, Roberts will stay in the cell with our friend. Higgins and the others will keep watch outside. Forster will see to it he does not escape.”

“I wish matters had unfolded differently, but I cannot allow him to hurt anyone else.” Darcy considered that his father would have disapproved.

Richard frowned. “I can see where your thoughts are going. Uncle Darcy would not have stood idle either. Do you truly believe your father would have let Wickham go unpunished after attempting to elope with his daughter?”

“I hardly know.” Darcy sighed and turned his steps toward his mount. “My father was just, and I believe he meant to be kind. Yet I could never be certain I had pleased him.

“Your father placed too much importance on a man’s outward form. My uncle valued character, yes, but believed it was a man’s bearing that commanded respect. That belief did not serve him well as a father.”

“Yet he was great friends with yours.” The words came out laced with bitterness, but he did not care. He quickly urged his horse into a canter. Richard followed.

After catching up with Darcy, the colonel said, “Their history is complicated, or so Lord Matlock has said. By the time Uncle Darcy offered for your mother, I believe he no longer noticed my father’s affliction.

Still, his expectations for a son were far more exacting than that of a brother-in-law.

He was hard on you—no one disputes that.

He judged you with greater severity than he ever did my father.

You must not let it color your perspective of him entirely. ”

Darcy did not respond. In the past month, old wounds had reopened, and long buried feelings had stirred.

Insecurities he thought conquered had resurfaced and had crowded his hard-won, quiet confidence.

He longed to speak with Elizabeth—to assure himself she was real, that the admiration he thought he had glimpsed had not faded.

They arrived at Netherfield Park, careworn and weary. Richard quickly ingratiated himself with Bingley and his sisters. To Darcy’s surprise, Miss Bingley ignored him entirely, content to speak with his cousin instead. Before retiring, Richard joked about offering Miss Bingley his hand in marriage.

“She would accept, you know,” Darcy warned. “Miss Bingley would like nothing better than to become the daughter of an earl. My connection pales in comparison.”

“I had best tread carefully, then. Mother would be seriously displeased if I foiled her plans.”

With that, Richard bid him goodnight, and Darcy retired.

He lay awake long into the night, staring up into the dark canopy above his bed.

Sleep eluded him until the clock struck twelve.

When it came, it brought dreams that taunted him—memories of Eton, of university, of failures and doubts.

Yet despite his restless night, he rose early, determined to ride to Oakham Mount.

Elizabeth would be there. Of that, he felt certain.

Darcy knew her well enough to predict that.

The morning air was cold, and the scent of rain still lingered.

He mounted his horse and set off at a brisk trot, his breath rising in pale clouds.

He was grateful for his warm greatcoat. Richard had already gone, leaving behind a brief note stating his intention to depart at first light.

Darcy did not blame him. Every moment Wickham remained free was another moment he might yet escape.

The hill loomed ahead, and he soon discerned a figure standing at its summit. Elizabeth. Urging his horse forward, he dismounted a short distance from her and secured the reins to a low-hanging branch.

“Good morning,” he said.