Page 70 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

Wickham took a seat opposite of Lady Eleanor, his smile widening as if he were a cat eyeing a particularly plump mouse.

“Ah, yes, my lady. You can imagine my consternation when you brought me news of Miss Bennet’s predicament.

How her circumstances had changed so drastically from our brief acquaintance at Meryton.

Since I retired from the militia, I have redeployed my significant investigative skills to aid in delicate affairs.

When I heard of Miss Bennet’s missing marriage papers, I immediately applied myself to the parish in question. ”

“Were you able to obtain the documents we discussed?” Lady Eleanor redirected his flowery speech.

Wickham straightened with the air of a man about to deliver momentous news. “I believe I may have discovered evidence that could legitimize Miss Elizabeth’s position entirely. Documents that would establish her marriage as legal and her son as the rightful heir to significant property.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help her heart leaping but she studiously maintained an expression of hopeful uncertainty. “Marriage documents? But Mr. Wickham, how could such things exist? Surely if there were evidence of a legitimate ceremony, it would have been discovered long ago.”

“Ah, but that is precisely the point,” Wickham said with growing enthusiasm. “These documents were deliberately concealed by someone who had every reason to prevent their discovery.”

“Concealed by whom?” Lady Eleanor inquired with sharp attention.

Wickham leaned forward conspiratorially. “Mr. Collins. The very man who was suspected of compromising Miss Elizabeth’s virtue.”

Elizabeth gasped so hard she choked. Perhaps she overdid the surprise, but it took her a few moments to regain her composure. “Surely, my father’s esteemed cousin would not violate his office to conceal official parish documents.”

“Whatever could be his reason?” Lady Eleanor sounded sufficiently skeptical. “A local curate desperate for coin. Certainly, he would be aware of the ramifications to his position.”

“Ladies, I see you underestimate the vagaries of the heart.” Wickham placed his hand nobly over his chest. “Mr. Collins was driven to extreme jealousy. Picture his rage when Miss Elizabeth refused the offer of his hand, only to marry another gentleman, Mr. Darcy himself, as it happens, in secrecy. Collins became an avenging fury. If he could not marry the woman he esteemed as an angel, no one else should benefit from her connection.”

“How dreadful,” Elizabeth murmured, while mentally cataloguing every detail of Wickham’s fabrication for future use. “But how did you come to discover this terrible conspiracy?”

“Through considerable investigation and no small personal risk,” Wickham replied proudly.

“I had heard rumors of a secret ceremony at the Red Lion Inn in Barnet, performed by a traveling clergyman. When I approached the parish records, I discovered that pages had been torn from the registry—clearly removed to prevent discovery of the marriage.”

“And you managed to recover these missing pages?” Lady Eleanor asked with carefully controlled excitement. “How extraordinary.”

“Indeed, I did.” Wickham’s smooth smile widened, no doubt calculating his profit.

“Collins had hidden them among his personal papers, believing they would never be discovered after his removal from Hunsford. It required considerable… persuasion… to convince him to relinquish them, but I was ultimately successful.”

“Your persuasive techniques must be quite enlightening,” Lady Eleanor said. “And what prompted Mr. Collins to share these documents with you, after allegedly concealing them for nearly two years?”

“He came to me, distressed by the rumors that caused his removal from Lady Catherine’s parsonage.

” Mr. Wickham turned a concerned brow at Elizabeth.

“Forgive me for being indelicate, but we are both aggrieved to be named by sharp and malicious tongues. I have often been so slandered, but Mr. Collins was especially troubled when the scandal fell on him. He confessed his role in the misunderstanding, never once realizing that his theft of the parish records would one day cause aspersions on his own character. Of course, I promised to be discreet in returning these valuable documents to you, perhaps with a note that Reverend Michaels had misplaced them in your trunk?”

Elizabeth covered her mouth with a feigned conspiratorial air.

“I daresay I had been so troubled by Darcy’s disappearance that I quite forgot about that battered trunk.

You are indeed a gallant gentleman, Mr. Wickham.

I hardly know how to express my thanks. To think that you would go to such lengths for someone who has no claim upon your assistance… ”

“My dear Miss Elizabeth,” Wickham said with what he probably imagined was touching sincerity, “I could not bear to see an innocent woman suffer for another man’s vindictive jealousy.

I fear your reputation may have suffered from Mr. Collins’s dishonesty, and I confess to feeling somewhat responsible in not investigating the scandal associated with my name earlier. ”

“You are too hard upon yourself,” Elizabeth assured him warmly. “Your friendship was one of the few bright spots during those difficult months. Indeed, you were the only person who seemed to understand the impossible position I found myself in. ”

“I did attempt to provide what comfort I could,” Wickham agreed with a contrived modesty. “Though I fear my efforts were inadequate to shield you from the worst consequences.”

Lady Eleanor had been observing this exchange with growing shrewdness. “Mr. Wickham, these documents you have recovered—might we examine them to verify their authenticity?”

“Of course!” Wickham reached into his coat and withdrew a leather portfolio with an air of triumph.

“I believe you will find everything in order. The marriage registry clearly shows the union between Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, performed by Reverend Michaels on the third of December, 1811.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught as she recognized the very pages that had been missing for nearly two years. The familiar handwriting of the officiating clergyman, the careful record of witnesses, her signature alongside Darcy’s—all of it precisely as she remembered from that wet December morning.

“They appear authentic,” Lady Eleanor said slowly, though her eyes remained fixed on Wickham’s face rather than the documents. “I wonder… Having discovered these documents, you immediately thought to bring them to Bellfield Grange, rather than to Mr. Darcy in London?”

“Mrs. Darcy has always been kind to me,” Wickham replied. “However, I have also heard that Mr. Darcy is not quite in control of his faculties.”

“I assure you, Mr. Darcy is quite well,” Elizabeth’s fingers tightened over the missing registry pages. “Your discretion, however, does you credit. I am overwhelmed by your generosity in this matter. Surely you must have incurred considerable expense in your investigation?”

Wickham’s eyes brightened at this opening. “I have indeed invested significant resources in this endeavor, Miss Elizabeth. Travel, research, the various… incentives… required to secure cooperation from reluctant witnesses. The pursuit of justice is rarely without cost. ”

“Of course,” Lady Eleanor said smoothly. “And naturally, you would expect to be compensated for such expenses. What sum would represent fair payment for your efforts?”

The figure Wickham named was substantial but not impossible—clearly calculated to appear reasonable while providing him with funds sufficient to escape his creditors. Elizabeth noted every detail for future reference, including his obvious relief at Lady Eleanor’s apparent willingness to negotiate.

“I believe we can accommodate such a sum,” Lady Eleanor said after appropriate consideration. “Though I would prefer to have the documents examined by legal counsel before finalizing any payment. A mere formality, you understand, but necessary for such an important transaction.”

Wickham’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “Naturally, Lady Eleanor. Though I hope the examination can be conducted expeditiously. My own circumstances require that I depart Bellfield rather quickly.”

“Pressing business elsewhere?” Elizabeth inquired with innocent interest.

“Unfortunately, yes. I have received word of other cases requiring my investigative services. It seems that scandals involving missing documents are more common than one might expect.”

The casual mention of other “cases” provided yet another piece of evidence regarding Wickham’s systematic criminal activities. Elizabeth filed the information away while maintaining her expression of grateful admiration.

“How fortunate for those other unfortunate ladies,” she said warmly. “To think that there is someone willing to right such terrible wrongs.”

“I do what I can,” Wickham replied with false humility. “Though I confess I am particularly gratified to have been of service to you, Miss Elizabeth. Your situation has weighed heavily upon my conscience these many months.”

“And your efforts have lifted a burden I feared might never be resolved,” Elizabeth assured him. “When Mr. Darcy returns from London, he will be astounded to learn that our marriage can be legally recognized at last.”

Wickham’s smile grew slightly strained at the mention of Darcy’s return. “I assure you these documents are authentic, Mrs. Darcy; however, I would be in need of accommodations. Might I… indeed… presume upon you?”

“Do not despair, Mr. Wickham.” Elizabeth rose. “Mr. Darcy has provided me a modest purse. I shall fetch it immediately.”

“And I shall call for refreshments while we wait.” Lady Eleanor rose to ring the bell. “The journey from London is tiresome, I imagine.”

“Most kind,” Wickham replied with a slight bow of his head.

Once Elizabeth was in her bedchamber, she took more detailed notice of the documents.

The pages had been cut out of the book with a knife.

Reverend Michaels’s precise handwriting, Darcy’s bold signature, her own more delicate script beside it, the signatures of the innkeeper and his wife, Thomas and Martha Hadley, as witnesses.

A small tear in the corner of the page, the jagged knife marks, and a smudge of ink beside the reverend’s signature—all appeared authentic.

The physical evidence of their marriage, thought lost forever, now rested in her hands.

She dug through her dresser until she found the small purse Darcy had given her the morning of their wedding.

Ten pounds. It was all there, as the Honywoods had refused to allow her to share expenses.

She also retrieved pen and paper to document the entire account—a statement acknowledging Wickham’s delivery of the registry pages, his account of discovering them in Mr. Collins’s possession, and the payment of three hundred pounds for their recovery.

Every detail of his fabricated story was included, each lie preserved in ink for future examination.

She locked the registry papers inside her trunk and returned to the drawing room with the sack of coins and the written statement, finding Wickham sitting in uncomfortable silence under Lady Eleanor’s coolly assessing gaze.

“I have brought the funds,” Elizabeth announced, presenting a small pouch that clinked promisingly with coins. “And a receipt for you to sign, documenting our transaction. For both our protection, naturally.”

Wickham’s eyebrows rose slightly. “A receipt seems rather formal for what is essentially a private arrangement between old acquaintances.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth agreed pleasantly. “But Lady Eleanor insists upon proper documentation for all financial transactions at Bellfield Grange. Estate management requires meticulous record-keeping, as I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” he said, accepting the document she offered. “Most sensible, although,” he weighed the sack in with his hand, “this amount seems substantially less than what we agreed upon.”

“Hence the receipt,” Elizabeth said. “I’ve taken the liberty of making a copy for you. Once Mr. Darcy is back, he will pay you the rest.”

Wickham signed the bottom of the page, making a note of the partial payment of ten pounds and looked at Lady Eleanor. “I believed my business was with you, my ladyship.”

“And it was,” Lady Eleanor said. “Shall I perhaps procure a finder’s fee for this most profitable venture?”

Elizabeth could barely keep a giggle from slipping from her lips. She could sense Georgiana doubled over with laughter behind the thick velvet curtains. “Thank you, Mr. Wickham. Your assistance in this matter has been most helpful.”

Something in her tone must have alerted him, for his gaze sharpened, reassessing her with new wariness. “I am glad to have been of service,” he said, his charm now slightly strained around the edges. “Though I trust our transaction will remain private? For both our sakes.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth assured him with wide-eyed innocence. “I would not wish to involve Mr. Collins in any scandal, particularly given his connection to Lady Catherine.”

Relief eased the tension in Wickham’s shoulders as he pocketed the pouch of coins. “Most considerate. Well, I shall not impose upon your hospitality further, Mrs. Darcy. Lady Eleanor. I wish you both a good day.”

“It has been a pleasure, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth sharpened her tongue. “I shall be sure to bring this most felicitous transaction to Mr. Darcy’s attention. Perhaps you might pay us a visit soon? So charming for acquaintances of such long standing to aid with so delicate an affair.”