Page 36 of Out of His Wits (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
A steady drizzle soaked the fields as Darcy rode towards the cluster of cottages and public houses presently housing the militia command.
The arrangement, mandated by the old Mutiny Act, required innkeepers and ale-house proprietors to quarter the soldiers at rates that had remained unchanged since King William’s time—a circumstance that bred considerable resentment among the local publicans, particularly given the current high price of provisions.
The hour was not late. The grounds had stilled with the hush of evening, and the scent of warm grass and sun-warmed earth lingered in the air.
The gentle quiet of the hour did nothing to settle the unease coiled beneath his calm.
Too many details now pointed towards a familiar name cloaked in falsehood.
Only one man of his acquaintance would possess both the audacity to adopt the uniform under false pretences and the charm to mask his purpose.
He dismounted before the Crown Inn, where Colonel Forster had established his temporary headquarters in accordance with the quartering requirements.
The building showed signs of the strain such arrangements placed upon civilian establishments—additional stabling hastily erected, and the harried expression of an innkeeper managing both his patrons and a company of soldiers at rates that barely covered his costs.
Darcy handed the reins to a waiting lad.
A sentry blinked at him through the rain but recognised him readily enough.
Within moments, Darcy was shown into a small, smoke-dimmed chamber, where Colonel Forster stood at a table cluttered with reports and a half-finished decanter, a glass of a dark liquid in his hand.
The Colonel, who had dined with him in the past weeks, welcomed Darcy into his modest sitting room with an air of affected military briskness. The remains of an afternoon repast lay poorly concealed behind a stack of beribboned correspondence.
“Mr. Darcy—an unexpected pleasure.” Forster’s smile was perhaps a bit broad for the hour. “Do come in. I trust your party at Netherfield is well. Mr. Hurst has recovered?”
“They are, thank you, and Mr. Hurst is improving.” Darcy replied, bowing formally. “I do not come on a social errand, Colonel, but rather to consult you on a matter of personal concern — one which may fall within your purview.”
Colonel Forster’s brows rose with more alarm than curiosity. “Indeed? Nothing… troublesome, I hope? My men have been conducting themselves admirably of late.”
Darcy accepted the chair offered him, noting the Colonel’s quick gesture to push aside a quantity of crumpled papers marked by rings from a glass or cup left on them “You will forgive the indelicacy of this inquiry, but I must ask whether any officer currently attached to your command bears the name George Wilkins.”
“Wilkins?” The Colonel’s brow furrowed though whether in thought or confusion was unclear.
“Ah… yes, yes indeed. Lieutenant Wilkins joined us perhaps… six weeks past? Two months? These things run together. A very presentable young man. Quite gentlemanly.” He waved vaguely.
“His papers were all in order, I assure you..”
Darcy’s pulse quickened. “His papers?”
“Standard documentation to qualify as a junior officer. References from his shire, though I recall they were somewhat sparse. But he has a university education and his credentials appeared in order. We do require more officers than we can obtain. One cannot be too particular when a man presents himself so well.” Colonel Forster regarded Darcy with growing curiosity.
“May I ask your interest in Lieutenant Wilkins?”
“I have reason to believe I know the man,” Darcy said carefully. “Could you describe his appearance and manner?”
The Colonel leant back, relieved to discuss superficialities. “Fair hair, well-made fellow. Considerable charm—quite popular at the local assemblies. Cuts a fine figure in regimentals.” He paused, then added hastily, “Attends to his duties adequately, of course.”
“What did he claim of his family or previous service?”
“Second son of a gentleman… somewhere northward.” Forster gestured vaguely, then thought. “Mentioned connexions in Derbyshire, actually. That might smooth his way, having connections to yourself, perhaps?”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “He claimed connection to me?”
“Not directly, not directly!” Forster said quickly, clearly anxious not to offend. “Simply mentioned familiarity with the principal families. I naturally assumed… but no matter.”
The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. “Colonel, the matter is sensitive, but it is imperative that I verify his identity without his knowledge. Might it be possible to observe him without being observed myself?”
Colonel Forster’s expression grew grave. “Come now, sir. Do you make an accusation, Mr. Darcy? I cannot have aspersions cast upon my officers without cause.”
“I cast no aspersions at present. I am merely looking out for the regiment and the community. What aspersion could arise from my confirming his identity?”
The Colonel studied him, clearly calculating the risks of offending so prominent a gentleman.
“Very well. I doubt very much that aught is amiss. Lieutenant Wilkins is presently on duty with the evening patrol. He typically takes his supper at the Swan around eight o’clock.
The establishment has a private parlour overlooking the main taproom.
You could observe him there without detection.
” He paused, then added with forced joviality, “Though I am certain you’ll find everything quite proper.
My judgement in these matters is quite sound. ”
“I am grateful for your assistance, Colonel. I must ask for your discretion until this matter is resolved.”
“Naturally, naturally.” Forster was already reaching for his decanter.
“Though I must say, Mr. Darcy, it is a matter of great vexation that whenever some trifling incident occurs, suspicions immediately fall upon the regiment. That business at Netherfield—surely a disgruntled servant. Nothing whatsoever to do with my men.”
“You are likely correct,” Darcy said diplomatically, declining a drink and rising to leave.
“These local misses and their fathers, always eager to blame the officers for any impropriety,” Forster continued, his voice taking on a whining quality.
“As if I do not maintain discipline. Why, I review the rolls myself every… that is, regularly.” He followed Darcy to the door.
“You will send word when this misunderstanding is cleared up? I cannot have talk going about.”
“You may depend upon it,” Darcy replied grimly, already reaching for the door.
Reaching for a handshake, “Might this be somehow tied to the incident at Netherfield?” the Colonel asked casually.
Darcy hesitated a moment. “I cannot say.” Then he bowed, offering his thanks and taking his leave with a quiet sense of grim satisfaction. He had not spoken Wickham’s name aloud — but he no longer doubted the connection.
Darcy spent the better part of an hour wandering Meryton’s modest streets, his mind occupied with the increasingly disturbing picture that was emerging.
The drizzle had subsided, but the cobblestones remained slick beneath his boots as he made his way past the milliner’s shop and the circulating library, acknowledging the occasional bow from residents who recognised him from his association with Netherfield.
When the church bells chimed the quarter-hour before eight, he reached the Swan.
The inn was a substantial establishment of honey-coloured stone, its windows glowing warmly against the gathering dusk.
Darcy requested the private parlour that Colonel Forster had mentioned and was pleased to find it suited his purpose admirably.
It was positioned to afford a clear view of the main taproom below whilst remaining sufficiently shadowed to conceal its occupant.
He had barely settled himself with a glass of wine when a knock on the parlour door announced Sir William Lucas, resplendent in his evening attire despite the informality of the establishment.
“Mr. Darcy! What an unexpected pleasure to encounter you here,” Sir William declared with his characteristic bonhomie.
“I thought I caught sight of you entering, and Mr. Clarke, after a little persuasion, confirmed my surmise.. I am delighted to find a gentleman of your consequence taking his refreshment at our modest establishment.”
“Sir William,” Darcy rose and bowed. “Indeed, I have some time to spare this evening. Pray, will you not join me? I should welcome the company.” Whilst Darcy did not relish the presence of the voluble gentleman, his conscience reminded him that Miss Elizabeth had found his courtesy to the people of Meryton wanting.
Indeed, his own presence there would appear less out of place were he conversing with another gentleman.
“Most kind, most kind indeed!” Sir William accepted the invitation with delight, settling himself in the chair opposite. “I cannot account for your presence here. Surely the comforts of Netherfield would prove more congenial than our humble village inn?”
Darcy poured wine for his companion whilst considering how much to reveal. “I had business with Colonel Forster this afternoon and was reluctant to return immediately to Netherfield. Sometimes a change of scene proves instructive.”
“Ah, Colonel Forster! He carries great responsibilities with his regiment. I understand the burden of accommodating so many officers weighs heavily upon the local innkeepers. But we all must make our sacrifices for His Majesty’s forces, must we not?”
“Indeed, I had observed as much.” Darcy glanced towards the window overlooking the taproom, where several red-coated figures were beginning to gather. “The militia has certainly made its presence felt throughout local society.”