Page 13 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

George Wickham laid down his losing Whist hand, shrugging apologetically to his partner across the table. Denney made a disgusted noise and tossed his own cards back into the pile to be reshuffled.

“That’s the rubber.” Captain Carter grinned and gathered up the cards, as well as his winnings. His partner, young Saunderson, grinned boyishly. It was the best luck the fellow had ever had. “Another?” Carter’s hand poised over the deck, his questioning glance hovering on each man’s face.

“Not for me, I’m out,” Denny grumbled and rose from the table.

Wickham was torn. He fingered the small quantity of coins still lining his pockets—the last of the week’s pay. It wouldn’t go far. A hot meal, perhaps a drink. It was just enough to bid for another rubber and hope his luck turned, but not without a fourth player.

“May I join your table?” a familiar voice rumbled over his shoulder. With a sinking feeling, Wickham turned slowly. His old boyhood companion stood behind him. Well, perhaps “companion” was too charitable a term.

Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed politely to the assembled party, giving no particular sign of recognition to Wickham. His quivers of apprehension grew more intense. Fitzwilliam could have only one reason for seeking him out and then pretending not to know him.

Carter signalled his agreeability, and the colonel drew up a chair. The officers around the table each regarded the senior officer from the Regulars with deference and curiosity. Fitzwilliam’s expression was perfectly relaxed as Carter dealt the hand, turning up spades as trump. Wickham watched the colonel narrowly as he picked up his cards, but Fitzwilliam never showed a flicker of interest in his partner beyond what the game required.

They took the first trick, then a second, but Carter took the third and fourth. Wickham frowned. His hand was full of low-ranking cards. Fitzwilliam did not seem to have such poor luck. With a few strategic plays, very soon, they were in the lead. Saunderson gleefully took a few, but in the end, Fitzwilliam’s pile of tricks taken was the largest.

Carter dealt again, the faintest trace of a frown on his face. Wickham allowed himself an inward smirk. Carter and Denney were perhaps his best friends these days, but he had never yet been able to best either of them at cards for more than a hand or two. He knew from long experience that Fitzwilliam was nearly a wizard at the game, and for once, the man was on his side.

A third hand went to Fitzwilliam and Wickham, and the latter, examining his pockets, found that he had regained what he had lost this night. With a significant glance at the back door of the alehouse, the colonel rose to excuse himself. Carter and Saunderson saluted him properly but were not sorry to see him go. A man too lucky or too skilled at cards wore out his welcome rather quickly.

Wickham waited a full minute, pretending to deliberate on another hand, before he, too, stood. He lingered over a mug of ale at the counter, then slowly sauntered out the front door. He considered darting quickly into the shadows, disappearing into the night, but he had no ability to leave town on such short notice. Fitzwilliam would surely find him. The man was too resourceful. He had apparently already gone to the trouble of tracking him down once and would do so again in a far less mannerly fashion.

With a sigh, he jingled the winnings in his pocket then tiptoed around to the back of the alehouse. Grimacing, he stepped around rotting crates of vegetables and stinking puddles made up of more than mud. He did not see Fitzwilliam. He stood a moment, looking about him.

“I see you’re broke again.” A chuckle came from the shadows. “It’s comforting, don’t you think, that some things never change.”

Wickham spun, pulse thudding. “What are you doing here, Fitzwilliam? I’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve no reason to be harassing me!”

“Oh, dear me, George, you sound so very guilty! By the way, that’s Colonel to you now, Lieutenant.” Fitzwilliam tipped a two-fingered salute with a pointed gleam in his eye. “Looks to me like you’re one of His Majesty’s finest these days, and… well, well, I outrank you.”

Wickham adopted a cocky stance, chin lifted. “You didn’t come here to talk about my commission. What do you want?”

Fitzwilliam smiled broadly, acknowledging the truth with a cheery gesture of an ale mug clutched in his left hand. “Why, to catch up on old times, of course! You know, George, it’s been far too long. Let me see, when was the last time we bumped into each other? Oh, yes! I remember now….” His face waxed reminiscent as he let his words hang.

Wickham paled a little. Fitzwilliam had always been protective of Georgiana Darcy, with a vehemence that was second only to her own brother and not nearly so tightly controlled. Darcy might be powerful, but Fitzwilliam was dangerous, and he had incurred the wrath of both. That, however, was six months ago, and he had not been near the coddled little heiress since. What could the colonel want with him now?

He stiffened, going on the offensive. “Still Darcy’s lapdog, I see. I never did figure out why a clever, gifted fellow like you would be at the beck and call of a spoiled puppy like him. Do you ever think it unfair that he landed with all the money while men like us must labour and struggle in deprivation and danger?”

“Oh, believe me, friend, I have had my share of thoughts.”

Still wary but growing a little less apprehensive, Wickham wondered if there was a chink in the colonel’s normally impervious armour. Was there some glimmer of malcontent with the favoured cousin, the poor second son of an earl? “Have you never wished for a tenth of his income?” he tested. “What a man like you could do with a living such as that! No more need to suffer the hardships of military life. Do you not deserve it? You’re twice the man he is!”

“Don’t I know it!” Fitzwilliam’s eyes twinkled strangely. “Yet there is that pesky matter of inheritance, and the next of kin is fairly set in stone.”

Wickham drew himself straighter, suddenly suspicious.

“I hear,” Fitzwilliam changed the subject, “that there is a considerable fortune to be made in America if a man should have it in him to go. Much opportunity, they say. Fur, gold, tobacco….”

Wickham set his jaw, beginning to understand. “You’re threatening me?”

“Oh, George, how black and white of you. I speak of opportunity! You may take it as you wish. Of course, passage is a problem. I understand it is not inexpensive to travel so far, and berths on the better vessels are not to be had cheaply. You could resign from the militia... indeed, you would have to do so and disengage properly, as we are at war currently, and I would hate to see you before a tribunal as a deserter.”

Richard shook his head, chuckling, but fixing Wickham with a piercing gaze. “Odd, those Americans. They’ve no love lost for the Crown, but they’ll turn in a deserter in a heartbeat. Ah, well. Do you know, I would go to America myself, but my poor dear mother has not been well of late, and I must be a dutiful son. However, a man with no ties to bind him….”

“I won’t go to America just to please Darcy! He’ll just have to deal with me. I’ve steered clear of him and that chit of a sister. He may own others, but he does not own me !”

Fitzwilliam bristled at the insults against both himself and Georgiana. It took every ounce of his well-rehearsed self-control not to beat Wickham senseless where he stood. As it was, he simply shrugged, hoping his facade did not slip before the practised eyes of Wickham.

“Oh, well, a good chance lost, I say. I am afraid I haven’t time to dally any longer. I am due for drinks with a dear old friend. Let us have no more unpleasantness, shall we? Here, would you care to finish this ale? It’s practically full yet, but it would be rude to show up half in my cups already. Bad form, and all of that. As Colonel Forster offered to buy the first round, I expect I’ll have to buy a second, and so on. Cheerio.”

The colonel passed his foaming mug to Wickham, who only took it in utter astonishment. Fitzwilliam and his own commanding officer old friends? He had not considered that danger. Frowning down into the froth, his hackles rose. What could Fitzwilliam have secreted in that ale? Poison was not the man’s style, but there was no sense in taking chances for a drink given only in patronizing jest. Disgusted, he flung the liquid out on the ground.

Instead of a gentle splash, he heard the heavy clinking sound of coins. What the devil…. Dropping to a squat, his questing fingers searched out the cold metal. Even in the darkness, the faces glinted brightly at him in the light of the moon. He had no trouble being certain that he had collected them all. Squinting, he held one up to examine it in the dim light. A guinea! Twelve of them!

What could the colonel be about? Twelve guineas? More than a month’s salary. His lips thinned. Enough for passage to America.

Pocketing the coins, he jingled them in his pocket as he strode to his barrack. He had no intention of sailing for America, but for a clever man, twelve guineas could be parlayed into a much greater figure.

E lizabeth did not come down to dinner that evening. Nor did she accept the plate which Jane brought her. Jane made as if to stay with her, but after one look at Elizabeth’s deflated expression, the eyes which uncharacteristically avoided hers, she decided to withdraw. She would give Lizzy a little space, then try to gently draw out—as only a sister could—what was troubling her when they retired for the evening.

Elizabeth sat in gloomy silence, watching her father’s breathing and Mrs Cooper’s steady knitting. Her lax fingers lightly cradled the red-bound book she had carried in from her father’s library, but as yet, she had not found the energy to open it. Mrs Cooper had encouraged her to find one of her father’s favourite light novels and to read it aloud to him in her own beloved voice, but her spirits flagged.

Mrs Cooper sagely continued on with her work, silently appraising the young lady’s morose countenance. She had taken an instant liking to Miss Elizabeth. As a nurse and a doctor’s wife, she had often had occasion to witness families of patients. Loved ones exhibited behaviour running the gamut of human feeling. Most were concerned and involved in the recovery of their dear ones. Occasionally, and always to her surprise, she encountered relatives who were careless and flighty, like the younger Bennet girls appeared to be.

In her years of experience, only a precious few shared Miss Elizabeth’s determination to singlehandedly will her father back to sound health. Miss Jane was a good sort of girl too, truly concerned, but her attentions were necessarily divided between her ailing father and the demands of her mother. Mrs Cooper felt less familiar with the older sister, but she sensed Miss Elizabeth would welcome some encouragement.

“Do not fret so, Miss Bennet,” she sweetly admonished. The young woman’s glistening eyes flashed to hers in surprise.

“Pardon me, Mrs Cooper?”

“You needn’t worry your dear heart out, is all. I have been watching your father very closely, and I believe he shows every sign of waking soon.”

Relief washed over the girl’s features, but the weight-bearing her down remained. “Thank you, Mrs Cooper,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor.

A little puzzled, Mrs Cooper frowned. “Is there something else troubling you, my dear? You seem rather down this evening, most unlike yourself, I daresay.” The question was improperly bold, but her assessment of Miss Elizabeth’s character had been rather quick. This was a young woman who valued outright honesty and would not be offended by bluntness.

Elizabeth blinked a few times in rapid succession. She shook her head, and with a little face of resignation, Mrs Cooper returned to her knitting. After a moment, Elizabeth’s soft voice brought her attention back. “Mrs Cooper, have you ever found that you misjudged someone?”

With a contemplative breath, she shifted the little blanket she knitted off her knees and studied Miss Elizabeth carefully. “I have, a time or two. It is a mistake we all make, I am afraid. I take it you have done so?”

Elizabeth nodded. She seemed reluctant to elaborate, though she clearly yearned to pour out her feelings. Mrs Cooper wisely decided not to pry further. If the girl needed to unburden herself, she would let her. A moment later, she did.

“I was wrong about… about two men, to be truthful. One I thought truly amiable and the victim of unfortunate circumstances now appears to me to be an utter reprobate and a deceiver. Another, whom I had judged to be arrogant and conceited, proves to be… quite the opposite.”

“Well, one cannot always judge by first impressions, so my husband says.”

Elizabeth roused herself a little. She had not intended to slip so in the company of a virtual stranger. She really ought to talk to Jane. She was aching for the morrow, which would hopefully bring her aunt Madeline. Mrs Gardiner’s advice was always welcome to her nieces. The shame of her error burned and gnawed at her. How could she forgive herself for her gross misapprehension, for her stubborn blindness? She could not.

Not wishing to remain an ill-tempered companion to Mrs Cooper, she forced herself to turn to another subject, if even for a few moments. “Dr Cooper seems a very wise man,” she murmured.

“Aye, that he is, that he is, Love,” Mrs Cooper rocked a little, picking her little blanket back up. “The very best of men, if I do say so. Though I did not always know him for that, I can tell you! I was not so impressed with him when he first came to court.” She chuckled a little, and Elizabeth almost expected to see a girlish blush staining her cheeks.

“Will you tell me, please?” Elizabeth felt a smile growing despite her gloom.

“Oh, we were childhood mates, he and I. I had only brothers, you see, no sisters with whom to play properly as a little girl ought. His family lived close by, and they had no girls either. We spent the summers wading the creeks, making mud pies, riding his pony. I caught many a frog with Daniel! When we were older, of course, he went off to school, and I only saw him on holiday. For some time, it was just the same when we saw each other.

“Then the year I turned fifteen, here he shows up in fancy clothes with a bouquet of flowers. Well, I tell you, I would have none of it at first. I had all these fine notions of what manner of man I should marry, and a little boy who made mud pies and caught frogs would not suit! Of course, in a very short time, I saw he was not that little boy I had remembered, but neither was he the dashing sort of fellow I had imagined. He was just… Daniel. He still is, my dear, and I love him the better for it.” Mrs Cooper suddenly looked bashful. “I suppose you did not wish to hear my entire tale.”

Elizabeth was smiling broadly now. “Yes, in fact, I did. I enjoyed your story very much. Thank you.”

Mrs Cooper nodded and smiled. “It’s a good life we’ve had, my dear. There may have been handsomer men, and certainly, there were lovelier ladies, but Daniel and I suit. A doctor’s life is not a glamourous one, but we have made do, and now our son wishes to take it on.” Her face beamed with pride as she glanced to Elizabeth to see if her listener were still engaged.

“Robert got his studies done last year and has been working with Daniel. They heard there was a famous surgeon lecturing in London. He thinks someday we will be able to perform surgery on the heart, if you can only imagine! It will never happen, I said. But poor Robert, after losing his Maggie, he has had a rough time of it. Daniel mostly took him to London to get his mind off his troubles.” Here she looked up to Elizabeth again. “They may be both wonderful doctors, Miss, but sometimes there is nothing you can do for a woman and a child when a delivery goes wrong. That poor lass was never strong, but my Robert still blames himself.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and blew out a breath in pity. Every woman understood the risks of childbirth. That risk would likely be hers someday as well. How bitter to face that danger for the sake of a man she could not love! Could she? An unaccountable tightness seized her breast, and she began breathing in short little gasps. Her mind began to turn over sudden new ideas. With merciless good sense, she reminded herself that not only was she strong and healthy, but her mother had always experienced smooth deliveries.

But what of the intimacy required of her? Heat flushed her cheeks as she began to contemplate the matter more deeply. Mrs Bennet had kept her daughters occupied with the necessity of marriage, but they had little idea of what went on after the vows were said. Still, Elizabeth had grown up on a farm and was probably better acquainted with the physics of the matter than a lady ought to be. Her whole body flushed in a mixture of mortification and wonder. Would Mr Darcy... and she...?

Desperately she sought to quell her scandalous thoughts before she either died of embarrassment or began to laugh outright. If Mrs Cooper noted Elizabeth’s shift in demeanour, she gave no indication. Softly Elizabeth raised her voice again, hoping her tones belied the swirling emotions inside her. “Mrs Cooper, should I read a little?”

The older woman peered sceptically at Elizabeth over the rim of her glasses and adopted her best nurse’s tone. “You look like you need rest instead. Your Papa is not going anywhere. Off to bed with you, Dearie. You can relieve me in the morning. I think your father would very much like to hear that book you brought up once you are rested.”

Elizabeth glanced to the book she held. “Oh. Yes, I… I will see you in the morning. Good night, Mrs Cooper.” She rose, carefully placing the book on a small table by the window. “Oh, and Mrs Cooper?” The woman looked back up with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

E lizabeth slipped quietly into her own room. Jane was already tucked neatly into their shared bed, the candle snuffed. Tiptoeing so as not to disturb her, Elizabeth crept to the corner of the room where there shone just enough moonlight through the window to undress by. Through the window, she could see the creek, and just out of sight lurked her favourite rock. Remorse sank her heart.

Her dress forgotten, she leaned her elbows on the window frame, visualizing clearly with her mind what could not be seen in the darkness. She was at the rock, where she had so horrifically abused Mr Darcy to his face. She imagined herself facing him down, heartlessly berating a just man because he had wounded her pride. With a groan, she forced herself to remember all.

She saw herself slapping him, blasting him verbally, exposing her ignorance and her mortifying lack of decorum. And I thought Lydia and Kitty ill-mannered! Worse yet, this very day she had accused him of negligence to his own sister! The poor man had tried to protest his good intentions, had alluded to the difficulties he faced in raising a young girl on his own, but she had stubbornly refused to listen. A small sob escaped, and she covered her face with her hands.

Gentle hands on her shoulders snapped her to attention. She jumped, startled, and let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, Jane! You mustn’t frighten me so! I thought you were asleep!”

“I am sorry, dear Lizzy. You were standing there so long, I thought something might be dreadfully wrong!”

“Was I? It did not seem so very long. Truly?”

“Ten minutes, at least. Oh, your hands are freezing! Let me help you. Off with this gown, and into bed to warm up!” Jane’s nimble fingers had Elizabeth draped in her nightclothes and her hair plaited in a matter of moments.

By the time she was finished, Elizabeth was grateful to climb under the covers, and even more grateful to share her sister’s warmth. Jane snuggled close, taking Elizabeth’s hands under the covers and placing them between her own to warm them. Elizabeth murmured her thanks, shivering slightly and wrapping the coverlet tightly around herself with her ankles.