Page 35 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 33

E lizabeth reeled back, staggered slightly by the shoulder of a man as he brushed between them and pushed Anne backward against the very building Elizabeth had just pointed out to her. Anne spun about to escape, but the man’s arm detained her.

“Georgiana!” Elizabeth easily recognized George Wickham’s silky tones. “I looked for you in London, but you were not where you said you—gnnggghhh!” His words strangled back into his throat when Elizabeth made a snatch at the back of his collar, dragging him away from Anne.

Wickham turned with a grimace and swiped Elizabeth off of him as though she had been no more than a fly, but it diverted his attention long enough for Anne to collect herself. Employing a move she had seen often threatened by her mother, she swung her reticule—loaded with coins—to box him in the ear. Wickham yelped in surprise but was not greatly discouraged.

Ducking a second blow, he wrapped his hands around Anne’s waist and pressed her up against the Philips’ residence. Before Elizabeth could reach for him again, he had locked the other woman in a passionate kiss, right before the entire town. Anne’s hands helplessly flew up in a warding gesture, her small fists falling like pattering rain on Wickham’s shoulders. Elizabeth gathered her wits and her weapons. Her heavy new books swung at the back of his lungs from their convenient canvas satchel took the zeal out of him.

Wickham made a choking sound and spun to face her, one hand still roughly clenching Anne’s arm and the other reaching to seize Elizabeth’s striking hand. “Why, it is the future Mrs Darcy! Good day, Miss Bennet. What kind of way is this to greet your future brother?”

Anne twisted away sharply and spun to glare Wickham down with all the scalding iciness of the de Bourgh heritage. “Who exactly do you think I am?” she demanded, her head thrown back furiously.

Wickham glanced nonchalantly away from Elizabeth to make a reply but swirled in a double-take and fixed his incredulous gaze on Anne. “Anne!” Wickham’s face paled, and Elizabeth took advantage of his distraction to yank her hand free.

Anne had not spent seven and twenty years under her mother’s tutelage for nothing. She marched imperiously closer. “That is Miss Anne de Bourgh to you, Mr Wickham! What excuse have you for this attack on my person?”

“Forgive me, I thought you were…” he gulped and broke off. He could have sworn it was Georgiana! Anne de Bourgh, the near-dead pawn of the officious Lady Catherine, walking and laughing merrily in this insignificant town with none other than her avowed rival for Darcy’s hand? He took a step back.

Elizabeth glanced about as her peripheral vision caught movement. Her stomach pitted. Everyone on the street had seen Wickham’s assault on Anne, and naturally, quite a few curious onlookers began to gather and whisper behind their gloves. She made a swift decision.

“You thought she was what, Mr Wickham? One of your loose women? One of your paid companions?” Elizabeth fisted her hand on her hip and leaned threateningly toward him. “How dare you insult a lady in this way?”

Wickham was stepping back from them now, slowly, with his hands lifting in an unconscious gesture of supplication. Elizabeth was not finished. She stalked after him, now waving her finger.

“I know how you treat ladies, Mr Wickham! I know you are in debt—probably to half of the good people of this town! I know how you ought to have been a successful attorney by now, but you are a reckless gamester with no principles and cannot even make a respectable militia officer! I know how you try to manipulate and harm others through deceit and extortion! You oil your way into others’ good graces and slander good, decent people like the Darcys because of your insatiable jealousy! You could have had every opportunity, Mr Wickham, but you squandered your chances in ruin and dissipation!”

Wickham had continued backing away from the wrathful Elizabeth, his eyes wide. Heavens, but she was magnificent when riled! Her colour was heightened, her eyes flashed, and her bearing reflected majestic sovereignty and righteous passion. Darcy had better be careful! His steps dragged reluctantly. She had astounded him in her willingness to loudly and publicly castigate him rather than flee in modesty as he had expected of a lady. What glorious sort of woman would unabashedly stand up to a man on a public thoroughfare? A pity that this masterpiece, too, should, in the end, belong to Darcy.

His admiration took a sudden turn as a glance over his shoulder revealed flashes of red moving in his direction. He groaned. He had planned to slip away quickly, intending to remain only long enough to openly damage Georgiana’s maidenly credibility and then steal away. How could he then drop threats to Darcy if he had not his liberty? He took a long step in preparation to turn and run from the approaching militiamen, but he backed instead into something firm and unyielding. He turned his head and swallowed. Colonel Fitzwilliam clamped an iron hand to his shoulder.

Elizabeth had not yet arrested her tirade, marching still toward the retreating weasel and scolding him heatedly. Just as she registered Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence, a gentle hand at her own shoulder stilled her. “Elizabeth,” Darcy called softly, “it’s all right.”

She turned and found his eyes full of such a conflict of feeling that she could not at once discern his thoughts. Anne had come to stand just behind him, but her gaze was only for Darcy as he drew her hand close. “I—I am sorry,” she mumbled, dropping her eyes sorrowfully. A spark of fear and mortification grew in her. She had shamed Darcy in public by acting a hostile, impudent shrew. Of course, Wickham deserved to be told off, but not by herself, who ought to have behaved as a lady! Dread spread over her. What must Darcy think?

He squeezed her hand, a gesture none, but she could have noted. She looked up again to a tender, if fleeting, smile. “Do not be sorry, Elizabeth,” he murmured quietly. With one more press to her fingers, he gently guided her to stand next to Anne and moved to address himself to Wickham.

A crowd had begun to gather now. The two militia officers who had been flirting with Kitty and Lydia quickly crossed the street and stood ready to obey Colonel Fitzwilliam’s command. Kitty and Lydia, unfortunately, trailed just behind with rather unbecoming interest. Elizabeth peered behind them with trepidation. At least Mary and Georgiana were not at hand. Georgie ought not be near Wickham, especially not now!

“Wickham.” Darcy’s voice was cold and unbending. “What do you mean by imposing yourself on a young lady of my family, and in the middle of the street? Have you no decency or honour left in you?”

Wickham sneered and tried to jerk away from Fitzwilliam, but unsuccessfully. Richard wrenched one arm behind his back and, with his other hand, gripped Wickham by the tendons of his neck and clamped down, hard. Wickham cringed, his knees crumpling in pain as he tried to cower away. “ Answer! ” Fitzwilliam hissed.

“I thought she was someone else!” he snivelled, the pain in his body causing him to momentarily forget that he still held dangerous information.

Darcy had not forgotten. He could take no chances that Wickham would utter Georgiana’s name under Richard’s duress. He flicked his eyes to his cousin, who relented with the intuition of a brother.

Another glance over his shoulder assured him that Elizabeth had already taken action to preserve the situation. She was firmly ushering her sisters and Anne into her aunt’s house, and mercifully, Bingley and Jane had appeared from nowhere. Bingley took up station behind Darcy, while Jane grimly followed her sisters into their aunt’s abode with the intent of keeping them under wraps. Elizabeth, however, returned to stand staunchly at his shoulder.

Despite everything, he could not but feel a swell of triumph. This was the astounding woman he would be privileged to spend his life with, who would fight loyally at his side and lie sweetly in his arms! He levelled a challenging glare at Wickham, whose widened eyes testified that he, too, stood in awe of the spirit of Elizabeth Bennet.

Darcy stepped closer, lowering his voice so that his words might be kept between only them. “ What have you done with miss King? ” he rasped.

Wickham threw back his shoulders as best he could under the colonel’s grip. “What do I want with that nasty, freckled thing? A dowry of ten thousand? I can have all of that and more, without being shackled to a silly wife. You’ll be only too happy to pay up to keep me from telling what I know!”

Fitzwilliam shook Wickham until his teeth rattled. “Where is she, then?” he demanded.

Wickham blinked, trying to recover somewhat. “Probably in London, or on her way to Brighton with her uncle! He got an ‘anonymous’ tip that someone wished to abscond with his niece. I knew if she disappeared, you would take after her and try to save her from me. You are so predictable, Darcy! I only lament that you came back so quickly.”

Darcy drew back fractionally, satisfied that the innocent young lady, at least, was unharmed. Now to prevent any possibility that it might ever happen again.

“George Wickham,” Colonel Fitzwilliam pronounced, “you are a deserter from His Majesty’s Militia. I hereby place you under arrest.”

Wickham leapt but Fitzwilliam held firm. “I never left Meryton!”

“You never reported for duty!” Fitzwilliam shot back. “Your commanding officer did not know your whereabouts; therefore, you have been absent without leave.”

Wickham began to panic. A tribunal meant certain doom. Damn that Elizabeth Bennet! If she had not distracted him so, he would have been long gone! Fury took over where shrewdness had once prevailed. “You are no better than I!” he lashed out at Fitzwilliam. “What are you but a poor second son, a penniless whelp, totally dependent on that parsimonious snob for everything! You cannot even afford to marry without his leave!”

Fitzwilliam collared Wickham roughly, his face taking on a dangerous hue. “Guard your words well, sir! I may be all that stands between you and the gallows!”

Wickham spun to glare recklessly at his persecutor. “Do you think I don’t know about you, Richard? That I don’t see the way you look at her, the way you pine your miserable existence away waiting for someone you can never have? Aye, Darcy is too thick, but you and I are the same, Richard ! You can lock me up, but it won’t help y-” Wickham’s taunting was finally cut short when Fitzwilliam slammed his head against the brick of the Philips’ residence. He sagged, senseless.

Richard let him fall to the walk, straightening his coat and glancing self-consciously at his cousin… and beyond him. Georgiana had just exited a nearby tea shop with Mary Bennet and had stopped in open-mouthed horror at the scene unfolding before her. Darcy had not yet perceived her, but Elizabeth followed his ashen gaze immediately. She whirled and quickly beckoned both girls to follow her into her aunt’s house.

Darcy was only dimly aware of what had taken place behind him. He blanched at Wickham’s words, his eyes boring questioningly into his cousin. Richard dropped his head in defeat, waving for the gathering crowd of militia officers to collect the downed deserter.

Chaos reigned for some minutes. Word was sent for Colonel Forster. Wickham was dragged away, staggering and only muddily conscious. Local gentlemen who had stepped away from the scene to shield their ladies began to brave the streets once more. The town’s residents slowly resumed their business, with many a surreptitious eye cast toward the worthy gentleman of Derbyshire and his heroic cousin, both of whom had cut such a dashing figure in detaining the pariah of the week.

Fitzwilliam dared to meet Darcy’s even gaze but could not hold it for long. He looked away, collecting his fallen hat from the mud and brushing ineffectually at it. Bingley clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “Fitz, I’m going to see to the ladies.” He glanced awkwardly at the colonel and slipped inside the house just as Mr Philips emerged.

“Mr Darcy! What has happened? I heard a man attacked the lady in the street! Oh, my gracious, my poor wife is in hysterics!”

Darcy sighed. “All is well, sir. Is Miss de Bourgh very much shaken up?”

The man arched his brows over his spectacles. “Miss de Bourgh? Why, I believe she is well. It is your sister, Miss Darcy, who appears most distressed.”

Darcy closed his eyes. Not now! Wickham, that blasted deviant, had broken his beloved sister’s heart. What a shock it must have given her to see him just now! Heedless of Mr Philips, who was beginning to jabber excitedly to a blank-faced Fitzwilliam, Darcy moved toward the door of the house. Elizabeth intercepted him as he was reaching for the handle, slipping outside to him and pulling the door closed behind herself.

“Georgiana?” he questioned brusquely.

Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “She is well enough, only a little rattled. Miss de Bourgh and my sister Mary are attending her. Jane,” she cast a grateful look over her shoulder, “is fighting the good fight to contain my younger sisters until Mr Bingley can make arrangements for us all to travel homeward.”

Darcy heaved, the tension beginning to leave him. “But… Georgiana? And Anne?” he asked again, numbly. Elizabeth did not answer. He followed the direction of her gaze and discovered his cousin leaning against the house, his hand wearily covering his eyes. Fitzwilliam’s mouth twisted in an agonized scowl. Though still mystified at the sudden source of his cousin’s disturbance, instinctively, he started to pull away from Elizabeth to go to him. In trial and storm, Richard had always been there to comfort him, however exasperating his methods might have been. He could do no less!

Elizabeth, however, tightened a staying hand on his forearm. He looked back at her, and she shook her head. “Go to Georgiana,” she urged. It was more of a command, really. Nodding slowly, he submitted, darting one last look over his shoulder.

He found Georgiana and Anne with their arms about each other’s shoulders. He did not know which to expect to be the most overwrought, but quickly found that Anne had come through her ordeal with rather more philosophical amusement than he had expected. He and his cousin had been making inquiries about Meryton after leaving the colonel’s office. As a consequence, he had witnessed the entire episode from down the street, beginning with Anne and Elizabeth’s easy familiarity and right up to Elizabeth’s glorious verbal assault on all things George Wickham. He had anticipated that sheltered and tender Anne would have been mortified beyond words, horrified into a stupor by Wickham’s audacious attack, but she offered him a comforting smile as he approached.

Georgiana, on the other hand, had her face hidden in her handkerchief. She had never been one given to fashionable hysteria, and with a questioning look at Anne, he took his place to Georgiana’s left in a seat Mary Bennet vacated for him. Georgiana clenched his hand but would not lower her shield.

“Georgie,” he inquired softly, “are you well?”

She nodded mutely, the lace bobbing and tickling over her nose.

Anne cleared her throat. “Mrs Philips offered us some refreshments, William. I believe I will take advantage of her hospitality.”

He watched her go, then turned back. “Georgiana, will you speak to me?”

She shook her head. Dimly he became aware that she was not crying—not exactly. She seemed only distressed, perhaps ashamed and embarrassed.

He bent close to her ear to murmur low encouragement. “I never heard him say your name, Georgie, nor could anyone else have but possibly Elizabeth or Anne. Richard clubbed him pretty hard. I do not think he will be speaking anything of coherence for the rest of the day.”

She drew a shuddering breath but made no other reaction. He was thoroughly baffled. She had never, even after the escapade with Wickham, hidden her face so determinedly from him. He cast his troubled gaze about the room, and it landed on Jane Bennet, who apparently had been observing them with interest. Acknowledging his silent plea, she came to sit with Georgiana as well. By a subtle shake of her head, the sage Miss Bennet advised him not to press his sister just now.

Hanging his head, he resigned himself to his meek position as Hand Holder.

E lizabeth casually assumed a posture on the walkway outside her aunt’s home, about an arm’s length from the colonel. She did not speak to him, but she did smile and wave at some of the town’s passers-by. A few darted nervous glances her way, but her open friendliness and general sterling reputation in the community encouraged a wave of support that she hoped would flood over all of the innocent ladies touched by the potential scandal.

Fitzwilliam still did not move. She avoided looking directly at him. That would have been Darcy’s style, but some innate sense whispered to her to offer the colonel silent comradeship without requiring anything of him.

At last, he spoke. “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth? And my cousin Anne?”

“Quite well, sir. Thank you for asking.”

He was silent once more, gazing thoughtfully across the street at no object in particular.

“How long have you been in love with Georgiana?” she at last questioned in a low voice.

He shot her a convicted glare. “It is not what you think.”

She arched a brow. “And just what do I think?”

He returned his gaze to the nothingness across the street. “You must think I would take advantage of my position as her guardian. You must be horrified that I, a man twice her age, would even think of her.”

She shrugged. “The age difference is not unheard of. My aunt and uncle Gardiner share a similar such difference, and I cannot find it within me to criticize their union. As to your guardianship, I have it on the very best authority that none could look after their charge more perfectly.”

He squinted curiously at her, pressing his lips. At last, he began to articulate his feelings. “You asked me once if war was not terrible.”

She nodded.

“I have been three tours of duty overseas. Truly, Miss Bennet, there is no more horrifying device known to mortal man. The cruelty, the blood… the brutal squandering, Miss Bennet. I could never describe to a lady what my eyes have seen, but the nightmares… they are known to every man who wears a uniform. I cannot lay down my head without seeing my brothers dying, hearing the screams of men and horses… such a bloody, senseless waste of life!”

Elizabeth closed her eyes.

Fitzwilliam swallowed and continued. “We cope as best we can because our loved ones back at home depend on our protection. I shall not venture to philosophize on the imperial dogma—I have seen the good and also the harm. Mine is to do my duty and serve my men.”

Elizabeth nodded in understanding, taking a supportive half step closer to him.

He sighed. “Georgiana has always been to me the epitome of everything sweet and fine. Since she was born, and then when she was just a few years old and lost her mother—I have been close to her for her entire life, Miss Bennet. I watched her grow from adorable child to shy youngster to graceful young woman, and I have never felt but admiration and brotherly affection—that is, until this summer.”

He paused, biting his lip and shaking his head. “I never wanted to kill anyone more in my life! The violence I abhor on the battlefield, the necessary evil of my duty, all of that honed to a single point for me when Darcy sent me that express from Ramsgate. I would have gladly spilled the scoundrel’s entrails, coldly defiled my hands with another man’s blood, if only to spare what was good and right in my world from the pain and ruination of what the truly wicked would devise.

“Everything clarified for me on that trip south. My life has meaning and purpose if I can spend it, protecting that which I love. I would gladly lay it at my cousin’s feet to preserve her purity and innocence! It is not like the passion Darcy feels for you, Miss Bennet. Forgive me if I cause you any discomfort!” he interjected upon noticing Elizabeth’s vivid blush. “I imagine that emotion would arise if I gave it rein, but I cannot allow it. I am her guardian! It is shameful that I should harbour thoughts of her. I will be an old man while the bloom of youth is still fresh on her! She deserves better, Miss Bennet.”

“Better than a man who would sacrifice his happiness for her sake?” she challenged.

He eyed her carefully. “Better than one with no future or prospects, who bears unspeakable scars both in body and in spirit. She is sweetness and perfection, and I would have her give her heart to one who is worthy of her.”

“I suspect she may have already done so.”

He closed his eyes again. “Do not tell Darcy,” he implored. “The subject is closed, and I shall not pursue it. She is too young to even consider such matters. Let us not speak of it again.”

Elizabeth drew a ragged breath. “As you wish, sir.”

“And, Miss Bennet,” he opened his eyes, the bright, cheerful expression she had grown accustomed to returning faintly. “I would thank you for your kindness. You will make the finest mistress that Pemberley has ever known.”

D arcy fleetingly thought to arrange for a carriage to take their entire party back to Netherfield after their ordeal in the street but quickly thought better of it. Making such provisions would publicly declare that their party felt shame and humiliation after the incident. Better, he decided, to hold their heads high.

With that in mind, he left Georgiana in Jane and Mary’s capable hands and approached Mr and Mrs Philips, both of whom shrank slightly with the honour of such a man’s condescension. Mrs Philips was only a slightly more practical version of her sister, and Darcy cringed at having to depend upon her prudence to keep up his family’s good name. “Mrs Philips,” he greeted her cordially, “your hospitality is quite unrivalled, as always. I have greatly appreciated each opportunity to partake of your home’s elegant welcome.”

Mrs Philips blinked, glancing uncertainly toward her husband. Such, from a man accustomed to the finest circles, was high praise indeed! Mrs Philips drew herself a little straighter and preened a little.

It had not been her wish to welcome all of these girls into her house after that shocking display in the street. Her niece Elizabeth, however, had given her no option. Before she had been able to object, the entire party had been received and served refreshments. She had always rather taken her sister Fanny’s part in her belief that Elizabeth was far too outspoken and direct, but her staff were another matter. They had leapt at the prospect of being of service to a young lady who had always been kind to them, and who even now stood poised to become one of the finest ladies in all of England. Who knew what avenues for their own advancement lay open through her?

Mr Philips found his voice before his wife did. “Most civil of you, Mr Darcy. We were all very horrified yesterday when it became known that Mr Wickham, whom we have received in this house, had taken advantage of a local girl in such a way. Poor Miss King! I wonder what became of her?”

“Miss King?” Darcy inquired, with deliberate confusion. “Why, Miss King is known to be travelling with her uncle. Mr Wickham has in the past preyed on young ladies, as he attempted to do with my noble cousin, but that particular lady, at least, is safe.” There. Thanks now to Mrs Philips and her ilk, Mary King would be vindicated through the town, and Anne viewed with sympathy.

“Do you know,” Philips leaned close with an uncomfortable glance at his wife, “that Wickham fellow owes most of the shopkeepers money.”

Darcy sighed and nodded. “I have already begun arrangements to purchase his debts. Wickham was my father’s ward; thus, it is mine to take responsibility.”

Philips’ eyes widened. “That is right good of you, sir! Is... is Miss Darcy well?”

“Well enough, I thank you. She, like myself, suffers from grave disappointment in our childhood friend.”

“Oh, I see,” he nodded. He stood in mock relaxation for a moment until his wife was temporarily diverted by a question from one of the maids. “I hear,” he whispered to Darcy, “that he takes up with... you know... Some of the lesser ladies of the town.”

Darcy pressed his lips thin but made no reply to that comment. No doubt Wickham had not been lodging alone. He’d had access to funds and incentive to lie low, so a young companion of some sort would certainly have served him well. He hoped the girl, whoever she was, would have the sense to go through Wickham’s belongings once she had word of his capture.

Though it cost him every last shred of his peace of mind, Darcy remained to make polite conversation with the Philipses, and even extended an invitation to Pemberley after Christmas, should the wedding plans not interfere. His being roiled with both anticipation and dread. Come what may, he would make absolutely certain that Elizabeth was his wife well before the end of the year! A quick calculation on the length of time for the banns…. Oh, hang the banns! All he was really waiting for was Elizabeth’s father, and then he intended to carry her off as soon as may be.

His dream of Elizabeth at Pemberley for Christmas was possible, only just, if Mr Bennet continued in his rapid recovery. Elizabeth would be his, and without delay, if he had a say in the matter! He would not look forward to a flood of visitors—particularly not these visitors—quite so soon, but Pemberley was large, and his people were loyal. There were plenty of places Elizabeth would need to become acquainted with, and it was easy to get lost!

Just before the walking party were to set out again from Meryton, he found a moment to draw near Anne. “Are you well?” he whispered.

She turned laughing eyes on him. “Why would I not be?”

“Well, I… I only wondered,” he offered lamely.

“At seven and twenty, I am rather on the shelf, William. Title, fortune and all, there are plenty of others in the ton more alluring than I, and I have never yet had my presentation. I long ago relinquished any thought of marriage. What need do I have? I have Rosings, and any man pursuing me is likely to be more interested in my property than in myself. You must know what that is like. I would not subject myself to a knave just to have the distinction of the marriage estate. I had always intended to leave it to your second son, or maybe to Richard’s children if he should have any.”

“Then…” his brow furrowed, utterly astounded, “you are not… overcome with all that has occurred?”

Anne actually laughed. “I may never have another kiss me quite so expertly as your Mr Wickham, William! Say what you will about the man; he has his momentary charms. I have spent twelve years feigning serious illness. I intend to live, now, William. Oh, do not look so shocked! I shall not behave immodestly, but I will not allow one incident to overshadow the happiness I intend to enjoy from here on out. Perhaps one day I may, after all, marry, but it shall no longer be a pall hanging over my life. At present, all of your friends seem to be spoken for, so I shall have to shift for myself.”

He took her hand, smiling gently and thinking that even Anne’s brief acquaintance with Elizabeth had brought a sparkle to her that had never been there before. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam had just entered the room, and Anne’s eyes went immediately to the young lady. “You have done extremely well, William. I had expected you to select an entirely different sort, but you surprised me! You could not have chosen a better bride. I predict many years of joy for you both.”

He grinned like the boy she remembered so long ago. “I hope so.”