Page 8 of Searching for Elizabeth (A Pride and Prejudice Variation)

—early afternoon—

George Wickham was astonished to find himself in a terrible fix. That bastard Forster was apparently one of those busybody colonels who checked every single thing about his soldiers’ lives, because he had somehow discovered the fact that Wickham owed the folks of Meryton a lot of money.

Wickham had never been in gaol before, even after all of his scrapes. He hoped like the devil that he could wheedle himself out of this damned cell before Mary King’s uncle heard about it.

Wickham shook his head. No, the King fortune was assuredly out of reach, now. Too many fellows had heard him brag about his engagement to the heiress; her uncle would already know of his ignominy.

Suddenly, Wickham put two and two together—this was all Darcy’s fault!

After overhearing that conversation in the alehouse, Wickham had asked around to see if there was a connection between his nemesis and the lovely Lizzy. He had found out that Darcy had danced with her at the Netherfield ball, and even just the one dance, when it concerned Darcy, indicated an enormous amount of attraction on his side. Simply stated, the man avoided dancing at all times and in all situations.

Darcy had always been weak. He had never so much as slugged him, not even after the Georgiana debacle; he had not challenged him to a duel, turned him over to a magistrate, or even told his father about Wickham’s misdeeds. In the past, Wickham had laughed at the damned coward (behind his back), because Darcy had gone around paying his debts and paying off girls he’d had his way with.

If Darcy was finally taking a stand now, here—

Wickham gasped. Oh my lord, Fitzwilliam Darcy was in love!