Page 25 of The Bennet Heir
Chapter Twenty-Four
N either Wickham nor Miss Bingley realised that their tête-à-tête had been observed. When Wickham slipped away from his fellow officers, one of the Bow Street Runners, acting on the orders of both Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, discreetly followed him.
At first, Colonel Forster had objected to this arrangement but reluctantly conceded when he realised he could not be certain which of his officers could be spared for the task—or which of his foot soldiers might have been complicit in Wickham’s original scheme. Moreover, the Bow Street Runner, being unknown to Wickham, would attract far less suspicion than a member of the regiment.
The Bow Street Runner allowed both parties to leave before making his way back to town to report to his employer. He found Colonel Fitzwilliam first, informing him of what he had overheard, along with Wickham’s reaction when he discovered that his captive had disappeared.
“He let out a slew of curses, sir, but there was panic too,” the man said. “He implied that he had hoped to have time to put his own plans into place, and that without knowing for certain where Bennet was or when he might turn up, he would need to act in haste. If I am not mistaken, his plans included something to do with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, another reason he so easily agreed to that Bingley woman’s plans.”
The colonel nodded, as this confirmed what he had already heard. Earlier that afternoon, under the pretense of searching for the master of Longbourn, he had called at the dower cottage. After introducing himself to the residents, he had spent half an hour with Bennet, listening as the man recounted his ordeal—the details of his abduction and the treatment he had suffered at his captor’s hands. Mrs. Eleanor Bennet had shared some interesting details as well although her grandson scolded her for not sharing about the conspirator’s plans.
As soon as the interview concluded, the colonel set out in search of his cousin. He found him still at Longbourn, seated with a book in hand while his intended and her sister conversed animatedly nearby. By this time, late in the afternoon, most of the visitors had departed. Only Lady Lucas remained, still deep in conversation with Charlotte in the drawing room after the latter had revealed the subterfuge and its purpose.
Upon entering, the colonel was momentarily stunned by the sight of the beautiful blonde before him. For a fleeting moment, he found himself at a loss for words.
However, he quickly recovered, schooling his features into an expression of polite detachment as he turned his attention to Darcy. “Might I have a word, cousin?” he asked abruptly, apparently having decided to ignore the two women in the room.
Darcy looked up from his book, immediately noting the seriousness in his cousin’s tone. He set the volume aside and rose to his feet. “Of course,” he said, although he did little other than move closer to where Elizabeth sat.
Elizabeth’s gaze darted between the two men, her curiosity piqued. “Is everything well, Colonel?” she enquired, suspecting the answer.
He hesitated briefly before offering a reassuring smile. “Nothing to trouble you with, Miss Bennet. Merely some business I must discuss with my cousin. In private.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with determination as she stood and stepped forward, cutting off whatever response Darcy was about to make. “Nonsense, Colonel,” she declared, her voice firm. She met both men’s gazes without a hint of hesitation. “It is my brother who was abducted, and I am the target of at least two men—both of whom hope to compromise me for their own gain, whether for an estate or a fortune, depending on whom you ask. One way or another, I will hear what you have to say.”
She arched a brow, her tone turning almost playful. “So, you may either tell me directly, or I shall find another way to learn it. Do not forget—this is my house, and I know all the best places to hide.” A teasing glint entered her eyes. “I assure you, gentlemen, I am quite accomplished in the art of eavesdropping when necessary.”
Her words had the intended effect. The colonel blinked, momentarily caught off guard while Darcy simply stared. A beat passed before Darcy’s mouth twitched into a grin, and then the colonel, too, gave way to laughter.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, shaking his head as his chuckles subsided, “it is almost a shame I did not meet you first.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “However, I suspect you are far better suited to my cousin. He actually enjoys arguing whereas I should prefer a wife who might—on occasion—listen to me.”
Elizabeth smirked. “Then we are all fortunate, Colonel, for I have no intention of doing so.”
Darcy’s laughter was the loudest of all.
“Miss Pattison,” Darcy said after the moment of levity had passed, “do you wish to remain for this conversation? I know Elizabeth has already told you much, but you may depart if you wish.”
“I will stay,” she said, drawing on all her determination.
“Cousin, might you introduce me to this lady?” the colonel asked just then.
After Darcy performed the introductions, they all took their seats once again, with Darcy sitting next to Elizabeth on the settee, taking her hand in his. Elizabeth and Darcy informed the colonel of the events of that morning and why Jane would move into Longbourn for the present.
“I am pleased to meet you, Miss Pattison,” the colonel said, taking her hand in greeting and holding it just a moment longer than was strictly proper. For a moment, their gazes locked, an unspoken connection passing between them, but Darcy cleared his throat, interrupting the moment and bringing their attention back to the group.
The colonel began to relate the information given to him, including the report of the meeting between Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham and what they discussed.
Darcy broke into his cousin’s speech before he was finished. “That bas—” He stopped abruptly, catching himself when he recalled the presence of the ladies, including his intended. He scrubbed his hand across his face twice, attempting to regain control. “Forgive me,” he said, moving closer to Elizabeth and placing his hand possessively over hers.
“I know it has been said before, but you must be careful, Elizabeth,” he continued, his voice filled with urgency. “The threat of Mr. Collins is bad enough, but I know Wickham, and I know what he is capable of. While I would marry you regardless, I remain unconvinced that Wickham would not cause you significant harm, deliberately, in order to hurt me. I could not bear the thought that you might be injured because of your connection to me.”
Ignoring their audience entirely, Elizabeth reached up and caressed his face, her touch tender despite the gravity of the situation. “I will be careful,” she promised, her eyes locked with his. “Everyone in Longbourn is aware of the danger, both Mr. Collins and Lieutenant Wickham are being watched. While Mrs. Bennet and Miss Bingley seem uninterested in doing any of the work themselves, rest assured, I will not allow myself to be caught unawares.”
Her words, spoken with a quiet strength, seemed to ease the tension in Darcy’s shoulders, but a shadow of concern remained in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped in, his voice cutting through the moment.
“Miss Elizabeth is correct, Darcy,” the colonel said, his tone both firm and reassuring. “The danger is not simply from Collins or Wickham. We must consider everything carefully. But we will keep watch, and you, Miss Elizabeth, are not alone. We will make sure of it.”
Darcy looked from his cousin to Elizabeth, his hand tightening on hers. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice steady but laden with unspoken gratitude. “I still cannot help but worry. We are too close to something dangerous.”
Elizabeth, unwavering, smiled softly. “Then we shall face it together. Now, I would like to visit my brother. Since the colonel has already visited, will you accompany me, Fitzwilliam? Jane, would you take the colonel into the drawing room where Charlotte sits with Lady Lucas?”
Everyone moved to do as Elizabeth bid, however, once they were all in the hallway, Darcy stopped short. “Richard, one of us needs to return to Meryton to book accommodations at the inn. Unless we can send a servant?” He said this last while looking at Elizabeth.
“Nonsense, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Perhaps it is not strictly proper, but Charlotte and I, along with all my sisters, will feel safer if both of you stayed in the house with us. Charlotte and I discussed the matter last night after we sent the letter to you and had a room prepared. Colonel, we had one prepared for you earlier this afternoon. There is no need for either of you or any of your servants to stay elsewhere. I did not make preparations for the Runners, but there are rooms available should they be required.”
Darcy smiled. “The consummate hostess, my dear,” he said before pressing a kiss to Elizabeth’s cheek, causing both her and Jane to blush brightly. “Cousin, what do you say? I am certain the company here will be far better.”
Fitzwilliam grinned and nodded towards the ladies. “We will gladly accept your family’s hospitality, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Pattison. I think the Runners will do better to remain in the village, as they will need to keep their eyes open for any other details they might uncover. It is also best if Wickham does not learn of my presence here, if it can be avoided. While he was never nearly as frightened of Darcy as he should have been, he has always been afraid of me.” He said this with a grin that the women found difficult to categorise—there was something nearly predatory in its intensity, as if it contained both a promise of punishment and a warning.
That evening, the Bow Street Runners sat in the taproom of the town’s only inn and heard all manner of gossip. Some focused on the missing man, while others spoke of more salacious matters. Most of that sort of talk came from members of the militia, but a few of the more local men spoke of the virtues of the local women. Finally, the man they were waiting for appeared.
Wickham swaggered in, his earlier worries seemingly forgotten, and took a seat among his comrades.
“Any word on the search for this Bennet fellow?” he asked, feigning casual interest. “I was called away on duty earlier and have not heard anything for a few hours.”
The men shook their heads. Bennet was still missing, and no one had made a ransom demand. It struck many as odd—why take a moderately wealthy man if there were no demands and no known enemies?
“What happens if he isn’t found? Or if the worst should come to pass? He is married, is he not?” Wickham prodded.
The Bow Street Runners, posing as drunken patrons, leaned in slightly, listening for anything of interest.
“The gentleman’s married, but far as I know, they’ve no children,” one of the local men replied. “Some say the wife’ll inherit, but others reckon it’ll go to the eldest sister. Then there’s that fool of a parson, always runnin’ his mouth, claimin’ the estate ought to be his. I don’t put much stock in it—sounds more like jealousy than anything else. He wishes it were his, but he’s got no proper claim, so he’s just stirrin’ up talk. I’d wager the magistrate’s lookin’ at him real close as the one behind Mr. Bennet’s disappearance.”
“Is the eldest sister married? Or courting?” one of the officers asked. It was a familiar topic, but given the circumstances, it bore repeating.
One man let out a chuckle. “Her family says she’s engaged to one of those toffs what were stayin’ at Netherfield—the tall, quiet one. Still, I’d take him over the other fellow, for that one’s about as useful as a cracked pot.”
Wickham’s interest sharpened. This was the information he had been seeking.
Another man chimed in. “Aye, but that parson who’s after the estate claims the stepmother promised her to him first. Miss Elizabeth’s too good for the likes of that fool, and I reckon Fanny Gardiner’s just makin’ trouble for her stepson’s family. Never liked ’em much. After she trapped old Thomas Bennet into marriage when she was half his age… well, there ain’t many in town who believe a word she says. I was surprised she bore him three children at all. Would’ve thought she was steppin’ out on him. The first two girls looked like him well enough, but that youngest one—if she’s his, I’ll eat my hat.”
Wickham smirked, swirling the ale in his tankard as he absorbed the information. “This stepmother—what does she say of her stepson’s disappearance?” he asked, affecting mild curiosity although he knew precisely what she thought about it.
One of the men scoffed. “Oh, she’s making a right spectacle of herself in town, but that’s what she always does. Everyone has long known to ignore most of what she says, particularly about the goings-on at Longbourn.”
“Aye,” another added. “She’s been carryin’ on about Miss Elizabeth’s engagement to that fool of a parson and claimin’ she ought to be the one to inherit, seein’ as she’s got all those daughters to care for. Not that she cares for most of them, only the one from her first marriage and the youngest one that acts like her. Miss Jane would be better off if she’d stayed with her stepbrother, but she didn’t have the backbone to stand up to her mother.”
“Mrs. Bennet’s likely buttering up that parson, hoping that if he does somehow manage to inherit that he’ll take care of her,” another man said, chuckling darkly. “Might be she’s prayin’ both her stepchildren come to harm, so there’s no one left to stand in her way. Collins is too stupid to do anything but run the estate into the ground, but Mrs. Bennet’s not much better.”
The table erupted in laughter at this, but the Bow Street Runners exchanged glances.
Wickham leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. “Miss Elizabeth’s intended—the tall one. Is he still at Netherfield? I thought I heard he came from London to help with the search.”
“Aye, and his cousin too, the colonel. Heard they’re stayin’ in the house now, seein’ as there’s danger about. They’ll not let Miss Elizabeth out of their sight, not with that Collins fellow and Mrs. Bennet likely scheming.”
Wickham’s smirk wavered for the briefest moment. This was an unwelcome complication. He had expected Darcy to intervene, but with the colonel involved, matters had taken a more dangerous turn. Richard Fitzwilliam was not a man to be underestimated. Darcy, for all his pride, would always act with honour—but Fitzwilliam was a soldier, trained to be ruthless when necessary. Worse still, as an officer, he outranked Wickham, meaning his authority over him was undeniable.
One of the men clapped his tankard down. “Still, no one’s got a clue what’s happened to Mr. Bennet. If he were dead, you’d think there’d be some sign of it. If it’s ransom, where’s the demand?” He shook his head. “None of it makes a lick of sense.”
Wickham forced a lazy smile. “No, it does not,” he agreed. Then, swirling the ale in his cup, he added with a smirk, “But sometimes, when a man disappears, it is not always about money. Some debts are paid in other ways.”
One of the officers scoffed. “Seems to me that it is Miss Elizabeth who ought to be worried. If her brother is not found, what will become of her, especially if her brother has not already signed the marriage settlements? Mr. Darcy coming to help with the search indicates that the claim of her engagement to him is true. Although, I suppose it is possible that she does not marry him or that fool parson after all, especially if her brother cannot be found.”
Another man chuckled. “Aye, and if Mr. Bennet does not return to claim his house, someone else surely will. Miss Elizabeth’ll need a husband soon, and that Darcy fellow has an estate far away.”
“Yes,” Wickham drawled, a glint of something unpleasant in his eyes. “Perhaps she will wed another before Darcy or the parson has the chance to claim her.” His tone was light, but the greed lurking beneath was unmistakable.
The words may have been dismissed by most, but the Bow Street Runners exchanged a glance. While the conversation drifted to other topics, the Runners had heard enough. They moved closer to their target, hoping to see what else they might discover. Soon enough, they saw Wickham make his way around the room, talking to a few select men. Each of those he spoke to soon slipped away. After watching this take place the first time, one Runner stood to follow the next man to leave. The other waited to see what Wickham would do.
An hour later, four men—Wickham and his reluctant accomplices—gathered in a small, dilapidated stable just beyond the outskirts of Meryton. At this late hour, the roads were deserted, and they did not try to conceal their presence. It mattered little, for the Bow Street Runners had no difficulty following them undetected.
For half an hour, the men lingered in the shadows, listening as Wickham outlined his scheme: he planned to abduct Elizabeth Bennet and flee with her to the border, where he could force her into marriage before anyone could intervene. The three soldiers would provide support as needed, ensuring Elizabeth’s capture and preventing anyone from pursuing the couple.
The men accompanying him were not willing participants but rather bound to him by circumstance. Some of those involved in the kidnapping had been indebted to Wickham through ill-advised wagers, having lost staggering sums in an astonishingly short time. The others had fallen under his control through more insidious means—secrets that Wickham had uncovered and now wielded as leverage. It was this second group that he targeted for this mission. It was obviously unpleasant, for their silence was heavy with resentment, but fear kept them compliant.
Though ordinary soldiers, these men had been conscripted into service, and Wickham, despite his lowly rank, had positioned himself as their superior in more ways than one. He exploited their vulnerabilities, ensuring that they had far more to lose by defying him than by obeying. Unwilling yet trapped into doing his bidding, they listened as he detailed the final steps of his desperate and reckless plan.