Page 34
Story: The Deception
H a!” Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed, almost spilling his tea on the newspaper.
“Richard?” his father enquired.
“Listen to this.” The Colonel read aloud:
The body of a young, fair-haired man was found last night in Whitechapel.
His hands were tied behind his back and his feet were tied as well.
He had been stripped of his boots, coat and shirt.
There is nothing to indicate his identity.
If his body is not claimed within two days, he will be buried in a pauper’s grave.
“Wickham, you think?” the Earl asked. He had been given all the details of his son’s visit with Mrs. Younge.
“It must be. Truly, I could not be happier. He is dead, but not by my hand.”
“I would not care to defend that position, since you left him tied hand and foot in Whitechapel, but no matter,” his father said, dryly, shrugging and returning to his coffee.
“I must go tell Darcy.”
***
But, as he soon discovered, Mr. Darcy had seen the article himself, for he greeted his cousin by saying, “Best of all possible outcomes, is it not?”
“It certainly is!”
“Let us toast the end of George Wickham,” Mr. Darcy suggested, and the two were soon seated in Mr. Darcy’s study with a bottle of brandy.
“Will you tell Georgiana?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.
“I think we will have to,” Mr. Darcy said. “For I must tell the Bennets, and I do not want their relationship with Georgiana to be complicated with secrets.”
“You are placing a good deal of trust in the Bennets,” the Colonel complained.
“And they have placed a good deal of trust in me,” Mr. Darcy replied. “For I know the truth of Miss Lydia’s situation and they trust me not to spread the tale.”
The Colonel sighed. “I cannot pretend to like this state of affairs. My parents are completely opposed to the idea of you marrying Miss Lydia’s older sister, you know.”
“I do know, but this will not deter me.” Mr. Darcy spoke evenly.
His cousin continued, “And, Darcy, I have received word from my General that he requires my presence. I have, perhaps, three more days and then I must abandon the search, though the Army men we hired will continue on. You must know, of course, that the girl could not have survived in Whitechapel; and if she did survive, she is not in any condition to be returned to her family. I think you take my meaning.”
“I do,” Mr. Darcy said. “It was likely a hopeless task to begin with, and I do appreciate that you took it on.”
“I do not recall you giving me a good deal of choice in the matter, cousin, but I am sorry it did not come to a better conclusion. Tell me,” the Colonel said, leaning forward. “When do you travel back to your Miss Elizabeth?”
“Soon, I hope. I will visit the Gardiners one last time to tell them of Wickham’s demise, and then I will take Georgiana to Netherfield.”
“You know that Georgiana dislikes Miss Bingley, do you not?”
“Of course; but I think she will very much like the Bennet sisters.” With Lydia gone, it appeared that Miss Kitty had improved a good deal; he believed that the Bennets were now acceptable acquaintances for Georgiana.
“I will tell Georgiana to be ready in – what, two days’ time?”
“Yes. Is it not wonderful how much she likes Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy could not keep the fond tone from his voice.
His cousin shook his head. “You are utterly besotted. Never thought to see the day. If my parents could see your expression just now, they might understand your determination.”
***
The next day, Mr. Darcy returned to Gracechurch Street. “I am sorry, Mrs. Gardiner, to disturb you again,” he began.
“You need never apologise for a visit, Mr. Darcy,” his kind hostess assured him.
“I am here only to tell you that Wickham is dead.” Mr. Darcy took the newspaper clipping from his pocket and offered it to Mrs. Gardiner.
She nodded. “I read the paper every day, Mr. Darcy, and I suspected that to be Mr. Wickham. What does this mean in terms of our search for Lydia, do you think?”
“Nothing, really; he had already abandoned her. But it does show us…” he trailed off.
“How unlikely it is that Lydia is alive, given that she went into Whitechapel,” Mrs. Gardiner said, quietly. “Nevertheless, I shall not yet give up hope.”
“I understand. But I do want to delay having the Bennet’s neighbours learn anything about her as long as possible.”
Mrs. Gardiner said, eagerly, “If it begins to seem unlikely that Lydia is still ill, have it put about that she is here with us, at Gracechurch Street. That would give us another few months of time, will it not?”
“That is an excellent idea,” Mr. Darcy said. “We would say that she could not bear to return to Longbourn, given her mother’s death, and you offered her a home.”
They congratulated each other on a superb plan, and Mr. Darcy promised to convey this plan – along with the bundle of cloth Mrs. Gardiner was gifting her nieces – to the Bennets.
***
The following day saw Mr. Darcy and Georgiana in the Darcy carriage, headed for Meryton. Georgiana was thrilled to be visiting Miss Elizabeth – at last! – and then reminded herself that her friend had just lost her mother. It would not do for her to look too happy.
“Georgiana, there is a good deal I must tell you before you see the Bennets,” Mr. Darcy began, once the London traffic had been left behind and they were on country roads.
“I know that Miss Elizabeth’s mother is dead,” Georgiana began.
Mr. Darcy scratched his head. How far back did he have to go? To the beginning, he decided. “When I first met Miss Elizabeth, I was not very kind to her. No; in fact, I was downright rude.” That, he thought, was the true beginning.
It took an hour for him to tell the full story, as Georgiana had many questions and even more ejaculations of shock.
She could scarcely believe that her brother had been rude to her friend.
She gasped in horror upon learning that her brother had separated Mr. Bingley from Miss Elizabeth’s eldest sister.
Then she shook her head over her brother’s unbelievably insulting proposal.
When she learnt that Miss Elizabeth’s youngest sister had eloped with Mr. Wickham, tears formed in her eyes.
Upon hearing that this Miss Lydia had been abandoned by Mr. Wickham in Whitechapel, the tears slid down her cheeks.
“And then Mrs. Bennet died! Of a stroke from learning of her daughter’s elopement?
Oh, Brother, I can hardly imagine such tragedy visited upon one family! ”
“You must remember at all times that Miss Lydia is ‘officially’ ill in Brighton,” he cautioned her.
“But soon you will be saying that she is visiting her relatives in London; is that not right?”
“Yes, but not yet. You will be informed of the change in the situation when it occurs.”
Georgiana’s forehead wrinkled. “There is a good deal to remember, is there not?”
“There is, yes, and everything depends upon us remembering correctly.”
“And you do plan to make Miss Elizabeth my sister?”
“I do.”
“Then I shall be very certain to remember everything exactly right.” She settled back in the carriage.
“There is one piece of good news,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Wickham is dead.”
Georgiana’s hand flew to her mouth. “But – how?”
Mr. Darcy gave her a rather edited version of the story, and he watched her face closely. He saw surprise, dismay, and finally – yes! – relief.
“I need never worry about him telling my secret,” she whispered at last.
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