Page 47 of The Marriage Game

The next morning, the Colonel sent a messenger to the army camp; the messenger returned with the information that sentence had been carried out. Mrs. Wickham and her children were now the sole responsibility of Colonel Fitzwilliam, at least until he could get them to Longbourn.

The Colonel sent out three messages. Caroline’s message read:

Dearest Caroline, for so I may now address you!

Matters here have proven to be rather less straightforward than I had hoped. I am forced to escort Mrs. Wickham and her children back to her parents in Hertfordshire. They must travel by carriage, so it will not be a fast journey. I will return to you as soon as possible.

Your own devoted husband-to-be,

Richard

The Countess’ message read:

Dear Mother,

You know the errand on which I set out – as it turns out, Wickham has been executed for a variety of crimes, and his wife and two children are left on their own. I cannot simply leave them to their own devices, so I am hiring a carriage to return them to Longbourn. I know not how fast we can travel, but I imagine we will be at least two weeks on the road.

Your devoted son,

Richard

Mr. Darcy also received a message:

Darcy,

This is a hell of a mess. When I arrived, Wickham was scheduled to be shot the next morning for desertion and horse theft. I could have stopped it, Darcy, I could have. But I did not. For my penance, I must escort Mrs. Wickham and her two children back to her father’s house, for she has no one else.

Tell me I did the right thing, please.

Richard

With the help of the innkeeper, the Colonel found a coachman with a carriage and horses who was willing – for a substantial fee – to ferry the Wickhams all the way down to Meryton, while the Colonel rode alongside. Mrs. Wickham climbed into the old but serviceable carriage, ushering her little girl in front of her, and carrying her baby. Their few possessions were strapped to the back. Mrs. Wickham complained about the condition of the carriage; Johnny, the coachman, complained about Mrs. Wickham’s complaints.

The journey south with Mrs. Wickham, two-year-old Margaret and baby George was, the Colonel thought, worse than being in action on the continent. He rode beside the carriage for a time, until it became clear that Mrs. Wickham was going to continue to bemoan her fate as long as she thought he was listening; then he rode in front of the carriage.

There were two days of rain; he spent an hour inside the carriage before deciding that he could tolerate the rain more easily than Mrs. Wickham’s endless talk, Margaret’s endless questions, and baby George’s endless wailing, so he was on horseback again soon enough, despite the weather.

The condition of the roads was the primary concern for both the Colonel and Johnny, so they often selected roads that took them a bit out of the way, so as not to risk breaking a wheel on the hired carriage. South, south, sometimes zigging east or zagging west, trying to stay on the best roads and praying for good weather. They had a rough plan: Stockton, Gisboro, Pickering, Aldboro, Tadcaster, Howden, Epworth, Gainsborough, Navenby, Falkingham, Spalding, Peterboro, Thorney, St. Ives, Coston, Shefford, Hitchin, and finally Meryton, but the plans would be altered depending on what landlords had to say about the condition of the roads ahead.

Mrs. Wickham was unable to change or feed the baby if the carriage was in motion, so they had to stop many times every day. When they stopped for the night, the Colonel had to pray that they might find a decent inn that would not drain his purse too heavily. He knew not what he would have done had Darcy not given him that fistful of notes.

Every innkeeper assumed he was Mrs. Wickham’s husband, and he had to repeat, again and again, that he was simply the lady’s escort. One innkeeper had the temerity to wink at him, and it was all the Colonel could do to keep his rapidly fraying temper under control.

One day, Mrs. Wickham stuck her head out the window and called for him. “Colonel! We must stop!”

The Colonel hailed Johnny, and the equipage came to a halt. “What is it, Mrs. Wickham?” His voice was tired, his face drawn.

“My baby is sick.” Her face was pale and frightened. “He seems very hot.”

The Colonel could hear little George grizzling softly; it was not the babe’s usual cry. This was an emergency. The Colonel’s exhaustion melted away and his head lifted. Nodding, he pulled his horse to the head of the carriage to confer with Johnny. “The baby is sick. We need to find a doctor.”

Johnny screwed up his eyes, which the Colonel had learnt meant he was thinking hard. “We are near enough to Howden. Best head there.”

The Colonel returned to the carriage window and told Mrs. Wickham that they would find a doctor as soon as may be.

It was a full two hours before Howden was reached. The baby no longer wailed, and the silence was worse than the crying. Johnny stopped the carriage at the first inn they saw; the Colonel stopped as well and got off his horse. “Mrs. Wickham, how is the child?”

“Not well,” she whispered. “He moves very little, does not feed, and is burning with fever.”

The Colonel all but ran into the inn; as he entered, he called out to the innkeeper. “I need a doctor, and fast. I have a sick child in the carriage.”

The innkeeper was one of the better of his kind; he nodded at once, saying that he would send a boy for the apothecary, as there was no doctor in town. “Bring the child in.”

By the time Mrs. Wickham and the two children were settled in a room, the apothecary had arrived. He examined George, pronounced it a putrid sore throat, and provided a tonic that would allow the child to sleep. He would come back the next day to check on his patient. The Colonel paid for the tonic and the visit, and went back downstairs to procure another room for himself. Johnny would make his own arrangements, as he had every night thus far; the Colonel suspected he slept in the carriage.

Mrs. Wickham nursed the child devotedly, forgetting her own troubles as she did so; the Colonel aided her as best he could, sitting with George for hours at a time so that Mrs. Wickham could rest. Three days passed, very long, very dull, very frightening days. The apothecary came each day to look at little George, advising the application of cool cloths to bring the fever down.

The Colonel spoke with Mrs. Wickham, assuring her that he would do everything in his power to help little George and to get the little family safely back to Meryton. Mrs. Wickham had, by now, accepted her situation and was able to express her gratitude to the Colonel. She occasionally mentioned her husband, and it was clear that whatever love she had had for the man was long gone. She swore that she would never marry again.

He spent some of the time that he should have been sleeping in writing letters.

Dearest Caroline,

I write you from the Rose and Crown in Howden. Mrs. Wickham’s babe has developed a putrid throat, and Mrs. Wickham and I take it in turns to wipe the child down with cool cloths and administer a tonic given us by an apothecary. I truly do fear for the child’s life. The apothecary thinks there will be a turning point in the next day or two, one way or another.

My thoughts are with you constantly, Caroline. I wish very much for our life together to begin, and I chafe at every delay, but I can do nothing but see this final mission through.

Your adoring betrothed,

Richard

***

Darcy,

Of all the cursed luck! Mrs. Wickham’s babe is very, very ill and we are stuck here at an inn in Howden nursing him. Mrs. Wickham is doing the best she can, but she must sleep sometime, so we take it in turns to watch over little George. I never thought I would be called upon to take care of George Wickham’s child, but life is full of strange twists and turns. Or perhaps this is my punishment for not rescuing the man!

Do tell Mother where I am; I am too weary to write more.

Your very tired cousin,

Richard