Page 49 of The Marriage Game
Little George turned the corner in the middle of the night on the fourth day. It was the Colonel’s turn to watch the child, and when he thought he felt that the child was cooling down, he momentarily thought perhaps little George was dead! In a fright, he woke Mrs. Wickham, who ran to the little boy’s bed and gathered her baby up in her arms. He opened his eyes and looked at her, and her cries of joy threatened to awaken the entire inn.
The apothecary came that afternoon, congratulated himself on his accurate diagnosis and successful treatment, and left with his final payment jingling in his pocket.
The Colonel agreed to wait one more day to make certain that George did not suffer a relapse, and then they would be on their way.
***
Heading south at last, the Colonel did not complain about the frequent stops to feed the children. He was grateful the little boy was well, and he had become rather fond of little Margaret, as he had spent time trying to keep the little girl amused during the dreary hours of her brother’s illness. Her favourite game was called “Horsie” and it involved Richard going onto all fours while she climbed onto his back. He hoped no one back home ever learnt of it.
***
They spent their final night on the road in Worcester. The Colonel would have liked to push on to Longbourn, but Johnny put his foot down. The horses were tired.
The next morning, the Colonel was up and ready at dawn. It was another two hours before the carriage was on its way again, but he was almost giddy with delight. Once he deposited the Wickhams at Longbourn, it was just a few hours to London. Truly, he had thought this journey would never end!
When the carriage pulled up at the front door of Longbourn, the door opened and a housekeeper peered out. She came down the steps as the Colonel leapt off his horse; her eyes opened in shock when she saw Mrs. Wickham climbing out, aided by the Colonel’s hand. “Why – Miss Lydia!”
The Colonel’s eyebrows rose. “Were you not expecting her?”
“No, not at all!”
“Mrs. Wickham, did you not write home as I directed – or, rather, suggested?”
“Of course I did,” she replied, rather crossly. “But doubtless I should have addressed it to my mother, not to my father.”
The Colonel could not stop his eye roll; Mr. Bennet’s habits relative to reading his post were well-known.
“Well, come in, come in,” the housekeeper insisted.
The Colonel held back. “Now that she has been safely delivered, I must be off to London.”
The housekeeper tsked at him. “It is Colonel Fitzwilliam, is it not? I recall you from the double wedding. Please, Colonel, at least have a drink before you leave us. The family owes you that much and more for bringing Mrs. Wickham to us.”
The Colonel felt forced to agree. He looked up at Johnny and said, “Help me get these trunks off the coach, and then your job is complete.”
“You owe me extra for the days we was stuck at Howden,” Johnny complained.
The Colonel thought this only fair, and handed the man his last two guineas. Johnny gave him a mock salute and was soon on his way.
Walking into Longbourn’s entryway, the Colonel’s ears were assaulted by loud noises. He could make out Mrs. Wickham’s voice, of course, and what must be Mrs. Bennet’s. And what was the fourth daughter’s name? Catherine, was it? The housekeeper led him into the drawing room, the source of the hubbub, and the voices all stopped as soon as he walked in.
“Oh, Colonel! How kind of you to escort my Lydia home, with my two grandbabies!” That was Mrs. Bennet.
He bowed to her. “I am glad I could be of service, Mrs. Bennet.”
“But this is all so very dreadful! Mr. Wickham dead? How can this be?”
A voice behind him said, “May I speak with you, Colonel?”
The Colonel turned to find Mr. Bennet standing behind him. “Of course, Mr. Bennet.” Gratefully, the Colonel followed his host out of the noisy drawing room and into a small study. Mr. Bennet indicated a chair and bade his guest to sit; he then closed the door with a sigh of relief. “We shall not be disturbed here,” he said.
Then he sorted through a pile of unopened correspondence until he found a slim message, which he unhurriedly slit open with a paper knife, and then read.
The Colonel found himself drumming his fingers on the wooden arm of his chair; was the man finally reading his letter from Mrs. Wickham? The answer was evident, as Mr. Bennet looked up and said, “So, the oh-so-estimable Mr. Wickham is no longer with us. Well, good riddance, I say, though I do not doubt that Lydia will be a trial to us all. And how is it, Colonel, that you happened to be in Newcastle in time to bring Lydia and her children home to us?”
The Colonel almost laughed. He had wondered for days when Mrs. Wickham was going to ask that most obvious of questions, and she never had. He could not tell Mr. Bennet the truth, of course. “My General asked me to visit that militia camp for his own reasons, Mr. Bennet, which of course I cannot discuss. Mrs. Darcy asked me to visit her sister while I was in Newcastle, which is how I came to be of service to her.”
Mr. Bennet stared at the Colonel for a long minute. He was clearly unconvinced. “A happy coincidence, then.”
“Indeed.”
“And was Mr. Wickham already dead when you arrived?” Mr. Bennet’s tone was mild, though his eyes as he looked at his guest were sharp.
“Not exactly.”
“How is someone not exactly dead, Colonel?’
The Colonel shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Ah,” Mr. Bennet said. “So he was still alive.”
The Colonel sighed. “He was due to be executed the following morning.”
“Could you have stopped it?”
“Possibly. Probably. I chose not to.”
Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers. “As it happens, I agree with your decision. How was your journey? I cannot imagine that it was easy.”
“We had rather a difficult time of it.” He gave Mr. Bennet an abbreviated version of the little boy’s illness, ending with, “But the little chap seems in good health now.”
“You have been put to a good deal of trouble, Colonel, and I am grateful to you.”
“Mr. Bennet, if I might ask a favour in return?”
“Of course.”
“I am truly eager to get back to London, as I have been gone several weeks; might you make my excuses to Mrs. Bennet?”
The man chuckled. “Come with me.” He led the Colonel through a side door, then through a little garden, and then they emerged in front of the house, where the Colonel’s horse waited. “Safe travels, Colonel. Give my love to my Lizzy and Jane when you next see them.”