Page 15 of The Same Noble Line (Darcy and Elizabeth Happily Ever Afters)

D arcy sat in Netherfield’s parlour, a letter in hand, Fitzwilliam seated across from him while Bingley paced the room with uncharacteristic vigour.

“Darcy,” Bingley said suddenly, stopping mid-stride, “if Colonel Forster wishes to speak with you, why all the mystery? Why could he not simply explain his concerns?”

“Because the military depends upon a great deal of decorum, a fair amount of rumour, and an excess of secrecy.” Fitzwilliam’s reply sounded flippant, but Darcy knew better. His cousin was angry that they must again deal with Wickham when there were other, more pressing matters at hand.

He folded the letter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat. “It will not remain a mystery for long.” At least there was something that might be easily resolved.

“We all know who this is about,” Fitzwilliam said coldly.

At this, Bingley halted his pacing altogether, his expression darkening. “How does that man manage to cast such a shadow wherever he goes?”

“It is the only thing he has ever worked at” was Darcy’s wry reply.

Bingley shook his head. “I should have thought his confinement to quarters would render him harmless.”

“Harmless,” Fitzwilliam repeated with a faint snort. “The harm has already been done. Confining him only prevents him from continuing.”

“I ought to have spoken with Forster in the autumn, before he took Wickham on,” Darcy said with real regret, “but I was not aware Wickham meant to join the militia when Bingley and I met him in Meryton, and afterward, I heard nothing of him.”

“When did we meet him in town?” Bingley appeared genuinely confused.

Darcy shook his head. “When we were on our way to Longbourn to inquire about Miss Bennet’s recovery and saw her walking with her sisters.”

Bingley’s cheeks flushed. “I am afraid I only noticed that you had left rather suddenly.”

His friend would not have noticed if the town was on fire when Miss Bennet was about. “I did. Because it was Wickham, and I did not desire the scene that would follow. But I did not meet with him again until recently. It was an accidental meeting in town, and he did not remain for long. He knows better than to seek my company.” Darcy rose from his seat.

“I should like to accompany you both,” Bingley said firmly. “I am a part of this community now, and Wickham is a threat to it.”

Darcy glanced at Fitzwilliam, who shrugged. If they denied Bingley they would have to explain why. They each went to change into riding clothes and were on their way to Meryton within the hour.

Colonel Forster greeted them with a brisk nod as they were shown into his sparsely furnished office. He was a man of medium build with a hawk-like gaze, and he wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Mr. Darcy, gentlemen, thank you for coming today when I am sure you were all out rather late last evening. I shall come directly to the point.” He stood a little straighter, which Darcy had not thought possible. “As you are surely aware, Mr. Wickham has many debts. But he has compounded his troubles by seducing no fewer than three young women in the vicinity. Their families are outraged.”

Darcy’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, allowing Forster to continue.

“The militia’s official stance is not to settle an officer’s debts so long as they are discreet. But these debts are not discreet,” Forster added grimly. “Indeed, many of the creditors have already approached me, assuming that the militia would settle matters. Wickham, however, has been most insistent that you, Mr. Darcy, intend to pay them on his behalf.”

Fitzwilliam let out a low whistle, and Bingley muttered an incredulous oath under his breath. Darcy alone was unsurprised.

“He said I would pay them?” he asked coolly.

“He did,” Forster confirmed. “And while I have no authority to compel you to do so, the matter is pressing. Should you refuse, I will have to deduct the debts from Wickham’s pay, such as it is, and settle the rest from the militia’s coffers—an option that would unfairly affect the other officers.”

Clearly, he was hoping that Darcy would save him from having to make such a decision.

“I beg your pardon, Colonel ,” Fitzwilliam said, his voice dripping with derision. “George Wickham is a scoundrel of the highest order who barely speaks without a lie passing his lips. His promises are worthless. Why should Darcy, or anyone else, for that matter, pay his debts?”

Forster met Fitzwilliam’s gaze. “I do not disagree, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but the lieutenant says that Mr. Darcy has paid them before, and the creditors will not wait. If Wickham cannot satisfy them, the alternative is debtor’s prison.”

“Why not a court-martial?” Bingley inquired.

“Nothing he has done is considered a military matter,” Fitzwilliam explained. “He can be dismissed from the regiment, but that is all.”

Forster nodded. “I would prefer not to simply release the man, for who knows what additional damage he will do?”

Darcy’s lips pressed into a thin line. The Marshalsea. His father would hate that. But then, his father was unaware what Wickham had become. If he had known, how would he have acted? “Debtor’s prison,” he repeated thoughtfully.

“Precisely,” Forster said. “There is also the matter of the young women he has compromised. He could marry one of them, though how he would then deal with the other two, I do not know.” He cleared his throat. “Typically, this is not something I would be expected to deal with either, but the families, while not of the gentry, are respectable ones.”

Fitzwilliam scowled, and Darcy felt the same. The militia knew it had men in its officer ranks who were not gentlemen, but did not control them. Had Wickham dallied with women whose families were not respectable, Forster would not have been expected to involve himself at all. It was wrong. Darcy fervently hoped that these three were the only women who had been harmed.

A realisation struck Darcy with sudden force: should Mr. Bennet prove to be the true heir to Pemberley, this might well be his final opportunity to address the Wickham situation. Would it not be better to handle the matter now, whilst he still commanded the resources of Pemberley, than to leave such a serpent coiled, waiting to strike? He had hidden Wickham’s ill deeds for the sake of his father’s peace of mind, and then he had been worried for Georgiana’s recovery and her reputation. But he could allow this to go on no longer.

Fitzwilliam laughed mirthlessly. “Wickham has squandered every opportunity he has ever been given, and he has had many.”

Colonel Forster lifted his brows. “Indeed? I should like to know the truth, for after the unflattering stories he has spread about Mr. Darcy here as well as our previous meeting, I was surprised to hear that he expected the man to pay his bills.”

Wickham had spread the same old Banbury tales. But there was no need for Darcy to counter them. Fitzwilliam was happy to do so. The story was quickly related.

“So, when he said Mr. Darcy refused Wickham the living, that much was true,” Colonel Forster mused. “But he left out that he had already signed it away. A skilled liar, then.”

Highly skilled. “He has been so nearly all my life, Colonel.”

Colonel Forster sighed as though bracing himself for the worst of news. “What is your decision, Mr. Darcy?”

For the first time, Darcy felt something approaching gratitude for the grating uncertainty about his future. It had at last impressed upon him the need for immediate action.

“The Marshalsea it is,” Darcy announced. “I will settle his debts in Meryton, but he will go to the Marshalsea until he can repay me for these as well as all the others I have paid in the past.”

Fitzwilliam broke the silence first. “I cannot help but feel that the Marshalsea is too lenient.”

Bingley sighed. “I cannot help but agree.”

“Justice must be measured, gentleman.” Darcy considered his plan again and found it a good one. “Wickham will find no allies in debtor’s prison, for a man such as he thrives only when others are willing to be deceived. He will have no such opportunity in the Marshalsea.”

It was a polite way to say that he would be thrashed if he attempted to cross the wrong man.

His cousin grunted. “You are kinder than I.”

“I am not kind,” Darcy said quietly. “I am responsible.” He turned to address Forster. “Wickham will still have friends in the regiment. Please explain to your men that should Mr. Wickham escape from custody, my offer will be rescinded, and they shall be required to fund the man’s lifestyle themselves. I pay nothing until he is inside the Marshalsea.”

Bingley frowned. “Darcy, I cannot allow you shoulder this alone. I wish to pay half.”

“Wickham is my burden, Bingley. My family’s mistake. I will not allow his failings to harm anyone else if I can prevent it.” Darcy smiled at his friend. “Besides, you are to be married. I suggest you save your funds for your wife.”

“Very well,” Bingley said with a frown. “If there is anything I can do, you need only ask.”

Forster was satisfied, and so was Darcy. Wickham’s shadow had loomed over him nearly his entire life. But it would no longer darken his family’s path—or Miss Elizabeth’s. Not ever again.