Page 87 of The Shades of Pemberley

“ W hat I cannot make out is how Darcy was deceived into hiring the woman.” Lord Matlock shook his head. “He was a more conscientious man than to hire her without investigating her references.”

“That is a question I cannot answer,” said Fitzwilliam with a shake of his head. “All Darcy told me was that she had come highly recommended.”

Lord Matlock nodded but appeared distracted, the rocking of the carriage distracting him.

As his father promised, he had ordered the carriage upon their arrival at the house and set off once their effects were prepared.

It was the second day of travel, having stopped late into the evening, hoping to make Pemberley by the evening of the third day.

Anne and Fitzwilliam’s mother had informed them they would travel after them at their usual pace, leaving the following morning and not arriving until the day after Fitzwilliam and his father were to arrive.

Questions hovered in both their minds, and if they now had a clearer picture of the past months with Mrs. Younge’s confession, there were many yet remaining, including the most pressing—what was Wickham’s plan now that his accomplice was exposed?

“This business involving Wickham is most surprising. Though I knew he was not a good man, I had not thought he was this depraved.”

Fitzwilliam considered this comment, recalling the interactions he had with Wickham as a child, and even as they had grown older.

As Darcy was two years younger than Fitzwilliam and Wickham a year younger than Darcy, Fitzwilliam had not had as much to do with the libertine as a boy, and less the older he had grown.

On several occasions, Fitzwilliam had stayed at Pemberley, and while he had some association with George Wickham, it had not been enough to take his measure beyond a vague dislike he had harbored for Wickham from his earliest memories.

The distaste for Wickham had grown more pronounced as Fitzwilliam had become a young man, and his observation of Wickham the year they had overlapped in university had told him much more.

With this in mind, he had approached Darcy and received the full story of Wickham’s depravity.

Though Darcy had dissociated himself from Wickham altogether, his father had enjoyed Wickham’s company, leaving him one thousand pounds as a bequest and a recommendation to prefer him to the living of Kympton.

As Fitzwilliam was Darcy’s companion and had joint guardianship of Georgiana, he was familiar with the dealings between them and knew of Darcy’s payment to Wickham to resign all claim to the living.

That had not stopped him from approaching Darcy when the living fell open because of the death of the incumbent, but by that time, Fitzwilliam had known Wickham’s sense of shame was rudimentary at best.

“Nor, I think, did Darcy,” mused Fitzwilliam. “He did not suspect Wickham capable of trying to murder him, or he would have been more careful.”

“You know Wickham better than I,” said his father. “Do you suppose Wickham is yet intent upon securing his prize, or has he fled for parts unknown, fearing he is unmasked?”

“I did not know him so well as you suppose,” replied Fitzwilliam.

“In answer to your question, the Wickham I knew was a coward. Then again, he showed great audacity in approaching Darcy after the living fell vacant, so I cannot say to what extent his courage has grown. All I can say is that we must assume he has not surrendered.”

The earl grunted sourly. “You say you scoured Pemberley for any sign of him?”

“Darcy did the day I left,” agreed Fitzwilliam.

“Perhaps it would be best to expand that search. Any man who plots such deeds must take the greatest care to conceal himself, and I do not think Wickham is stupid.”

“No,” agreed Fitzwilliam. “There may be some places nearby in which he could hide. Darcy would have known of such places, for no one was more familiar with Pemberley than he.”

“Perhaps the steward or the tenants will have sufficient knowledge?”

“The steward has been at Pemberley since my uncle’s passing. As for the tenants and retainers, many have been there for years, but they are more familiar with their own domains than the whole estate.”

The earl grunted his agreement. “Then there is little recourse but to act in the moment and capture Wickham when the opportunity arises.”

Fitzwilliam did not disagree, but there was no response to make.

Instead, he turned back to the window to watch the miles as they sped past. Never one to enjoy a long journey confined in a carriage, this being the fourth day of hard travel he had endured in a row, he longed for it to end.

When they arrived at Pemberley, he promised himself he would stay for some time and recover.

PEMBERLEY CONTINUED in tranquility, nothing out of place on the estate so far as the family could determine; if Mr. Wickham was nearby plotting, he had hidden himself well, as there was not so much as a whisper of anyone nearby who should not be there.

As the family remained indoors, only venturing outside when there were men about to offer protection, it became necessary to inform the younger girls of the situation.

What they said nothing about was the truth of Jameson Darcy’s death.

There was little reason to reveal what would only make her unhappy.

When they explained the reason for the family’s recent caution, Georgiana nodded, but a hard expression came over her face. “You believe that Mr. Wickham is nearby and still designs to steal my dowry?”

“That is uncertain,” said William. “There is little we can do but assume he has not discarded his designs, but until we have some clear sign of his presence, we do not know.”

“He will not go near Lambton,” said Georgiana. “Before he left the neighborhood after my father’s passing, he accumulated debt in the town that my brother settled to prevent the merchants from hardship. If they discovered his presence, the town would rise against him.”

“That is excellent intelligence, Georgiana,” said William. “As you know, we searched Pemberley and found no trace of him. Do you know anywhere on the estate he might have hidden himself?”

For a long moment, Georgiana considered the question before responding. “You checked the small cabin by the waterfall in the north?”

“Thompson entered it and found no signs of recent habitation,” said William.

He grinned and added, looking to Elizabeth: “From what I have heard, it is a lovely little place that my wife would enjoy—I would like to take her there when the opportunity arises. At present, I cannot think it is at all advisable.”

Georgiana returned his smile. “My mother loved the waterfall and the little meadow, and my father built the house for her. They used it often when Jamie was a child.” Pausing and turning more serious, Georgiana said: “Structures dot the estate, and I know little about even half of them. Pemberley is extensive—Mr. Wickham might hide anywhere.”

“As he was raised here,” said William, “he knows the estate well enough to conceal himself, it seems.”

Elizabeth regarded him. “That suggests you believe he is here, William. A moment ago, you said you did not know.”

“A man who will go to such extremes as to betray the family that succored him will not surrender, Elizabeth. While I do not know this Mr. Wickham, I will not believe his designs at an end until I have proof.”

“That is prudent,” said Georgiana. “Please promise me that you will do everything you can to bring him to justice, William. Mr. Wickham has passed the point of all decency.”

William smiled and grasped Georgiana’s hand. “You have my promise, Cousin. If Wickham is nearby, he will not escape our wrath.”

IT WAS NOT BEYOND DARCY’S expectation that the company would become a little restless, always trapped inside or near the house.

Pemberley was a large mansion, not lacking in rooms or comforts for those living within, yet being confined was not welcome, regardless.

A gilded cage was yet a cage, as Elizabeth had observed, and before long, they wished to be out of the house.

A journey to Dovedale or other such sights was not at all advisable, but Darcy thought there were ways to satisfy them for the moment, and yet not compromise their safety.

“Can we not go out for a time?” whined Lydia for perhaps the fifth time that afternoon. “How I long for Meryton!”

Mr. Bennet, watching his youngest, diverted by her restlessness, did not hesitate to tease her on the subject. “That is curious, Lydia, for I recall many times when you described Meryton as ‘a tedious place.’ Has time and distance done so much to alter your opinion?”

That Lydia would not appreciate her father’s jest was not beyond the ability of anyone in the party to comprehend. “At least it is close enough to Longbourn that we could walk there whenever we wished.”

“Lambton is too far distant,” said Georgiana, “even if we were at liberty to walk. If we went to Lambton, we would need to take the coach.”

“That is not at all advisable at present,” said Darcy.

Lydia did not restrain her glare, but she did not protest further.

Darcy looked at the girl with fondness. The Bennet sisters were a disparate group of women, each with different interests from the eldest to the youngest, and while Lydia was a little too spirited for her own good, he had always gotten on well with her, even when she was a child.

They all suffered from the confinement, he noted—though they all went out occasionally, they did their best to give Wickham as little chance to come upon them unaware as they could.

“Would it not be acceptable to all go out on the lawn?” asked Miss Bingley. “A picnic and perhaps a few games would do wonders in curing us from our recent ennui.”