12th April 1816
It was still early, but Wickham was already cleaning his pistol, compelled by a fear that had become his closest companion. Somebody knocked on his door. Startled, he stood up slowly, approached the door and waited.
“Who is it?” he finally called out.
A bored but familiar female voice replied, “George, it is me. There is a boy downstairs. He says he has a message from a Mr Brown.”
Wickham opened the door quickly. “Ah! Clarice.” He pulled the woman inside and looked down both sides of the corridor, closing the door behind him. Brown and his messenger could go hang. He would use this opportunity to persuade Clarice to give him another chance.
“Why did you take so long to come to my bedroom? I have not seen you since I arrived yesterday.” His dark eyes perused the woman from her face all the way down to her bosom, his arms moving around her waist, bringing her closer to him.
In a blink of an eye, she stepped out of his reach and walked to the other side of the bedroom. “I told you, don’t put your paws on me ever again,” she said between gritted teeth.
“I am sorry, my love. I forgot myself,” he said in a smooth voice. “But it always happens when I am far away from you for a long time. I cannot wait for us to be together again.”
Clarice shook her head. “Forget about it. I don’t want anything to do with you, especially now.” She looked at his face with disgust. “What happened to your face? Have you stuck your head inside a beehive? Oh, don’t bother. I don’t care. Just stay away from me.”
The look of repugnance on her face would have quenched a burning log. He went to look at the mirror for the hundredth time since he had arrived at that lodge where Clarice was now working. A purple, swollen eye, bruised cheeks and a nasty cut at one corner of his mouth disfigured his once pleasant countenance. Damn you, Brown . At least he still had all his teeth.
After the frustrating attempt to seduce Georgiana Darcy, Wickham’s life had become unbearable. His dalliance with the woman in front of him had suffered a sudden death when she realised he had not been faithful to her. Later, he had finally found someone with class, Lady Margaret. It had not mattered she was almost a decade older than him; she had indulged his every desire.
But his newfound luck was short lived. His late source of pleasure and money had recently died. Once again, he had become a victim of injustice, forced to humiliate himself and ask for Clarice’s help. In the end, she agreed to help, arranging a room for him to stay for a couple of days, but nothing else. In return, she had demanded he would never trouble her again.
“Very well. Send him up. I will see him here; it is safer,” Wickham said exasperated, still looking at his reflection.
Without another word, Clarice left the room. Some minutes later, the boy was upstairs.
“Sir, Mr Brown sent you a message. He said to wait for a reply.”
Wickham snatched the piece of paper and walked to the window to read it. The message made his blood boil. He raised his head and looked through the dirty glass panes with rage in his eyes. How low had he fallen to be associated with miscreants like Brown? He crushed the paper, and with trembling hands missed the intended pouch, letting it fall on the floor.
Miss Elizabeth was a decent lady; she did not deserve this. He would have been happy to take her as his wife, had he more time to woe her. After telling her of his misfortunes, he had been forced to leave the area. Unfortunately for her, his own life was on the sharp edge of a sword. Between the two of them, he would choose himself.
Wickham tried to cheer himself with the prospect of moving to America and starting a new life, far away from everything and everyone who had treated him with so much disrespect.
He sighed, looking through the window at that miserable part of London. Even this false hope could not lighten his mood. He would never be able to leave England unless he could stay alive and remain far away from Brown’s murderous hands, and the hangman’s noose.
Wickham fetched another piece of paper and scribbled his answer, giving it to the boy and sending him away. He checked his watch and groaned. He still had sometime. Grabbing his things, he went downstairs.
“Mrs Younge, I am going out,” Wickham said walking to the door.
“May I ask where you are going?”
“I am going to sell my soul to the devil.”
~ ? ~
The rosy light coming through the window announced the new day. With a sigh of relief, Elizabeth rubbed her forehead, exhausted. Since Darcy called for his mother, burning in fever, she had been putting cold wet pieces of cloth on his head and chest, as the doctor had instructed her. Fortunately, his fever had broken some time earlier. Knowing he was out of danger, she had lain down on the bed beside him and slept.
She woke up again with a strange sound, a chuckle this time. Opening her eyes, she saw Darcy’s gaze on her.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” he said gently, smiling. “I did not mean to wake you. I am sorry.”
“Good morning, William,” she greeted back, rubbing her eyes, sitting up. “May I enquire what is so funny?”
He kept his smile. “You talk in your sleep. ”
Her mouth fell opened. “I do not think this is the kind of comment a single gentleman should make to a lady.” Then she frowned. “What did I say?”
Darcy could not hold his laughter anymore, immediately regretting it. Taking a deep breath, and still struggling to contain his amusement, he said in a higher pitch tone, “Please put this bonnet away, it is… monstrous.”
She smiled at his boyish behaviour. His features were so handsome when he was relaxed. The arrogant and haughty man that she once believed him to be was definitely gone.
“Well,” she said embarking in his jest, “If that is the case, I believe it was not just a mere dream but a nightmare. No respectable lady wants to be seen using such an unfashionable item.”
The light-hearted moment was interrupted by a sound at the door. Elizabeth stepped out of the bed as Dr Hayford and Brown were bidding them good morning.
“Well, well, what do we have here today?” Dr Hayford remarked. “It seems our young man has had a good night’s sleep, have you not, sir? You look much better today.” He smiled and placed his hand on his patient’s forehead. “Yes, capital. No fever. Now, let us see this wound. Sorry, sir, it may sting a bit,” the doctor added quietly, pulling the bandage from Darcy’s wound.
Darcy shut his eyes, pressing his lips together. Perhaps the old, proud Mr Darcy was not completely gone, after all.
Elizabeth’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a curious Mr Brown attentively looking at the doctor’s work.
“The wound is healing splendidly, much better than I would expect. Mrs Smith, you have been an excellent nurse,” the doctor said without raising his eyes.
“If Mr Smith is so much improved, perhaps they could join us in the dining area,” Brown said.
Elizabeth widened her eyes. What was the man about now?
“Oh, no,” said Dr Hayford. “Good gracious. Although Mr Smith is much better, going up and down those stairs is still beyond his abilities for now. Waiting a couple more days would be preferable. It would be better if you could keep sending their meals upstairs for now.”
Elizabeth sighed in relief and wondered if the doctor was been too precautious for their benefit.
After the doctor had changed the bandages, Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “My dear, why do you not take advantage of the doctor’s presence and go and refresh yourself?”
She understood his meaning. “If the doctor agrees.”
Without taking his eyes from his work, Dr Hayford gave his assent with a slight movement of his head and hand. “Of course. Go my dear.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, the bowl in the dressing room was full again with fresh water and the chamber pot, which she had used during the night, was empty. She blushed at the thought of Mr Darcy having his needs attended by the doctor, just behind the door. For this very reason, she took her time. When she thought it was safe to go back, she opened the door, peeking outside. Thankfully, they had already finished.
“Well, my dear Mrs Smith,” said Dr Hayford. “It seems your husband is on his way to a full recovery. I will come back tonight. Have a good day.”
Before leaving the room, he gave Elizabeth a meaningful look. “Everything will be well, my dear. I promise you.”
After closing the entrance door behind the doctor, Brown went to the kitchen and asked the servant to take some food upstairs. He approached Ned, who was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea while cleaning his pistol. Brown served himself the same and sat in front of him.
An ugly grimace distorted Brown’s face as he spat the tea back into the cup. “Heaven and ’ell, Ned. What are you trying to do, kill us all? This tea is ’orrible.”
“If it’s so bad, why don’t you prepare some yourself?” Ned roared back, suspiciously pointing the pistol he had been cleaning in Brown’s direction.
“Whoa! Put that thing down,” Brown said looking at the pistol. “Doctor said our dandy will recover. Perhaps tomorrow we can take him away from ’ere.”
Ned chuckled. “Ah! What an idiot, that doctor.”
“Yeah,” Brown replied, sneering. “The good doctor is an idiot, blind as a bat to what’s ’appening around him. He’s quite taken by the girl, always reassuring her that her husband will be fine in no time. He has even taken upon himself to change the man’s clothes, and help him to use the chamber pot, just to avoid the good lady from being overtired!”
“And the lady, what are we going to do with her? We can’t take her with us, can we?”
“We won’t,” Brown replied, a sneer illuminating his wrinkled face. “I sent word to Wickham and told him to make the necessary arrangements for her. By now, he must have received the message and be doing exactly that… If he wants to live, of course.”
~ ? ~
Doctor Hayford’s amiable countenance turned into a deep frown as he entered his carriage.
“So, Doctor. Was your first impression confirmed?” a man in the dark corner of the carriage asked. “Was the lady really asking for help?”
The doctor hit the carriage roof and they started moving. He looked up to the house. “Yes, Constable. As I said yesterday, it is not possible for a gun to cause such a wound from the distance they have described. No, no. It was a point-blank shot. I have seen plenty of wounds in the battlefield to be sure of it. Something about the angle does not fit. And the story about hunting? We are not even in season. Unfortunately, I cannot fathom the real reason. What I am sure of, however, is that the pair up there is in real trouble. I am quite sure they are not even married.”
“Why do you say that?”
“After spending some time with them in that room, I realised the lady — Mrs Smith, as she calls herself, although I do not believe that is her real name — cannot be married to the man, even if she is treating him with real care. Betrothed, would suit the situation better. Yesterday, when I took his shirt off, she was blushing like a piece of burning coal. Her relief was immediate when I asked her to go to the adjoining room to refresh herself as we changed the man’s clothes. It was unmistakable. And this morning, the young man suggested the very same thing again. He needed to use the chamber pot. What a situation.”
“Why do you think they are being kept here?”
“I can only suspect that the man was taken against his will. Perhaps kidnapped. I thought about that when I noticed he had a signet ring, which suggests he is from a noble or wealthy family. And the ‘friend’, Mr Brown… I am quite sure that Brown and Smith are false names, they are too common, easy to disguise… I am not sure, however, if Mr Wickham is aware of that…” The doctor was lost again in his own thoughts.
“Doctor,” the constable called.
“Oh, yes, yes. That man, Mr Brown, is always around while I attend the young man. He would not take his eyes off the lady either, as if watching her.”
“If that is the case, Doctor, we need to act fast. I will send an express to the London Magistrates immediately asking if there is any request for a missing couple. Huxtable is there. When are you due to go back?”
“I told them I would return tonight. Do you think you will have a response by then?”
“I believe it is possible,” said the constable thoughtfully. “In the meantime, I will have a man watch the house, so we do not lose them. I can only hope, if your suspicious are correct, that we have enough time to act.”
~ ? ~
Richard woke up very early and asked for some food to be brought to his chamber, as he prepared for the day ahead. He was returning to London and had invited Mr and Miss Bennet to accompany him. The invitation had been sent first thing that morning. Miss Bennet would be an invaluable help with Georgiana.
Well, that, and his growing desire to be close to her.
He stopped in the middle of the room, his mind reviving the moment he had taken her in his arms. Her tearful eyes so full of pain had given him no other option. He had to do something. But what had surprised him was that she had done the same for him when he needed it. She had tried to comfort him; the soft touch of her hands soothed him as nothing else had done before. And now, he felt connected to her in a strange way.
His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a message informing him that Mr Duncan had arrived and was ready to leave, and Mr Wilfred would be welcome to accompany him in his small carriage.
Finishing his breakfast, Richard rang the bell and asked Wilfred to help him to dress before leaving; he would wear his civilian clothes today.
Once ready, his thoughts returned to Miss Bennet. Jane . She was the most beautiful and kindest person he had ever met.
An old, nagging doubt came back to him.
Richard shook his head, dismissing the feeling, persuading himself that this sudden attraction to Miss Bennet was nothing more than a natural reaction of a distressed man to a beautiful and kind woman.
Sadness squeezed his chest and he sat on the bed.
Would he ever be able to think of Jane Bennet, or any other woman? As an army man, his allegiance was to his country and to his king. There was no space in his life for a wife. He could not marry and just leave — not without knowing if he could ever return. But who could foresee whether another dictator would rise? Wars, whatever the reason, were always around. No woman deserved to be abandoned, especially Miss Bennet. The kindness in her heart could easily turn into a bitter loneliness until the day she would be informed of his sad demise. Despite his small inheritance left to him by his grandmother, he was only a second son; he did not have the means to support a wife. In other words, he was doomed to a lonely and loveless life.
He thought about Bingley again. The only word coming out of his mouth was “fool” .
In any case, he could not be distracted while Darcy was still somewhere out there, hanging between life and death.
For now, his cousin’s recovery was his priority. He would think about his situation when these terrible affairs were resolved.
With both carriages loaded, Richard went to his aunt to say goodbye, and reassure her of his commitment, promising to keep her informed.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam. You will find Darcy, will you not?” Aunt Catherine pleaded with moist eyes.
“I shall do whatever is needed, Aunt. I promise.”
Mr and Miss Bennet were already waiting when Richard’s carriage arrived. He tried to avoid looking at Miss Bennet, but his rebellious eyes kept betraying him. He felt his heart tighten when he noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes.
There were no other words beyond their formal greeting as they boarded the carriage, and in a few minutes, they left for London.
“Mr Bennet, Miss Bennet, thank you for accompanying me. Apart for having the pleasure of your company, I believe Miss Bennet will again be an important help.”
Jane smiled and nodded. “I am happy to help with whatever I can, Colonel.”
At the sight of her smile, Richard stammered a bit at the beginning, but then explained how Darcy’s parents had died, leaving Georgiana in her brother’s care, ending with her almost elopement with Wickham.
“Miss Bennet, this is the reason I have asked you to come with me. I am convinced that despite the pain you are now suffering for your sister, you will be able to bring some comfort to Georgiana, especially when she learns about her brother’s injury and who was responsible for it.”
There was nothing else to say, so they kept silent. Mr Bennet soon fell asleep. The poor man was beside himself with worry.
As Richard observed the passing scenery, Jane took the opportunity to study him. Something about him had touched her heart, stirring something strangely deeper than Mr Bingley had ever reached. The colonel was a tall man with a strong constitution. In her opinion, he was as handsome as Mr Darcy, if not more so when wearing his elegant uniform, despite some scars on his face. That, in fact, just added to his charm. Although his manly features were very attractive, it was his manners that had impressed her most. He was kind, open and honest. And in spite of his experience in war, he showed a vulnerability that spoke of a man of strong feelings; he had not lost the ability to love. But above all, she felt that he was a man who could be trusted and surprised herself by thinking she would do anything to see him smiling again.
That thought startled her.
How was that even possible? She had known him for no more than two days. She did not know what to think of it.
Richard noticed they were approaching London, and his expression darkened. “After stopping at my father’s house, I am planning to visit Mrs Younge, one of Wickham’s former paramours. She worked as Georgiana’s lady companion before we realised it. I need to see if she can give us any information about his whereabouts.”
Richard and his guests were received by red eyes and anxious faces. Introductions were performed and refreshments ordered. But he was not inclined to waste any time and quickly shared with his father his intentions to visit Mrs Younge. They decided that Lord Matlock, Mr Duncan and Mr Bennet would accompany him. Jane would remain in the house with Georgiana and his mother, Lady Madeleine.
Before leaving, Richard and Jane exchanged glances, and nodded to each other.
The four gentlemen left for a less noble area of the town. Only minutes separated Mayfair from their destination at St Giles. The carriage stopped in front of an alley, and they walked down a narrow path between old houses until the colonel stopped at one particular door. He rang the bell and waited.
“How did you know where she lived?” Lord Matlock asked his son.
“After last summer’s incident, I tracked down most of Wickham’s old acquaintances.”
In a few minutes, a beautiful young woman opened the door. Recognising Richard, she startled. “Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
“Mrs Younge, we meet again. You must remember my father, Lord Matlock. That is Mr Bennet, and this is Mr Duncan, a detective from the Magistrates’ Court of Bow Street, who is investigating a very delicate situation. I told them that you would be glad to assist us. Can we come in?”
With trembling hands, Mrs Younge showed them in, heading to a small parlour. She knew that a visit from the colonel and someone from the Magistrates’ Court was not a good sign, but the fact that the earl himself was there was even worse. She was petrified at the thought of what Wickham could possibly have done. Why else would they be here?
“Well, gentlemen, how can I be of assistance?”
“We are looking for a Mr Wickham, ma’am,” Mr Duncan started. “Do you know where we can find ’im?”
She swallowed hard, squeezing her hands together. “I’m sorry, but I cannot help you. I have not seen Mr Wickham since last summer. We took different paths since then.”
The gentlemen exchanged glances, and Richard nodded to Mr Duncan.
“Mrs Younge,” Mr Duncan said slowly, “We don’t have a minute to waste, so I’ll be quite direct, and then I’ll ask the question again. This time, I want you to think carefully about how you’re going to answer it.” He looked at her for a moment to ensure she understood the meaning of his words. “Mr Wickham is a prime suspect in the kidnap of Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy, Lord Matlock’s nephew. Mr Darcy was shot, and both of ’em were taken hostage yesterday morning, from Rosings Park, in Kent. I’m sure you know that kidnapping and attempted murder are both punishable by death, not only for the perpetrators but also for those somehow involved in the crime. I’d be very happy if you could ’elp us to locate Mr Wickham.” Seeing the panic growing in her eyes, he added, “And I would be very grateful, of course, to anyone who could ’elp us to find these criminals and bring them to the justice.”
Mr Duncan’s words had the desired effect. Mrs Younge brought a hand up to her chest, as the words left her mouth. “It cannot be. ”
“Mrs Younge, please, we need to find him as soon as possible,” Richard intervened. “If you help us to find him, I am sure the magistrate can find a way to mitigate your share in this sordid plan.”
“Do you swear I won’t be hanged?” she asked, suddenly taken by panic. “I didn’t know any of this.”
“I give you my word, Mrs Younge. I will guarantee your personal well-being during the whole trial. You can count on it.”
She gave the gentlemen one last look, then said, “Yesterday, the miscreant came to me again, his face disfigured as if he had brawled with a big boar and lost, saying he needed my help; that he was going to obtain some money and would pay me later. I told him he could go back to the same hole he had come from, and that I didn’t want anything to do with him ever again. He begged and asked me to provide him with at least a room, just for a couple of days, and after that he would leave.” She lowered her eyes. “I know I was being na?ve to believe him, but I agreed. I just… I mean, I didn’t know he was… in such a trouble.”
“Is he here now?” Richard asked.
“No. He went out this morning and didn’t say whether he would return today. He did not bring any personal belongings.”
“You said something about his appearance. What happened?” Richard asked.
“I believe he had been beaten, quite badly actually.”
Richard remembered Tommy’s comment about the man’s face.
“Did he say where he was going?” Mr Bennet addressed her for the first time, squeezing his hat.
“Yes… well, no… He received a message from a Mr Brown and soon after sending his reply, he left. When I asked him where he was going, he said he was going ‘to sell his soul to the devil’. I swear that was what he said.”
The gentlemen looked at each other. Mr Duncan turned to her again. “I’d like to see his bedroom. Please, take us there.”
Fortunately, the lodging was quite empty, and Mrs Younge was quick in finding the keys, asking them to follow her upstairs. After opening the door, the gentlemen entered the room and started looking everywhere.
It did not take long for Mr Bennet to find a crushed piece of paper on the floor and read it. He lost his balance, needing Richard’s assistance to reach a chair.
“Mr Bennet? What is it?” Richard asked, taking the paper from Mr Bennet’s trembling hands.
11 th April
Wickham,
Doctor came today and said the dandy will recover. It was a wound flesh. I believe tomorrow we’ll be able to proceed with our plans, but we can’t keep the lass.
I want you to meet Digory tomorrow, at noon, in Seven Dial. He’ll be waiting for you in front of the bookshop. Do as he says. I own those pirates some money and a lady of quality like this one is what they are paying for. It can cover most of your debts as well, so be careful.
And don’t worry. He’ll recognise you.
I expect you tomorrow.
Brown
Richard’s feelings were overwhelming. On one hand, he was relieved to know that Darcy had survived and was under the care of a doctor, whoever he was; on the other, the message was unmistakable. They were planning to sell Elizabeth to someone, and that was not a very comforting thought. Wickham must be really desperate.
Richard showed the message to his father and Mr Duncan. “It is dated yesterday,” he said. “That is probably why Wickham left this morning. He was going to meet this man.”
Taking his pocket watch, Richard saw the time. Almost two o’clock. “It is too late to follow him there. By this time, he could be anywhere.”
“Good Lord!” Lord Matlock said, raising his hand to his head and rubbing it. “I never imagined those kidnappings were related to what… human trade? We were believing, as it had been in the past, that some passionate young men were behind all this, encouraging others to do the same. But pirates? Are we seeing a revival of what happened here by the hands of the Ottomans? Where are they taking those young ladies? Gentlemen, we need to stop it.”
“Well, at least we know that both of ’em are alive. I’m sorry, Mr Bennet, but try to focus on that. I need to go now.” Mr Duncan walked towards the door then turned to look over his shoulder. “I need to send the news of this Digory and his possible activity to the officers investigating those disappearances. See you later, gentlemen.”
Richard cursed Wickham under his breath. If the devil was buying that miscreant’s soul, he would make sure that Wickham would meet with his new master as soon as possible.