The Son of his Late Father's Steward
“Wickham!” snarled Darcy.
Spurring his horse on, Darcy charged forward, ignoring the cries of surprise and fear that arose about him, focused as he was on the smirking countenance of his hated enemy. Those in Wickham’s little group looked up in alarm as he approached, no one more confused than Wickham was himself. Then Darcy vaulted from the saddle directly before the small group, striding forward, forcing those in attendance back as he bore down inexorably on the man he had hoped never to see again.
“What a thoroughly unpleasant surprise this is, Wickham. I might ask what you are doing in Meryton but given the troubles that beset the Bennet family in November, the reason for your presence is clear as day. What I do not understand is how you remained undetected.”
Though a coward, one afflicted with shock at the moment, it could not be said that Wickham was bereft of wits, as his sudden sneer proved. “Well, if it is not the proud gentleman from the north, the one who ruined the reputation of one of the brightest jewels in the neighborhood. Have you come back to ruin other young ladies too? There are plenty more Bennet sisters whence that one sprung.”
“As you are well aware, Wickham, that was not my doing,” snapped Darcy. “Perhaps I shall tell Fitzwilliam where you are, for he would appreciate the opportunity to have a chat with you.”
Fear bloomed in Wickham’s eyes—Fitzwilliam had always terrified him—when another officer stepped forward and interrupted him. “Here, why do you call him ‘Wickham?’ This is Geoffrey Watson; I have been acquainted with him for years.”
Darcy snorted his utter disdain and raised an eyebrow at his erstwhile friend. “Geoffrey Watson? You do lack creativity, do you not, dear Wicky? Every alias of yours I have ever uncovered uses your initials. One might think your education at Cambridge, provided by my father, would have taught you more letters of the alphabet than G and W.”
Disdaining any reply from Wickham, Darcy turned back to the officer—Denny, he thought—and fixed him with a baleful glare, in which he included the rest of those watching the scene. Some regarded him with hatred or distrust, but others were merely curious or watched Wickham with a faint hint of unease. Trust, it appeared, went both ways.
“Perhaps Geoffrey Watson is the name he is using here in Meryton, but his true name is George Wickham.”
“How do you know that?” a voice rang out from the assembled.
“Because he was raised on my estate in Derbyshire,” rejoined Darcy, glaring at the girl who had spoken. “Wickham’s father was my father’s steward for many years, and a better man one could not find, not if they searched a decade.”
Darcy’s disdainful gaze raked over Wickham, who was clearly nervous. “It is unfortunate that in Wickham’s case, the apple fell miles away from the tree, for he has never been the man his father was. Oh yes, I am very familiar with this snake, for there is not an honest bone in his body.”
“He has been nothing but gentlemanly, the entire time I have known him,” protested Denny, several other officers nodding their agreement.
“He has? Does he owe markers to any of you? You had best collect them at once, for Wickham is not in the habit of paying his debts of honor. Have you checked the local shops for his credit notes? I have evidence at my estate that he has amassed debts in the hundreds of pounds. What of your womenfolk; has he ruined any yet? If he has not, he will soon, for that is another specialty of our dear Wicky.
“If you trust this man, he will bring nothing but hardship, for he is a predator, lying in wait in the tall grasses for the unwary. Protect your valuables and your women, for he respects neither, considering anything he sees to be his for the taking.”
A rumble of conversation arose in the crowd, and some looked on Wickham with new eyes. Most of those present, however, greeted Darcy’s testimony with disdain, and many were not hesitant to speak.
“He is a liar,” claimed one red-coated man. “This man destroyed Miss Elizabeth’s reputation.”
“Lizzy was such a good girl before he came along,” added another lady. “We should believe nothing he says.”
Darcy greeted the increased murmuring with a feral smile. “If you choose to trust him, you may believe what you want. It is nothing to me. When he finally flees, leaving ruined girls and unpaid debts in his wake, remember what I have told you.”
“You speak nothing but lies,” said Wickham.
“I have not forgotten about you,” said Darcy. He stepped forward, fists clenched by his side, provoking Wickham to retreat in alarm. Darcy gave him a grim smile. “Yes, Wickham, retreat like the coward you are. You may wish to consider flight, for as soon as I have returned to London, I shall inform Fitzwilliam where you are. The hole in which you hide better be deep, for if Fitzwilliam catches you, the retribution he will exact will be fearsome to behold.”
Darcy turned and made his way to his steed, the throng parting as Moses parted the Red Sea before him. Mounting again, Darcy turned one final contemptuous glare on the people of Meryton.
“If you have any sense at all, you will prevent him from leaving. Now that his web of lies is unraveling, he will flee at the first opportunity.”
Saying that Darcy heeled his horse and charged down the street toward the path leading to Longbourn. When he arrived a few moments later, his horse was blowing hard, and Darcy himself was in scarcely better condition. A quick word with the stable hand who appeared saw to the care of his steed, after which he rapped on the door, none too gently, and demanded to see the master as soon as the door was open. Several faces appeared in the door leading to the sitting-room as the housekeeper led Darcy to the master’s study, but he ignored them in favor of his mission.
The sight of Elizabeth’s father and the look of consternation he presented at Darcy’s entrance told him he was still wearing his fearsome scowl. As such, Darcy moderated his expression and greeted the man who would be his future father-in-law.
“Mr. Bennet. I apologize for coming in all this state, but I have two matters of great import I must discuss with you.”
“By all means, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bennet, gesturing toward a chair. “I shudder to think what has brought you here, for I would have thought the next time I saw you was to request Lizzy’s hand in marriage.”
“That is the first matter, sir,” confirmed Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth has done me the singular honor of accepting my proposal. As a consequence, I request your permission and blessing.”
Mr. Bennet eyed him for a moment and then proved his sagacity. “This other matter must be of grave importance to provoke such a perfunctory request.”
“It is,” said Darcy with a nod. “I apologize for it, for this is not how I envisioned this conversation. If you require any further evidence of my love for your daughter, my determination to ensure she is happy in life with me, or my ability to care for her, I will submit to whatever steps you deem necessary to prove my probity.”
A laugh escaped Mr. Bennet’s lips. “For the last, I have no doubt, the first I have seen evidence with my own eyes, and I believe your claim betwixt the two. I have no objections on that score, Mr. Darcy. I hereby grant my permission and blessing. Now, what is the other matter?”
“I have discovered the source of the rumors in Meryton.”
Surprise marred Mr. Bennet’s countenance. “Indeed? All our investigations before yielded nothing.”
“We were missing a critical piece of information. When I rode through Meryton on my way to Longbourn, I happened to see a man there that I know all too well. The officer who has been masquerading as Geoffrey Watson is in actuality George Wickham, a man I have known all my life.”
Mr. Bennet peered at him and said: “I take it this acquaintance is not a happy one.”
“No,” was Darcy’s succinct reply. “Wickham was reared at my estate, the son of my father’s steward. Though I shall not bore you with the details, I know him to be a bounder, a lecher and potentially an assaulter of young ladies, a debtor, a cheat, and a liar.”
As Darcy listed his charges against Wickham, Mr. Bennet’s eyes widened. “Watson! I have news of this cad only this morning, for he propositioned my Lydia when she and her sisters were in town, suggesting they go off together for a ‘bit of fun.’”
“It is fortunate she was not alone, Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy. “It is possible he would not have accepted a refusal.”
“And you can prove this?”
“I cannot, more is the pity. There have been rumors of Wickham forcing himself on young ladies for years, but one in particular of which I am aware would not speak of the matter. The child she bore, however, is Wickham’s—that is incontrovertible. My estate supports the woman in question, and her child lives with her; if Wickham ever showed his face again at Pemberley, a mob of my tenants and staff would hang him from the highest tree they could find.”
“Then he followed you to Meryton, intent upon causing mischief. As I recall, my girls met him the first morning he came, and he gave them his assumed name then.”
“I cannot say how he learned of my presence, nor can I speculate on the path that led him here. He has often gone about the country blackening my name, though his activities in Meryton are a new audacity. Now that I think on it, I always thought there was something familiar about how the rumors spread and the content of those tales. I have seen it before—I should have known.”
“As you did not know he was present, you could not have suspected.” Mr. Bennet paused and regarded him. “What do you mean to do?”
“I will speak to my cousin when I return to London.” Darcy fixed Mr. Bennet with a savage grin. “Fitzwilliam despises him, and Wickham has a healthy measure of fear for my cousin. I also suggest we go to Meryton and speak to the merchants about Wickham’s conduct while there. I am certain he has run up more debts than he can ever afford to pay, and when added to the debt receipts I hold at Pemberley, Wickham will never again see the light of day.”
“It appears you have allowed this man more rope than you should have.”
“And I regret it,” affirmed Darcy. “The bright side is that he now has more than enough with which to hang himself. I mean to be the one to fashion that noose.”
“I could not agree more, sir.”
Mr. Bennet rose and ushered him to the door of his study. Before they departed for Meryton, however, he turned to the sitting-room door and opened it, stepping inside while motioning Darcy to follow him. Within sat Mrs. Bennet and two of her daughters, Misses Lydia and Mary, as he recalled.
“Mrs. Bennet, I have two announcements to make. The first is that Mr. Darcy has requested the hand of your second daughter in marriage. This I have approved.”
An expression of utter delight spread over Mrs. Bennet’s face, but before she could break out into paeans of praise, Mr. Bennet spoke again.
“My second announcement is that I am to go to Meryton with Mr. Darcy on an errand that cannot be delayed. Though I cannot take the time to explain at the moment, I can inform you that Mr. Darcy has discovered the source of the rumors that have bedeviled us since November.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped, a sound echoed by the two girls, and the third, who had entered while Bennet was speaking. “How?” was the woman’s demand.
“A bounder Darcy has known for many years,” said Mr. Bennet. “I shall explain everything later. In the meantime, however, I must insist that you all remain at home until I return. There is some possibility of danger, Mrs. Bennet, so please do not disobey.”
Though Mrs. Bennet could be accused of many things, Darcy knew she was not insensible to threats against her daughters. It was clear she loved them and had their best interests at heart, which prompted Darcy to think better of her.
“Very well, Mr. Bennet,” said she, adding a decisive nod. “I shall keep the girls here.”
“Good,” said Mr. Bennet. “I will warn John and the stable hands to be extra vigilant when I depart. This man of whom Darcy speaks should not try to enter the house, so you should be safe enough as long as you do not go out.”
“I understand,” said Mrs. Bennet. “The girls will stay inside until you return.”
The look Mrs. Bennet directed at her progeny suggested they would obey, and none seemed willing to contradict their mother. Surprise, it appeared, was their foremost sentiment, such that not even the youngest, who, in Darcy’s experience, was less able to control herself, raised any protest.
“Excellent, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Bennet with an approving nod. “I shall explain all when I return.”
Mrs. Bennet turned to Darcy and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, not only for your care and attention to my daughter but for the compliment of your proposal. I cannot think you will find a better wife than she.”
“Lizzy is engaged?” gasped a third girl from behind them; it appeared she had come into the room late.
“I have proposed to her and your father has approved,” said Darcy, fixing the girl with a kind smile. “I know of no more excellent woman than your elder sister.”
“Lizzy is exceptional,” said the middle daughter, Mary.
“But now that she is engaged,” said the youngest with a pout, “I shall not be the first to marry. It would have been such an excellent joke!”
“Remember of what we spoke, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet with a pointed look at his youngest. “At present, you are not ready to marry. It would be better if you focused on enjoying yourself as a young girl rather than looking on the cares of your own home and family with such determination. There will be a time and a season for that when you have grown older.”
Though Miss Lydia did not appear convinced, she nodded and fell silent. With a few final words, the gentlemen left the room, Darcy waiting for Mr. Bennet while he gathered his coat and gloves while having a word with a footman and sending him outside to have his horse prepared. When they were ready, they exited the estate, mounted their horses, and were off to the town.
Whatever Darcy had expected to find in Meryton, he had not thought to see what awaited them. The whole town, it seemed, was in an uproar, a greater crowd gathered in the streets than Darcy had thought existed in the sleepy little village. Several arguments appeared to be dominating proceedings, and several men were yelling, baying for blood unless Darcy missed his guess. It seemed his words had found more fertile ground than he had thought.
“Mr. Bennet!” called one man when he caught sight of them. “What is this I hear about Lieutenant Watson? What can you tell us about him?”
Mr. Bennet dismounted, an action Darcy mimicked, and they strode toward the cluster of men, again the assembled parting before them. It did not miss Darcy’s notice that Mr. Bennet was looking on them all, a hint of derision playing about the curl of his lips.
“You think I know anything about this man? I know nothing more than what Mr. Darcy has already told me, and I have it on good authority that he has informed you himself.”
Every eye turned to Darcy, and he regarded them all with the same measure of contempt. “Do you believe me now?” Darcy gazed about, and when he did not see Wickham restrained, he turned an upraised eyebrow on the man before them. “Perhaps you should ensure Wickham does not flee before we sort this all out.”
“He is already gone,” said another voice.
As one, Darcy and Mr. Bennet turned to see several grim-faced men in red coats approaching them, one of whom was the colonel of the regiment. He was surrounded by his senior officers, none of whom appeared happy.
“I warned you against allowing him to escape,” snarled a now infuriated Darcy.
“We compared notes,” said one of the men, his tone defensive. “Should we take your word with no proof at all?”
“Did you all not do so when Wickham made his claims about my family?” asked Mr. Bennet. “The prudent course of action would have been to restrain him, pending the results of your investigations.”
“He is a slippery one to be certain,” said Colonel Forster. “Several of my men came to me at once with news of Mr. Darcy’s claims, but Wickham had already stolen a horse and decamped by the time I moved to confront him.”
“Then you should send men after him,” said Darcy. “If he escapes, he will be difficult to find, for he is at home in the underbelly of London and has confederates who will hide him.”
“I already have,” grunted the colonel. “Within moments of his departure. I hope my men will return with him in their custody swiftly.”
“I hope so too, Colonel,” said Darcy. “But I am not confident, for Wickham is clever. When I return to London, I shall inform my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I have no doubt he will initiate a search for Wickham too.”
“Wickham, you say?” asked the colonel. “My men mentioned that name.”
“It is his birth name,” replied Darcy. “I have known him since he was a boy.”
Though the colonel eyed him for a moment, at length he nodded. “It is unfortunate he was not unmasked earlier, for it would have prevented much hardship.” The colonel paused and turned to Mr. Bennet. “On behalf of myself and all my officers, I wish to apologize to your family, sir. Though I do not know of any particular offenses, I cannot but think my officers were the main vectors for Mr. Watson’s—excuse me, Mr. Wickham’s tales. I think it would be best if I spoke to my officers of the proper way to deal with the people who have welcomed us into their community.”
An officer by the colonel’s side responded with a grim nod. Darcy could not help but assume the men of the regiment had a tongue lashing in their immediate future. Darcy approved of the colonel’s actions, for a man who controlled his soldiers was worth his weight in gold, according to his Cousin Fitzwilliam.
“What of us?” demanded a man who had been present when they arrived. “This Mr. Wickham has defrauded us of several pounds.”
“He owes me ten!” cried one of his fellows, looking quite distraught.
“We want reparations,” said the first, turning a brave façade on Mr. Bennet, though his gaze shifted to Darcy, likely knowing Darcy was of the greater consequence.
“I have cleaned Wickham’s messes more times than I can count,” said Darcy. “Though I regret your losses, I will not take responsibility for him again.”
The man opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Darcy added: “And before you suggest that I should have warned you, I urge you to remember that I knew nothing of Wickham’s presence before this very morning. Wickham is no longer my responsibility.”
“Nor should he be,” said Bennet, coming to his defense. “Let this be a lesson to you all; it is perilous to extend credit to the extent of ten pounds—or even two pence!--to a man unknown to you.”
The man who spoke up before hung his head, likely wondering how he was to feed his family.
“That is excellent advice,” said Colonel Forster. “I will instruct my men to settle any outstanding debts they have and to incur nothing further.” Then the colonel turned his attention to the assembled merchants with genuine regret. “I would offer to settle Wickham’s debts using regiment funds, but we are not wealthy men. I have no notion how we would ever accomplish it.”
“Do not concern yourself, Colonel,” said Mr. Bennet. “It is no more your fault than it is Mr. Darcy’s.”
The gentleman continued to regard the merchants for several more moments, likely considering how Wickham’s excesses would cause them all great hardship. Darcy was well aware of the quandary, for more than once he had acted to cover Wickham’s expenses because he was aware of the great danger to the town’s economy such debts posed. If the merchants could not feed their families, their businesses would collapse, leaving the town in dire straits. Bennet understood this too.
“I shall speak with the other gentlemen in the neighborhood,” said Bennet at length. “Though I cannot promise anything, we shall discuss easing the hardship under which you find yourselves.
“Do not expect us to cover everything, however. You have all acted with not a hint of prudence. It is not our task to bear the full expense of your poor judgment. Perhaps this will serve as a lesson for you all the next time.”
To Darcy’s eyes, there were many in the crowd dressed as gentlemen that were not happy with Bennet’s declaration. The neighborhood, he had noted several times, was populated with small estates; these men were not wealthy and must concern themselves with feeding their own families and seeing to their tenants. On another level, however, he knew it was just they share the consequences, if for nothing more than the way they had treated a well-regarded family in the district.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennet,” said the man he took as the leader of the town’s merchants. “We shall await the results of your discussion.”
Then the merchants dispersed, though there continued to be much muttering among them. The rest of the crowd also drifted away, though the sounds of excited conversation did not cease. Other than what had happened at the ball at Netherfield—and that had largely involved only the gentry—Darcy did not think there had been as much excitement in this town in many years.
“If you give me your direction,” said the colonel, addressing Mr. Darcy, “I shall inform you of the results of our search for Wickham.”
“Speak to Mr. Bennet,” said Darcy. “He can then forward the information to me. If you cannot find him, please let me know where his trail went cold. I suspect he made for London, and if he reaches it ahead of your men, I doubt they will ever find him.”
Colonel Forster nodded, lips curled in a moue of distaste. “This is an unpleasant business, sir. The regiment’s honor has been tarnished. Though it is unfortunate, I do not know what we could have done differently to prevent it.”
“Wickham is a practiced deceiver,” said Darcy. “Though perhaps your men could exercise better prudence than to spread tales of questionable veracity, it is difficult to stand in judgment of them, for I know of many he has taken in.”
“Aye, that is the truth. I shall make that fact clear to my men.”
With a nod, the colonel and his men departed, leaving Darcy with Mr. Bennet in a sea of people still milling about.
“Do you mean to return to London at once?” asked the gentleman.
“It would be for the best. I doubt the colonel’s men will catch Wickham, making it imperative that I speak to my cousin at once.”
Bennet nodded and said: “Will you join me for a drink at the inn? There are a few more matters I would like to discuss before you leave.”
Though Darcy was certain he knew of what Mr. Bennet wished to speak, he did not protest. So they made their way in the direction Bennet gestured, leading their horses behind them. Darcy was eager to depart, but he knew it would be best to indulge the other man.