Darcy Revealed, page 11
CHAPTER TWENTY
Wickham arrived at Darcy House the following day at three o’clock in the afternoon. He walked into the foyer with a cheerful swagger and whistled as he looked around him.
“Fancy place, eh?”
Manning looked at him sourly. “Mr Darcy is awaiting you in his study.”
“Well... mustn’t keep him waiting then, must we?” Wickham smirked, turning to follow Manning down the hallway.
He stepped into the study and found Darcy standing looking out of the window, with his hands clasped behind his back. Wickham grinned to himself as he saw the rigid set of Darcy’s shoulders.
“Mr Wickham, sir,” Manning intoned.
Darcy turned. His face seemed to be set in stone as he indicated a seat in front of his desk, then sat down himself.
Wickham sank into one of the upholstered chairs and said to Manning, “Bring me a brandy, will you, my man?”
Manning’s face turned purple. He looked at Darcy, who gave a curt nod. The butler hesitated, then stalked from the room. He returned a few moments later with a glass of the best Armagnac brandy. Wickham took it and stuck his nose into the glass, sniffing appreciatively as he swirled the amber liquid around.
“Ah... only the best for Fitzwilliam Darcy. I should have known.” He laughed and tossed the drink back in one swallow, then wiped his mouth and handed the empty glass back to an indignant Manning. “One more, I think.”
“I think Mr Wickham has had enough refreshment for the time being,” said Darcy crisply. “You may go, Manning.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler scowled at Wickham, then turned and stalked out of the study.
“Just like old times, eh, Darcy?” said Wickham with a snide laugh. “I seem to remember a similar interview several years ago—you all high and mighty behind your desk, me sitting on this side—and how you grilled me for a measly three thousand pounds!” He raised mocking eyebrows. “A most uncharitable attitude when providing a gift, wouldn’t you say?”
“That was not a gift,” Darcy grated. “It was payment in lieu of the living which you yourself refused to undertake and which you were amply compensated for.”
“Now, now, Darcy, let’s not get bogged down with details,” said Wickham with a malicious laugh. “Gifts, legacies, payments in lieu... it all amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? Your father—my godfather—was excessively attached to me and wanted nothing more than to provide amply for me. After all, he was one of the best men that ever breathed and the truest friend I ever had—”
“Do not speak of my father,” Darcy growled, his hands clenching on his desk.
Wickham raised his eyebrows. “Oooh... temper, Darcy. You were always prone to losing it with me, even when we were boys. I remember the last time we faced each other thus, you lost guard on your temper as well...” He gave a taunting smile. “Indeed, you warned me never to approach you again for further funds... and now here I am... and you are about to pay me more than double!” He laughed delightedly.
Darcy took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. “Why don’t we get on with it, then?”
Wickham stopped laughing and leaned forwards, suddenly serious. “Yes. Time to get down to business. Do you have the bank cheque for the amount I requested?”
Darcy pulled open a drawer and withdrew a narrow slip of paper. He waved this slowly and Wickham’s eyes followed the movement of the paper greedily.
“Right here.”
Wickham reached for the cheque, but Darcy pulled his hand back. “Just a moment.”
Wickham narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I have spoken to my solicitor and he has advised me that in order to prevent further blackmail attempts on your part, I must obtain an agreement from you.”
“What agreement?” asked Wickham suspiciously.
Darcy pulled a second sheet of paper out of the drawer and laid it on the desk. “A signed agreement guaranteeing your silence on the subject of my sister in the future.”
“I am not signing anything,” snapped Wickham.
Darcy sat back, putting the cheque back in the drawer. “In that case, there is nothing more to discuss.”
“Wait.” Wickham scowled and held out his hand. “Let me see the agreement.”
Darcy pushed the sheet of paper towards him. Wickham picked it up and scanned it, then his eyes narrowed.
“It says here: ‘I hereby admit my guilt in attempting to seduce...’.” He shot Darcy a smug smile. “Thought you could catch me on that one, huh? I am not signing anything where I admit my guilt.” He put the paper down and jabbed a finger on it. “You cross that line out.”
Darcy’s mouth tightened and he hesitated, then he reached forwards and pulled the paper towards him. As Wickham watched gleefully, he dipped his quill in the inkwell and scratched out that phrase, then initialled the change. He pushed it back to Wickham.
“There. Does that meet with your satisfaction?”
Wickham picked the paper up again and read the words. “Mm... Yes, I suppose this will do.”
“So you will sign?” Darcy held the quill up towards him.
Wickham gave him another suspicious look. “Let me read it again.” He was silent as he went slowly over the words on the paper:
I, George Wickham, hereby relinquish all
claims to further compensation from Fitzwilliam Darcy
I will refrain from any public exposure of my involvement with Georgiana Darcy
I declare that I am of sound mind and body, and not acting under duress or undue influence,
George Wickham Esq.
He hesitated a moment longer, then took the quill from Darcy’s fingers and signed his name with flourish at the bottom. “There.” He tossed the quill down, shoved the paper across the desk to Darcy, and held out his hand. “And now the money.”
Darcy handed over the cheque. “How did you know I would keep my word? You signed the agreement first. I could have refused to give you the cheque once the agreement was in my possession.”
Wickham gave a sneering laugh. “I know you, Darcy. Strait-laced and proper as they come. You would never break your word as a gentleman.” He leaned forwards. “See, that’s the difference between you and me. You could never be as ruthless as I am to achieve my goals.”
He pocketed the cheque and stood up, giving Darcy a flamboyant bow. “Much obliged, sir. And now, I must take my leave.”
Darcy rolled up the agreement, then crossed the room and quietly opened the door of the study.
“After you.”
Wickham swaggered out, and a moment later Darcy followed him and accompanied him down the hallway. As they reached the foyer, Manning stepped forwards and said:
“Shall I call for a hackney coach, sir?”
“Hmm... exemplary service, Darcy,” said Wickham with a mocking smile. “You have your staff well trained.” He turned to Manning and said, “Yes, my man. I wish to have transport to my lodgings.”
“Very good, sir.” Manning turned to the side table next to him and picked up a dinner gong. He struck it hard and the noise reverberated loudly in the foyer.
Wickham frowned. “What’s this—a joke?”
“No, not a joke,” said Manning calmly. “Transport to your lodgings. Your new lodgings, that is.”
The next moment, all the doors leading into the foyer were flung open and several officers of the regiment marched in.
“Hey!” said Wickham angrily as they grabbed his arms. “Release me!”
“We are here to provide you with an escort to your ship,” one of the officers said, his face impassive.
“My... my ship?” Wickham gaped at them. “What the hell are you talking about?” He tried to wrench his arm out of their grasp, but did not succeed. “LET GO OF ME!”
Darcy stepped forwards, a cool smile on his lips. “It will be more pleasant for you if you do not resist.”
Wickham glared at Darcy. “You cannot do this! I have committed no crime! You have no right to detain me!”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? That is not what this piece of paper says.” He held up the signed agreement.
Wickham narrowed his eyes. “I never signed my rights away. And I certainly never confessed to any crime! I read that agreement from top to bottom and I know exactly what I signed for!”
Darcy’s eyebrows climbed higher. “Perhaps your memory needs refreshing.”
He unrolled the agreement slowly and held the paper up in front of Wickham’s face. The other man stared at the paper—at the extra words which had somehow magically appeared between the previous lines.
I, George Wickham, hereby relinquish all
my rights as a free member of the British empire and
claims to further compensation from Fitzwilliam Darcy
as befits my punishment for my crimes.
I will refrain from any public exposure of my involvement with Georgiana Darcy
and admit that all claims of seduction or elopement are a complete fabrication.
I declare that I am of sound mind and body, and not acting under duress or undue influence,
as I state my wish to enter into voluntary exile in exchange for transportation to Australia.
George Wickham Esq.
Wickham’s face drained of all colour. “But... but...”
“This is your signature, is it not?” said Darcy, pointing to the bottom of the page.
“Yes, but I never agreed to those things!” Wickham snarled. “You bastard! You tricked me! You had those lines written in invisible ink—and then revealed them after I signed the agreement—”
“Come, come, Mr Wickham,” said Darcy with a laugh. “Invisible ink? I think you have been reading too many novels. I assure you, these words were on the paper when you signed it. You did say you read the agreement from top and bottom and knew exactly what you signed for... did you not?”
“I... I... ” Wickham spluttered, at a loss for words for the first time in his life.
Darcy handed the agreement to one of the officers. “Good. Then we are in accord. All that remains is to wish you a pleasant journey.”
Wickham’s eyes bulged and he began to struggle violently. “Wait! You can’t... STOP! You can’t do this! I never said... you can’t transport me to Australia! Darcy! You are condemning me to the life of a convict in a penal colony! You are a gentleman and a man of honour! You can’t do this—”
“Ah, that is where you are wrong.” Darcy stepped close to him and said, his voice dangerously quiet, “You see, Wickham, we are much more alike than you think. I too can be ruthless in order to achieve my goals.” He stepped back and nodded to the officers. “Take him away.”
“No! NO! Wait...!”
Wickham was almost hysterical, fighting savagely now for his freedom, but he was no match for the four officers as they bore him out of the front door and into the waiting carriage.
Manning shut the front door with a resounding thud as the sound of the carriage faded away. Then he turned to Darcy and bestowed one of his rare smiles.
“If I may say so, sir, the invisible ink was a masterstroke of genius.”
“Ah, do not compliment me, Manning,” said Darcy with a smile. “The credit belongs to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was her idea to play Wickham at his own game and use his own trickery to condemn him.”
Manning raised his eyebrows and a look of grudging respect came into his eyes. “I had not expected such resourcefulness from Miss Bennet.”
Darcy laughed. “In time, Manning, I think you too will grow the share my admiration for that pert mind and spirited temper”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Elizabeth sighed as she shifted on the sofa. The whole evening had seemed to drag and now she heartily wished that their guests would leave so that she could retire to bed. She felt a stab of guilt at the thought. It was rare for her aunt and uncle to entertain—and they were giving this evening party in honour of their nieces—so she should not have been ungrateful. She just could not understand why she felt so listless all evening, finding the conversation boring and the company dull.
No, she was lying to herself. She did know why. It was because Darcy was not here. She had been taken aback and disappointed when Bingley had arrived without his friend; she had been expecting Darcy, anticipating his arrival with something almost like excitement...
But he had not come.
She wondered why, but she dared not ask Bingley, for fear of giving the wrong impression. After all, it was not as if she was interested in Darcy himself, of course. She was simply hoping to hear the details of the encounter with Wickham. She knew that Wickham would have gone to Darcy House this morning and Darcy would have put their plan into action. She had been looking forward to hearing the details of the encounter from him this evening.
She heaved another sigh and stood up, impatient with herself. Well, Darcy hadn’t come and that was that. No doubt he would send her a message tomorrow to inform her of the outcome of the subterfuge. In the meantime, she had to stop herself dwelling on that provocative gentleman!
Elizabeth scanned the room, looking for a distraction, and realised suddenly that Jane was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, she hurried to her aunt’s side.
“Where is Jane?” she whispered.
Mrs Gardiner gave a complacent smile. “I saw her and Mr Bingley slip out a few moments ago. I believe they are in your uncle’s study.”
“Is that quite appropriate?”
Mrs Gardner reached out and gave Elizabeth’s hand a squeeze. “My dear, I do not think Mr Bingley’s intentions towards Jane are dishonourable. And I feel that this is one time when it may be very beneficial to give them some privacy. There may be matters they wish to discuss—questions which may need to be answered,” she said with a meaningful look.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Oh! You think Mr Bingley is about to propose to Jane—?”
“Hush!” said her aunt quickly. “I am not certain, but I have an inkling. While I do not share your mother’s passionate pursuit of the matrimonial state for her daughters, I am pleased to do what I can to facilitate a happy union, if it is in my power.”
Elizabeth looked around again. No one else seemed to have noticed Jane and Bingley’s absence. Nevertheless, she felt slightly uneasy. “Perhaps I should go and check on them—”
“Leave it be, Lizzy,” Mrs Gardner advised. “I am confident that it shall be for the best.”
“But I—”
Elizabeth broke off as she saw Bingley and Jane re-enter the drawing room and quietly joined the group by the tea service. She could see that Jane’s face was glowing with happiness. She longed to rush over to her sister’s side and ask her what had occurred, but she restrained herself.
When they were finally alone in their shared bedroom, Elizabeth looked eagerly at her sister. “I saw you and Mr Bingley disappear from the drawing room for a few moments this evening—”
“Oh Lizzy—he loves me! And he wants to marry me!” Jane burst out, embracing Elizabeth.
Elizabeth gave her sister a squeeze. “Jane, I am so delighted for you! There are none so deserving and I am sure that Mr Bingley will make you very happy.”
“He is riding to Longbourn tomorrow morning to ask Papa for his permission—but I must write to Mama myself as well and inform her. Oh Lizzy, to know that what I have to relate will give such pleasure to all my dear family. I am the happiest creature in the world!”
The sisters had much to say and they talked long into the night. And the next day brought another happy surprise, for when Bingley returned from Hertfordshire that evening, he brought Mr and Mrs Bennet with him. The latter could not contain her raptures at the engagement and was too impatient to wait until her daughters’ return home. She arrived at the Gardiners’ babbling excitedly about wedding gowns and special licences.
“Oh, my dear, dear Jane—I am so happy!” she gushed. “I knew how it would be. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! I remember, as soon as I saw Mr Bingley when he first came to Hertfordshire last year, I thought how likely it was that you should come together. Oh, he is the handsomest young man I have ever seen... and five thousand a year... and very likely more!”
The younger Bennet girls had sent notes congratulating their eldest sister and petitioning her for objects of happiness which she might be able to dispense in the future. Mary asked for the use of the library at Netherfield, whilst Kitty and Lydia begged for regular balls to be held there.
There was one other letter that had also come from Longbourn with their mother and father, which held news of interest, particularly to Elizabeth. Mr Bennet shared it with them at breakfast the following morning. It was a missive from Mr Collins and amongst his usual rambling sentences of pompous nothings, there was an item of note. He mentioned that his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was particularly displeased with a rumour which was circulating about London.
“The subject of the gossip is her nephew, Mr Darcy; it appears that he has expressed the likelihood of marrying soon and that the lady he would choose is of an inferior family, from a small country town,” Mr Bennet read aloud.
Elizabeth felt her heart give a lurch. Darcy getting married?
“Lady Catherine is appalled at the impropriety of such a match,” Mr Bennet continued reading. “She has made it clear, with her usual condescension, that she will never give her blessing to such a disgraceful union.” Mr Bennet looked up and raised his eyebrows. “I hardly think her ladyship’s displeasure will make much difference in this instance. I had not the impression from Mr Darcy that he is a man who cares overmuch about pleasing others. He certainly does not need his aunt’s consent—or her blessing—for his marriage and he seems a man who is determined to have his way.”
Elizabeth swallowed uncomfortably. The news upset her more than she liked to admit. Darcy marrying an unknown country girl? Her thoughts flew to Amy St John and she remembered the warm looks he had bestowed on the girl, the many times he had gallantly gone to her rescue, the tender patience he had shown her, even in the midst of worry about Georgiana...
Perhaps those actions had not stemmed from kind chivalry, as she had thought, but from genuine affection and attraction for the girl.
