Page 74 of A Most Favourable Match

Chapter 28

“You’re here to call on Mr Wickham, are you?” said the stout landlady suspiciously as Darcy presented his explanation at her front door. “Well, I want no more trouble here. There’s been enough already today, and this is a decent house.”

“I am not here to call on Mr Wickham, I am here to deal with him,” Darcy returned impatiently, stepping past her at the front door and mounting the stairs before she had time to protest. “He has the rooms on the top floor, does he?”

“He has been nothing but trouble for all his smiles and soft words,” the landlady shouted after Darcy’s back, an observation that Darcy could quite easily believe.

Arriving in Meryton and going straight to the principal inn where Miss Bingley had apparently taken refuge in a private parlour, they had learned from a stable boy that the officer at the centre of today’s outrageous incident was indeed George Wickham. The inn’s landlady and a local constable told them more of Miss Bingley’s unfortunate tale.

Although angry and self-reproachful, Darcy was unsurprised. He had warned Elizabeth Bennet of Wickham’s wickedness, but he had not made the man’s behaviour more widely known, and this was the result.

Overruling Bingley’s initial protestations, Darcy instructed him to collect his sister from the parlour and return her home immediately. No good could come of any confrontation between the furious but earnest-hearted Bingley and the devious, black-souled Wickham.

Darcy would have thought that Miss Bingley herself would have been sharp and worldly enough to avoid Wickham’s wiles. Everyone had their weaknesses, however, and Wickham was skilled in uncovering and making use of such vulnerabilities. Regardless of Darcy’s low regard for the lady, both his friendship with Bingley and his past knowledge of Wickham meant he had a responsibility to try and extricate her from the man’s snares.

Having reached the landing at the end of the stairs, Darcy rapped once on the wooden door of the top apartment. The moment the door was unbolted, Darcy shoved it back and forced his way into the rooms, as their occupant swore and hopped on one leg.

“Mind my damned toes, Darcy,” Wickham exclaimed. “What are you at? I have no shoes on, for God’s sake.”

Darcy pushed his disordered adversary into a chair and stood over him, glowering. Wickham was in his shirt sleeves, without shoes or socks, his jaw unshaven and his hair evidently unbrushed. The overalleffect was that of a man who had just got out of bed, or wished to give that impression.

His appearance was a distinct contrast with Darcy’s own well-cut suit, his combed hair and polished shoes. Darcy had been dressed to go out courting Elizabeth, and now he was stuck here again, in this dingy attic room with his greatest enemy. How did Wickham manage to taint or obstruct everything in Darcy’s life, curse him?

“What am I at?” Darcy threw back at him. “Your nerve is undiminished, I see. What are you at, Wickham, you serpent?”

“Me? Well, thank you for asking, Darcy,” Wickham returned with faux innocence and suffocating smugness. “After we parted ways in Ramsgate, you said you would take no further interest in my affairs, and yet here we are again.”

“Yes, here are are again,” Darcy said through gritted teeth. “And if I am not much mistaken, you are still at the same game.”

“Trying to marry a rich woman, you mean? Of course I am. What choice do I have in life, placed as I am? What other man in my position would not do the same? We cannot all be master of Pemberley.”

“My father would have established you in the church, in the law, or in any other respectable profession you chose,” Darcy told him angrily. “Any decent man would have taken such an opportunity and become a useful member of society, and yet you choose to disgrace yourself and all who come into contact withyou. You are an abomination to my father’s trust.”

“Preaching, law, banking… Ugh! I’d rather be an abomination, as you call it, marry a rich woman and have my fun too,” Wickham retorted with an infuriating grin. “You can’t stop me this time, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I don’t think anyone can stop me.”

“Don’t be so sure. Caroline Bingley is not a child like Georgiana, or a fool like Mary King. She might well prefer being a social outcast to owning a husband like you.”

“Ha! I don’t think so. The lady likes the luxuries and privileges of her position in society far too much,” Wickham chuckled, sitting back with his hands behind his head. “I’ll wager she’d do anything to keep them, even marry me. Incidentally, I ought to thank you for making it so easy, Darcy. Without you, I never could have pulled this off.”

“What do you mean?” Darcy asked warily.

“Can’t you guess?” Wickham taunted him. “Do you think Miss Caroline Bingley would really have come here to private lodging rooms in secret to meet me? No, never. For a private meeting with you, though, she would have risked far, far more.”

“For me?” Darcy asked with amazement and horror, unable to deny the unfortunate fixation that Wickham had somehow identified. “Why should Miss Bingley think she was meeting me?”

“Because I told her so,” replied Wickham with great satisfaction, rubbing his hands with glee at his own cleverness. “You were my bait, Darcy. I sawCaroline Bingley all over you at the Meryton Assembly Rooms and guessed how the land lay with her. Some women must like the taciturn, arrogant type, I suppose — or perhaps she simply likes your money. All it took was a few secret notes in your name and one assignation.”

“You blackguard!” Darcy exclaimed. “You brought her here, thinking that I would be waiting for her?”

“Waiting for her with a marriage proposal, no less,” admitted Wickham with no trace of shame on his laughing face. “Her hopes seemed to neutralise her critical faculties, frankly. From your amazement, it seems that Miss Bingley also completely obeyed my instruction never to mention the notes to you at Netherfield for fear of alerting her brother.”

So, Wickham had been the source of Miss Bingley’s many letters this week. In Darcy’s name, Wickham had been building up her hopes, feeding her poetry and promises, to the point where she agreed to the meeting that had compromised her so completely. It took iron self-control not to strike the man where he sat.

“Every time I think you cannot sink lower, you surprise me with some greater level of dishonour,” Darcy said in disgust. “Miss Bingley might yet deny everything, might she not? Why are you so confident that your word will be believed over hers, especially if influential friends speak for her?”

“Oh, there were far too many witnesses for Miss Bingley to walk away unscathed,” Wickham replied airily. “I made sure of that, Darcy. My landlady, my neighbours, some fellow officers, guests at the inn across thestreet… They all saw her.”

“As I understand it, Miss Bingley cannot have been in here for more than a few minutes and spent most of that time abusing you,” Darcy challenged him. Even the brief accounts he had already received at the inn had made that much clear.