Friends and Enemies Page 17

  “Home?” All three men spoke at once.

  Before the man could answer, they swept him into the carriage and took off towards Gracechurch Street.

  Darcy was joyous. His Elizabeth was safe. But how? His joy turned to worry. She was clever, but so was Wickham. This made no sense.

  While the cousins plied the footmen with questions, demanding answers, Mr. Gardiner sat in silence.

  “Oh, Lord.” His exclamation stopped all attempts at conversation. In his hand was the missive, opened, read, and crumpled. Using his free hand, he rubbed it across his face. “This is for you, Mr. Darcy.”

  Again, Darcy recognized the penmanship. Wickham had always signed his own name with scrollwork adorning the “W” with the rest penned large across the paper. With Darcy’s name? He made the letters as small as possible, as if the words meant little. The name on the outside was barely visible.

  Glancing at Elizabeth’s uncle, his lips were pressed tight and all colour had vanished from his face. This would not be good news. The first few words chilled his soul.

  Darcy,

  You must be surprised to receive not only this missive, but Miss Elizabeth as well. Do not give me altruistic qualities I do not possess. I suffer no regrets for my actions. My removing her so easily from her uncle’s residence was not impulse, the work of a moment. My purpose was and is deliberate.

  Did you contact the bank? Did you call Richard to your side? Did your mind fill with strategy to best find me in the seedier portions of the city? Did you think to harass Mrs. Younge? I laugh at you, Darcy, you who have always prided yourself on being the wiser man. You are an ignorant fool!

  Know this, my old friend. The ruin of your sister was merely the first step of my plan. Snatching the lovely Miss Elizabeth was step two. Do you wonder what will be next? I laugh at your imagination.

  I know you, Darcy, you can think the smallest inclination to death. Nonetheless, no matter how hard you try, you will never outsmart the master. So, hide your sister and your betrothed in your home and make Darcy House into a fortress. Remove them to Pemberley or take them to the Americas. It matters not. Hire Bow Street Runners until you run out of funds. Again, it matters not. You will not best me this time. You are a puppet and I am the maestro. I live to watch you dance on the string. I aim to destroy you and gain all that is yours—what should rightly have been mine. ‘And either victory, or else a grave.’”

  G.W.

  “Shakespeare. Henry VI.” Richard provided while Darcy’s emotions churned to the point he wanted to vomit. Anger warred with fear. Frustration with incredulity. When had Wickham become so evil?

  His chest started tingling as his brain filled with fog. He would spit on George Wickham the next time he saw him right before he ran him through.

  Never had he yearned to end the life of another human being. Never had he longed to cause the same mental anguish he was currently experiencing. Yet, he did now.

  Elizabeth! What was she…how was she…? As hard as he tried, nothing coherent came to him. All he could do was feel, to force himself to move past the numbness filtering the length of his extremities by focusing on her rather than any threat to himself. He despised the loss of control and abhorred that it was Wickham who seemed to have the upper hand.

  “We are almost to my home,” Mr. Gardiner informed the others. “Sirs, what are your intentions? Will you arrive showing the terror you are currently wearing? Or will you remember there is a chance Mr. Wickham is lying in wait to rejoice in your response? For I believe any despair you show will increase both his pleasure and his confidence.”

  Darcy swallowed.

  “You are correct. He is a man without conscience who would delight in unsettling me.” Looking out of the windows, he hoped to spy the lawless culprit. “I need to be strong for Elizabeth. She needs me.”

  His own words soothed him and gave him purpose. Crumpling the paper into a wad, he stuffed it into his pocket. The last thing his Elizabeth needed to see were the words of that miscreant. That she had been alone in his company, albeit briefly, was intolerable. She must be suffering so.

  All three men kept from gazing around at their surroundings as they casually strolled to the door. It was all a show. Inside the Gardiner residence they were stunned to hear Elizabeth’s laughter coming from the drawing room.

  Darcy could no longer contain himself. Hurrying inside, he wrapped her in his embrace and dropped his head to rest on her soft curls. Closing his eyes, he knew that together they could vanquish this foe. How? He had no clue.

  “Elizabeth.” He breathed her name as he held her. When the arms she wrapped around his waist squeezed him briefly, he felt a measure of peace overtake him. He loved her.

  She pulled back when her uncle cleared his throat and looked up. Her eyes were luminous—and wary.

  He had to know. “Why did you laugh?”

  She tilted her head forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder. Then she shook her head.

  “Pray, tell me.” She had been through enough. He would not demand. Yet he did not understand.

  “You will think me terrible, sir,” she whispered softly.

  “Never!” His reassurance was quick.

  She sighed, then stepped from his arms. He was bereft, wanting her back. The glare from her uncle kept him from grabbing for her again.

  “Pray, be seated and I shall share what I just told my aunt of the events of the past hour, sirs.” Elizabeth sat on one end of a sofa, and Darcy joined her, clasping her hand in his. “I recognized Lt. Wickham immediately. My fear was he had come for Georgiana.”

  Darcy quickly surveyed the room and found, to his relief, his sister was not in attendance. He hoped she never learnt what had happened.

  Elizabeth continued, “When I realised his intentions and came under his power, I recalled a lesson learnt from my youngest sister.”

  “Lydia?” Mr. Gardiner was surprised as were they all. Miss Lydia Bennet was not known for her keen intelligence.

  “Yes, Lydia.” Elizabeth lifted her chin, daring any to defy the exalted opinion she held at that time of the silliest of all the Bennet girls. “Early last year, her figure went from being slim to that of a woman. At fourteen years of age, she was slightly more timid than now.”

  Timid was not a word Darcy would ever have applied to Miss Lydia Bennet.

  “When the neighbourhood boys started paying attention to her, she did not like it. At all. So, she took it upon herself to speak with the brother of Charlotte Lucas, asking him how best to immobilize a man should one threaten her with a familiarity she did not feel comfortable receiving. Lydia, being Lydia, could not keep the information to herself. After demonstrating certain movements to the rest of us girls, I asked Papa if her depictions were accurate. When his face turned a greenish colour, and he had difficulty swallowing, I knew her information was sound.”

  “You used your knee…?” Richard asked in awe.

  Waving him off with her hand, she said, “No, not at all. Though I am aware of that move, I had no opportunity nor desire to inflict that particular pain in that moment. You see, the carriage was moving quickly, and it was all I could do to hang onto my seat.”

  “Then what did you do?” Richard pursued his line of question. Darcy, too, was curious.

  “When we became ensnared in traffic close to the docks, he shoved the note into my hands and attempted to kick me out of the door to the ground. On my way past, I used the heel of my walking boot to grind my weight into the top of his foot. Then, acting as if I had lost my balance, I bent the joint of these two fingers to jab at the lump in his throat.” She demonstrated with the index and middle finger of her left hand. “He seemed most pained by that move. He was gasping so hard, the force of his movements was lessened, so I landed inelegantly, but without suffering harm, in front of a fishmonger’s stand. There was a lone mackerel left for sale that had no appeal for me at all.” She chuckled. “I chose not to accept the poor man’s offer for our evening meal, dust
ed off my skirt, and made my way home.”

  Darcy had to close his mouth and noted Richard and Mr. Gardiner had to do the same. He observed her closely and knew, by the squeeze of her hand and the pinched look around her mouth that she was trying to ease everyone else’s way at her own expense. He would let her pretend for an instant since it seemed to bring her temporary relief. However, she needed him—whether she was aware of it or not—as much as he needed her.

  Bruises were forming on her upper arms where Wickham had grabbed her. Darcy determined there and then that his former companion would pay for every single mark he put on this woman. He would pay for Georgiana and every other woman he had harmed or defiled. Cold fury settled inside him and he knew justice would be the only thing to remove it from his heart.

  “You learnt this from Miss Lydia?” Richard asked. “The same Miss Lydia enamored of officers and dancing?”

  Elizabeth nodded to the affirmative. “Colonel, the amount of times each week my sisters walk the mile to and from Meryton has given them strongly muscled legs. I fear for the man who attempts to take liberties with any of them.”

  Of all of Elizabeth’s many sisters, the youngest had been Darcy’s least favourite and most despised. Yet, now? He could not keep himself from proclaiming, “God bless Lydia Bennet.”

  Never would he have imagined any circumstances where he would utter those words, yet he meant them with all his heart.

  CHAPTER 24

  To his amazement, Elizabeth asked, “What was your first impression of the letter, William?”

  “You read it?” His intentions had not been to express disapproval, though the furrowing of her brow indicated his lack of success.

  “Yes, I did for two reasons.” Elizabeth paused, and he knew she was trying to read his face. He figured she checked for his disapprobation. With an effort, he relaxed the tense muscles surrounding his jaw and stopped gritting his teeth. Elizabeth must have been satisfied as she went on. “By reading what was in my hands, I both appeased my curiosity and kept my face hidden from anyone who might have associated me with the lady who was proposed to by the elusive Mr. Darcy a few hours prior.”

  “Smart girl,” Richard proclaimed before Darcy was able. “My question to you then, Miss Elizabeth, is what did you think of the letter?”

  She did not immediately answer. When she did, Darcy was, again, impressed with her insight.

  “He has no fear of you, William.”

  “Why do you say this?” Darcy’s curiosity as to her thinking process was piqued.

  “He speaks of the deliberateness of his actions and taunts you with the assuredness of his success,” Elizabeth replied, squeezing his fingers. “I no longer believe money is his goal, or he would have kept me until he collected the ransom. Like him, I am convinced you would have paid.”

  Darcy nodded, pleased she knew him so well.

  She continued, “Lt. Wickham stated that his actions are part of a greater plan, something he has considered since before Ramsgate. He hinted that he is able to afford lodgings suitable for a gentleman and that he is working alone.”

  “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” the colonel responded. “You are undoubtedly correct with the whole of your comments.” He shifted his attention to his cousin. “I do wonder at the man. Darcy, has Wickham ever had a goal other than wealth?”

  “He has not.” Always, his old friend had pressed him for cash. Always, there had been some emergency which required an immediate insurgence of funds.

  “Do you have an idea what it is he wants other than a large sum?” the colonel pressed.

  “Pemberley,” Darcy stated confidently. “With the estate comes a fortune in artwork from antiquity. The library, on its own, is considered by experts to be priceless with the number of first editions and rare books in the collections. The annual income alone from rents and the harvests would guarantee a lifetime of income to support his debauched living.”

  Mrs. Gardiner made her presence known for the first time. “Pray do not forget the power wielded by the Master of Pemberley.” She looked to each man individually before she explained her point. “Not only are you the local magistrate for legal matters, you hold in your hands the future of hundreds of servants and tenants. Brandished by a good and fair man, the people thrive. Used harshly by an immoral and selfish man, the people would suffer until they could take no more. They would rebel and many would be harmed.”

  Richard snorted. “Wickham would care not about the people. He wants wealth and power at any cost.”

  “I was trained from infancy for this authority, Mrs. Gardiner,” Darcy stated, unashamed of his privileges. “Wickham may have received a gentleman’s education and had the potential to learn the running of an estate from his own good father. However, he chose not to learn.”

  “Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown,” Elizabeth quoted from Henry IV.

  “Yes, Elizabeth. My responsibilities are many, but they are mine. I will not abandon my heritage easily. George Wickham will have to fight me hand and fist. I will not let go of what is mine.”

  Since the death of his father, Darcy had long pondered the inheritance he would one day leave to his sons. He was proud of the work he had done and had every intention of continuing on this path. With Elizabeth alongside him, they would be formidable.

  Mr. Gardiner interjected a valid issue. “My impression, from reading the letter, is that Wickham’s sole purpose is not the gaining control of your assets.” He had everyone’s immediate attention. “The loss to you appears to weigh as heavily, if not more so, than obtaining what you own. Recall he stated his aim to destroy you. This speaks of an intense, deep-seated jealousy, an inordinate or rapacious desire where he not only wants what you have—he begrudges you for having it in the first place.”

  “This is greed of the worst sort, Uncle,” Elizabeth chimed in. “Even the Bible says covetousness is wrong when it is displayed by actions that are often unpardonable.” She turned back to the man sitting at her side. “Lt. Wickham’s motives are most suspect. My question to you now is what does your initial instinct tell you to do? How is your heart leading you to respond?”

  He huffed. “My heart is as treacherous as yours and everyone else’s, Elizabeth. As Wickham suggested, my first thought was to sequester you and Georgiana at Pemberley or one of my distant estates until the rake is apprehended and punishment is meted out.”

  “You have moved on from this inclination then?” she asked, a sparkle in her eyes and a small smile on her face.

  “I have, dearest,” he smiled back, lost in the beauty of her face.

  “Then tell us, Darcy. Do not leave us in the dark as to your plans,” his cousin demanded.

  At that, Darcy excused himself from his beloved and stood. Walking to stand in front of the fireplace, he sorted his thoughts before he spoke, as was his habit. Avoiding distraction by not looking at his betrothed, he addressed Richard directly.

  “This tactic of Wickham’s is not unknown to me. From our youth, it was his purpose to best me in every endeavour. At times, he succeeded. For the most part, he failed. Nevertheless, he has never stopped.” Rubbing his mouth, he considered his words carefully. “One fact I have always known about George is that even if he had it all, he would not be satisfied. He would always want more.”

  “Then this is his weakness. Can such a man be worked upon?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Yes, he can,” his voice was certain. “There are two immutable facets to life. One is that we will all eventually die. The other is that George Wickham lacks patience. What he wants, he wants now.”

  “Yet, he did nothing other than disparage you while in Hertfordshire.”

  “Which is his modus operandi,” Richard added. “He has done the same since he was in leading strings. Darcy is correct. Wickham cannot see past the reward. He takes risks. He gambles. And, he most often loses.”

  “As he will this time,” Darcy insisted.

  Mr. Gardiner surveyed the young man from hea
d to toe. His words were harsh. “You are mighty confident for a man with a ruined sister and an intended who was easily captured and returned. I am not liking this at all, Mr. Darcy. Your attitude appears to belittle what the man has already accomplished, and you are arrogantly assuming you will prevail. Upon what do you base your boasts? I will not throw my niece to the wolves to soothe your inflated ego.”

  Instantly Darcy took offence. Then he calmed. Looking at his responses from Elizabeth’s uncle’s point-of-view, he would have felt the same.

  “Sir, my confidence is not based solely on belief in my own superiority,” Darcy admitted. “To understand my thinking, you must recall what offensive behaviour Elizabeth believed of me for most of our acquaintance, something I shared in common with her own father. Do you recall?”