Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (49 page)

“No, no . . . I was . . .” He threw up his hands.  “No, Darcy.  I did not want you to die.  Believe me; I did not want you to die.” 

“Then
why
were you there?” 

“Why was who where?” 

Both men turned.  There at the entrance to the shed stood Samuel, and coming up behind him was Judge Darcy.  “We saw your horse tied up outside . . . Good Lord, Darcy, what has happened to you?  Who is this man?”  Samuel ran up to his cousin and taking him by the shoulders, helped him back against the wall.  Darcy winced and held his side.  “Your ribs?”

“They are fine, Cousin.”  Darcy glanced at Wickham. 

“Elizabeth will throttle you if they are hurt again.”  Samuel pulled a flask from his greatcoat and handed it to him. 

Harding had advanced and stopped.  He and Wickham were staring at each other.  Both faces were frozen, but both sets of eyes held the same wary expression.  Darcy held the flask and watched them.  “Uncle, Samuel, I believe that you have both met Wickham.” 

“Wickham!”  Samuel spun around to stare.  “YOU!” 

“Oh, God.”  Wickham broke his gaze with Harding as Samuel towered over him.

“This is the bastard that hurt Georgiana?” 

“Yes.”  Darcy said quietly. 

“Why is he not dead?” 

“Because I found him first.” 

Samuel turned to his father.  “Have we grounds to kill him, Father?”

“To do so would mean exposing Georgiana’s ruin.”  The judge kept his gaze locked onto Wickham’s darting eyes.

“Not if he was found floating down the river.”  Samuel waved at the open doors.  “He could have fallen in, just like Elizabeth did.  She nearly died in there, did she not, Darcy?”

“Yes.”  He said emotionlessly.

“How can you let him continue to breathe!”  Samuel was nearly mad with his anger.  “A child, an innocent child, and he . . .”   Lifting his boot he kicked Wickham in the groin.  The men watched him fall over and writhe in pain. 

Darcy smiled.  “That seems to be a favourite technique of the Darcy men.”  Samuel wiped his hand over his face and through his hair.  The judge’s brow was creased and he seemed to be lost.  “Uncle?”

“I . . .” He swallowed and finding his way over to the bench, sank down.  “I seem to remember . . .” He shook his head.  A darkened room much like the shadowed shed came to mind.  It was dank and musty, a single shaft of light came from a window high in the ceiling, and he remembered a man writhing on the ground after being kicked in the balls, the same man who was gasping in pain before him. 

“Sir?”  Darcy’s concern drew Samuel’s attention away from Wickham.

“Father?”

“What has he said, Fitzwilliam?”

“Nothing that surprises me.  We were just about to address his presence at Pemberley with Christmas when you arrived.” 

“Were you.”   He said woodenly and standing; walked over to Wickham and knelt down beside him.  “And why were you at Pemberley, Wickham?” 

Wickham stared at the judge from his position curled into a ball on the straw-covered floor.  “You tell me.” 

“Damn his insolance!”  Samuel cried.

“Why were
you
at Pemberley, Uncle?”  Darcy asked quietly.  “Nearly the first words from your lips inquired after Wickham being on the grounds.” 

The judge slowly turned his gaze to his nephew.  “I suspected he was not through with you.” 

“And you were correct.”  Darcy nodded at Wickham.  “Were you?”

Slowly, Wickham sat up.  “I was trying to be.”

“Christmas knew what you had done?”

Wickham glanced at the judge.  “Yes.”

“And he wanted to profit from it somehow?”

“He wanted a great prize, yes.” 

“And he had to get it from me?” 

“Something like that.  He failed, and I escaped.”  Wickham sighed. 

“What did he hold over you?” 

“The same thing that you do.”  Wickham looked at Samuel.  “My life.” 

“Well, that is no great prize.”  Samuel seethed.

Darcy spoke with quiet authority.  “This is my matter to address.  Georgiana is my responsibility, not yours, not Uncle’s, not Richard’s.  I will settle this on my terms.”  He looked to the door.  “Go and wait outside or return to the house, it is up to you.” 

“William, we will not leave you with him!”

“I think that he is quite incapable of mounting much of an attack, Samuel.”  Darcy pointed to the door.  “Go on.” 

“Father . . .” 

“No, Son.  Fitzwilliam is correct.  This is his business, it always has been and his life would have been much easier if his relatives stayed well away from him.”  Harding cleared his throat and put his hand on Darcy’s shoulder.  “You truly are the head of this family, and have proven it time and again.  Whatever your decisions, we will abide by them without protest.”  Nodding, he walked out of the shed.  Samuel looked from his cousin to Wickham, and then unhappily followed his father out.

“Thank you.”  Wickham breathed a sigh of relief.

“Richard would be much more difficult to stop.  I suggest that you be on your way to wherever your future takes you before he catches wind that you are truly about.” 

“I will.”  He looked down and was surprised when the flask was offered to him.  He took a long draw and handed it back. 

“That is the last thing I will ever provide for you, Wickham.  Do not ever approach me or my family again.  Not for money, employment, food . . . anything.  You are on your own now.  Am I clear?” 

“Yes.” 

“Georgiana says that you are planning to watch her from afar.”

“It would be a lie to say that I won’t now.” 

“I know.  And I could tell you to keep well away, but you won’t.  Just . . . don’t let her see you.  And don’t ask for money.”  Darcy spoke seriously and Wickham nodded.  “Why did you come to Pemberley that day?” 

“To kill you.”  Wickham said bitterly as he rubbed his face.

Darcy drew in a long breath and looked up at the ceiling, “You ran away rather than carry it out?”

“I tried to warn you with a letter.”

“I burned it.”

“No great surprise there.”  Wickham eyed the flask, but Darcy put it away. 

“Who put you up to carry this out?”

“Christmas.  He had a very impressive knife.” 

“Why would he want me dead?”

“Ask him.”  Wickham stared at his boots. 

“Rather difficult, seeing as he is dead.”

“Dead men tell no tales.”

“Should I drop this inquiry, George?”  Darcy said softly.

“You are alive.  Your wife is well, Georgiana has delivered and no doubt you will have her presented to society and admired for the sweet woman she is.  And there is a little girl now . . .” 

“And what would you do to any man who touched her before she was married?” 

“I would kill him.”  Wickham looked up at him. 

Darcy nodded and slowly stood.  “I consider our debts to be even now.  Get off my land, and never let me see your shadow again.  Otherwise, I
will
tell Richard where to find you.” 

“Thank you, Darcy.”  Wickham struggled, but finally stood.  “Just one last request.  What is her name?” 

Walking towards the door, Darcy stopped and studied him for a few moments.  “Hope.”  Turning, he walked out into the sunshine.

Wickham placed his hand on the wall and closed his eyes.  “Thank you, Georgiana.” 

Chapter 19

“W
here have you been?”  Sophie asked softly when Richard kissed her hand and placed it on his arm.  “I have endured two days of teasing from my brothers and I am . . . I am at my wits end defending you!”

“Defending me?”  Richard laughed.  “My goodness, what did they suppose I was doing?  Strike that, what did
you
suppose I was doing?”

“I hardly know.”  She sighed.  “I could bear it if you had gone home, but when you are only a few miles away . . .”

Richard squeezed her hand.  “I am sorry, Miss Kelly.  The Darcys’ guests arrived and I had to remain in place.  As we had no fixed appointment I . . . I suppose that I should have sent a note to your father.”

“Or Mrs. Darcy could have sent one to me.”  She looked down and he smiled. 

“That would have been far better, as I could have slipped my own note within.”  Their eyes met.  “I will remember that next time.”

“What would it say?”

“Nothing memorable, I assure you.”  Chuckling, he saw her disappointment.  “Do not ever expect a sonnet from me.  I am . . . very male.”

“Now what on earth does that mean?  The greatest poet I know is Rabbie Burns!” 

“I am not given to flowery prose.”  Fascinated, he watched her eyes narrow. 

“Mrs. Darcy?”  Sophie called to Elizabeth, who was seated with her mother and Mrs. Annesley.  “May I ask a possibly intrusive question?”

“Certainly!”  She brightened and turned to her.  “They are often the most interesting.”

“Does Mr. Darcy write to you?”

“Yes.”  She smiled fondly.  “Lovely letters.  And sometimes a sonnet when he is especially inspired.”

“He
does
?”  Richard said with surprise.  “But you are never apart!”

“
Yes
, he does, and what does distance have to do with expressions of love?”

“You would agree that Mr. Darcy is most assuredly male, Colonel.”  Sophie challenged.

“Perhaps you see this as part of his kowtowing to me?”  Elizabeth’s brow rose suggestively and Richard licked his lips when she turned to Sophie.  “Mr. Fitzwilliam seems to believe that behaving in a gentlemanly manner is demeaning to the male ego.”

“I said no such thing!”  He protested as the women of the room fixed their eyes upon him.

“Or did you think that my husband was placating me?”  Elizabeth tilted her head.

“Well . . .” 

“But you labelled him weak for wanting me to be happy?”

“You were most definitely happy when I found you, Mrs. Darcy.”  He growled. 

“I was until
you
appeared, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”

“What on earth did you do to them?”  Sophie demanded.

“Nothing!”  He cried.  “I . . . I . . .” He threw up his hands and pointed at Elizabeth.  “You are supposed to be helping me!”

“Helping you do what, exactly?” 

“Oh, Lord!”

“Colonel!”  Mrs. Kelly said sharply. 

“La, then!”  He cried and closed his eyes.  “I cannot win.  It is hopeless.” 

“I warned you, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”  Elizabeth’s softening voice made him look up.  “Miss Kelly, if you have not discovered by now, Mr. Fitzwilliam suffers from a similar affliction as my husband, a curse of fumbling over his words when addressing members of our sex.  My husband is quite improved now, but he is also very fond of using his pen to express his sentiments.”  She turned to Richard, “I cannot imagine you doing the same, but you are not one to lose yourself in a book.  You are a man of a more . . .”  She studied him and saw how his eyes darted to Sophie anxiously, “I believe that you prefer to demonstrate your feelings.  Not that my dear husband does not as well, but I think that your time in the army prevented you from carrying a great library on your person, so you grew to appreciate the poetry of your surroundings, rather than the written word.” 

“Well done, Elizabeth!”  He said admiringly. 

Immediately Sophie jumped on him.  “Well done?  Is it the truth or what you wish it to be?”

“No, she is entirely correct, but then she has had the opportunity to observe me.  I read, of course, but when I was soldiering, books were a cumbersome luxury.  So . . . do not expect a sonnet from me.  But I will gladly take you anywhere and expound upon the beauty before my eyes.”  His admiring gaze inspired a very becoming blush to creep over Sophie’s cheeks and Richard drew a great sigh of relief.   

Mrs. Kelly watched the couple sitting together and turned to Elizabeth with a smile.  “Our boys learned a great deal in school.  I imagine that what the colonel read was not entirely lost on him.”

“My father would recall his days at school fondly, and sometimes I could catch him reviewing some old lesson.”  Elizabeth smiled sadly.  “He called it his time to enrich the mind.” 

“He must have been a wonderful teacher for you.”  Mrs. Annesley said kindly. 

“There are many things that I will miss about him, even the more sartorial subjects.”  She smoothed the skirt of her lavender gown. 

“How much longer will you be mourning?” 

“I imagine . . . well supposedly until September, but . . .”  She shrugged.  “I will consult my sister when she comes to visit.”

“More family is coming?  How lovely!  I am sorry that your aunt could not come today, it is always so nice to meet new people when they arrive in the neighbourhood.”  Mrs. Kelly began the ritual of making tea.  “We will have to host a dinner sometime.”

“I am afraid that Mr. Darcy and I will be returning to Pemberley very soon, in fact, we hope to depart in the next day or so.” Seeing her surprise she smiled.  “I know that we had originally intended to stay through August, but we have pressing needs to attend.  However, the Harding Darcys will remain for about another month.  My uncle has not enjoyed his family estate since he was a boy, and as he has recently retired from the bench, this will be a nice private holiday for them.”

“He was a judge?”

“Yes, in London.  And his son, Mr. Samuel Darcy who is also visiting, is clerking for a lawyer in the village of Lambton.  He will eventually take over the practice.”

“That is what Stephen hopes to do.  Perhaps he would benefit from a conversation with your uncle and cousin?” 

“I will ask Richard to introduce them.”  Elizabeth accepted her cup.  There was a pause in the conversation and the ladies looked to Sophie who was laughing and had her hand to her mouth.  Richard was presenting her with a box and had the lid open as he talked and waved his hand.  “Finally.  He has been carrying that around for weeks.”

“What is it?”  Mrs. Kelly craned her neck to see.

“Chocolate.  He bought it for her in London.”  Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled.  “I believe that Miss Kelly is very fond of it?”

“What a perfect gift!  Yes, Sophie has a mug of it every morning, it is her one indulgence.”  Mrs. Kelly smiled as Sophie took the box and was peeking inside.  Richard was beaming at her.  “I think that they will do well together.”