Willow Hall Romance Page 14

  Wickham snorted. No, Darcy did not like him. He rather knew that the man hated him. “It does not take a great deal of observation to know that.”

  His reticence to fall into line with her wishes was beginning to annoy her, but she would not allow him to know, of course. So, she shrugged one shoulder with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “It does not matter if it took an extraordinary amount of deduction or just a trifle. I am certain he will act accordingly if he hears you have endangered me.” She fluttered her eyelashes again.

  Darcy’s parting words when he left Ramsgate played in Wickham’s mind. “I will save you this once, but should I hear of a word of this being spoken to anyone or if you should attempt to prey on another lady of my acquaintance, I will allow Fitzwilliam to do as he wishes.” A letter suggesting any sort of injury to Lydia reaching Darcy would not be in Wickham’s best interest.

  “You do not have the directions to send such a letter, and he shall not be returning to Hertfordshire, I should say. He liked very few in the area, and there is nothing to draw him back since his friend seems unlikely to return.”

  He really did not think anyone could best him, did he? Lydia sighed. “Do not take me for a simpleton, Mr. Wickham. I am the youngest of five sisters, and I know how to get what I want. I assure you I have addressed the missive appropriately. Kitty will send it in five days’ time if she has not heard from me, and I will not write to her until you and I have reached Derbyshire.”

  Wickham stared down at the silly chit with disgust. She had given no indication that such a devious plan, or any plan for that matter, could be formulated in her pretty little head. “Very well,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “We will leave in the morning.”

  She shook her head. “No, we will leave now.”

  “We cannot go until there is a coach on which we can buy passage. I have no desire to go looking for one at this moment as I have friends I wish to see.” He pushed her to the side.

  Lydia followed behind. “But you will drink, and then you will sleep too long.” He was always indulging more than he should. If he did not drink so much as he did, his list of debts would not be nearly so long as it was. He was admirably clever when sober, but his wits failed him quickly in the presence of alcohol.

  Wickham ignored her and pushed open the door to the inn where he always took a room when in town.

  She growled to herself. She did not like to be ignored, nor did she like not having her way. If he thought he could have his way by denying her hers, he was sadly mistaken. She slid up beside him, wound her arm around his, and laid her head on his shoulder as he spoke to the innkeeper.

  “Do make it sure it has a comfortable bed, Wickham dear,” she inserted into the conversation as sweetly as she could.

  “Up the stairs and to the right. Same as always.” The innkeeper took the money Wickham gave him and then handed Wickham the key.

  “Molly Benson,” she introduced herself to the portly man, who was looking at her curiously. “We are on our way to Scotland,” she whispered loudly, placing a hand on her belly. “Papa would not agree to our marriage you see, but it really must happen soon, for it would be best if Papa thinks the little one was born a few weeks early.” She rubbed her stomach in a circular motion as she had seen many expectant women do. “Mama had two which were early you know, so it would not be so far a stretch to think that I take after her and that this one was also early, now would it?” She blinked wide eyes at the man.

  “I am so dreadfully happy to be out of that coach. The motion was nearly more than I could handle, but Wickham has promised to spend the evening reading to me, so I shall be fine by morning.” She held her hand out to her maid, who handed her the book she had been holding since they disembarked from the coach. “My favourite.” Lydia sighed. “And his voice is so melodic.” She smiled up at Wickham. His face was suffused with shock, and it nearly caused her to giggle. “See that our dinner is sent to our room,” she said to the innkeeper, who mumbled something in agreement.

  Wickham opened his mouth to speak and fearing that he might attempt to refute what she had said, she added, “I fear I may be too exhausted to write that letter to my sister.” She removed her arm from his and stretched and yawned.

  Wickham’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent as they ascended the stairs to the room they had been assigned. He pushed open the door and waited for her to enter, but she remained in the hall. She would not be locked in a room while he enjoyed his evening and most likely made his escape. She smiled at him and motioned for him to enter, which, after considering her with a hard stare for a few minutes, he did. Then, she followed.

  “I will have my way, Mr. Wickham,” she said as she closed the door and slid the bolt across.

  “And perhaps, I will have mine,” he shot back.

  She shook her head. “I am afraid not, Mr. Wickham. For if you were to ruin me in truth, you would then have to marry me in truth, and I will not marry you.”

  “Plenty of ladies are not maidens when they marry,” he said, taking a step closer to her.

  “This one intends to be.” She folded her arms across her chest and refused to be moved. She would not be bullied into appearing weak. However, she did hope that should he be even more of a scoundrel than she thought, Margaret, her maid, would set off a cry of alarm. But, to her relief, he held his ground and did not advance any further.

  “You? You, who flutters your lashes at any handsome man and displays your assets to best garner a gentleman’s attention?” He laughed.

  She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. A flirt she might be, but that did not make her a light skirt. “Do you not practice marching and shooting?”

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “For what purpose? To start a fight on a Saturday night for entertainment?”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “No, so we might be prepared for a fight should one arise, and because if we do not, our colonel might have us flogged.”

  Lydia shrugged and went to sit in one of the chairs next to the small table in the room. “I practice so that when a worthy gentleman crosses my path, I shall be ready to conquer him.” She laughed. “And I do not go beyond flirting because I do not wish for my father to flog me with his lectures.” She motioned to the other chair. “You should make yourself comfortable. No one will be expecting you to leave your room this evening. You are reading to your future wife, after all.” She sighed. “This is so much better than spending the evening and night in a carriage, is it not?”

  It was not. Neither Wickham nor Lydia enjoyed the evening nor the night, and both rose early the next morning — Wickham from the bed, and Lydia from the mat she had fashioned on the floor before the door — and were well on their way to Derbyshire before her father and Mr. Darcy entered London.

  Chapter 10

  Mr. Bennet watched Mr. Darcy give directions to his staff as they entered the house. Two footmen were to attend him in his study as soon as could be managed, while a meal was to be laid out in the library. Maids were sent scurrying, preparing a room for their guest. Mr. Bennet’s hat and coat were taken from him, and within ten minutes of arriving at the door to Darcy House, he found himself comfortably seated in a study double the size of his own. The walls were filled with just as many books as his were, but here, everything had a more orderly appearance. Piles of papers sat neatly on the desk, some in wooden boxes.

  Darcy saw Mr. Bennet eying the boxes of papers and with a sheepish grin explained, “I need things in their place, or I find I get lost. Some have the ability to have things combined in one pile and can remember exactly where an item is, but I cannot. Lists, files, and schedules are of great importance to me. I find I am quite lost without a plan.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded. “My Lizzy is rather the opposite. You should be warned. Do not misunderstand me, she can keep a book as well as anyone and organize with the best, but it is not her natural tendency. You may find you will need patience with her.”

&nb
sp; Darcy smiled. “I have some experience with those not given to naturally ordering things. You must remember Bingley is my friend,” he paused and then added with a sigh, “at least, he is currently my friend.” He took a stack of correspondence from one box and sorted it. Most of the letters were returned to the box, while a few were placed in front of Darcy on the desk. “These, I must attend to myself,” he explained, “although the matters, I am sure, are not pressing, so they will travel with me. The others are merely invitations that will need to be declined by my man.”

  “Sir,” one footman, followed by a second, entered the study. “Mr. Thompson said you wished to see us.”

  Darcy nodded and motioned for them to take a seat. Thompson had chosen well. These two were probably the largest footmen on his staff. Both were tall and muscular, and neither appeared to be too well-bred to be entering the areas Darcy was about to ask them to enter. “I need to find someone,” he began when the two men were seated somewhat uncomfortably before his desk. Very few of his servants were ever summoned to his office. Most requests were passed on to them through his butler or housekeeper. However, this was not a topic which could be carried from one person to another. It needed to be contained as much as possible if he wished to keep Lydia’s reputation from being further damaged.

  “Mr. Bennet’s daughter has made an unexpected trip to town,” Darcy continued.

  “With a scoundrel,” muttered Mr. Bennet.

  Darcy nodded his agreement with the evaluation of Wickham and then explained the nature of task he wished his men to accomplish, scratched out some addresses on a paper, and after a short rummage through a drawer on the bookcase behind his desk, showed them a miniature of Wickham. “It is rather urgent that we find him as soon as possible, as Miss Bennet’s father is desirous to have her back unharmed.”

  “Of course, sir,” both men replied as they stood to leave.

  “It is to be private?” asked the second footman.

  “As private as a matter such as this can be,” acknowledged Darcy. “If you find them, you are to return here and tell us. You do not need to apprehend them, unless, of course, you come upon them as they are leaving. There will, of course, be a bit extra in your pay for doing this for me whether you find them or not.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said the first footman and then turning to Mr. Bennet, he added. “We will do our best.”

  “As if she were me own sister,” muttered the second before he turned and followed the other footman from the room.

  Darcy rose from his chair. “And now we wait.” He gathered the letters from his desk and walked toward the study door. “I thought the library might be the best place to while away our time. We might not hear back for hours.”

  “Do you still expect Mr. Bingley?” asked Mr. Bennet as they stepped into the corridor.

  Darcy nodded his reply before turning to his butler. “Thompson, well done on the footmen.” He handed him the few letters he carried. “Please see that these are placed with my things in my room. I should be packed and ready for a journey in the morning.”

  “Of course, sir,” replied Thompson.

  “And, when Mr. Bingley arrives, please show him to the library.”

  “As you wish, sir. Your meal is waiting, sir.”

  A small table of cold meat, cheese, rolls and ale had been set out next to a grouping of chairs in the middle of the large room. A further tray of sweets and port sat on a second table, also within the grouping. It was the meal Darcy often took, in smaller quantity, when he arrived home from traveling. He picked up a piece of cheese from the plate and popped it into his mouth as he took a seat and waited for Mr. Bennet to join him. It had been a long day, and despite his concern regarding Lydia, Darcy was hungry. He chuckled to himself as the gentleman turned about, looking at the shelves of books very much like a child might survey a tray of cakes.

  “Indeed, my favourite son,” Mr. Bennet mumbled as he finally pulled himself from his admiration of the room. “I must say, I am glad you were able to convince my daughter to accept you,” he said to Darcy with a grin.

  Darcy returned the smile. “As am I, sir. As am I.”

  They were just tucking into a second helping of food and ale when Bingley was announced.

  “Ah, Darcy!” said Bingley as he entered the room. “Mr. Bennet!” His surprise was evident both in his tone and the falter in his steps. “It…it is good to see you, sir,” he said in greeting.

  “No need to try to hide your surprise, my boy. I am as surprised to be here as you are to see me, but,” he leaned back in his chair and gave Darcy an amused smile, “I shall leave the explanation of that to your friend.”

  Darcy shifted uneasily in his chair. “You are alone?”

  “Caroline wished to accompany me, but I managed to escape without her.”

  “Good,” muttered Mr. Bennet. Then, with a sheepish smile, he added, “I do apologize, but I am rather liking being free of females for a time.”

  Bingley waved it away with a laugh. “We are all happy to be free of Caroline. Am I right, Darcy?”

  Darcy shrugged and reluctantly nodded. “Especially tonight.” He finished his ale. “I have something to tell you that is not easily done.” He rose and paced to the window and back. “It will no doubt be shocking, and I ask that you allow me to finish before you respond.”

  Bingley’s brows furrowed. “I cannot imagine what you might have done that would be shocking, but I agree.”

  “I truly wish you did not hold me in such high esteem, Bingley.” Pain coloured Darcy’s words. “It makes it more difficult to admit my errors and how I might have harmed you.”

  Bingley’s brows rose, and he pointed to himself as if questioning whether or not he had heard the statement correctly.

  “Yes, you,” said Darcy with a sad smile. He paced to the window and back. “I am not sure how to begin,” he admitted.

  Mr. Bennet leaned forward in his chair. “He is marrying Elizabeth. Lydia has run off, so we must find her, and Jane, whom you were convinced did not love you, did. I cannot say she still does, but she did.” He leaned back in his chair once again.

  Darcy stared at him, mouth agape.

  Mr. Bennet shrugged. “You needed help. I admit it is not the most gentle way to present the news, but we are all men here. And friends.” He looked pointedly at Mr. Bingley and emphasized the word. “There is no need to take the long way around as I would with my wife or daughters. I think we are made of sterner stuff than that.” He rose and motioned for Darcy to sit. “I know I said I would leave this to your friend to explain, but I cannot do it.” He chuckled. “I suppose it is not only my wife who likes to meddle, though I do hope my meddling is more productive and useful than hers.” He held up a finger as Bingley opened his mouth to speak.

  “Love is a sneaky creature. You, Mr. Bingley, are not so easily caught unawares by it. In fact, I would venture a guess that you often think you see it when it is not there.” He raised an eyebrow at Bingley and waited for him to agree that such was the case. “However, Mr. Darcy, here, I would dare to say, rarely sees her approach and quite likely never expected her to threaten him at all. Or, mayhap, he did and that is why he wears his scowl so often — as an attempt to scare her away.”

  Bingley chuckled.

  Mr. Bennet with a small chuckle of his own continued without giving Darcy a moment to accept or deny the charges. “He has been well-chastised for his error on your behalf, Mr. Bingley. My Lizzy is not one to allow her sister to be treated ill without showing her displeasure to the one she holds accountable.” He chuckled again. “I am not sure how she discovered Mr. Darcy’s role in the whole charade, but she did and listed it among other reasons for refusing him.”

  “But?” Bingley’s brows were furrowed deeply in confusion.

  Mr. Bennet winked and smiled at him. “The first time he offered. In the spring, was it?” He waited for Darcy to confirm this. Then, he took a seat, leaned toward Bingley, and, growing serious, added, “For
several months, your friend has tried to reorder his thinking and his life in such a way as to overcome the pain of such a refusal. It is the same pain from which he was attempting to keep you safe — mistaken as he was. He had your best interests in mind.” He leaned back. “My advice, young man, is to accept his apology when he offers it, and then decide if your heart still prefers Jane or if it was merely a pretty face and pleasant smile that held your attention for a time but not for all time.” He sighed. “I will not see her heart broken again,” he warned.

  Darcy’s chest clenched at the words. He shook his head. “I doubt I have ever been so wrong about anything in my entire life.”

  “Wickham,” muttered Mr. Bennet.

  Darcy’s shoulders sagged. “True. I should revise my words to say that when I am wrong, I am quite dreadfully wrong. Perhaps it is a mistake to trust me with your daughter.”

  Mr. Bennet shook his head. “She’ll not let you go so wrong, so long as you listen to her.” He smiled sheepishly at Darcy.

  Darcy nodded his understanding while Bingley looked at the two men in confusion.

  “That bit has to do with Lydia,” Mr. Bennet explained.

  “I cannot tell you, Bingley, how greatly my heart has grieved over my actions toward both you and Miss Bennet. I did not know what pain I caused until Miss Elizabeth turned me away.” He shook his head. “I am not sure I could forgive someone who had treated me so, but I would be very grateful if you would forgive me this wrong.” His breath caught in his chest as he waited for Bingley to respond.

  Bingley looked at Darcy and then Mr. Bennet, who gave him a nod and tilted his head toward Darcy as if telling him to accept the apology. “She loved me?” Bingley asked.

  “That is what Miss Elizabeth says,” Darcy replied.

  “But she may not now?”

  Darcy’s heart sighed at Bingley’s sad tone.

  “If it was love,” said Mr. Bennet softly, “then she still will. If it was not, then you are far better off to have a season of pain rather than a lifetime of it.”