Consequences (10 page)

Without exception, every outcome was negative.

Not a single clue had been discovered. Not a single agent who sought the couple found even one item of useful information. Despite Wickham’s urbane and amiable demeanour, it was increasingly significant that his circle consisted unvaryingly of acquaintances but no special friends—at least, none the two men or their agents had found. No one had seen or heard of Wickham in many months. It had been a frustratingly futile search, and it had proven quite expensive.

Between Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner, a sum in excess of five hundred pounds had been expended and with nothing to show for their investment. Five hundred pounds was an impressive sum, and both men knew neither could afford further such expenditures. Though Mr. Gardiner had borne a share of it, that sum was a full quarter of Mr. Bennet’s yearly income. Much as they would prefer, neither of the two men could afford to continue paying out such treasure, much less to do so with no positive results.

“I do not know, Thomas,” sighed Mr. Gardiner. “I simply do not know.”

“She is gone—gone for good, taking the reputation of my family, of the rest of my girls, with her.”

“I am very much afraid you are correct. I cannot afford either the time—or the monies—to continue this search. Nor can you. And you have been gone from your family most of a month. I hate to admit defeat, but we cannot go on.”

“I know, I know,” agreed Mr. Bennet, his head drooping in dejection. “How could she do this? Does she not know how her actions will affect her sisters?”

“I cannot answer that question. Lydia has never been our favourite niece, but I never considered she would act in such a way.”

“She is like her mother,” said Mr. Bennet said, in a voice so quiet Mr. Gardiner did not realize at first the suppressed fury in his voice. “I blame her mother for this.”

Mr. Gardiner looked at his brother sharply, but he could not think of anything to say, for he held a similar opinion. He loved his sister, but he was unfortunately well aware of her failings. Of course, his brother must bear a substantial portion of the blame also . . .

As if he was mindful of these thoughts, and with evident disgust with himself in his voice, Mr. Bennet said bitterly, “Of course, I am not innocent of blame in this affair, as we both well know. I should have exerted myself, for I was aware of my wife’s failings, and I did not do so.

“So I am remiss in placing too much blame on your sister,” he continued. “Forgive me, Brother. I knew what I should have done, but I valued my tranquillity too much to confront either Lydia or my wife. Alas, I am also a party to my own misfortune.”

Again, Mr. Gardiner said nothing, and an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Eventually, Mr. Bennet sighed deeply and unsteadily got to his feet. At the sideboard, he looked through the offerings before settling on the brandy.

“Port will not do for what I feel at this moment, Edward. My whole world is crashing about my ears, and there is, quite literally, nothing I can do about it—nothing at all.”

He poured a full glass and took a deep drink, his face twisting in reaction to the brandy burning a fire all down his gullet. He looked at the glass, then at his brother, and took another drink.

“Perhaps we should drink a toast to my youngest daughter, Edward,” he said derisively. “Lydia always wanted to go to London, you know. So she is likely to be happy here, if she is indeed somewhere in this town. And, as I told my daughters, I would imagine her residence here will likely be of some duration.”

“Thomas . . .”

“Yes, yes, I know. A father should not think so ill of his daughter. But Wickham was never going to marry her, you know. We both know that now, with what Colonel Forster has written of his debts in Brighton. I would not be surprised if the scoundrel has already abandoned her.”

“You should not be so pessimistic. Surely, if he did so, she would come here so that she could return home.”

“I am very afraid that Lydia is too foolish to even know how to find her way here, Brother.”

“Then you think . . .”

“Ultimately, I cannot think of any other possibility. It is what everyone in the neighbourhood will suppose, at any rate. ‘Poor Lydia. A barque of frailty. A light skirt. A doxy.’ And they are likely correct. What else could she do, if she does not come home?”

“A truly depressing prospect, Brother,” Mr. Gardiner said finally then got to his feet. “I believe that I need a little liquid refreshment myself before you drain the bottle.”

For quite some time, the room was silent except for the clink of glass against glass as the two men sank into despondency. There was, at last, nothing else to say or do.

Nothing at all
, Mr. Bennet thought.
Except to go home and confront the just desserts of my folly.

Chapter 5

“Sin is too stupid to see beyond itself.”

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson,
Poet Laureate of
Great Britain and Ireland

Saturday, December 5, 1812

Unbeknownst to Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy was not informed of the situation of her family until almost three months after she supposed it. Lady Catherine was more cunning than she imagined, especially since her ladyship jealously noted in April what Elizabeth had not—that her nephew showed a most displeasing interest in the impertinent Miss Bennet. Accordingly, though Lady Catherine was kept fully informed of the various elements of the Bennet family’s scandal by her submissive parson, she did not disclose any hint of the actual situation to her nephew, desiring instead to make certain that the ruin of Elizabeth’s sister was complete before she confided all the sordid details to him.

The letter compiled by his aunt with loving care now lay on Darcy’s desk while his eyes stared down at it in horror. Lady Catherine included all the particulars—the shameful elopement, the realization by the family and the neighbourhood that a marriage was not the intention of Mr. Wickham, the hopeless attempt by Elizabeth’s father and uncle to find her sister, and the subsequent, complete ruin of the Bennet family. His eyes were drawn especially to his aunt’s final paragraph:

I am to understand that the family has been completely ostracized by respectable society in Hertfordshire. Even though the country gentry cannot hope to compare to that at our level of society, Nephew, still they have their standards, and those have been correctly applied in this case. I told Miss Bennet the same when she visited—that her mother appeared very foolish in allowing all her daughters to be out without restraint, the youngest before the eldest was married. I prophesied that no good would come of it, and my forecast has proven accurate beyond even my suspicions.

Darcy could not believe the scarcely concealed venom of his aunt’s letter, and he felt both anguish for what Elizabeth must be enduring and guilt because a considerable part of the blame could be laid at his feet.

I would not stir myself to counter Wickham’s charges when Elizabeth first mentioned them at the Netherfield Ball
, he thought in misery.
And she was entirely correct that I did not conduct myself as a gentleman ought in my dealings with Bingley’s neighbours. I gave them every reason to believe the falsehoods Wickham spread. If I had made known his character from our first meeting in Meryton, then none of this would have taken place.

Pemberley was not exactly silent, for Darcy could absently hear his sister practicing her music down the hall, and there was the occasional sound of a servant walking quietly past the open door of his study, but it was not as loud as it was before Bingley and his sisters had departed three weeks earlier. But he was so deep into consideration and planning he would not have noticed a carnival taking place in the hallways. He quickly concluded he must go to London and attempt to accomplish what Elizabeth’s father and uncle had not. It was quite late to start such a search and the chances of success commensurately small, but he could not compound his previous error of not exposing Wickham by not attempting to right a wrong that was at least partly his fault. In addition, he had both personal knowledge of Wickham’s past activities and the funds to buy information, assets that might prove essential in achieving his goal.

Thus, to the surprise and confusion of his staff and of his sister, Darcy left Pemberley shortly after noon on an errand he would not disclose.

***

Tuesday, December 8, 1812
to Wednesday, January 6, 1813

Darcy began his quest early in the morning following his arrival, and he met with some initial success before noon when he was able to locate Mrs. Younge at the boarding house she owned. However, his progress stalled at that point, for the woman was not inclined to tell him anything of Wickham. Darcy knew her antipathy toward him was part of the reason for her resistance, but it was not the only and might not even be the major part. As he so painfully learned from his previous history with her, the woman set a price on everything, and she was now, as usual, trying to gauge just how much he was willing to pay before she settled on a fee.

It was two days before he finally was able to get her to agree on terms, and even after a bargain had been struck, her information was scant. She averred she did not know where Wickham was located at the present time, though he had come to see her when he first came to London. In fact, had she a vacant room in her house, he would have taken up his abode there, for the two did have a history with each other. Darcy could not discern the parameters of that history, but its existence was clear to him. She informed Darcy of the name and location of the inn where Wickham had stayed for several weeks, but she also had information that he had since disappeared from that inn, likely without paying his bill. She believed he thereafter left London, though that was more supposition than actual knowledge, and she had even less information regarding his female companion. This was not at all the result for which Darcy hoped, but after he made inquiries, he concluded Mrs. Younge had indeed told him everything she knew. In consequence, as per their agreement, Darcy reluctantly turned over the agreed sum to the detested woman, knowing full well that she gained the advantage over him in this latest and hopefully final encounter.

At the inn where Wickham had stayed, Darcy was again forced to pay for information, and this information was even less useful; Wickham had been gone for almost three months, and the innkeeper had no knowledge of where. Nor did he know what happened to his female companion; she vanished at the same time, and the innkeeper had no knowledge as to whether they departed separately or together.

As he left the inn, Darcy was reluctantly forced to conclude that the trail of his nemesis and boyhood companion was now absolutely cold. He could not know he had made more progress in three days than Mr. Bennet and his Brother Gardiner made in four months, but it was doubtful the knowledge would have provided any solace.

If only I had known sooner!
Darcy thought in anguish, and he was angered at the knowledge his aunt deliberately delayed informing him until she was certain Wickham’s tracks had vanished.

Darcy’s next step was to bring his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam into the hunt. Fitzwilliam’s knowledge of those areas of interest in London was actually little better than Darcy’s, but he had access to resources that Darcy did not. Because of his command of His Majesty’s Sixth Regiment of Dragoons, he was able to make inquiries among the ordinary soldiers, who possessed knowledge of the less wholesome environs of London that he and Darcy did not. They were able to provide him with the names of several informers well versed in the comings and goings in those seedy parts of town. However, despite the generous sum Darcy was willing to pay for information, it was still almost another month before he received word that they could find no trace of Wickham, even though they believed they had located Lydia Bennet.

Their message stated that the location in question was, however, one of the least favourable to Darcy’s purpose. It was, to be blunt, nothing more than a house of ill repute—a common brothel. Evidently, they reported, a young girl named Lydia, penniless, hungry, and without hope, had been recruited by one of those houses and subsequently was available for hire.

***

Thursday, January 7, 1813

Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam exited their coach and eyed the address with scant favour.

“It is not a place I would care to be after dark, Darce,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. His hand was on the pommel of his cavalry sabre, and a loaded, double-barrelled pistol was ostentatiously stuck through his belt.

“Nor I,” responded Darcy, eyeing several brutish looking men who lounged about the exterior of the house. He knew the ruffians were inspecting them carefully, despite the fact none of them looked directly at either him or Fitzwilliam. In order to make it clear any untoward activity would not come without cost, Darcy idly gave the handle of his cane a half twist and pulled on the lower part of the cane, disclosing six inches of gleaming steel rapier. He did not bother pulling out the pair of small pistols, one in each pocket of his waistcoat—the handles plainly visible to the men. In addition, his driver and his footman, who both remained with the coach, were well armed—his footman with a double-barrelled fowling piece and his driver with what appeared to be at least six pistols stuck in various pockets and belts about his person. By the time the loungers completed their perusal, their interest took a precipitous decline, as they made some quick calculations, deciding to wait for much less brazenly belligerent prey.