The Road to Pemberley (49 page)

Wickham began, “There is much more to the story. Would you like to hear it?”

“By all means. I have not been entertained by a good fairy tale since early childhood.”

“Well,” continued Wickham, “you will notice that this document contains some unusual features. In the first place, the lack of the father's name indicates that the child is illegitimate. As a rule, the names of such children are not recorded in the parish register.”

“Too obvious for words and signifies nothing; you must improvise better than that.”

“Second, the mother's full name is listed in place of the father's name. You must know that the parish custom is to list the father's full name, whereas only the first name of the mother is stated, and then only below the father's name.”

“Yes,” conceded Darcy, “that is unusual. What else?”

“Consider next the character of the gentleman. Most gentlemen who sire children out of wedlock take pains to separate themselves from the scandal. They would banish the child to an orphanage and pay handsomely to make the mother disappear rather than come forward and do right by mother and child. According to the document before us, this gentleman is worthy of the name. Evidently, he wished the world to know that the child entered the world as the son of a gentleman, and so enjoyed some advantage and protection. So concerned was he for the child's soul that he did not abandon mother and child, but persuaded the priest to administer the sacrament of baptism. It would seem probable that such a gentleman would provide financial assistance for the care of both mother and child. Your father was a gentleman of such caliber.”

“Yes, such actions would not be out of character for my father, but conjectures are a far cry from proof! You invent an interesting story, Mr. Wickham, but important additional links are required. Who is the mother, for instance? What do you know of Ellen Glennie?”

“I know a little about her, but not where she is, or even if she is still living. She is of Scottish descent, of course, but she did not always use the name Glennie. She was a popular dancer on the London stage several decades ago, and she danced under the name Holly Doolittle. Have you never heard your father mention that name?”

“No, I have not. So you would have me believe that my father's love of theater gave him the incentive, and his frequent solo trips to
London gave him the opportunity, to woo dancers and sire children while his devoted wife waited at home? This tale grows more fanciful by the minute. Pray continue!”

“That is precisely what I am intimating, and it would remain mere speculation had I not more information.” Wickham reached once more into his waistcoat pocket and handed over a card.

“What's this?” asked Darcy. He read the card:

Darcy grew concerned. “Should these names have some meaning for me?”

“They will,” promised Wickham. “Shortly after the birth of Sylvester Glennie, your father transacted business with Slithy and Bandersnatch that involved the parents and child. You may wish to search the legal records of your late father to confirm that such a transaction took place shortly after the child was born.”

“May I inquire how all this intelligence happened to come your way?” snapped Darcy.

“In due time, I shall be happy to answer, but it is impossible for me to do so now.”

“Impossible? Why would you think that? Do you fear I would believe you any less now than I would in the future?”

“No, but to trust me further, you must first be convinced of the truth of what I have just laid before you.”

Darcy frowned. “Have you met this Sylvester Glennie and know his character and whereabouts?”

“Yes.”

“It is a great sadness, then, that you did not bring him here. I should very much like to meet my imaginary half brother.”

“As you have indicated, Mr. Darcy, to have done so would have been pointless. You would have dismissed and humiliated him. No, it is best that you first convince yourself of the facts.”

“Very well, assuming again the truth of the matter, what sort of man is my half brother? Does he in any way resemble my father?”

“It is indeed regrettable that I must defer all such questions. You have the name of the parish and the solicitors. From those sources, you should have no difficulty obtaining answers to all your questions and doubts.”

“We finally come to the sticking point, Mr. Wickham. I do not understand the motive for your role in this whole business. What do you seek to gain for all your troubles?”

Wickham smiled insouciantly. “I thought my letter gave sufficient reason for my coming forward. You would have done no less in similar circumstances.”

“You would have no objection to my refusing to offer compensation of any kind?”

“I expect nothing, sir. But if you were to reimburse my expenses for collecting this information, no one could think that unfair.”

“Expenses only? And how much would that total be?”

“A mere fifty pounds.”

“Only fifty? That is surprising! Should I expect this to be an installment for additional expenses down the road?”

“That hardly appears likely, Mr. Darcy, as I have given you all the information I have. It is you who will be performing the investigation from this point forward.”

“No, Mr. Wickham, I do not believe you have given me all the information you possess. You have disclosed neither your sources nor the location of the elusive Sylvester Glennie. Presumably, that would entail considerable inconvenience and expense at some later date? How large a reimbursable item would that be, do you reckon?”

“I have included everything in the fifty pounds, Mr. Darcy. I will make no additional claims.”

“What? Not a shilling more? Am I guaranteed that such an amount will result in your eternal contentment?”

“I can understand your reluctance to take my word at face value, Mr. Darcy, but that is all I shall ever ask. Naturally, when the happy day arrives and you are finally reunited with your half brother, should you, in your generosity, wish to offer further reward, I would not be so ungracious as to decline.”

Darcy rose. “At last, we come to a complete understanding, Mr. Wickham. Perhaps you mean to get revenge on me by sending me off on this idle chase. But I warn you most earnestly: if there is no basis to what you have told me, I swear on the sacred graves of my parents that I shall have you yanked before the magistrate on charges of malicious slander, and you shall languish in prison until you rot.”

Without waiting for a reply, Darcy withdrew five 10-pound notes and slammed them on the table.

“You can expect a letter as soon as I have completed my investigation,” promised Darcy. He then turned and walked briskly out the door.

By the time Darcy returned to Pemberley, the sun had already marched over the distant hills, dragging behind it a blanket of darkness that covered the sleepy countryside. Little of nature's tranquility reached inside Pemberley—Wickham's sudden appearance and puzzling behavior had made Elizabeth uncharacteristically restless. After the children were put to bed, she sought escape by replaying chess games from the previous year's tournament.

She looked up at the sound of Darcy's footsteps. Elizabeth could sense from his tense demeanor that the meeting had not gone well. She went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy.

“Here, William. You must be in need of some warmth and relaxation.” They sipped at the brandy and then seated themselves in front of the fire. “Am I to understand that the meeting with Wickham was as unpleasant as we had feared?”

Darcy drank a second, more generous portion of brandy and stared at the dancing flames. “You have it right,” he replied at length. “The meeting was one continuous vexation. Wickham was a study in evasiveness.”

There followed a retelling of the evening's conversation and the nature of Wickham's proofs: the vaguely worded baptismal transcription and the solicitors' card.

“He produced a baptismal record that did not even list the name of the father? Is this the intricate trap he has prepared for us? What bald gibberish! You surely cannot believe a word of what he said?”

“During our meeting, I certainly did not. His ingratiating manner and insinuations kept me in a state of perpetual agitation and resentment; but as I traveled homeward, I was able to calm myself and ponder the matter disinterestedly. Wickham knows far more about this affair than he lets on. I believe that he speaks some component of the truth, and I am determined to discover precisely what it is.”

“The solicitors that Wickham mentioned, Slithy and Bandersnatch, they were not your father's usual counsel?” asked Elizabeth.

“No, they were not, which at least should make it simple to validate that part of his story. Wickham suggested that I might find among my father's papers some record of transaction with that firm. But the hour is late and I am much too exhausted to begin now. I shall begin my search promptly in the morning.”

The Darcys had another round of brandy before retiring for the evening. After a fitful start, a sound sleep finally overtook both of them.

Just after dawn, Elizabeth was awakened as her daughter ran, laughing, into the room and jumped into bed beside her. Jenny's nurse, hobbled by gout and unable to keep up with the two-year-old, soon limped into the room, apologizing for the disturbance; but the mother reassured her that nothing could be more pleasant than to be left alone with her daughter. Elizabeth and Jenny snuggled deeply into the bed and pulled the covers over them.

“So, my little piggy, you think it dandy to come squealing into the room and awaken your mother? How am I to remain beautiful if you always interrupt my sleep?” Elizabeth said and then laughed and tickled her gently on her sides.

Jenny only squealed louder. “Oh, Mama. I had such a good dream I have to tell you right away.”

“A good dream?” Lizzy smiled. “Then it can only be about your parents.”

“No, not you at all,” said Jenny, pouting. “It was about me and James. I dreamed that we were in a boat on the pond, and then a big dragon swimmed to the boat, and then she tipped it over and we got all wet.”

“That sounds more like an annoying dream. Did you like getting your clothes wet?”

“Oh, I was wearing only my nightshirt, so it was not so bad, and the dragon was a real friendly dragon, and when she licked my face it tickled so funny. Then she put us on her back and took us to shore. Then she dived back into the water and brought back some fish for Papa. But Papa thought James and I caught the fish, and we didn't tell him about Mimsy. That's what I call my pet dragon!”

Elizabeth hugged Jenny and kissed her forehead.

“I love playing tricks on Papa,” Jenny said and giggled in delight.

“I love to play funny tricks on him, too. Come, let us get out of bed and find what awaits us at the breakfast table.”

While Elizabeth dressed, she remembered Darcy's search for Wickham's document. She gave Jenny back to the nurse, and promised to join them at breakfast in a few moments. Elizabeth then stopped by the study to see how her husband's search was progressing. She found the strongbox opened and documents scattered all over the desk. Darcy was leaning back in his chair and reading a document.

“Come in, Lizzy. I have found the very invoice I have been searching for.” Darcy handed it to her and she read aloud:

“Transference fee? Whatever can that mean?” she asked.

Darcy shared her wonder. “I have not the slightest idea, which doubtless was the intent of writing the invoice in such a vague manner. But Wickham has scored a hit; my father did transact business with the solicitors precisely as he asserted, and in the relevant time period, too. I marvel that Wickham knows of the existence of this invoice. Regardless, my next course of action will be to travel to London and learn the particulars.”

“When do you expect to leave, William?”

“I would go now, but for our engagement today with Bingley and Jane; so I shall postpone my departure until tomorrow
.
I shall write the office of the solicitors and request that the documents be waiting upon my arrival.”

Darcy promptly dispatched the letter. The appearance of the Bingleys in the early afternoon was particularly welcome, as it provided a much-needed diversion. Darcy and Elizabeth both thought it best to keep the affair secret until everything was resolved, so they engaged the Bingleys in conversation, cards, dinner, and walks, but breathed not a word of their troubles.

The day after the Bingleys departed, Darcy rode in a chaise and four to his London home, paused briefly to recuperate from the bumpy journey, and then set out for the office of his father's solicitor.

Slithy and Bandersnatch may have seen prosperous days, but the condition of the office suggested that it had been uncontaminated by commerce for several years. As soon as Darcy entered the dimly lit front room, the dusty odor provoked several violent sneezes. There were no clerks to be found—only a short, fat man sitting at his desk and squinting at the
Times
.

“Ah, Mr. Darcy,” he said as he stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Jonathan Bandersnatch, at your service, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bandersnatch, but I was hoping to meet with a Mr. Henry Bandersnatch, the principal who signed this invoice.” Darcy showed him the receipt.