“What he wishes is immaterial!” Wickham snarled, his mask of civility finally slipping entirely. “He is my son by law, and I will have him back regardless of any sentimental attachments he may have formed here.”
“Your concern for paternal rights is touching,” Darcy replied with cutting sarcasm. “Though I confess it seems rather sudden, given your apparent indifference to the child’s welfare during his time in Yorkshire.”
Wickham’s laugh held no humour whatsoever. “You think me a fool, Darcy? You think I don’t know what game you’re playing? This has never been about the boy’s welfare—it’s about your insufferable pride, your need to control everything and everyone around you.”
“And what of your motivations, Wickham? Surely they spring from pure paternal devotion?”
“Paternal devotion?” Wickham’s voice rose with mirth now. “My dear fellow, I care nothing for the brat beyond his utility in causing you pain. Did you think I sought custody out of some newfound fondness for domestic life? The entire exercise was designed to demonstrate that even you, with all your wealth and influence, cannot always have your way.”
Elizabeth felt sick at this casual dismissal of their beloved child as merely a weapon in Wickham’s campaign of revenge. Beside her, Ambrose whimpered softly, and she pressed her hand gently over his ears to shield him from such cruelty.
“How refreshingly honest,” Darcy said. “And now? What do you hope to achieve by reclaiming a child you openly admit to despising?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you cannot have what you want most,” Wickham replied with vicious pleasure. “Every day that boy remains with me instead of you will be a victory.Every tear he sheds for his precious ‘mama and papa’ will be a reminder of your failure to protect him. And before you think you might take me up on my earlier offer for financially support in exchange for the child, you may forget it altogether. Causing you torment means far more to you than money every could.”
“You would torture an innocent child merely to spite me?”
“I am hardly torturing him. I am not a monster. I simply do not care. Besides, the law gives me absolute authority over his fate, and I intend to exercise that authority to its fullest extent. Perhaps I’ll send him to school in Scotland—somewhere remote where your influence cannot reach…”
The threats continued, each more vindictive than the last, until Elizabeth could bear no more. This was the man the chancellor had deemed fit to raise their son—a creature so consumed by hatred that he would destroy a child’s life simply to wound his enemies.
“Fascinating,” Darcy said finally, his tone suggesting he had heard quite enough. “Mr Hartwell, would you be so kind as to join us? I believe you have some intelligence that might interest our guest.”
The thief-taker entered with confident strides, carrying a leather portfolio that he set deliberately upon Darcy’s desk. Wickham’s eyes fixed upon the newcomer with growing unease.
“Mr Wickham,” Hartwell began without preamble, “I have recently completed an investigation into your marriage to one Eloise Phillips, mother of the child in question. The results prove most illuminating.”
“I don’t know what lies you think you’ve uncovered, but my marriage was perfectly legal. I have the certificate to prove it.”
“Ah yes, the certificate,” Hartwell smiled with predatory satisfaction. “Tell me, were you aware that Mrs Phillips was already married at the time of your supposed wedding? To one Mr Phillips of Yorkshire.”
The colour drained from Wickham’s face, but he rallied quickly. “Impossible. She was a widow when I met her.”
“I’m afraid not. Mr Phillips only passed away a year ago. He was very much alive when Ambrose was born. She remained his legal wife until her death, making any subsequent marriage not merely invalid, but bigamous.”
“That’s… that cannot be proven…”
“On the contrary, I have sworn statements from the parish where their wedding took place, testimony from witnesses who attended the ceremony, and official records confirming the marriage’s legitimacy.” Hartwell opened his portfolio and spread documents across the desk. “Your union with Mrs Phillips never had any legal standing whatsoever.”
Wickham stared at the papers as though they might burst into flames. “But that means…”
“It means that even if you are Ambrose’s natural father, you have no legal claim to him,” Darcy said with quiet triumph. “A child born to a married woman belongs legally to her husband, not to any supposed lover. Ambrose is, in the eyes of the law, Mr Phillips’ son.”
“But the Court of Chancery accepted my certificate! The Master of Chancery ruled in my favour!”
“Based on forged documents,” Hartwell said calmly. “Tell me, how did you manage to procure such convincing paperwork? It must have required considerable creativity.”
“Come now, Wickham, even you cannot have been so stupid as to marry a woman already wed. You know bigamy is illegal,” Darcy taunted now. “Or did she not tell you? Were you fooled?”
Wickham’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, his mind clearly racing as he tried to find some escape from the trap that had closed around him.
“I was not fooled. We were wed. She was a widow. She said so. We… She… the parish records were… there must have been some confusion in the documentation…”
“Or perhaps,” Darcy suggested. “You bribed a clerk to falsify the records? Paid someone to forge a marriage certificate that would stand up to cursory examination? Such actions would constitute serious crimes, Wickham—fraud, bribery, perjury before the Court of Chancery. The truth is, you had no interest in Ambrose. You left when you found out she was with child. You only wanted him when you found out he had come to me. To hurt me. So you had the records forged. Pray, did you forget she was married? Had it slipped your mind?”
“You cannot prove…”
“Actually, I can,” Hartwell interrupted cheerfully. “Timothy Fenton, the clerk you suborned, proved quite talkative when faced with the choice between confession and transportation. He’s prepared to testify about the five pounds you paid him to create false entries in the parish register. He told me that you came to him, telling a woeful tale about how you wanted your son but were not married to his mother, therefore needed a record to back you up in court. He felt badly for you and did this for you. And for the payment, of course.”
