There was a near certainty that even if he later killed Lydia, that he’d be identified as the murderer. And even if he got to Gretna Green and forced Lydia to mouth the ceremonial words, or just convinced a witness to sign the register without her saying them, there would be no way that he could enjoy access to her fortune if he was a hunted murderer.
But Miss Bingley did not know that.
The afternoon sun beat down on them. Wickham kept his gun steady, unwavering. Something happy inside him craved the chance to pull the trigger like he craved for women’s bodies.
He hated them all.
“You should let Miss Lydia go,” the woman repeated. She breathed shallowly as she stared at the gun. “It is clear that she does not wish to be in your company.”
“She’s mine! My money! I’m not going to let her go without twenty thousand pounds! Get off your damn horse.”
Miss Bingley looked back at his face and then back at his gun. She seemed frozen like a mouse that was about to be viciously torn apart by a cat.
Wickham viciously gestured with his gun. “Off the horse, or I’ll fucking shoot you. Don’t doubt that I will. Fucking off.Now.”
Without any further words Miss Bingley dismounted. She was pale, and her hand trembled.
Wickham shouted at her horse, “Go! Go! Get away.”
The horse did not move.
“Send it away! Make it run away.”
Miss Bingley stared at his gun, and then she forced her eyes towards him. They were large and scared. She took a deep breath, looked at the gun again, and then looked down at the roadway. He could barely hear her mumbled voice. “You ought to take me with you instead of Lydia.”
“What?”
Miss Bingley walked up to the gig. She stared at the gun unblinkingly as she moved closer.
“You would…” There was a tremor in her voice. She swallowed, muttered something under her breath that sounded like a desperate prayer, aDear God, help me.“My fortune is as great as Lydia’s, and I have full and immediate control over it.”
She stared at the big wheel of the gig. When Wickham didn’t reply immediately, she added, “Your chief aim must be Lydia’s dowry. As an intimate of the family I am aware of the arrangements set up for how it will be dispersed, and while the funds are settled to be given to Lydia following Mr. Bennet’s death, her access to them, and even the payment of the income can be controlled by Mr. Bennet during his life.”
“He won’t leave his daughter to starve, or—”
“He’ll ensure that you never have any chance to touch the principle, and that the bulk of the income is pin money for Lydia. You’d be left your entire life begging a wife who you’ve taught today to despise you for money, and there would be nothing for you at all should she die.”
Wickham ground his teeth. “He’ll do better by me, or I’ll fucking kill his daughter.” While he didn’t look away from Miss Bingley, so he could keep his revolver pointed at her, he stomped hard on Lydia’s foot that sat next to his on the carriage floor, so she screeched in pain.
Something changed in Miss Bingley’s face. She took another deep breath, and her expression became almost serene. “It would be greatly to your benefit if you forced me to marry you instead. As soon as the marriage ceremony is complete, my entire fortune would without delay legally become your property. And I am of age, there is no need to elope to Scotland, any parish in England would do.”
Wickham both felt severely tempted and as though it must be some sort of trap. “Why are you suggesting this?”
“If one of us deserves to suffer under an awful fate, it ought to be me.” She spoke clearly and now calmly at him, seemingly ignoring the pistol that he kept aimed at her chest. She was so close now that there was no way he could miss if he pulled the trigger. “Lydia, do get out of this carriage. You are occupying my position.”
“But—” Lydia looked between the gun, Miss Bingley, and Wickham. She got out without further words. As soon as she did, Miss Bingley climbed up next to him. The only sign of her tension was that her hand trembled on the carriage seat.
Wickham looked between the two girls.
Lydia Bennet stared up at them wide eyed.
Wickham exclaimed, “Oh, fine!”
He grabbed Miss Bingley’s thigh and squeezed hard. “You’re a prettier slut, even if you already let Darcy fuck you. Never thought I’d be taking his leftovers, not even for twenty thousand cash. But if I have no choice, I’ll do what I need to.”
She flinched at his touch. Stared at the gun. And then pressed herself as far away from him in the seat as she could. That serenity was falling away from her.
Wickham cruelly laughed at her terror, and he whipped the horses into motion.
