Richard raised his finger. “The lady, however, wished for her family to be present and to have a suitable gown made for the occasion.”
“Not an unreasonable request.”
“A clever excuse, as it turned out.”
Darcy leaned forward, paying rapt attention.
“On the day of their arrival at port, the sailor noticed that the widow disembarked from the ship alone. No one saw Wickham, but they all had jobs to perform, so they thought nothing of it until hours later.” Richard poured two drinks from the decanter beside the tray. “Sailors are a suspicious lot, and I have yet to meet one who is not convinced that a female aboard ship is a curse. Remembering how strange it had been to see the lady disembark without Wickham, the sailor went to Wickham’s cabin. He found him drugged and tied to his bed. Once they made him alert enough to realize what had happened, Wickham searched for his stash of money?—”
Darcy surmised what had happened next. “It was gone.”
“The lot of it.” Richard’s chuckle had a sharp edge. “Ironic, is it not? For a deceiver to be so fully deceived!
“But that is not the worst of it,” he continued. “The hiding place for his money was inside a narrow opening through which he had to slide his arm. Drugged and desperate, Wickham did not check forvermin before reaching inside. A rat bit him, he took with fever, and he died five days later.”
Death by a rat bite!Darcy was stunned. This was bigger than irony?this was poetic justice! However, while Darcy could not help but feel some relief in the knowledge that Wickham could harm no more, he could not rejoice in his death.
“Had the painting been with him or had the widow woman stolen it, he would have said something, as addled as he was. His only concern was for his money pouch.”
Darcy had been right to believe the old woman! The painting was still in England, sold for fifty pounds at the market in Seven Dials. It could not be far.
“Wickham was in a sorry state, desperate and without any connections. He had no money. He promised that if the sailor helped him to find and set up lodging, get him to a doctor… his family would compensate him handsomely. Wickham claimed to be a Darcy, a name which the sailor recognized enough to cast aside his doubts and what he knew about the man’s character. As the bite grew hot and infected, he knew that Wickham’s time on earth was short. He took the opportunity to appeal to the rich family for a reward after taking care of their lost son until the end. I, of course, requested proof from the sailor, some detail that would encourage me to believe him. Wickham gave him a name, one that would ensure that his family would comply: Georgiana.”
Ire burned in Darcy’s veins. To the very end, theblackguard would use Georgiana against him. That he dared to speak her name at all proved how selfish and callous he had become. “Why did you not summon me immediately?”
“There was no time. The sailor had signed on with another ship and was due to sail with the tide. I gave him a reward from your stash in your study and a bottle of your good brandy.”
“I should have been there.” Regret gnawed at Darcy’s stomach.
“You were exactly where you needed to be. You cannot attend to everything yourself, you know.”
“It is my responsibility.”
“I am Georgiana’s co-guardian, so anything pertaining to her welfare is alsomyresponsibility.”
“Which is why I must recover the painting. Georgiana’s welfare depends on this terrible wrong being made right. Youknowshe will notice its absence, she will ask where it is, and she will learn just how great Wickham’s treachery was toward her…toward all of us.” And now, Darcy would have to inform her that the man she had loved—perhaps still loved—was no longer. Dread churned within him.
“How is Georgie?”
“What?” Darcy’s mood was too dark to switch so quickly to the lighter question.
“How is Georgie? Has this excursion into the countryside improved her spirits?” If he admitted it had, Richard would feel justified for his interference. Darcy was still reeling from the news of Wickham’s death—news which his cousin’s ride to Hertfordshire had provided Richard with time to contemplate. The colonel would be aware of this advantage and use it.
Although he originally had hoped Richard would not bring up Miss Elizabeth again, Darcy could think of nothing else that might distract his cousin from the more painful topic. “The young lady you met?—”
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Georgiana has become friends with her and has smiled more since their meeting than she has all the months since Ramsgate.”
“Are you going to tell Georgiana?”
“About the painting? Absolutely not!”
“AboutWickham.Should we tell her?”
Darcy’s stomach plummeted to the floor. So much for distraction. His inclination was to say no, but that did not seem right. “How?”
Richard rubbed his hand over his face again. “Damned if I know. I would hate to spoil her recently found cheerfulness.”
