Wickham swallowed hard, holding his hands in front of him.Squirming coward.“I had nothing to do with Darcy’s failure to appear today.It is blasted—”
The vicar cleared his throat noisily, his displeasure plain.
Another hard swallow. “The delay is a grave inconvenience to me. My circumstances demand immediate payment. I am quite destitute.”
Richard had no pity left for the likes of Wickham.
Miss Lydia emitted another wail, which softened from a scream to a harsh but level tone. “You promised me a fashionable apartment on Bond Street!” She turned to her aunt and uncle, pointing her finger crudely at her betrothed. “I do not want to marry him. He has deceived me, and I will not marry him.” She jutted out her chin and huffed.
If ever there existed two individuals who stood to benefit from a good thrashing, it was this unwillingly pair. Richard tightened his arms over his chest.
Mrs. Gardiner raised her eyes heavenward, no doubt supplicating for forbearance.
Mr. Gardiner spoke firmly. “If you wanted our sympathy, you ought to have acted in a way befitting our compassion. As it is, I cannot pity you. What is more, I shall not permit your sisters to suffer the burden of your foolishness. Your selfishness would ruin them. Do you not see that you have already made your choice? You must marry Mr. Wickham.”
Her face burned red, but she shed no tear. Tantrum it was, then.
“We will have no more outbursts, Lydia.” Mrs. Gardiner patted her niece’s shoulder, but her wordswere as firm as her husband’s. “Every action has a consequence, and you shall reap what you have sown. This is the only way for you to save your reputation and that of your sisters. Surely you do not wish to drag them down with you?”
With each passing minute, Richard admired the Gardiners more. A firm hand was needed at this moment. They would ensure Miss Lydia’s compliance. As for him, Richard would drag Wickham back to the church by the ear if need be, but he would see the louse hold up his end of Darcy’s bargain. “I will seek out Hastings immediately,” he said, bowing to take his leave.
He hoped Wickham was as desperate as he claimed, or the reprobate would surely ditch Miss Lydia and run. The sooner Richard fixed this mess, the better.
The Gardiners had little choice but to take their niece home with them, where she would likely remain until she wed.
Mr. Gardiner fell in beside him. He asked softly, “Do you really believe Wickham responsible for Mr. Darcy’s delay? I see the necessity of Lydia marrying the man, but I will not attach her to a monster capable of harming another.”
Richard pulled him aside, away from Wickham and the ladies. “Wickham is an irresponsible epicurean, but I have never known him to be cruel or violent. Darcy never would have arranged for your niece to wedhim otherwise.”
Mr. Gardiner nodded, his sigh audible. “Thank you, Colonel. I hold no delusion that theirs shall be a happy union. However, it is my hope they will at least learn to endure each other’s company and make the most of it, as I know Lydia has been taught to do.” Standing taller, he added, “We had better let you go. I, too, have an urgent message to send to my brother-in-law.” He bunched his cheeks, the pained look in his eye revealing how little he looked forward to writing that letter. Richard could hardly blame the man.
They ushered Miss Lydia out of the church and into their carriage.
With one final reassurance of further communication with the vicar, Richard once again turned to leave, keeping Wickham in his sight and out of arm’s reach. A man could only endure so much temptation.
Wickham turned to him with a sneer, but Richard cut him off before he could speak. “Stay where I can easily find you, or, I assure you, you shall have the Devil to pay.” He turned, walking away at a brisk pace.
The sooner he could arrange to have the man shadowed, the better. He could not do it himself. The temptation to bend that perfect, straight nose or run the scoundrel through with his saber was too great, and that simply would not do … at least not until after the wedding.
Richard’s murderous thoughts perversely lightened his heart. He was not so stupid as to ruin a brilliant military career over a ne’er-do-well like Wickham, buthe took comfort in the possibility of the vile Don Juan vanishing.
As Darcy had vanished.
Richard hurried to the mews, his footsteps echoing in rhythm to his thoughts, his purpose:Save Miss Elizabeth. Find Darcy.
CHAPTER 3
Elizabeth Bennet watched her sister Mary sit down at the pianoforte, knowing nothing good would come of it. Nothing could repair the day. Not the fine summer afternoon. Not the scent of roses wafting inside from the garden. And certainly not Mary’s musical attempts.
Lydia was to marry—had doubtlessly already exchanged vows by now—that scoundrel Wickham. Uncle’s message had reached them the evening prior, and nobody besides their mother spoke openly about it.
Mary played a dirge. Of the four Bennet daughters remaining at Longbourn, Lydia’s sin fell heaviest on Mary, who seemed to think the other members of her family ought to atone for her errant sister’s poor choices by afflicting their ears with mournful hymns.
Mama groaned. “Please, Mary, could you not play ahappier tune? It is, after all, the day of Lydia’s wedding. Oh, how I wish they could have delayed a day or two so we could join them in London for the festivities.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with Jane, her eldest sister. While she was relieved to have their reputations spared, Elizabeth could not celebrate Lydia’s union to such a man.
Mary obliged Mama with a heavy sigh, making it plain that she did so against her better judgment and only to appease the mother she was Scripture-bound to respect.
