“George,” Georgiana croaked as he reached the study door.
Wickham halted, but didn’t turn.
“You do not love me? Not at all?”
Darcy closed his eyes against the pain squeezing his sister’s voice, crumpling her visage.
“You are a fool to think I could.” With that, Wickham strode from the room.
Chapter Six
August, 1811
Richard stood before Padgett’s desk, wondering why he’d been summoned and endeavoring to keep his expression neutral. Over a year had passed since Georgiana’s return to Pemberley. Not a word had reached London about her fateful decision, or her status as a married woman. In that regard, at least, they had thus far succeeded in keeping her from the repercussions of her choices.
Darcy had written many times, expressing his frustration at the power Wickham now held over them, for the man was Georgiana’s husband and had every legal right to her. They both knew the threat of her misery would see Darcy hand over any sum, and had, for Wickham burned through his first payment of five thousand pounds with reckless abandon.
To date, Wickham seemed content to take his exorbitant sums and disappear into the clubs and gambling hells of London, but neither Richard nor Darcy felt that would last. Even Wickham would tire of the depravity in which he now lived. He would then return to his one true passion; tormenting Darcy.
The previous autumn, Richard had tracked down Mrs. Younge at her new assignment. He knew it was bad form to interfere with another agent, but he wanted the facts of what had taken place, and Mrs. Younge was by far the best source, as both a trained agent and having witnessed events firsthand. He’d found her running a London boarding house for Padgett, the establishment’s location and cost calculated to lure in individuals who might be of use or interest to the Crown.
The details Richard learned made it clear that he would never have reached Ramsgate in time had he disobeyed orders. Furthermore, Georgiana had since admitted to the phaetonbeing a decoy. She and Wickham had departed by sea. Any way he looked at it, Richard couldn’t deny that refusing him permission to directly intervene had not changed the course of events.
But his sullen anger with Padgett lingered, adding to his growing discontent with the role he played for the Crown. Once, Richard had reveled in his chosen path. Over thirty now, he’d begun to feel there might be something different, something more, he could do with his life. Something that would afford him a home of his own, and time with family.
“You may want to sit, Fitzwilliam,” Padgett said.
“I prefer to stand, sir.”
“Very well.” Padgett cleared his throat. “What I have to tell you is only indirectly related to the security of our nation and your service to our King.”
Richard blinked, some of his ire supplanted by surprise. “Sir?”
“This summer, this building was broken into.”
Richard’s eyebrows shot up. “How is that possible, sir? No one knows this is not simply Watson, Hastings, and Vane, attorneys for hire.”
“As you can imagine, we were quite concerned. Every employee was questioned, along with some of our newer operatives.” Padgett drummed his fingers on the desktop, then stilled them. “Our diligent review of every aspect of this establishment revealed that only one set of papers was tampered with, and those were not even removed. In truth, we would not know they’d been read except that they were put back out of order.”
Richard waited. Padgett wouldn’t have begun this conversation had he no intention of saying more.
After a moment, he continued, “The papers in question were Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s last will and testament.”
“Darcy’s will? Why would any…” Richard trailed off, fear jolting through him. “He leaves everything to Georgiana?”
“As I told you before, we prefer to keep watch on prominent families.” Padgett’s fingers resumed their beat. “We even, on occasion, gently guide them. It is the landholders of England who keep her strong, after all.”
Richard nodded, not fully attending. Could he convince Darcy to change his will? But if not Georgiana, Richard was the next logical choice. Asking Darcy to make that change would seem, and feel, self-serving. Yet, who else? Their cousin Anne de Bourgh? She would already inherit the estate of Rosings. Would her mother, Lady Catherine, be willing to leave Rosings to Georgiana if…but, no, for then Lady Catherine would become Wickham’s target.
“…attending to me, Fitzwilliam?” Padgett barked.
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, I was not. I apologize, sir.”
“Well, if I have reclaimed your attention?” Padgett glared at him while Richard nodded, then continued, “We have been keeping watch over Mr. Darcy, and we monitor Mr. Wickham as best we can, and there has been a disturbing development. A rumor is circulating in the darkest, most contemptible corners of London. The claim is being made that any man who can bring proof of Mr. Darcy’s demise to the back garden of Mrs. Younge’s boarding house at dawn on the first of December will receive ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand pounds?” That was enough to motivate even the laziest blaggard. “You must bring Wickham in, sir. Arrest him. This is tantamount to plotting murder.”
“I am afraid the rumor has a life of its own. I do not know if taking Mr. Wickham into custody would put an end to the threat to Mr. Darcy, but I doubt it. Nor do I know what, at this point, we would charge Mr. Wickham with that he cannot simply deny.” Padgett cleared his throat again. “Now, if we are able to send inan operative on December first, one with fake evidence of the crime, then we can apprehend Mr. Wickham and see him hang.”
