As it had been each day since he had been consigned to Marshalsea, Wickham had to toil in the kitchen garden to earn money to pay off his debt. At the rate he earned, it wouldbe more than five years before he was released. That was why he had written to Darcy. Wickham did not want to spend one more day in this place, never mind years.
When Wickham returned to his cell, there were five new men inside. The guard roughly pushed him in as he did each day, locked the barred door, and walked away.
Two men were seated in the shadows; the other three had found spots with straw on the floor, and they were lying or sitting on them. One of them was in the spot where Wickham slept. As he had been the only one in this cell until now, Wickham had built the straw up to make it almost soft to lie on. “Hey, you, get your own spot; that one is mine,” Wickham commanded.
“‘Ere, Jack, Peter, this one’s a toff! It were a toff ‘oo put me in ‘ere, so now you pay.” The man sprung up, and he and his two friends surrounded the toff who was shaking with fear.
Wickham did not see which man hit him first, but soon, they were raining blows on him, several landing on his once pristine, now dirty and bearded, face. Just when he thought the end was near, the two men who had been in the shadows, the biggest two men he had ever seen, sprang up with cat-like reflexes. With a few well-placed blows, the three attackers were on their backs.
“Now if any of you look at this gent the wrong way, you answer to us,” the one man growled.
It seemed that Wickham’s attackers were wise enough to give the big men a wide berth.
“And you,” the other man barked, “get off his pallet and find your own!” The man in question moved from Wickham’s place as quickly as he was able.
“I thank you, gentlemen. To whom am I indebted?” Wickham asked as he tried to stop the bleeding from his noseand mouth. He tore a strip of what was left of his shirt to act as a bandage. He did not want to see his face, as he was sure it was no longer handsome and unblemished.
“My name is Biggs, and the little guy over there,” Biggs inclined his head towards the man who was almost as huge as he was, “is Johns. Who are you?”
“George Wickham is the name. What got you thrown in here?”
“We borrowed some money from a usurer ‘cause we had no option. The bastard reported us to the bailiff before we were able to end him. The son took over his father’s business and reaffirmed our debts with the bailiff, so dispatching the man got us nothing,” Biggs related.
Wickham was impressed. The man spoke of killing another as if it were nothing. As he had sent two men to hell, one of them his father, Wickham felt like they were kindred spirits. When he got out, he would have Darcy pay their debts too; men like them would be useful to him. Being rather boastful and proud that he had killed two men when they had only murdered one man, Wickham beckoned his new friends closer. He did not notice the three men taking up positions just behind him as they moved silently.
The two big men leaned in towards him. “You took care of one man who deserved it, but I have ended two men, and one of them was my father,” Wickham admitted.
“Why your father?” Johns asked.
“Rather than support me, he allowed the other man I killed, who was the owner of the great estate of Pemberley, to withdraw all his promised support for me,” Wickham revealed.
“We slit the usurer’s throat. How did you do it?” Biggs enquired.
“I did mine in a way that no one would suspect me. For my father, I added some ground-up bitter almonds to his food for some weeks until he died. I made sure to bury the remaining almonds in some dirt behind the stables so no one would find any in my house. The other man rode out with me; I threw some adders under his horse as the man was dismounting,” Wickham boasted.
“You are far too boastful, Wicky. Always thinking you are more intelligent than others,” Fitzwilliam barked from just outside of the bars.
“Let me have him!” Darcy demanded. “He murdered my father; I want to end him.”
“As much as I would like to see him ended at our hands, he will swing, William,” Fitzwilliam assured his younger cousin. “There will be no escaping this time.” He turned to look at Wickham with a feral look in his eye. “Perhaps I will come in there and make you suffer before I have you dispatched.”
Although he had no idea how it was that Fitzwilliam and Darcy were here, Wickham was not at all afraid. He had Biggs and Johns at his side. They would not allow anyone to hurt him, just like they had stopped the men before. He would have them end Darcy and Fitzwilliam, and then little Georgiana and Pemberley would be his. “Why do you not come into the cell, Fitzwilliam? Let us see how long you last with my new friends protecting me.”
“Sergeants, makethatstop speaking,” Fitzwilliam ordered.
Biggs and Johns both pulled a fist back, and before the libertine could react, they each drove a fist into him. One connected with what was left of his nose from the earlier thrashing, and the other one landed in Wickham’s solar plexus. In an instant, his head snapped back and then he doubled over.
A very confused Wickham was rolling about on the floor. The pain from his shattered nose, his bleeding mouth, and the pain in his tender belly was intense. Why had the men who had been his protectors attacked him? It suddenly hit him when he thought about how Fitzwilliam addressed the men—sergeants! They were his men; Wickham finally understood, he had been fooled! As much as he did not want to hang—in fact he wanted anything else—at least Wickham had the pleasure of knowing that Karen would copy and then post his letters to the newspapers and gossip rags. He would have the last laugh when Darcy’s precious sister was ruined. That would cause his nemesis some much-deserved pain.
“You three, securethatand have him moved to Newgate, where he will remain until his trial and subsequent hanging,” Fitzwilliam commanded the corporal and two privates who had been in the cell with the sergeants.
“Before you get all smug and think that Mrs Younge will copy and post this,” Darcy held up the missive Richard had retrieved from Wickham’s paramour, “you failed in that too, you piece of horse excrement. Once again, none of yourbrilliantschemes have succeeded.”
Wickham stared at the epistle he had given Karen with horror. How could this be? Karen had betrayed him too. He began to issue expletive laced threats in between attempting to bargain for his freedom.
Fitzwilliam nodded to Sergeant Biggs, who gagged the criminal while he directed a malevolent scowl at the man.
“Wait, Sergeant. Before you allow this wastrel to be led away, he should know something.” Darcy waited until the broken man was being held in front of him by a soldier on either side of him. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet was the one who warned Mr King about who you are and Sir William as well. She did not take too kindly to all the lies you told her.”
