“Likely not,” he admitted. “But can you blame me?”
She simply snorted.
One by one, Mrs. Younge opened the doors and he searched the room, looking under the beds and in the wardrobes; then they made their way up to the second floor, and again, doors were unlocked and opened and the rooms searched, but there was no sign of Mr. Darcy’s quarry. When they reached the top floor, however, Mrs. Younge’s behaviour changed noticeably. She began to speak quite loudly, and her hands shook as she opened each door.
When she opened the next to the last door on the right, Mr. Darcy was knocked down to the ground the moment the door was opened. Wickham leapt over Mr. Darcy’s prone body and shot down the stairs like a bullet from a gun. Mr. Darcy collected himself in time to see Mrs. Younge hurrying after Wickham as quickly as her legs could carry her.
Mr. Darcy smiled to himself; there was no need for him to hurry. The Colonel, no doubt, already had matters in hand. Indeed, when Mr. Darcy descended the stairs, he found the Colonel standing with one booted foot upon Wickham’s back.
“Took your time, Darcy,” the Colonel observed.
“I was certain you had taken charge of the situation, cousin,” Mr. Darcy drawled.
“As you see.”
Mrs. Younge was weeping piteously, but Mr. Darcy had no interest in her. The Colonel, whistling, reached into his coat pocket and took out a thin rope; with this, he bound Wickham’s hands behind his back.
“Come, Wickham, we are prepared to be reasonable,” Mr. Darcy said. “Let him sit up, Richard.”
“Not quite yet.” With another length of rope, the Colonel quickly bound Wickham’s feet. “There; he will not run away from us.”
The Colonel rolled Wickham over with his foot, and then reached down and hauled him into a standing position. “Well, well, a trussed chicken and no mistake,” the Colonel chuckled. “I have longed for this moment since I heard about what you did to my little cousin.”
Wickham sneered. “Georgiana? Let me tell you –“
But he got no further, for the Colonel slapped him across the face, hard. “I will not hear her name on your lips. Next time, I will break your nose. I advise you not to test me on this, Wickham, as it would give me great pleasure to ruin your famous good looks.”
Wickham was now trembling. Unable to remain standing, he sank to his knees. “What is it you want?” he whispered.
“I want Lydia Bennet,” Mr. Darcy snapped.
Wickham could not resist saying, “She hardly seems your type, Darcy, but if she is what you want –“
“Shut up, Wickham. She is – rather, she was – an innocent young woman. Where is she?”
“I do not know.”
“I do not believe you.”
“Believe what you like; I took her to the Cock and Bull on Whitechapel High Street and kept her there for a week. Then one day she up and left on her own. I know not where she went.”
“Is this the truth, Wickham?”
“It is.”
“Darcy, let us take him with us to the Cock and Bull and confirm his story. If he is telling the truth, we will let him go. If he is not, I will take him into one of the alleyways in that area and kill him.”
“I know you have been longing to run him through,” Mr. Darcy said, conversationally.
“Indeed, and for some years now. I tell you, nothing would give me greater pleasure, so I rather hope he is lying.”
“I am not lying!” Wickham cried out. “She left. I would have protected her –“
“Yes, indeed, of course you would have,” Mr. Darcy mocked him.
Mrs. Younge tried to intervene. “Leave him here, I will watch over him until you return.”
No one paid her the least notice. Mr. Darcy went out to enlist the hackney driver’s assistance; the three men carried Wickham out to the hackney and tossed him onto the floor.
