Page 81 of Shipwrecked with Mr Darcy

Jane squeezed her hand fiercely, her gentle nature momentarily replaced by a fierce, undeniable resolve.

“Thank you,” Jane whispered.

“Do not thank me. Fitzwilliam is the one who wrote the letters.”

“I will thank him as well. But I am thanking you for coming back to me, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth held Jane's hand. The small bedroom smelled faintly of Longbourn's lavender. Downstairs, she could hear her mother's voice performing its daily opera of domestic management. It was the beautiful, chaotic sound of home.

She was home. She touched the small pink shell resting safely in her pocket. The island was behind her, and her future with Fitzwilliam Darcy had just begun.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Wickham was in Meryton. Darcy learnt this unfortunate fact at dinner from Mrs Bennet, who had heard it from Mrs Hill, who had heard it from the butcher's boy. She shared the news with the tremendous enthusiasm of a woman who had no idea of its true significance.

“Mr Wickham has been quite out of sorts since you left, Lizzy. His debts, you know. And that business with the shopkeeper's daughter, though Mrs Long says the girl was willing enough, and I do not see why the whole town must make such a fuss, for the girl is nothing to look at and Mr Wickham is so very charming⁠—”

“Mrs Bennet,” Darcy said.

Mrs Bennet stopped instantly. Darcy's voice held a quiet, chilling authority that immediately silenced her, commanding the deference of ten thousand a year.

“Mr Wickham's debts and his conduct are matters I will address,” Darcy said. “I would be grateful if the subject were not raised again at this table.”

Mrs Bennet blinked, looking to Elizabeth. Elizabeth returned her mother's gaze with steady, unwavering calm, silently confirming her husband's authority.

Darcy addressed the matter on a Tuesday morning. It required methodical preparation, executed with the cold precision of a man who had spent months imagining this exact confrontation.

He had written to his solicitor from Valletta. Kensington had responded swiftly, producing a comprehensive accounting of Wickham's local debts by the time Darcy reached Hertfordshire: a tailor, a bookseller, two public houses, a wine merchant, and a farmer whose sixteen-year-old daughter Wickham had been inappropriately courting.

The debts totalled one hundred and forty pounds. It was a trivial amount for Darcy, but insurmountable for Wickham. Wickham had already squandered the thousand pounds Darcy's father had left him, along with the three thousand pounds Darcy had given him in lieu of the living. He had produced nothing but debts, lies, and a deep trail of damage for others to repair.

Darcy paid the debts quietly through Kensington, anonymously. His action was not born of generosity, but of cold necessity; he had to remove every obstacle that kept George Wickham near the Bennet family.

Then he went to see Wickham.

Wickham was lodging above the draper's shop on the high street. Darcy climbed the narrow stairs and knocked sharply. The door opened, and George Wickham stood before him in a soiled shirt. His face registered rapid surprise, then shrewd calculation, before finally settling into his practised, deceitful charm.

“Darcy,” Wickham said, his smile failing to reach his eyes. “I had heard you were returned from the dead.”

“I am very much alive,” Darcy replied coldly.

“And married, I understand, to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I must offer my congratulations.”

“You will offer me nothing. You will listen,” Darcy commanded, his voice like iron.

Wickham's pleasant surface instantly thinned, revealing the sharp, calculating gaze of a man reckoning his disadvantage.

“Come in, then,” Wickham said, stepping back.

“No.” Darcy remained deliberately on the threshold, refusing the informality of entering.

“Your debts in this neighbourhood have been settled,” Darcy said. “The settlement was anonymous and will remain so. You owe nothing to anyone in Meryton.”

Wickham's face shifted with genuine surprise, quickly followed by shrewd recalculation.

“That is remarkably generous.”

“It is not generous; it is a necessity. With your debts cleared, you have no reason to remain in Hertfordshire. You will leave immediately.”