Page 47 of To Win Her Affections

There were other options, of course, options that would require a substantial sum of money and another man willing to overlook her indiscretion. Darcy could not imagine the price would exceed the amount it would take to bribe Wickham to marry her. If that was so, would the girl not be better situated if she were married to a decent man? She would not keep her status as a gentlewoman, but by running away with Wickham, she had already forfeited that status.

As Darcy crested the rise and the house appeared before him, he pushed away the thought, though he made a mental note to discuss it later with Mr. Gardiner. Instead, he turned his attention back to a scene he had witnessed many times.

The house stood in the sunlight, a tall and proud structure of white stone and gleaming windows. Darcy thought back to Miss Bennet’s comment about Mr. Collins’s knowledge of the exact number of windows at Rosings Park, and he could not stifle a laugh. Darcy neither knew nor cared how many windows graced his house. It was not the structure or its fineness or extent that mattered—it was the home it provided for his family, the generations of diligent Darcys who had made it possible, and what the house represented.

Wickham had never quite seen that. All his life, he had coveted what he did not have, railing against fate for his lineage, the son of a steward who, though he had been an excellent man, had not been wealthy or prominent. The tragedy of George Wickham was not his covetousness, his callous disregard for others, or his inability to be content with what he had. It was that he had never understood that such great privilege also brought immense responsibility. Wickham had only ever seen the benefits of wealth.

The other tragedy was, of course, how Darcy’s father had provided for Wickham. A bequest of one thousand pounds was no insignificant sum—with the extra three thousand pounds Darcy had offered him because he would not profit from the living, a prudent man could have lived in security or laid the groundwork to become something more than he was.

Darcy considered Mr. Gardiner, an industrious man who had cut short his holiday because his business would not allow him so much time away. Though he could not be certain, Darcy expected that Mr. Gardiner had not started his enterprise with much more than four thousand pounds. And yet, he had built a prosperous business that sufficed to provide for his family and allow him to take his wife and niece on a tour to the north. The differences between the two men were striking—one had used what he had to build a good life for his family, the other had wasted it all and lusted for more.

The moment passed, and Darcy urged his horse into a canter again, knowing that time was of the essence. As he rode, he pondered a few truths, knowing he could carry them throughout the ordeal with Wickham, and into the rest of his life.

A man’s worth was not determined by birth, wealth, or any other such worldly measurement. Darcy had forgotten that for a time—it was a lesson he would not forget again.

As for his suspicions about Miss Bennet, he knew it was not the time to raise such a subject with her. There may never be a time. But Darcy tucked the thought away. Perhaps she would convince him that his fears were groundless. But if the time came when he believed otherwise, he would not hold her to a promise made under duress.

Chapter XII

The estate appeared peaceful when Darcy reined in his mount before the stable, and he thought he might escape unscathed. Darcy had no interest in meeting Miss Bingley again, and he knew it would be a mistake to allow her to learn the truth of his departure. Bingley had promised to travel to the north the following morning with his family. The thought of leaving the Bingley party there with his sister was not palatable, but he knew of no way to induce them to leave earlier. He would need to trust Georgiana’s ability to withstand them.

A stable hand emerged at once to take the reins, but before he could retreat, Darcy addressed him. “Is Peters within?”

“I am here, Mr. Darcy,” said the stable master, stepping out into the light. “I had not expected to see you back so soon.”

“Circumstances have changed,” said Darcy. “I shall require the carriage at once. Four horses. Have everything prepared for a journey to London. The horses will take us to Lambton, then we’ll post the rest of the way.”

“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said Peters, not bothered by Darcy’s abrupt instructions. “Everything will be ready in thirty minutes.”

Darcy thanked him and turned to the house, taking the steps two at a time in his haste, already calculating what must be done for an immediate departure. Within, he found Gates, the butler, and reiterated his instructions. Then he went in search of Mrs. Reynolds and found her only moments later.

“I hope everything is well, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Reynolds in response to his need to depart at once.

“Everything will be well, Mrs. Reynolds,” said Darcy.

Though he hesitated, Mrs. Reynolds was not merely a servant. Since his mother’s death, she had often been something of a maternal figure to both Darcy and Georgiana. Thus, Darcy was more open with her than he would have been with another servant.

“The business that takes me south involves Wickham.”

Mrs. Reynolds, always quick of thought, made the connection at once. “The young miss recognized your father’s miniature of him.”

“Yes, Miss Bennet’s family is involved,” replied Darcy, the anger overtaking him again. “This time, Wickham will not escape. I have not worked out how just yet, but I mean to call him to account for his deeds.”

“That is for the best, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Reynolds, brimming with grim satisfaction. “Do you mean to take Mr. Thompson with you?”

“Thompson would be most put out if I left to deal with Wickham and did not invite him—even I am not so foolish as to cross him.”

Mrs. Reynolds laughed. “Yes, Mr. Darcy—you have taken his measure to the last detail.”

With a nod, Darcy turned to more practical matters. “The Bingley party is to stay today, though they will depart tomorrow. I trust Bingley will control his sister, but if she causes any trouble, you have leave to ignore her. Please have Cook prepare a basket so that we may enjoy luncheon on the road.”

“At once, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Reynolds. She hesitated for a moment, then ventured: “If it is not too bold, please allow me to say how much I like Miss Bennet.”

“Trust me, Mrs. Reynolds—your esteem for her is not even a fraction of mine.”

“Then you had best see to your business, Mr. Darcy,” said she, her satisfaction unmistakable. “Do not concern yourself with Pemberley—we shall keep it against your return.”

“I know you will,” said Darcy. “Please send a footman to find Bingley and direct him to my chambers. I must speak to him before I depart.”