Page 78 of To Win Her Affections

“Thompson,” said Darcy to his footman, “please check the next floor to make sure everything is clear.”

“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said the footman, climbing the stairs, moving with a cat-like silence that belied his huge frame.

Bennet followed along behind, though more slowly with the others. When they reached the next floor, Bennet noted that no one was about; the denizens were either closed in their rooms or absent for the day. The long corridor ran the length of the house, a series of doors on either side, while the stairs led to another floor above.

They followed Mrs. Younge’s directions to the end of the hall and an unremarkable door. There was no sound beyond it, a welcome development to the father of a fifteen-year-old girl who was on the other side of that door with a man. The moment had arrived. Bennet exchanged a glance with his brother and nodded.

“Do not be too hasty,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam in a low tone when Bennet moved to the door.

“What need have we to wait?” asked Bennet, eager to retrieve Lydia once and for all. “Open the door and rush the room. We shall be on him before he can blink.”

“Yet we do not know the situation in the room,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, his patient tone grating on Bennet’s nerves. “Wickham may be on the other side of the room. If he feels himself cornered, he may even think to hold your daughter hostage.”

Bennet’s glare was flinty. “Then what do you suggest?”

Fitzwilliam considered it and beckoned to the large footman Mr. Darcy had brought—Bennet noticed the man came eagerly, his face adorned with an expression of utmost anticipation.

“I shall rap on the door, but make no response when Wickham calls out. Should he not come at once, I will do it again. Then when he opens it, Thompson and I can take him into custody.”

“What if Lydia opens the door?” asked Mr. Gardiner.

“That may even be better,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Then we can remove her from harm’s way at once, leaving Wickham alone in the room. Mr. Bennet, if you will stand just behind us, should Miss Lydia answer the door, we will pass her to your control.”

The plan made sense, so Bennet gave his assent with a sharp nod. They arranged themselves, and when they were positioned to Colonel Fitzwilliam’s satisfaction, he nodded and knocked—three sharp raps, not hard enough to shake the door but impossible to ignore.

Then they waited.

Chapter XIX

Several moments passed before there was any response.

“Go away!”

The response came without any warning, a male voice that Darcy knew all too well. Fitzwilliam glanced at him, and Darcy nodded, though he knew his cousin recognized the voice as well. Given Thompson’s baring of his teeth, Darcy knew his footman also recognized it. Fitzwilliam waited a moment longer, then rapped on the door once again. This time, the answer came at once.

“Go away, Younge! We do not need you at the moment!”

“It seems we must annoy him until he opens the door,” muttered Fitzwilliam before raising his hand to the door again.

This time, the knocking produced heavy steps approaching from the other side. Though Fitzwilliam and Thompson were both in front of him, Darcy tensed as he heard the rattling of the handle.

When the door opened, Thompson sprang into action at once, hitting the door with his shoulder the moment the handle turned. There was a sharp cry and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Darcy caught a glimpse of Wickham, wide-eyed, lying sprawled before a bed in an untidy room, but then Fitzwilliam and Thompson moving forward obscured his view.

“On your feet, Wickham!” snarled Thompson.

Within moments, Thompson had grasped Wickham by the collar and hauled him to his feet, Wickham gone deathly pale at the sight of the three men in the world he most feared. Darcy looked on with grim satisfaction as he entered the room, Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner following behind. For a moment, no one spoke, as all five men were engaged in glaring at the cowering Wickham.

A door on the far side of the room opened, and Miss Lydia stepped within, stopping when she caught sight of them, her expression going slack. For the briefest of moments, Darcy understood two points he had never considered before. The first was that Miss Lydia was an uncommonly pretty girl, her lustrous dark hair contrasting with her pale features, slightly upturned nose, and beautiful dark eyes. The second was that of all her sisters, she resembled Miss Elizabeth most, though she was a little taller and, though Darcy could confess to bias, she was not as handsome. She lacked Miss Elizabeth’s adorable mannerisms, the intelligence that shone from her eyes, and the elegant arch of her brow when she made some fine point. But she was still an attractive girl.

“Papa?” whispered she, though it was audible throughout the room.

That broke the spell that had fallen over them all. Mr. Bennet, recapturing his wits, turned his attention to his daughter, crossing the room in a few steps.

“Lydia!” said he, in a voice of tightly controlled anger. “What have you done, child?”

“Papa!” exclaimed Miss Lydia, color returning to her cheeks. “Why, I have caught myself a husband.”

“A husband,” snorted Mr. Bennet with disdain. “A scoundrel such as this Wickham, who keeps you in squalor and does not even approach your father for permission? Where did you get such a silly notion?”