Bennet caught up with Fitzwilliam in just a few long strides.

"Where did you find him?" Darcy asked.

"Near the old shack, as you expected."

Muffled screams filtered from the barn.

"Dear god, what is that? Piper?"

"No. Those aren't the screams of a man under a cat." Bennet shook his head sharply. Why in the name of all decency did they do that? He glowered at Fitzwilliam. "You called a surgeon."

"Yes."

"I imagine the man is not as adept with his saw as my ship's surgeon."

Darcy swallowed hard and lost a little color in his fellow, he was out of his element for certain.

Fitzwilliam's lips screwed with disgust. "The wound was entirely septic by the time we got to him."

More screams filled the air.

"Damn coward." Bennet muttered. "He'd never last a tour at sea." At least not on one of Bennet's ships.

"The surgeon's taking the arm from the shoulder, I think."

Darcy wavered and sucked in an unsteady breath. Fitzwilliam grabbed him by the elbow.

"Will he live?" Bennet asked.

"We cannot be sure. I think not, but Piper gives him even odds if he makes it through the night." Fitzwilliam pressed his hand against barn door. "Are you ready, Darce?"

Bennet caught his shoulder. "I will think no less of you for staying out here, son. If you have never seen such a—"

"Thank you for the warning—but I will join you." Darcy gulped.

Wickham's screams poured from the open door. They stepped in, temporarily blinded in the barn's relative darkness. The stench struck first—rotting flesh and blood against the less offensive smells of horse and manure.

Wickham lay writhing on a pile of clean straw. The surgeon, Piper, and two grooms knelt at his sides—all spattered with blood and gore. Darcy fumbled for his handkerchief and pressed it to his nose and mouth. He smacked his lips and worked his tongue clearly fighting not to gag. A hand and part of an arm—Wickham's—bloated and black lay on the floor. The surgeon fixed a tourniquet on the stump.

Piper hauled himself up and wiped his hands on his pants. "That were a right filthy work." He shuffled toward them. "Took three of us to hold the bugger down to do the job."

"I am surprised you did not do it yourself." Fitzwilliam said.

"Settin' bones be one thing, sawing them be quite another."

Bennet leaned close to Fitzwilliam and muttered. "Why did you call the surgeon? It is clear he has little time left. Why torture him with an amputation?"

"Because I want my cousin's conscience clear." Fitzwilliam stepped closer to Bennet. "He is not as we are. He does not know death as we do. He has not dealt death, nor could he live with himself if he did. This will make no difference to Wickham, one way or the other, but it will assure Darcy that he does not need to carry the weight of Wickham's demise. He deserves that much and Wickham owes him that much."

"I cannot deny you that."

Piper approached. "Ain't nothing more to be done and you have seen all you need see. Best get you back to the house and to rest a'for you go making yourself ill."

Bennet sighed and followed him out. Wickham would die. Darcy deserved a little privacy to come to some closure with his former friend.

Darcy knelt by Wickham, shoving aside the empty whiskey bottle. The stench of cheap alcohol burned his nostrils and brought a bitter tang to the back of his throat.

Wickham's eyes fluttered open. "Darcy—the boys?"

"Philip and David are safe."

"Good."

"You nearly killed Bennet and I doing it, though."

Wickham groaned.

"Why—what were you trying to accomplish?"

"I do not know."

"What the hell do you mean, you do not know? You took my children and you do not know why?"

"I did not take them."

"How can you—"

"Would not kidnap—you know better…"

"What were you doing in Bennet's house?"

"Needed funds…his strongbox…"

"So you were in his house—a common burglar and took the children—what-for ransom to raise the money you could not otherwise steal?"

"What else could I do? I could not ask you for the blunt."

"So this is my fault?"

"You made me work for him—"

"Enough!" Darcy stared to rise.

"Wait!" Wickham coughed. "Wait. Never meant to ransom…to take them. Had to …to get away…they found me. Got them to go with me. So many possibilities…let them think they are lost, lead…lead you to them…rescue them myself…so many ways…"

"To deceive me and Bennet, to extort money from us?"

"You would not give it to me."

Darcy snorted.

"Glad they are safe. Never meant to hurt…" He coughed and came off the bed of straw.

"It is the same thing you did to my father all those years ago. All these years have been a lie."

"No, no it was not, Darcy." He panted heavily. "Please, please, have them take me back to the house. I do not want to die out here, like an animal. Please…" A spasm of coughing seized him.

Darcy glanced at the surgeon who shook his head.

"Never meant to hurt them…to hurt you. Just wanted…want the life…I deserved."

Darcy bit his tongue. He would regret saying such things to a dying man. "When the surgeon deems it safe, I will see you moved to the house."

"Thank…you. Always were good…to me." Wickham's head lolled. He drew in three more gasping breaths and shuddered. His chest rose no more.

The surgeon felt his neck for a pulse. He shook his head.

Darcy bowed his head and closed his eyes. Cold waves of emptiness splashed against his chest. He rose and found Fitzwilliam standing just behind him.

"Who would have thought it would come to this?" Fiztwilliam muttered.

"I am shocked and embarrassed I did not see him for what he was."

"I would gladly take a thousand men with too much duty and propensity to see too much good than—"

"Do not minimize my faults."

"Do not over state them! Really, Darce, it is time to forgive yourself. Bennet does. I am certain you lady will keep you from making the same mistake again."

"He asked me to be guardian to his sons should anything happen to him."

"Well you can have no doubt of his approval now."

"After their behavior today I can hardly feel as adequate parent to my own sons right now."

"I know what their mischief nearly caused, but none of what they did were indicators of deep flaws in their character, only boyish irresponsibility and poor judgment."

Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you are right but it is difficult to separate that form how disastrous it all might have been."

Fitzwilliam led him from the barn. "Enough dwelling on this for tonight. You need to rest. I dare say you will not realize until you try to get up in the morning just how spent you are."

"And Wickham?"

"Piper and I will see to the arrangements. The boys do not need this sight."

"No, they do not." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Bennet met them half way to the house. "It is over now. We can put it all to rest now." He slapped Darcy's shoulder.

"We can?"

"Yes, we can."

Darcy extended his arm to Bennet who sighed and accepted the support. They trudged back to the house arm in arm.