Chapter Four

"Hurry up!" he whispered, pulling her by the arm through the door. "We need to be at the carriage within the hour!" he growled.

"Alright, I'm coming! Ouch! You're hurting me," she moaned and he softened his manner a little, but could not help the exasperation that was evident in his voice.

"Forgive me, my sweet. But if we do not hurry we will not go at all... And I can wait no longer to make you mine," he said.

"Oh my dear George, how romantic you are! I shall be yours as soon as can be, yes, let us hurry!" she said, gathering her skirts and rushing through the door into the cold night.

When they arrived, George Wickham quickly ushered the girl into the carriage before he stepped in and closed the door behind. He turned to her and kissed her roughly, the taste of liquor still on his tongue and his hands roving freely over her body. She merely giggled at his ministrations, fool that she was, and giddy with excitement over her elopement. She fell asleep in a matter of minutes as she laid her head in his lap and drifted off to sleep with the rocking motion of the carriage.

He sat slouched as he stared out the window, sleep eluding him. He thought over his plan once again. Miss King had her fortune stolen away from him by her righteous uncle! He had debts in the last village he had been in and people were searching for him, so King had been his last ditch effort at an advantageous marriage to solve his problems. He had to find another way to keep the collectors at bay or he'd be sunk. It was on a cards night at the Philips' that his current plan had formed: Lydia Bennet had imbibed more punch than she ought and her advances were even more forward than usual. He had been thinking of some way to work the more desirable Lizzy Bennet into his plan, but she certainly was no fool and would never do anything that could jeopardise her family. So, it was to be Lydia, the ignorant chit who required no amount of coaxing to get into the back of a carriage under the pretense of an elopement. His mind worked quickly and it was before the evening was out that he'd convinced the silly girl that she was in love with him, and it took but one, rather un-chaste dalliance the next morning to convince her to flee to Gretna Green with him. And so that day he wrote a fateful missive to one Mr. Charles Bingley of Netherfield park and left it with Denny to be delivered the morning after the escape.

It was Jane who first came to notice Lydia's absence. Lydia was a late sleeper, but as the morning ticked away Jane began to wonder that her sister had not come down for breakfast and, putting her sewing aside, she went to find her youngest sister. She entered the parlour white as a sheet, a note in her hand and tears beginning to fall. Elizabeth jumped to her feet and pulled her to a seat.

"Jane whatever is it?" she asked.

"Oh Lizzy! It is so awful..." she replied before she burst into tears and handed the note to her sister.

My Dearest family,

Be not alarmed, I am well. In fact I am more than well, for I am about to have everything I could ever dream of! I am leaving for Gretna Green and I will think you all simpletons if you cannot guess with whom. I will write when we are to return and imagine all my sisters rotten with jealousy when I sign my name Mrs. Lydia Wickham!

~oOo~

"Do not say it Elizabeth, I am well aware of what part I have played in all this. You have told me to check Lydia all these years and now this is the consequence of my negligence!" said Mr. Bennet as he hurried about his study. Elizabeth had rushed the missive into her Papa's study and now stood watching as he readied himself to go after the couple.

"Papa, this is hardly the time. I have come to hear what you intend to do! Have you written to my uncle?" she pleaded.

"Yes, my dear, yes. I will go after them and your Uncle Gardiner is to follow me. They will be discovered." Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Mr. Bennet, in a temper that was rarely seen or heard from him growled and shouted "WHAT?!" as he strode over and tore the door open. There stood a very pale, very shocked looking Mr. Bingley.

"Mr. Bingley, forgive me, but there is a matter of the utmost urgency to which I must attend," said Mr. Bennet and was about to walk past Bingley when the young man, finding his voice again, spoke.

"I know sir... I know everything and a great deal more than yourself. Please," he said in his most serious tone, "let us go back to your study. There is a great deal to discuss." Mr. Bennet turned a wary eye on the young man but did as he was asked to and walked back to the study where Elizabeth still sat. Bingley didn't even notice her as he handed a partially torn piece of paper to Mr. Bennet.

They were all silent around Mr. Bennet's desk, Elizabeth sitting in an armchair that, over the years, had come to be known as hers. Mr. Bingley was stiffly perched on the edge of the second armchair, his hat still in hand and a look of nervous anger and sadness on his face. Mr. Bennet stood with his back to them, fists clenched tightly at his side as he stared out of the window.

"I am grieved, shocked, Mr. Bingley, that you should have been so ill used, and dragged into this debacle and scandal which is sure to ensue!" said Mr. Bennet, not turning from the glass. And then, returning to his seat behind his desk he continued, "I'm afraid I'm still having difficulty understanding all this. He did not seem so disreputable, did he Lizzy? What was your impression of him? I understand he was quite a favourite of yours at some point." he said, turning to her. She flushed a little but her mind was racing at all she had just learned. She looked back down at the letter, and with shock still written across her face, she read:

Dear Sir,

Please allow me to begin by wishing you joy on your up and coming marriage to the very lovely Miss Jane Bennet. You shall be the envy of many a man.

I will not waste your time with any further pleasantries, as I write with a purpose and one that, in fact, concerns your betrothed. I am not a man of means, I have little money and fewer prospects, and it is for these reasons that I have taken my future into my own hands and I now place it, and that of a particular young lady, in yours.

Last night I eloped with Miss Lydia Bennet. She expects us to be married within a week, but I myself have no such intention unless certain demands are met, sir. It will become a well-known fact and scandal soon enough, as I'm sure you will find that the little, foolish chit has written to her friend Miss Maria Lucas to give her the 'exciting news'. It will be common gossip within five days time, and so this gives you the next week to meet my demands and see us returned as man and wife, avoiding the scandal that will prevent your own betrothal.

I am in need of £800 in order to pay off gambling debts, a further £2000 for my commission in the regulars, and a sum of £10,000 in order to ensure the happiness of my dear little wife. There is an address card enclosed to whom the letters may be sent (it is an alehouse so don't bother looking). Once these demands are met, I will marry Miss Lydia Bennet with a special license bought also by you, otherwise she will return just as that, MISS Lydia BENNET.

Forgive the brevity, I find there are better distractions at hand.

Sincerely,

George Wickham.

Elizabeth stared back to her father and, shaking her head slightly, she said, "I... I had no idea, he seemed so amiable, so charming. Papa, he seemed a perfect gentleman. I do not understand at all." She thought about it all, about everything he had ever said to her, all the things he'd told her about his life, his sad life, his struggles, his misfortunes... His misfortunes? Suddenly she recalled what Mr. Darcy had said at the ball that night. "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends — whether he may be equally capable of retaining them, is less certain." Good God, had she been so foolishly blinded by her hatred of the man to completely ignore his warning?

Wickham was nothing more than a common rake with uncommonly charming manners and features! And she! She was no better than Lydia, to be taken in and be so fooled by him! Elizabeth fell back in her bed, exhausted from the day's events. They had all agreed that no one else in the house need hear the truth of the matter, and Mr. Bingley was ushered away before Mrs. Bennet could see him. Elizabeth did not have the energy to think on it any further. Her father and Mr. Bingley had surmised from the letter that the couple had gone to London, and Mr. Bennet had left for town that afternoon, in order to go to Mr. Gardiner and ask for his help in discovering the pair. Bingley profusely offered his assistance but Mr. Bennet would not allow the man to take on such a burden. He would never be able to pay him back, for God's sake! Mr. Bingley left Longbourn feeling sullen and useless. Mr. Bennet was no fool, though he would not refuse any assistance Bingley could give, he could not ask him to meet the demands of such a scoundrel.

Bingley hurried back to Netherfield, threw off his greatcoat and hat, and ran to his study. He was fast acting when required and now would be no exception. He hurried to the desk and pulled his pen and some paper in front of him and began to write what suddenly felt like the most important letter he would ever write.

~OoO~

Darcy,

There's been a great emergency, I am in dire of need of help. I do not write to you simply because you are my most trusted friend and confidant, but because I think that you may be more closely connected than you are through me. I know from what you told me that there is a connection between you and the officer Lt. Wickham, and not one of very great standing from what little you did say. He has caused trouble (the last sentence was scored through) He has torn the Bennet household asunder. I scarcely know what to write, forgive my being brief but I must begin doing anything I can to help my betrothed and future family. It seems that the man in question is of the scheming nature, he has blackmailed me, Darcy, with my own fiancé and used her sister abominably. Wickham has eloped with Miss Lydia Bennet. Enclosed is the missive that he had delivered to my door the morning after they fled. I am willing to accede to his demands provided I can be sure he will return. Mr. Bennet will not allow me to do so and has travelled to London in hopes of finding the couple. Your advice would be of great assistance in this, my friend and any help that you can offer I beg you to do so.

Your friend,

C.B

Darcy stared at the letter for he knew not how long. His face turned pale for a moment before flushing scarlet with severe anger, his free hand grasping at the arm of the chair so hard his knuckles were white. He threw the chair from under him as he stood, bringing his neatly stacked papers and books crashing to the floor along with his tea tray and a decanter of fine French port. He rushed toward the door and began yelling instructions at every servant nearby, many having already gathered near the study to find the source of the crash. Within two hours, Mr. Darcy was on Boreas and tearing his path away from his estate, a carriage and his valet to follow behind. He had written instructions to Bingley and sent them by way of express, paying double to ensure it would reach Longbourn within two days, preceding himself by one day.

What had he done? He, who knew what Wickham was, knew what he was capable of, and now people were suffering because of his reticence. Why had he not exposed him the day he saw him with Elizabeth? "Elizabeth..." He paled and pulled Boreas to a grinding halt, the horse pulling hard and sliding on the dirt beneath its feet scattering dirt and stones, muddying Darcy and soaking the end of his greatcoat. He didn't move for a moment as his thoughts rushed over him. He hadn't even stopped for a moment to truly consider the truth of the situation, he hadn't thought about Elizabeth in all of this. He had simply acted. "She couldn't have been the one Wickham was engaged to," he realised. A rush of relief coursed through his veins and into his heart, what painful dread that had been crushing him these few days lifted at the thought but was promptly replaced by several stirrings of confused emotion.

Elizabeth, God what she must be suffering right now. How could she be coping? He had a sudden protective instinct present itself as he thought of her distressed by her sister's foolish risk. This was immediately followed by a heavy, asphyxiating strain of guilt as he realised he might have prevented all of this had he simply exposed the cad. But no, to expose him would be to expose Georgiana, and he could not do that. He could, he supposed, have simply ensured that his character had been known in general, but where would he have gone, to whom could he have said imparted such information? It would have been a degradation to speak so openly with any of the class of persons he met in Hertfordshire, it would have been insufferable. So why did he care so very much now?

He told himself it was because Bingley needed him, but he had not wanted Bingley to become tied to the Bennets in the first place. He believed Jane Bennets heart was untouched by Bingley and she was simply doing as her mercenary mother bid her. So why was he so determined to help? "Because I should have reined Wickham in years ago..." he said quietly and completely devoid of truth. No, he knew why he was going to such trouble to see this set right. It was there the whole time he was planning the solution to this debacle, and so he knew exactly why he was returning to Hertfordshire as fast as was humanly possible. It mattered not how much Charles needed him, nor how much the reputation of a young girl was at stake, and he did not care how responsible he should feel for Wickham's profligacy. He thought only of her.

At this thought, he dug his heels into Boreas and urged him on with his riding crop, his mind filled with thoughts of the woman who so haunted his every dream, his sleepless nights and his every daylight reverie.

~oOo~

Bingley paced the hall in a vicious anxiety. Darcy's letter had arrived the day before to say he'd be arriving at noon sharp, and Bingley was eager to waste not another minute. He'd spent four days in agonizing anticipation since he'd sent his letter to his friend. He knew Darcy would know what to do, that he was bound to have the answer. Bingley was a good businessman, but was not one for confrontation and often had trouble under highly stressful situations. Darcy was not one to lose his head, he could take the most distressing problem and put it to rights without flinching emotionally.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a horse's hooves on the gravel. Bingley's head shot up and he ran from the house down the steps to the rider. Darcy threw himself down from the exhausted horse, Boreas was breathing heavily and sweat holding his dirtied black mane slick to his side. Darcy handed the reigns to a groom and made his way directly to Bingley.

Clapping his friend on the shoulder, he said, "Charles, I see you received my letter," referring to his friend's clear expectancy at seeing him. "I came as fast as I could. Come, let us go in and see to this." Mr. Bingley's relief at his friend's arrival could not be expressed. It was evident that he had not been sleeping well, he looked disheveled no matter how well the cut of his clothes were tailored to his form. After several failed attempts to vocalise his appreciation at Darcy's arrival, he instead had a bath drawn for him and allowed him his time to refresh after the hard journey.

Mr. Darcy was almost reluctant to go upstairs, no matter how much he quite clearly needed to. He could keep his mind from nothing other than the problem they faced, and he wanted it gone as soon as he could. He didn't think he could face Elizabeth yet, to see her upset, discomposed, vulnerable. God, he didn't think he would be able to stop himself from taking her into his arms and fending the rest of the world off away from her. "Stop it, man!" he chided himself. "You are here to help. You cannot have her after all... but in this I can protect her." It gave him an odd satisfaction, to know that he would be the one to defend and protect her in some way. That he would be able to play this one role in her life... "And then disappear from it again..." he thought, a shadow passing over his face.

He readied himself within a half an hour and was swiftly ushered into Bingley's study, but not before Miss Caroline Bingley, who had not had the pleasure of knowing about Mr. Darcy's return, came upon him in the hall. "My dear Mr. Darcy, I was so thrilled to hear of your arrival! You are so good to come to Charles now, he has been looking so ill as of late." she said, then lowering her voice and stepping far too close to him than he felt comfortable with, she added, "I do wonder if he might be regretting his choice of bride. Perhaps this may be the chance we need to free him from this disast..."

"Miss Bingley" he broke in taking several steps back from her. "I have noticed Charles' present temperament and I assure you it is not regret from which he suffers. Worry not Madam, I will offer what assistance I can to ensure he is back to his old self once again. Now please, excuse me." He walked swiftly away from her to the other side of the hall and into the study.