Colonel Fitzwilliam sat across the desk from Colonel Forster and considered whether any man could be at one time more stubborn, more infuriating, and more wrong.
"Fitzwilliam, I appreciate your warning and your concern, but I can assure you that I have taken the matter into my own hands, and your intervention is no longer called for. Wickham is a rogue, of that I am not disputing - but of how many of my men would I say the same I cannot tell you. I expect even you have a few of this type under your command. The local shopkeepers and pubs have all been interviewed, and I am keeping a close eye on him and his accounts in the village. Lieutenant Denny has convinced me that his debts to his comrades are manageable at present so long as he does not have a turn of bad luck. I have this situation under control."
Pompous fool! Fitzwilliam struggled to maintain an appearance of composure and would not allow a word to escape his lips until he had attained it. At length, in a voice of forced command, he replied, "With all due respect, Sir, I am sure that you have done all that you see is fit and right in this circumstance, but I assure you Wickham is no average English rogue. He will charm and woo every single innocent in a mile's radius, and you will never be the better of it until he has disappeared and you are left to repair the damage from his reckless, nay dangerous, abandon. You must trust me; I have known this man for nearly 30 years."
"Tell me, if he is so very dangerous, how has he managed to enter the service with a clean record and many trusted friends?" Forster asked impatiently with no expectation of a response. "I do not doubt that he has wronged you, though you will not reveal to me in what manner. I can only assume there is a lady involved and am sorry that his behaviour has affected your happiness. But you cannot expect me to take measures against actions of which I have no proof, and that did not occur under my command! Out of respect for you, I will continue to monitor closely the man; I assure you I will not allow any catastrophe while he is under my watch."
Fitzwilliam's complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. "I can only hope that you are right. Wickham lays waste along every path he travels; if you believe you are the exception I will leave you to your fate." He stood up, grabbing his jacket forcefully and before turning towards the door informed the local commander that he would, unfortunately, no longer be able to join the officers for dinner that evening.
As he stormed across through the hall in a rage, he noticed Mr. Denny standing in a half open doorway. Looking around to assure that they were alone he hollered, "Lieutenant!" to grab the man's attention.
Denny turned sharply towards him, a look of recognition washing across him, and moved closer to the Colonel, "Sir?".
"Do you have a moment? Perhaps we could find some privacy?"
The young officer gestured towards the open door he had just left, and they entered his quarters. The small room offered little more than a table and two rough wooden chairs for the men to sit down to. Looking around, Fitzwilliam noted that while sparsely furnished, the room was neatly organized. An extensive collection of books filling the lowest shelves on one wall and a stack of letters, papers and writing materials on an end table revealed a man who spent much of his spare time reading and writing.
Fitzwilliam took a seat while Denny raised a bottle with a questioning look. After a nod of approval from the Colonel, he poured two glasses and joined his guest. "How may I help you today, sir?" he asked, the look in his eyes showing that he apprehended the purpose of this interview.
"I understand that you are friends with Mr. Wickham." It was not a question, and yet there was no doubt that an answer was expected.
"I had a slight acquaintance with the man prior to his enlistment; he attended university with my cousin. Since joining the regiment, I have had occasion to know him better."
Proceeding cautiously, Fitzwilliam continued, "Colonel Forster tells me that you have informed him that any gambling debts that man has acquired in Meryton are not so great as to be unrecoverable."
"I suppose that depends on your definition of a recoverable sum. For a man such as the Colonel, I imagine the obligations would not cause alarm. I could not say the same for one in my position."
Fitzwilliam looked curiously at the man before him. He was struck by the manner in which he spoke - how little and yet how much was revealed in his words.
"May I be frank, sir?" the young man asked, waiting until he received consent. "Colonel Forster tasked me to discretely report on the debts and actions of Wickham and in doing so I confess that I am alarmed by what I have learned. There is nothing so damaging to raise flags, but I do not trust the man. His manners conceal many faults, yet his selfish disregard for rules and propriety betray him."
"And have you said as much to Colonel Forster?"
"Aye, I believe I expressed myself misapprehensions firmly and fairly, but I am certain my concerns fell on deaf ears. There is little more I can do or say, I have been ordered to keep quiet on my discoveries and have not been authorized to continue in my investigations."
Richard stood up and paced the room in silence. "I have known Mr. Wickham for many years, and I assure you that your instincts are correct. You have a viper in your midst, and he could strike at any moment." He crossed the room to the small table beside the bed and grabbed a sheet of paper, ink and a pen. "It is evident you are a good officer, and a good man, Lieutenant. Colonel Forster is your commanding officer, and I will not ask you to disregard any orders he makes of you. But I do request that you notify me immediately if you see or hear of any actions on the part of Wickham that heighten your concern."
He sat back down and carefully penned directions that he could be reached at, including his cousin's London and Derbyshire addresses, and folded the paper up with several bills. "Please write to me at the addresses I provide if I am no longer at Netherfield. I have provided sufficient funds so that you can send word to all three by express." Fitzwilliam raised his hand to cut off any protests at accepting payment. "This is my obligation, and I will not place any additional burden on you. I already ask too much. It is of utmost importance that I am informed immediately."
The two officers remained for several more minutes discussing current political affairs that were weighing on the minds of all men of the military in those days. At length, Colonel Fitzwilliam made his apologies and returned to Netherfield satisfied that he had made an ally in his efforts to put a stop to Wickham once and for all.
Darcy rode hard and fast to town in much better spirits than he had on his last return. Immediately handing his horse to a servant, he quickly changed out of his riding clothes, and withdrew to his office. There he crafted a letter to his attorneys with his usual care and precision and a second set of papers he prepared to present to Mr. Bennet. He smirked as he watched his steward read through the documents later that afternoon and counted each time his trusted advisor raised his eyebrows or rubbed his chin.
As evening approached the gentlemen were content that there was a generous, but fair, offer to be made and seals were pressed firmly on the two documents. A servant was called to deliver the first to an office across town. The second was placed neatly in Darcy's folio to be packed for his morning ride. Darcy then poured two glasses of brandy, slid one across the desk, and allowed himself to relax. "And so, Banks, it is done."
"Or nearly done," Mr. Banks replied dryly. "I suppose there is still the matter of a proposal; unless of course you have already approached Miss Bennet with an offer?" He looked up to see the unease in his friend.
Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his seat like a schoolboy caught without his homework. "Miss Bennet and I have an understanding of sorts. We have spoken of our mutual affection and wishes. She knows that I am not a man to trifle with her feelings, and I am certain already considers that we are bound. I imagine that she is only waiting for me to address her father."
Mr. Banks was not satisfied with this response, and so Darcy continued, "I had planned to speak with Miss Bennet tomorrow about the practicalities of our marriage. Do not think that I take lightly the import of the engagement. There will be many in my family who disapprove of the union, and even more in society who will question Miss Bennet's motives. I mean to discuss with her the many obstacles we will face and the scruples that had, for some time, kept me from revealing my feelings. I hope to reassure her that none of that matters now."
"I mean no disrespect, sir - I am no master of Pemberley - but as a married man of three and twenty years may I advise you?"
"You have always been a confidant and a friend. Why should you have to ask now when so often it is I seeking out your good counsel?"
"In matters of the heart, I find it is always best to assure that my opinions are welcome." Finishing off his glass, he continued. "If Miss Bennet is worthy of marriage I would suggest that your proposal be worthy of her. I'm sure you are right, and there is no reason to expect that she would not have you, but that does not lessen the significance of this event. Of the obstacles and scruples you speak, you will have a lifetime to overcome. You will have the opportunity only once to prove that you deserve to marry this woman. A woman who is - I gather from your description - clever and spirited and not likely to be impressed with an accounting of how you have grown to love her against your will, against your reason, and even against your character."
Darcy was chagrined and ashamed. That his plans for an honest and reasonable discussion should be interpreted in such a manner surprised and offended him. He could not believe that - to Elizabeth - they would be received in such a light. Mr. Banks sensed his young friend's confusion and ended the discussion thusly, "I will not tell you what you should do or say. You have the better knowledge of the lady in question. I only ask that you think on what I have said and that you judge the value in pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased."
As he lay awake in bed, Darcy thought over the words of Banks, a man who had become a valued employee of his father during the end of his life and had guided and assisted Darcy in the years following that great man's death. Judge the value of pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased. Never had he been led astray by the sensible and thoughtful recommendations of Mr. Banks and he had no reason to suspect that this situation might be different.
What would please Elizabeth? He asked himself. As much as he tried to convince himself that a rational discussion of the advantages and disadvantages of their union, and a description of how he concluded that she was - in fact - worthy of his hand would be well received, he quickly admitted that it would never do.
Her intelligence and good judgement, her ability to look beyond the superficial and see both the flaws and the best of those around her were just some of the reasons he loved her, but addressing only the reasonable and rational side of Miss Elizabeth Bennet would never be enough. It was her wit, her spirit, her depth of feelings that stirred his passions. His thoughts strayed back to their conversation weeks ago, the day that he realized the true nature of his feelings for her and retreated out of fear and surprise.
I hope you will not be surprised that I am capable of also loving that which is beautiful, tender and epic, she had told him.
"Beautiful, tender and epic, " he repeated softly, "much as my love for thee." His eyes closed and his breathing deepened. "For when we are apart my heart beats for you and I hear only the sweet whispering of your name. And when I am with you I rise and soar beyond the sun and moon to the galaxies that rest within your eyes."
Darcy slept peacefully in heavenly dreams of the morning's sunrise and every sunrise thereafter.