This time, the place was set into order. Wickham opened the door upon a room where clothing had been packed away, bottles removed, and a sturdier table and chairs had replaced the former hazards. “Darcy,” he greeted him awkwardly and motioned for him to enter.

“Miss Lydia Bennet.” Darcy bowed to the young woman perched on the windowsill. At a look from Wickham, she scrambled down and offered him a curtsy. “Mr. Darcy,” she replied guardedly.

“Lydia, my love, go down to the cook and bespeak something to eat.” Wickham took her hand and led her to the door. “Wait for it and bring it up yourself; there’s a good girl. Darcy and I have some things to discuss.” With a face that clearly indicated her displeasure at such a task, Lydia pulled her hand away and flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her lest there be any doubt of her feelings.

“Disagreeable chit!” Wickham grimaced. “See what you wish to chain me to!”

Darcy would not allow it. “That was determined when, by your own choice, you bundled her into your carriage in Brighton.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “She is little more than a girl, George, and you encouraged a girlish fantasy that you have yet to fulfill. It is not to be wondered that she is disappointed and behaves like the child she is.”

Wickham granted the possibility with a grunt and took the other chair. He did not look well, even though his clothes were in order and he had shaved. He ran his hand through his hair several times before sitting back into the chair, but even then he did not relax. Noticing Darcy’s observation of him, he laughed self-deprecatingly. “Nervous as a cat! Could not sleep last night, and I do not know why, but I feel as if I am being watched. Makes my skin crawl.”

“ ‘Something in the wind…,’ ” Darcy quoted.

“Yes, that is it exactly! Damned sick of it.” He bit his lip. “Yesterday, you agreed to cover my debts no matter the source, yes?”

“Yes, from your time in Meryton until your wedding day, I will cover them all.”

“It may take some time to collect them. Except for what is owed the officers, I really have no notion of the amount.”

“That shall be yours to accomplish in the next week.” Darcy brought forward the leather case he carried and took out paper, ink, and pens. “Write what you can remember and send for those you cannot.” At Wickham’s alarmed look, he amended, “Have them sent to Erewile House.”

“Oh,” Wickham breathed out, “that will answer.” He looked at the items laid out for him for a moment and raised his gaze back to Darcy’s. “And when I have done all this and married the girl, what next? If you will not give me a living in one of your parishes…” He paused, but when Darcy did not naysay him, he continued, “Then how am I to support this new style of living you insist upon?”

Here was the second hurdle, and to make it all work, Wickham had to be made to jump it with some degree of willingness. “I have purchased you a lieutenancy in the army,” Darcy answered him.

“What!”

“In a regiment that will likely never see action abroad,” he assured him.

Wickham fell back against his chair, his face twitching as he absorbed the revelation of his future. Slowly, he appeared to come to some terms with it. He looked at Darcy. “But I shall need —”

“I know what you shall need and shall provide you the credit to purchase it — what is needful and no more. With prudence, you should be able to live comfortably; with advancement, quite well.”

“Comfortably!” Wickham laughed derisively as he rose from his chair. “And what is your idea of comfort, Darcy? Would you be ‘comfortable’ living so?” He spread his arms, indicating their current surroundings. “I think not!” He leaned against the frame of the room’s one small window and turned his face to the courtyard below.

“There is also your wife’s dowry —”

“A trifle!” Wickham spat.

“— and what I will settle on her as well.” Darcy offered the inducement without pause. Wickham spun around, his interest rekindled.

“Two thousand pounds!” he demanded, as if the amount were negotiable. Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Fifteen hundred, then, and I’ll ‘turn Methodist,’ if you like, in the bargain.”

“I doubt that it would ‘take,’ George, or that you could sustain it for long.” He shook his head. It was time to bring this to a close. “No, I will not bargain with you. One thousand pounds in addition to her dowry, your debts covered, your profession secured, your character reformed, so to speak, and your wife provided for — that is what I offer to enable you to do what is right by this girl and her family.”

“As long as I ‘behave like a gentleman,’ I believe was the condition?” Wickham mocked. He did not seem to require a response, for he turned back to the window to consider what had been laid before him and did not notice Darcy’s silence.

…had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner. Wickham’s derisive words merely echoed Elizabeth’s charge, but it was close enough. How ironic that Darcy should demand of Wickham what Elizabeth had declared so lacking in himself!

“You have thought of everything, Darcy. I congratulate you.” Wickham’s voice brought him back to the matter at hand. “Try as I might, I can find no flaw to exploit or contingency to hold over you. Remarkable!” He crossed the room and sat down at the table. “You have hemmed me in quite well, you and Lydia, but in truth, the prospect is not so bad. Much to be preferred to debtors’ prison or a court-martial, certainly.” He wiped his hands upon his trousers and laid one, palm up, on the table between them. “I believe I must accept your offer, Darcy. Here’s my hand on it, one ‘gentleman’ to another.”

“On behalf of the young woman’s family,” Darcy amended, extending his hand.

“As you wish.” Wickham shrugged, and it was done.

Darcy did not allow himself the great sigh of relief that pressed against his chest until he was alone and the hired cab’s horse set into motion. His mind cast back to the beginning, to the inn at Lambton and his discovery of Elizabeth in such heartrending distress that it had been all he could do not to hold and comfort her, to dry her tears. He’d had no right, although every feeling in him had urged him toward her in the name of sympathy and love. Her tears had rent him, for he had known instantly where the blame for them lay; but it had been the awful resignation in Elizabeth’s voice to the shame and disgrace that lay ahead which had truly devastated him. He had vowed then that it would not be so, and though great patches, dearly bought, had been sown over the tatters of her family’s name, he had succeeded, ensured that the weave would hold, and the fabric of her family’s honor would once again be whole.

Closing his eyes, he leaned back his head and filled his lungs with air, then let it slowly escape. Elizabeth! Elizabeth was free. No living in the shadow of disgrace — she could be again who she so magnificently was and without apology or blush. Darcy smiled. He had righted a grave wrong caused by his own pride, and it was good. But his vision of Elizabeth restored…that was a treasure he would cherish in his heart all his days!


The cab pulled up before the Gardiner residence on Gracechurch Street. As Darcy waited for the cabbie to descend and open the door, he looked about the street curiously. The houses were not grand, but neither were they mean or pretentious, as had been implied by Caroline Bingley’s sniggering. Rather, neat and trim residences lined the public way in a row of solid respectability and, occasionally, some grace. One of these was the address before him, and seeing it Darcy better understood the conversation and taste that Elizabeth’s relatives had exhibited at Pemberley.

He descended from the cab, mounted the shallow steps beyond the front gate, and knocked. He wondered how he should begin to explain his visit. His paying a call would be considered highly unusual, even eccentric, especially without having sent his card earlier in the day. But when they heard his reason for calling, how would they regard him?

A servant answered. “Yes, sir?” She appeared rather young for her duties and not at all schooled in the proper etiquette of her position. Likely, she was new to service.

“I have come to see Mr. Gardiner.” He handed her his card. “Is he at home to visitors? It is important that I see him.”

“I-I dun know, sir.”

“Whether he is home, or whether he is home to visitors?” Darcy prodded. Definitely new!

“Oh, he be home, but there’s already sum’un wif him. An’ the missus ain’t back from country yet,” she supplied ingenuously. “So, I dun know if he can see two visitors. I was hired for the kitchen; never answered door before. Them’s what does weren’t expectin’ to be called back yet.”

“I see.” Darcy could not help but smile, but he had to see Elizabeth’s uncle as soon as possible. “Perhaps I can help you. If you could tell me who the other visitor is, we can determine whether you should announce me. Do you know who it is?”

“The master’s brother,” she pronounced with conviction, but then doubt crossed her face. “Well, calls him ‘brother,’ but how can he be with the name Bennet? Brother-in-law, maybe.” She appeared satisfied with her reasoning. “He’s been here for days, he has, lookin’ like thunder and rain.” She shook her head at all the trouble in the world. “So, should I let you in?”

“No, I think not.” Gently, he tugged his card from between the maid’s fingers and sent up thanks that he’d escaped the disaster of stumbling unexpected into the presence of both men.

“Oh.” Her face fell, then brightened. “He be leaving tomorrow mornin’, sir. Heard it just now. Goin’ back home, he is.”