With the Colonel’s Help: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
: Chapter 7

Lydia did not wake when Colonel Fitzwilliam lifted her from Elizabeth’s arms, nor did she wake when she was settled into the carriage beside her sister. In fact, for the remaining forty-five minutes of the journey to London and then through the streets to Gracechurch Street, she did not wake — not even when a pause was made to send a footman in search of Darcy’s physician.

Lydia simply would not wake.

In fact, Lydia had still not woken when Darcy and Richard left the Gardeners’ home some two hours after arriving. The physician had come and gone. Mr. Bennet, who had arrived with Sir William, had been advised of what had happened. Tea and brandy had been shared as well as tales of Wickham’s previous treachery.

Darcy paced the length of the passageway at Darcy House. Thankfully, his sister was with their aunt, the Countess of Matlock. He would not have been able to see her and hide his agony. Miss Lydia lay lifeless in bed, watched over by her relatives, and he was to blame.

If only he had he spoken to anyone of Wickham. If only he had at least told Sir William of Wickham’s penchant for gambling and seducing young maids. He shook his head, leaned heavily on the wall next to Richard’s bedroom door, and covered his face with his hands. His hope was gone. Elizabeth would never be his.

“You look like the devil, Darcy,” said Richard as he approached him.

Richard had gone out to visit a few friends, whom he thought might be of use in ferreting out if Wickham were away from his unit with or without permission. From the way his cousin was grinning, Darcy guessed it was likely that Wickham had not been granted permission to leave Hertfordshire.

Richard opened the door to his room and motioned for Darcy to enter before him. “Wickham is in town. He was spotted at a gaming hell tonight, foxed beyond reason, as is the regular habit of one such as Wickham.”

Richard shrugged out of his coat, tossed it on his bed and then sat down to remove his boots. “A hand, Darcy.”

He had not yet called his batman for assistance. There were particulars that needed to be discussed without the audience of even such a trusted and loyal man as Mr. Chase.

Between the two of them, Richard was soon free of his shoes and stockings and was working on removing the rest of his things as he continued his report on Wickham. “It is said he has debts in Meryton, as well as here in town, and not enough coin to pay. He is in serious trouble.” Richard smirked. “My guess is he will make a run for some obscure location as soon as he sobers.”

Darcy nodded. It did not matter where Wickham ran, he had done what he needed to ensure Darcy’s misery.

“He’ll sober in the room of one of my friends.” Richard pulled on his nightshirt.

“And then what?” Darcy shook his head.

Richard shrugged. “Likely he will get better than he deserves, but worse than he wishes.” He took a seat across from Darcy. “We have been here before. As you know, drawing his next breath is more than I think that man deserves, but there are laws.”

Richard rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign to Darcy that there was a wrinkle in the well-laid plans of his cousin.

“Has he spoken of Miss Lydia?” Darcy prompted. He did not wish to draw out this meeting any longer than need be. There was no need to take a circuitous route around whatever unpleasant bit of information Richard held. There was nothing that could sink him lower in his own despair, was there?

Richard grimaced. “It is worse than you think. He has not just claimed her to be ruined.”

Darcy’s brows furrowed. What worse could be said?

Richard drew a deep breath and released it. “He claims she ran off with his purse.”

“He calls her a thief?” Darcy sank back in his chair. That certainly would threaten more than Miss Lydia’s ability to marry if Wickham were to pursue the claim as if it were true.

“When Miss Lydia ran off, he was not happy to be left without payment for his debts, and the gentlemen he was with had a fair go at him to show their displeasure.”

“Surely, he could stumble into the Thames, could he not?” Darcy wished to empty the contents of his stomach at the depth of Wickham’s rankness.

Richard tipped his head and studied his cousin. A distraught and tormented Darcy, he had seen before, but never had Darcy once suggested killing a man. “What are you not telling me?” he said, sitting forward in his chair.

Darcy pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to his cousin. “I am no longer welcome to call at the Gardiners’ or Longbourn.”

Richard unfolded the paper he had been handed.

Mr. Darcy,

I would like to extend to you my family’s thanks at having provided care for my Lydia on her arrival in town, but I have decided she would do better at home, and so we will be leaving in the morning and will not be here to receive your call. As I am certain, you will understand the need for peace and quiet while at Longbourn and will therefore not impose upon myself, my wife, or any of our daughters during this time of trouble. In fact, it is likely best if we sever all acquaintance. Your tales of woe done to yourself and to your family by the scoundrel that has now threatened mine will not leave my lips. I give you my word as a gentleman. However, I cannot get beyond the fact that the present circumstances might not have occurred had these grievous acts of Mr. W been known in the autumn when the regiment arrived in Meryton. I thought it better for my daughters’ peace of mind to write these things to you rather than to air them before you in their presence.

T.B.

Darcy rose from his chair and moved to leave the room. “Do what you will with Wickham. I do not care,” he said as his hand rested on the doorknob. “I will be leaving for Pemberley in the morning, and I would like to be left alone to mourn in peace.”

He swallowed the tears that threatened. “In three month’s time, I will do my duty and call on Aunt Catherine and Cousin Anne.”

Richard sprang from his chair. “No,” he fairly shouted as he grabbed Darcy by the shoulders. “You will not do your duty. This,” he waved the letter in front of Darcy’s face, “I will not accept this.”

“It is my fault,” Darcy snapped. “He is correct in that. Even if I had his permission, what hope do I have of winning Elizabeth when her sister has been so injured due to my negligence. You may not accept it, but I have no choice.”

“No choice? Fight for her! Fight for her sister!” Richard urged.

Darcy pushed Richard away. “Why? Why should I fight? How can I fight? I am the cause. I am the one I would wish to run through if it were Georgiana who was wounded and ruined.” He shook his head. “Leave me be.”

Richard grabbed Darcy’s arm before he left the room and held it firmly, so that Darcy could not pull away. “Two weeks. Stay in town for two weeks. We must see Wickham to some end. Then, if things have not improved with Mr. Bennet, I will allow you to go to Pemberley and wallow.” He paused. There was one last strategy to keep his cousin where Richard could watch him and work on him. “If you go to Pemberley, Georgiana will hear you have returned, and my mother will allow her to come to you.”

Darcy closed his eyes and swallowed. Then, as the tears he had attempted to hold at bay spilled down his cheeks, he nodded and whispered his agreement before returning to his rooms.

Richard stood for several minutes, leaning against the frame of the door to his room after he had watched to make certain Darcy did, in fact, return to his own rooms. This was not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to come home, discuss the fact that they had Wickham at their mercy, and devise a plan to see the man dealt with in the most effective manner. He blew out a great breath, pushed off from the door frame, and pulled the bell for Mr. Chase.

Dropping into a chair to wait, he read Mr. Bennet’s letter again. Its contents shocked him as much this time as they had the first time he had read it. The gentleman had seemed friendly and even understanding as they had spoken of replaceing Lydia and then assuring him that she was not the first lady Wickham had duped with his charming smile and sweet words. Richard shook his head. It must have been the shock of the incident that propelled the man through the conversation as if it were a normal discussion of neighbourhood gossip and not a tale that ended with his daughter laying injured and senseless.

Yes, that must be it. Richard rose and placed the letter on the table next to his bed. The seriousness of the situation and the grief brought on by his daughter’s condition must have settled in later, addling his ability to see reason. Was the man, himself, not partially to blame? Had his daughter not encouraged Wickham? As Richard understood it, Miss Lydia was something of a flirt and rather silly — behaviours a father should quell and behaviours which would mark her as a possible conquest for Wickham.

“I need to see Darcy’s man,” Richard said as Mr. Chase entered the room. “Intercept him before he goes to ready his master for bed.”

Mr. Chase gave a nod and left to do as he was instructed.

Miss Lydia was not innocent in this matter either, Richard reasoned as he again took a seat. Miss Elizabeth had pointed out to her father that Lydia knew better than to travel alone or in the company of a man who was not her relation. Perhaps, Darcy’s separation of Bingley and Jane had been the young lady’s impetus in devising the scheme, but it was her own foolishness that had seen her put the plan into action! He sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. It was difficult for a man to own his part in the misfortune of those under his care. Unless, of course, that man was Fitzwilliam Darcy. Then, it was difficult for the man to accept only his share of the blame and not shoulder the full weight of a matter. Such a letter as Mr. Bennet had sent would have likely only roused a regular gent to some fit of temper, accompanied by shouting, drinking, and a likely confrontation with the man accusing him of being the sole cause of a lady’s injury. But to Darcy, an accusation of responsibility would only prove his own feelings of failure to be true.

He sighed again and straightened as Chase and Darcy’s man, Dawson, entered. “Take a seat,” he said, motioning with his head toward the chairs next to him. “There is a matter of which you must be made aware. Have you seen to your master yet tonight?” He directed the question to Dawson.

“No, sir. He has only just called.” He fidgeted uneasily. He was likely never tardy in responding to his call.

“Then I will make this as quick as I can,” said Richard. “He is not to know we have spoken — nor is anyone else.” He fixed the man with a hard stare and waited for agreement. “You will replace him greatly altered, and if anyone asks the cause, you are to say he has received grievous news regarding a friend, which is completely true.” Richard paused. “He has, for the moment, lost his love.”

Dawson’s eyes grew wide.

Richard nodded. Dawson likely knew a good deal about whom the lady was that Darcy favoured. “It is hopefully only temporary. However, I would appreciate it if you would speak to Chase of anything which worries you about your master — lack of sleep, refusal to eat, drinking to excess — anything that seems out of the ordinary or detrimental to his well-being, and then, Chase will report it to me.”

Richard stood and the two men seated with him followed suit. “Darcy has promised to remain in town for two weeks. If he begins to speak of leaving before that time, inform Chase, who will in turn inform me.” He stood at the door with Dawson. “I’ve not seen him like this,” he said softly.

“I understand, sir.”

Richard thanked him and closed the door.

“And me, Colonel?” Chase asked. “What is it that you wish for me to do other than relay messages?”

“You are good at strategy, are you not?”

“I like to think so, sir.”

“Good,” Richard clapped his man on the shoulder. “Then, while you put my clothes away, we will discuss some strategy.”

He stood in front of the young man, who was of slightly shorter height than Richard, as well as at least five years younger and having a more slight build. Chase was a man, Richard thought, who had likely had to use his wits to preserve his features so well. The larger bucks often liked to make sport of the smaller ones.

“I am going to share things with you that will accompany you to your grave.” He watched Chase’s Adam’s apple rise and fall with a swallow.

“Yes, sir.”

“I am placing a great deal of trust in you — more than I do when I climb into my bath or allow you to hold a razor to my neck when shaving because what I am going to share has the potential to harm those whom I love.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he held the gaze of his batman. “And, you should know that as much as I enjoy the way my boots shine when you have polished them, I, and my sword, will not hesitate to splatter that shine with your blood if you harm those same loved ones.”

Chase’s eyes grew wide as he nodded. “Of course, sir. I am not a gossip. I never share what I see or hear unless you have requested I do so.”

Richard smiled. “Very good. For you do tie a fine cravat, and I would hate to have to break in a new man. I am not the easiest chap to serve.”

The corners of Chase’s mouth twitched, but he managed not to smile as he replied. “I couldn’t say, sir.”

Richard flopped back into his chair and began explaining the full story to Chase before the two set about devising the best course of action to remedy the current situation.