The Avenging Angel
~ Being a scene from P&P2 that ended up on the cutting-room floor ~
The coach creaked and rocked on its springs as the horses raced toward London. Darcy stared out the window, not seeing the passing landscape, his mind in turmoil. He could not forget Elizabeth's face as she tearfully recounted the disgrace of her sister at the hands of George Wickham. When he first heard the news, he had risen and turned away from her to hide his emotion. He was afraid that she would see what was in his heart; had Wickham been in the room at that moment, Darcy would happily have strangled him. It had been bad enough when he learned that Elizabeth's opinion of him had been formed by Wickham's lies, but to see her lovely eyes clouded with tears and to know that Wickham caused them was unadulterated torture.
"When I think that I might have prevented it," she wept. "I, who knew what he was. Had his character been known, this could not have happened." Darcy knew that she was wrong, that he was to blame. He had resisted advertising Wickham's character; he had not wanted the affair of the previous summer to become common gossip, and he knew that Elizabeth's own discretion regarding the matter had prevented her from passing the story on to her friends. Another young girl ruined, he thought savagely. Lydia Bennet is an empty-headed chit, but that does not give Wickham permission to take advantage of her naivete. He had formed a plan before Elizabeth finished speaking, and took his leave hastily, giving her a last serious, parting look.
Back at Pemberley, he instructed his valet to pack the clothing and personal items he would need for a short stay in London. He gave serious consideration to setting off at once, but knew that he would arrive exhausted and incapable of action; thus he determined to spend one last evening at his estate. Georgiana would be there, and her presence brought Darcy comfort, as did the warm, open company of his dear friend Bingley. Bingley's sisters and brother-in-law, however, were another matter.
Darcy sat on the sofa, lost in thought and Georgiana's music, as Caroline Bingley circled him like a hungry shark. At last she spoke. "You are very quiet this evening, Mr. Darcy. I sincerely hope you are not pining for the loss of Miss Eliza Bennet."
"What?" said Darcy sharply. How dare she speak her name? The stares of the sisters alerted his mind, engaged elsewhere, that he had been rude. "Excuse me," he muttered, and went to his bed-chamber, followed by the astonished gaze of his guests, with the exception of the wine-sodden Mr. Hurst.
Darcy's valet, laying out his night-shirt, was startled to see the master retiring so early when he had guests, but knew better than to question his actions. "Call me at first light," Darcy instructed him. "I want to be off by seven at the latest."
"Yes, sir," the valet said, hiding his grin, and retreated. He had silently noted the master's moods over the past few days, his fussiness over his clothing when going to call at the inn at Lambdon, and had a very good idea what lay at the root of his behaviour. The valet, though no longer a young man, recalled very well the signs and symptoms of love, and thought that perhaps the lovely Miss Bennet had something to do with his master's disposition of late.
It was dark when he arrived at his townhouse. The butler, startled to see the master in town so late in the summer, hastened to light candles and air the drawing-room. "Never mind that," Darcy told him. "I have business in town, but I will not be receiving guests. Get my bed-chamber ready but do not worry about anything else." The butler bowed and would have withdrawn, but his master called him back. "Does the cousin of Mrs. Younge still work in the kitchen?" he asked. The mystified butler nodded assent. "Bring her to me," said Darcy.
Darcy made his way down the crowded, filthy street. In this mean part of London, there were no street-lamps as in the fashionable area in which his townhouse was located. The gutters were heaped with garbage and manure, and the passersby either eyed him hungrily, wondering how to obtain his purse without his knowledge or consent, or scuttled past with their eyes firmly fastened on the cobblestones. A young girl stepped in front of him, gazing hopefully up at him through her eyelashes and holding out her hand. Something in her eyes reminded him of Georgiana, and he fished a coin from his pocket. He asked her the way to the number given him by the scullery-maid, and she pointed out the direction.
The door was opened by a female servant who stared at him in wonder. Gentlemen must be in short supply at Mrs. Younge's establishment, he thought drily. He was on the point of asking for that lady when she appeared behind the servant. Her face paled when she saw her visitor's grim visage, and the maidservant, recognizing her mistress' distress, immediately tried to shut the door. Darcy was too fast for her, however; he pushed the door back open and stepped inside. "Mrs. Younge," he greeted the proprietress, who shrank back from his cold eyes and rigid jaw. She, of all people, knew of what Fitzwilliam Darcy was capable when he was angry.
He knocked on the door with his walking-stick. The sound echoed in the shabby hallway. Darcy had already suffered the mortification of being inspected by the other inmates of the boarding-house as he stood in the lobby with the landlord, and it had not improved his mood. He heard scuffling noises and whispering on the other side of the door, and he banged again impatiently. The door finally opened, and Darcy was face to face with George Wickham.
The two men each took the measure of the other. Wickham spoke first. "How did you find us?"
"You should remember that when you have purchased friendship with money, that friendship can be resold to the highest bidder. I procured the information from Mrs. Younge, at no inconsiderable expense I may add. You may take comfort from the fact that it took several days for her to succumb to my persuasion." Wickham regarded him sullenly. "May I come in?" Darcy asked mildly. Wickham hesitated, then stood aside to admit him.
Lydia stood by the window, smiling, her dressing-gown pulled tightly around her. "Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she said. "It is always good to see old friends."
"Good evening, Miss Bennet," he said. "It is still Miss Bennet, is it not?"
Lydia was not embarrassed by the implication of his question. "Oh, yes. My dear Wickham had business that prevented us from going to Scotland as we originally planned, but I know we will be married someday. It does not much signify when."
Darcy was not terribly surprised at this revelation. He glanced at Wickham to see his reaction to Lydia's careless confession; he was turned away, a sneer twisting his lips. Darcy returned his attention to Lydia. "Your family is very worried about you, Miss Bennet. I offer you escort to your uncle Gardiner's house, if you would like it."
"Oh, Lord, why should I do that?" cried Lydia. "My aunt and uncle keep no company and never pay visits. What a dull time I should have there!"
"As opposed to all the excitement of your current situation," Darcy observed. Lydia hesitated, and he knew he had gained a point.
"Here, you cannot take her away," Wickham protested, discerning his sudden disadvantage. "I have offered her my protection. She has no need of anything from you."
Darcy turned a blazing glare on him, and he subsided into silence. "Come, Miss Bennet," said Darcy. "Pack your things. My carriage is waiting to take you to your uncle's."
Lydia recognized the authority in his voice and demeanour. She stepped behind a screen, changed quickly, and began to gather her belongings. She had not brought much with her from Brighton, which heartened Darcy; she must have thought they would stay in Scotland only long enough to marry and then return to Longbourn in state. Perhaps she is not really a bad girl, he thought, just foolish and bold. He was glad that Elizabeth would have that small comfort.
Her belongings were soon packed, and she looked significantly at Darcy. He rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. "I will meet you outside, Miss Bennet," he said, and left the young lovers to their tender farewells.
Lydia came out of the boarding-house a few minutes later. Darcy was annoyed to see that Wickham had not even come down to see her off. He handed her into the carriage and instructed the driver and the footmen to be sure that Miss Bennet was safely in her uncle's house before returning for him. The driver nodded and shouted to the horses. Darcy had a last glimpse of Lydia's face peeking out of the window as the carriage rolled away.
He went back up to Wickham's room. The door was shut, and he knocked again. Wickham opened the door a crack, but did not seem inclined to readmit Darcy. "You have gotten what you wanted," he said. "Lydia is gone to her uncle's. Go back to Hertfordshire, Darcy, and tell Miss Elizabeth that you have fulfilled her bidding. I was not rich enough for her, but you may succeed where I have failed."
His beloved's name in Wickham's mouth enraged Darcy. He planted his boot in the middle of the door and shoved it open violently. Wickham jumped out of the way, and Darcy slammed the door behind him. "I have had enough of you," he said quietly. "I thought I was well rid of you when I paid you off in lieu of the Kympton living. Then last summer you insinuated your way into my sister's affections, but luckily I found out in time to prevent her ruin. You spread misinformation about me throughout Hertfordshire and have damaged another young girl's reputation, causing great distress to her friends, about whom I care deeply. It is time that you and I came to a final understanding." As he spoke, he removed his greatcoat, jacket, and waistcoat, draping these items over a none-too-clean chair in a corner. He untied his cravat and unbuttoned his collar.
Wickham watched him in fascination. "Are you planning to move in, Darcy?" he laughed. It was a mistake.
Darcy turned on him, and Wickham blanched at his menacing expression. "I warned you," he said, advancing toward Wickham. "I told you to stay away from my family and friends. I refrained from pursuing any action against you last summer for Georgiana's sake. However, she is at Pemberley and will have no knowledge of my actions tonight." He grabbed the front of Wickham's shirt and threw him against the wall.
Immobilized by surprise and pain, Wickham stared at Darcy. "How dare you?" he finally gasped. "If you want to fight me, we will meet on the field of honour as gentlemen should."
"You are no gentleman, and therefore deserve no such compliment," said Darcy. He moved closer and let a punch fly into Wickham's gut, getting all the strength of his shoulder and back behind the blow, as he had been taught. The injured man bent over double, coughing and gasping for air. "I am very angry right now, Wickham. You can alleviate my anger by telling me the date on which you plan to marry Miss Lydia Bennet."
Even in his pain Wickham remained defiant. "Marry Lydia?" he laughed, which caused him to wheeze and cough. "I never intended to marry her."
Darcy placed his hand under Wickham's chin and slammed his head back against the wall. "Then why did you elope with her? She seems to be convinced that your intentions were somewhat honourable."
"I had to leave the regiment because of some pressing debts of honour, and she insisted on accompanying me. I never told her we were going to Scotland, but she has persisted in believing that we are to marry."
Darcy wanted to strike him again for such arrogance, but he judged it too soon. "Why can you not marry her now? Mr. Bennet is not rich, but he should be able to do something for you."
"And how will we live, Darcy?" his opponent asked. "I must resign my commission immediately, of course. And you have prevented me from earning my living any other way."
Most men would have learned by that time that further provocation of Darcy would not be beneficial, but Wickham was never a quick study. Another blow to the stomach rendered him unable to stand. He dropped to his knees, then put his hands on the floor, his head hanging down, gulping air.
"I have never prevented you from leading your dissipated lifestyle," said Darcy. "You requested a sum of money in return for the living my father intended for you, and you received it. If you chose to spend the money in some intemperate fashion rather than using it to further your career, that is no fault or concern of mine. How did you intend to make your living had Miss Lydia Bennet not accompanied you here?"
It was several moments before Wickham was able to speak. "I still have hopes of marrying a young lady of fortune," he said. "Not in England. I had thought to go to the Continent or perhaps to the colonies."
"If you are referring to the United States of America, they have not been colonies of England for some years now. However, from what I have gathered, the young ladies there are no more gullible than the young ladies at home. What makes you think you would be considered such a prize there?" Wickham did not answer; he was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Darcy grabbed him by the back of the collar and hauled him to his feet. "If I were to purchase you a commission in the regulars, would you then consent to the marriage?" he asked.
Wickham clutched his belly and stared at Darcy in disbelief. "A commission?" he stammered. "In the regulars?"
"Yes, in the regulars," said Darcy impatiently.
Wickham's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to help me now, when you have refused to do so in the past?"
Darcy clenched his fist, but did not strike him again. "I want you married, Wickham. I want no more young girls ruined at your hands." He turned and walked away from the wheezing man. "My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam tells me that an ensigncy is available in General --------'s regiment, which is currently quartered in Newcastle. I am willing to purchase the commission for you if you agree to marry Miss Lydia Bennet."
Wickham licked his lips, his eyes alive with sudden speculation. "I cannot go off to Newcastle. I have debts of honour, and other obligations, that must be satisfied."
"I will take care of those as well," Darcy said. "Do you agree to marry Miss Lydia Bennet?"
"An ensign's stipend will not support a wife," said Wickham, his eyes shifting. "Especially one with...habits such as Lydia's." He gave a soft snort of laughter. "The silly chit expects me to buy her expensive bonnets and take her to the theater every night! She has no concept of economy. Such a wife will require a great deal of maintenance."
Darcy knew that Wickham was simply trying to pry additional money from him. The money did not matter; he was only pained that Wickham was in a position to take advantage of him. Well, better me than another young girl like Georgiana or Lydia. "Do not play games with me, Wickham," he said sternly. "What do you want?"
"Ten thousand pounds," said Wickham without blinking. He anticipated his opponent's move, but was not fast enough; Darcy's fist sank again into Wickham's gut.
"Would you like to change your offer?" said Darcy softly.
Wickham again fell to his knees, doubled over, his arms pressed against his midsection. He gasped several times, then wheezed, "Settle my debts, purchase the commission, and five thousand pounds."
Darcy grabbed Wickham's hair and pulled him to a standing position. An evil, nasty, black part of his soul received great satisfaction from the weak whimpers of the other man. The rational, gentlemanly part of his mind was appalled at his own behaviour, but he knew that men such as Wickham were only receptive to the persuasion of sheer violence. "I will purchase your commission. I will settle your debts. I will settle one thousand pounds on Miss Bennet. You will marry her, you will go to Newcastle, and you will stay away from Pemberley and my family permanently." He clenched his fist and raised it, poised to strike again. "Refuse this offer at your peril, sir."
Wickham, his eyes wild with pain and fear, glanced from Darcy's stern countenance to his menacing fist, and nodded in a defeated manner. Darcy watched the arrogant light in his eyes extinguished, and thought, Thank God. I can face her again. He released the other man and turned away. "I will send a man round tomorrow with papers for you to sign outlining our agreement," he said. "When they are signed, I will purchase the commission and arrange to have the other money put in trust for Miss Bennet. I must speak to her uncle, but I would imagine that her father may be able to contribute something as well. Make up a list of your creditors and those who hold your debts of honour, and I will see that they are satisfied." He walked over to the chair on which he had draped his clothes and began to redress.
Darcy looked down at his right hand, which was red and swollen. I will have to apply cold compresses, he thought, flexing his fingers gingerly. All those boxing lessons my father forced me to take as a schoolboy have finally served some purpose. He would have been most gratified.
He looked down at the cowering Wickham. "Never fear," he said. "Your bruises should heal by your wedding day. You will have nothing to explain to Miss Bennet. And you will not see her until then without a member of her family present."
Wickham gasped, hunched over his writing-table, but could not resist a parting shot at his old enemy. "I will enjoy spending your money," he said.
Darcy put on his coat, picked up his hat and gloves, and turned back to Wickham, his hand on the doorknob. He regarded the beaten, broken form of George Wickham, unable to comfortably stand but still defiant enough to manage a sneer. Darcy smiled at him, a cold smile that his future wife would never see. "It was worth every penny," he said, and went out to the waiting carriage.
finis
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