Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (25 page)

“Father . . .” Richard lifted his chin.  “I have sold my commission and ordered a new wardrobe, as soon as it is delivered, I will depart for . . . Gladney.”

“Good . . . Albert is going to use Anne’s dowry to pay off his debts.  We . . . You, will need a good harvest to begin to rebuild what was squandered.”  He glanced at the letter written in Darcy’s hand.  “I imagine that your cousin has some sound advice for you.”

“I am certain of it.”  Richard said quietly and met his father’s eye.  “And I presume that you will be repairing the family name here.”

Lord Matlock heard his wife and daughter’s voices as they approached the dining room.  “I hope to have Cathy settled by the end of the Season.” 

“I hope that you take her feelings into consideration, not just yours.”  Richard got to his feet.  “I have some letters to read.”

“Where are you going?”   Cathy asked as they nearly ran into each other at the door. 

“To work.”  He smiled and kissed his mother’s cheek.  “I have some business to address before I depart.”

“Depart!  No, you have finally become free of the army!  You must remain for the Season, you can escort Cathy everywhere, and perhaps you will find a lady of your own?”  Lady Matlock fussed over his newly purchased neck cloth.  “You are a good catch now.”

“Hardly, a retired colonel at nine and twenty does not a catch make.”

“But you have Gladney now!”

“I have a house emptied of furnishings and an estate in need of repair.”  Smiling, he patted his mother’s shoulder.  “I have nothing, really, Mother.  Bertie’s marriage repairs much, but it still does not make me desirable to the women you want me to have.”  He looked at his sister, “You will have to go husband-hunting without me.”

“Oh well, you would just scare them all away.”  Cathy’s disappointment was clear, but she walked past him to take a seat at the table.  “I will find someone on my own.” 

With his parents staring at him, he groaned.  “ONE ball.  Just one.  Tonight.  I leave for Derbyshire in the morning.”  He looked around at them and left the room. 

Lady Matlock smiled triumphantly and sat down at the table.  “He will do anything for you, dear.  I am sure that he will remain for the whole Season.”

“Do not be.”  Lord Matlock said thoughtfully.  “I daresay he has a young lady in mind.”

“Who?”  His wife demanded.

“But he just said that he has nothing to offer.”  Cathy turned to look out of the doorway.

“To a lady of your ilk.” 

“Oh my . . .” Lady Matlock stared at her husband.  “He has found an Elizabeth!” 

“I did not realize they were a breed, Grace.”  He picked up his paper and laughed.  “Whatever, whoever he has found I will not stand in his way.”  Meeting his wife’s eye, he nodded, “And neither will you.”   

“THERE IS NOTHING FOR ME?”  Wickham asked incredulously.  “I have been waiting for weeks!”

“I don’t deliver it, I just keep it!”  The tobacconist shook his head and went through the stack of letters he kept behind the counter.  “No . . . not a one of these is for you, but then the post hasn’t come in yet today, if you stay steady, I bet it will be by within the hour, he’s pretty regular.”

“Within the hour?”  Wickham glanced at a clock and shrugged.  “Fine, fine.  I will wait.”  Turning away, he rubbed his hand over his face and stood before a display of cigars, all wrapped up in colourful silk ribbons, stamped with the name of the manufacturer.  Jingling some coins in his waistcoat pocket, he debated buying one.  He had won a nice pot of cash a few nights earlier; he was beginning to get his touch for gambling back.  It was like slipping into a warm bath, so easy . . .

The bells over the door rang gently and a tall gentleman entered.  Wickham turned away, seeing that it was not the postman.  The tall man paused, studying Wickham’s back, and standing between him and the door, he addressed the smiling proprietor.  “I bought some snuff from you some weeks ago, but I’m damned if I can remember the blend’s name.” 

“Well, sir.  Do you remember the colour of the jar?”  He waved at a row above him.

“Sorry, no.”  Taking out a snuff box, he opened the lid.  “Maybe you recognize it?  This is the last of it.” 

The man took the box and immediately recognizing the mix, closed the lid and paused, holding the bejewelled leg up.  “I know this snuff box!”  His brow creased.  “Weren’t you a colonel before?” 

“Good eye!”  Richard chuckled and noticed Wickham stiffening.  “I recently retired.”

“And now what is on your agenda?”  The man opened the jar and looked at him enquiringly with the scoop in his hand.

“A quarter pound.  I plan to marry.”

“I thought that we discussed this, sir.”  The man winked and filling up a bag, folded the top and sealed it with a bit of paper dipped in glue.  Richard laughed and put his payment on the counter, along with an envelope.  The man took the money and glanced at the letter.  Their eyes met and the tobacconist glanced at Wickham and nodded.  He cleared his throat.  “Ah, pardon me, Mr. Wickham?  It seems your letter has arrived.”  Stepping back from the counter, he retreated and watched the proceedings warily. 

“I did not hear the postman come in.”  Wickham approached the counter and reached for the letter.  Richard’s hand beat him to it.  Looking up, Wickham nearly fainted.  “Oh, God.” 

“Hardly.”  Richard smiled dangerously. 

“I . . . I was just joking with the letter I sent to Darcy . . .”

“He certainly laughed at it.” 

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Do you see a sword?”  Richard held up his hands.

“I would be a fool to believe you needed a blade to accomplish that.”  Wickham backed away. 

“True, but I do not need to spoil this man’s fine floor with your spilled blood.”  Richard leaned back on the countertop and regarded him.  “The truth is, I would love to kill you Wickham.  I would love to string you up by your testicles.  I would love to slice you open and gut you in the way you have hurt every member of our family.  I would love to hear you scream like my cousin will when she gives birth to your bastard.”  Wickham shuddered and Richard stepped forward and spoke in a low voice, “By the way, I would also love to lay claim on every one of those words, but they are Darcy’s.  I have to admire how he favours the slow, excruciating methods of inflicting pain.  I had only considered running you through.”

“Please . . .”

“But Darcy is a fascinating man.  He is furious, he is devastated, but . . . he is willing to write you off forever.  He is moving forward with his life, and will do the best he can for his sister.”

“I knew that he would . . .”

“And yet you begged him for
more
money?”  Richard spat.  “And now you threaten another man.”  Wickham’s eyes widened.  “Yes, he confessed to me.” 

“He did.”  Wickham said tonelessly.

“Read your letter.”  Richard pushed it to him and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms.  “I am stunned, but . . . I admire his decision.”  He smiled at the tobacconist.  “Forgive us for taking over your store.”

“No, not at all, it’s the most interesting thing that’s happened in here for years.”  He smiled and looked over the countertop to Wickham’s breeches.   Richard saw the wet spot and nodded.

Wickham shakily opened the envelope and started to read.

4 April 1812

Georgiana has asked me and my wife to raise your child.  The reasons why she asks us are private.  The reasons why we said yes are private.  All that you need to know, Wickham, is that I will feed, clothe, shelter, and educate your child.  I will raise this child to be everything that you rejected when you forsook the good upbringing and good man who gave you life, before you were ever tempted by the gift of my brother’s favour.  I promise you, he will appreciate what he has been given, and he will firmly know his place in the world.  I will not repeat my brother’s mistakes. 

In exchange for my care for your child, the colonel will not kill you today and you will disappear from our lives.  How you make your way in the world is not our concern.  You have been given the tools; now find a trade for them. 

This is the last time I will ever communicate with you.  Do not attempt to approach me or any member of my family again. 

HD

Wickham looked up at Richard.  “
HE
will father my child?”

“Oh, now that reaction I must remember.  You do not seriously plan to challenge him?”  Richard laughed. 

“But he is mad!” 

Richard pursed his lips and bobbed his head thoughtfully, “I do not think so.  I do not particularly admire him, but I do agree with this.”  He tapped the letter. 

“How is she?”  Wickham asked softly.

“Terrified, according to her brother.”  Richard indicated the door.  “I promise you, I am holding in my feelings for you with great difficulty.  If you walk out now, it will be the last time I will show mercy.  If I meet you in a dark mews . . .” He let the threat hang.

“I would take him seriously, if I was you.”  The tobacconist piped up. 

“I will . . . accept your terms.”

“No great surprise there.” 

Wickham closed his eyes and bit his lip.  “Tell her . . .”

“No.”  Richard said quietly through gritted teeth.  “Go.” 

He swallowed and nodded.  “You are blocking the door.”  Richard stepped slightly aside and Wickham ran forward and escaped, leaving the bells jangling madly in his wake. 

“That was better than a performance at the fair, sir!”  The tobacconist applauded.  Richard bowed slightly.  “You gonna kill him now?” 

“No.”  Richard sighed regretfully and picked up his bag of snuff.  “Unlike Wickham, I honour my promises.”  He pulled out the snuff box and looked at the jewels twinkling at him.

“You’re thinking of melting that down into a ring.” 

Pleasantly surprised, Richard looked up.  “I was.”

Shaking his head, the man tapped the snuff box.  “Don’t do it, sir.  Marry the girl who laughs at your fancy.  That’s the one you want to wake up with on a cold winter day.”  Winking, he sat down at his bench and went back to rolling his cigars. 

Smiling, Richard laughed and put the box back into his waistcoat.  “I will keep that advice in mind, sir.”  Touching the brim of his new hat, he nodded his head.  “Thank you.”  Opening the door, he turned back to the man.  “Where is the nearest chocolate shop?” 

“KEEP UP!”  Darcy called over his shoulder and spurred his horse on.  He could not see her, but he could hear Elizabeth urging Daisy to overtake them and he was hard-pressed to keep the smile from his face.  Leaning down to his newly purchased stallion’s ear, he spoke quietly, “Come on, Bruin, we cannot let the girls win.”  His horse snorted when Darcy rubbed his neck, and started when Elizabeth suddenly appeared at his side.  “What are you doing?”

“I am not in charge here . . .” Elizabeth looked at him with wide eyes.

“Mrs. Darcy, yes, you are.  Take control of you mount.”  Darcy commanded and watched her closely.   “The last thing you want is to frighten Bruin, you have seen the results of that when a horse is startled.  Daisy can sense your fear.”  His voice seemed to give her the confidence she lacked, but Daisy was still moving determinedly forward, and Darcy at last understood what was happening.   The normally placid mare was . . . there was no other word for it; she was behaving as a complete strumpet before Bruin.  “Lord, help me.”  Darcy sighed as Daisy first rubbed against the stallion, then when he slowed, moved ahead to present her rear to him.  “If she could wiggle it enticingly she would.”  He spoke softly and unerringly found the bottom that drew
his
attention.  Bruin’s grunt forced his eyes away.  “Whoa, boy.  We are gentlemen.”  He whispered and controlled his stallion with an assured hand. 

“What is she doing, Will?”  Elizabeth asked worriedly.  “Bruin is not going to rear up, is he?”

“I am afraid, my love, that my new horse is irresistible to her.”  His eyes twinkled.  “She is in heat.” 

“Pardon?”  She looked back.  Darcy had stopped and Daisy was backing up to the stallion.  “Will!” 

“A pure hussy.”  Darcy laughed.  “But see how my good man resists?” 

“But, what am I to do with her?” 

“We could let them have at it . . .” His lips twitched when she gasped.    “Forgive me.  Keep your distance, dear.  Stay ahead of me.  I guess that I will save Bruin for rides alone and take one of the geldings for riding with you next time.”

“But it is not his fault that Daisy is shameful.”  Elizabeth admonished her horse.

“No, it is not. Just be careful, she is moody, just like a woman . . .”

“When am I ever moody?”  She cried.

“Was I speaking of you?”

“You were speaking of women.  Do not lump me in with them all.  I have proven frequently that I am not like most of my sex.”

“And you have proven frequently that you are.” 

“Should I be insulted?”  Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously.

Darcy’s head tilted.  “I leave you to make that determination and let me know the answer.”  

“You sir, are not the least attractive when you are smug.”  Darcy’s deep chuckle only infuriated her and she leaned down to Daisy’s ear.  “Come on, dear.  We do not need these men.”  They picked up their pace and Darcy hung back with Bruin, smiling, but watching them critically. 

The distance from the object of her desire helped to settle the mare, so he was able to pay closer attention to his wife.  Elizabeth was coming along nicely.  No longer was she gripping the reins stiffly, her posture was excellent and her confidence was growing.  Darcy was very proud of her. 

Elizabeth glanced back at him, and seeing the expression in his eyes, she blushed.  “Please do not look at me like that.” 

“How am I looking at you?”  He nudged Bruin forward to ride beside her, silently giving Elizabeth directions on how to maintain dominance over Daisy.

“I feel unworthy of such pride.  I am simply sitting on a horse.” 

“Something that you feared not so many months ago.”  He leaned over to kiss her when a raindrop hit his nose.  He looked up.  “Where did that cloud come from?”