Page 53 of Undone

“Everything, Richard.” Darcy set his glass upon the table between them. “As I wrote when I quitted Hertfordshire, you know how steadfastly Lady Catherine has pursued a marriage between Anne and myself. You know she severed all intercourse after I informed her at Rosings, three Christmases ago, that such a marriage would never take place. Then her rector, Mr. Collins, appeared at Longbourn and offered for Miss Elizabeth. The circumstance follows too closely the pattern of Miss Harper and Miss Harwood to be dismissed. Had Elizabeth possessed less strength of character, she might have yielded as the others did.”

“And that is your proof?” Fitzwilliam's brow furrowed. “That her rector happens to be connected with the lady you mentioned in your letter?”

“That is not all.” Darcy leaned back in his chair. “Five days ago I attended a soirée at Hathersage upon the invitation of an acquaintance who had not thought fit to invite me anywhere these past two years.”

Fitzwilliam inclined his head.

“Within ten minutes of my arrival, I was accosted by Lady Catherine.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his cousin's countenance.

Darcy related the evening in careful order, omitting nothing he believed of consequence. Lady Catherine's unexpected appearance, her references to knowing where he had been and the rumours surrounding him, her renewed insistence upon his engagement to Anne as a satisfactory antidote to his misfortune, and the evident satisfaction with which she observed the attention their disagreement drew from the assembled company.

“She scarcely attempted to conceal her triumph,” Darcy concluded quietly. “Once she had said what she wished, she would not address me again before my departure. It was asthough she believed me brought low enough that she might enjoy the spectacle.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam passed a hand over his face.

“I confess that is unexpected.”

“So did I.” Darcy rose and crossed to the hearth, staring into the fire. “Given all that has transpired, particularly these last eight months, I could not persuade myself it was mere coincidence.”

When he had finished, silence settled over the room.

Fitzwilliam did not answer at once. He turned his glass slowly between his hands, his gaze fixed upon the amber liquid as though the proper reply might be found there.

“At the risk of disappointing you,” he said at last, “I believe you are mistaken.”

Darcy turned sharply.

Before he could speak, Fitzwilliam continued.

“You were right to ask me to have Wickham and Mr. Collins watched. The Bow Street Runners I employed are among the finest men I have known in the course of my service in the Militia. They followed both gentlemen as closely as circumstances permitted, and what they discovered was...unexpected.”

Darcy resumed his seat.

“What did they find?”

“One of the men followed Wickham to an inn upon the outskirts of Meryton. There he observed him meet with a woman.” Fitzwilliam leaned forward, resting his forearms upon the table. “He followed the woman in turn. I shall spare you the particulars of the journey, but she proved to be Mrs. Younge.”

Darcy was upon his feet before he realised he had risen.

“Mrs. Younge?”

“The very same who assisted Wickham in his scheme against Georgiana.”

Darcy turned away, one hand braced against the wall. The drawing room seemed suddenly smaller.

"When the report reached me," Fitzwilliam continued, "I confess my curiosity was immediately awakened. Knowing what had passed at Ramsgate, I could not believe such a meeting accidental. Wickham, Mrs. Younge, and you in Hertfordshire, all at the same time, when Wickham himself had proved impossible to find these many years past?"

Darcy remained silent, still trying to understand.

“According to my man, when Mrs. Younge quitted the inn, she travelled directly to Buxton. Fortunately, my runner judged her haste sufficiently suspicious to follow. She hired a chaise and lost no time upon the road.”

“Buxton?”

“Yes.” Fitzwilliam emptied the remainder of his whisky before setting the glass aside. “There she met a gentleman who, after some enquiry, proved to be a footman in the service of a widow residing there.”

“What widow?”