Page 70 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

“I am sure the girl left something for us,” the colonel answered cheerfully. “Where is that farm boy? I am eager to follow him home.”

Bennet and the other men followed the farm boy home, and were delighted to find Wickham in a state of wretched misery, his looks obviously damaged permanently from Miss Lydia’s vicious self-defence and the rough treatment of the farmer and his sons. When he moved, he held his cods gingerly and was hardly able to walk, not that Richard or Ashley had any intention of permitting him to do so.

A vaguely truthful account of matters was rendered to the farmer, who was happy to let them take Wickham without calling for a magistrate. The man was grudgingly proud of his son for his part, though he was not pleased to learn the boy had been meeting in secret with a girl from a neighbouring farm in the middle of the night.

“You’ll go and speak to ‘er Da straight after the day’s work is done, boy, or yer no better’n this villain.” Mr Evins was stern. “Raised ye better’n that, so I did.”

Wickham was bound even tighter than they found him and loaded into the Viscount’s carriage. A half hour later, the carriage pulled up at the gate behind Darcy Cottage, where Darcy stepped out, and Mrs Younge was soon loaded in, then bound and gagged as tightly as Wickham.

The carriage left for the London docks, where Ashley and Richard would supervise the transfer of the two of them to a ship of prisoners bound for Australia, using money and the viscount’s influence to have them taken away without a trial.

Darcy returned to the Bennets’ cottage and found Lydia in the drawing room with her family.

“I apologise for what my father’s godson did to you, Miss Lydia,” he said with all sincerity. “He is now to be sent so far away, he can never hurt anyone here ever again.”

“How far?” Lydia asked with interest, her voice a harsh croak.

“Very far,” he promised. “No one ever returns from Australia.”

“I have heard that Australia is full of spiders the size of his head,” Lydia muttered hoarsely. “How convenient. The pathetic fool is terrified of them.”

Elizabeth, despite all, laughed so suddenly she nearly cried. The rest of her family…and Darcy…joined her.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Wednesday 5 August 1812

The Bennets remained quietly at home the day after Lydia’s return, but Wednesday morning found their cottage nearly under siege. By eleven o’clock, Charlotte had returned from the warm baths with Jane, and the drawing room was filled with Darcys and Fitzwilliams. Viscount Fitzwilliam and his brother had wasted no time seeing Wickham and Mrs Younge onto a ship, and returning to Ramsgate on horseback with all speed, leaving the Viscount’s carriage to follow them.

Georgiana, Anne, and Priscilla had settled themselves by Lydia and Kitty, and were thoroughly engrossed by the tale of her thrilling escape, while others made conversation amongst themselves.

It was not long before Lady Barry was announced to the room.

“I had to see for myself that you are unharmed, girl. You gave your family a vicious fright,” she admonished Lydia. “I hear you got yourself home and did not even require the rescue of these gallant heroes. I am very nearly impressed.”

“I fear I cannot claim too much credit, Lady Barry.” Lydia smiled impishly. “My captor was a spoiled idiot who was afraid of spiders, and seemed to have the use of only half of his brain.”

“Most men only use half their brains, girl. You will learn that soon enough.” Lady Barry seated herself next to Charlotte, the better to admire young Lucas, who had a new tooth to show the room. “I am displeased by that split lip. If anyone asks where you obtained it, you tell them you had a clumsy accident while you were visiting me. No one will dare question you.”

“We are grateful for your kindness to our family, Lady Barry.” Charlotte poured the newcomer a cup of tea.

“And not for the distinction it brings us in society.” Mr Bennet was entirely candid. “I consider your attention to my women a great compliment, and I am grateful to you for your care for their welfare.”

“A compliment it may be, but do not take it for yourself, Bennet.” Lady Barry was stern.

“I would not dare.” He grinned. “It is obvious that you appreciate my ladies for their merits, when many would overlook them entirely.”

Jane found herself besieged by Viscount Fitzwilliam and his brother, both having discovered the sound of her laugh, and each now vying to be the one to produce more of it. Jane was pink-cheeked, and surprisingly lively, a miracle achieved by her awe of their capable and valiant natures.

“I heard of your mishap with Lovett, Miss Bennet,” said the viscount. “I also heard that you were injured, though you appeared to have healed with astonishing speed.”

“I merely turned my wrist when I was thrown,” Jane assured him. “It was kept wrapped for a few weeks, but I am entirely well now.”

“I heard that Lovett and his idiot friend are sentenced to three days a week in the stocks at Sandwich for a month.” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s amusement rumbled in his chest. “Painswick’s father will be furious.”

“I am grateful that there will be consequences.” Jane was sober. “I should hate for them to continue harming ladies with their reckless behaviour.”

“We are grateful that you are restored.” The Viscount was grave. “For if you were not, I should not be able to ask you to dance the first and the supper set with me tomorrow night, that is, if you are intending to attend Lady Clifford’s ball.”