Page 77 of To Win Her Affections

“I have not said I know anything about him,” said she, backpedaling to cover her error.

“Nonsense,” rejoined Darcy. “You have all but confessed to knowing where Wickham is, Mrs. Younge.”

When she hesitated, Darcy forged ahead with his plan.

“Perhaps an incentive will induce you to remember where Wickham has gone.”

A shrewd expression came over her face. “Incentive? What did you have in mind?”

“Come, Mrs. Younge, do not pretend to be obtuse. Discovering Wickham’s location is of the utmost importance—if I must compensate you for the information you possess, then so be it.”

“The information is expensive, Mr. Darcy,” ventured she.

“Do not insult my intelligence and do not attempt to extort me,” snapped Darcy, his tone harsh and unyielding. “Remember that I have other tools at my disposal that I can use. I am willing to pay you for the information I seek, but do not suppose you may name any price you please merely because the information is valuable—I will not play that game.”

Mrs. Younge did not appear taken aback by Darcy’s anger. Bennet suspected she had provoked him deliberately, testing how far he would go. Now that she knew he was serious, she began to negotiate in earnest. It was only a few moments later that they came to an agreement, which was more than Bennet expected and less than he feared. It appeared that the adage was correct—there was no honor among thieves.

When she had the coins in hand—held tightly so they would not escape—Mrs. Younge offered the information without further delay.

“Wickham is here, Mr. Darcy.” She glanced at the stairs. “He arrived several days ago with a young gentlewoman in tow and begged a room from me. I almost turned him away, but I had one that had emptied that morning.”

Mrs. Younge’s expression grew pinched. “Wickham promised to pay me for the room, but he is two days late.”

“That is our friend Wickham, of course,” growled Colonel Fitzwilliam. “He does not even keep his accounts current with those he calls his friends.”

Though it was clear that she did not wish to agree, Mrs. Younge gave him a tight nod.

“Wickham has grown . . . displeased with the young lady, though he has not told me the reason.”

“Has he come out or said anything of his intentions?” asked Darcy.

“No, he has kept to his rooms except when he wishes food.” Mrs. Younge grimaced. “He has not paid me for their meals either.”

“Is there anything else that may be of some use?”

Mrs. Younge started to shake her head, then she appeared to remember something that caused her to pale. Darcy noticed at once.

“What is it?”

“It is . . .” The woman swallowed and looked away. “When Wickham came out last night, he was most put out with her. He suggested he might turn her over to a brothel and be done with her.”

“What?” demanded Bennet, unable to hold his countenance any longer. “And you did not think to confront him for that? What sort of depraved woman are you?”

“I know nothing of such things,” protested Mrs. Younge.

“I suspect, madam, that you know more than you are saying,” retorted Bennet.

“Do not concern yourself,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, his expression stony. “Wickham is caught—there will be no abandonment of any kind. The only thing Wickham can look forward to is the prospect of a life in the penal colony.”

For the first time, Mrs. Younge appeared to understand that Wickham’s troubles were not inconsequential. With that realization, Bennet was certain she now understood that if she played them false or hindered them in any way, she might share Wickham’s fate. Satisfied, Bennet fell silent, allowing Darcy to take up the argument again. So much the better if Mrs. Younge was now in fear for her freedom.

“Very well, Mrs. Younge,” said Darcy. “I suggest you ensure your staff stays clear of Wickham’s room for the next half hour. You would not wish to be caught up in our confrontation.”

Mrs. Younge nodded. “I cannot disagree, Mr. Darcy. The sooner you take Mr. Wickham away from my establishment, the easier I will breathe.”

Unless Bennet missed his guess, Darcy wished to say something more, but he settled for a curt nod. Mrs. Younge told them where to find Wickham’s room, then turned and disappeared deeper into the house, the servant following her. She clearly intended to do exactly as Darcy had suggested and avoid them altogether. Whatever their association, her support for Wickham was at an end.

“Let us be done with this,” said Bennet.