The Gentleman & The Rake

A Man of Few Words: Chapter 10

Darcy Finds Wickham, and Wickham Behaves More or Less as Anyone Might Expect 

Wickham said, "Hello, Darcy. I didn't know you were in London." 

Darcy said, "Do you have the youngest Bennet girl with you?" 

"The youngest Bennet girl? Do you mean Lydia?" 

Darcy waited. 

"I didn't expect anyone to know yet. Well, well, well. Rumors spread quickly. Did Miss Bingley burn your ears with scandal?" 

"Why Miss Lydia?" Darcy said. "The family is not wealthy--" 

"I'm not going to marry the girl." Wickham laughed. "I thought you knew me better than that." 

"Why take her at all?" Darcy barked. "You had a good commission." 

Wickham looked rueful. "And debts," he said. "Rather a lot of them. Let me tell you, Darcy, soldiers play for high stakes." 

"So--" Darcy boggled. "You're hoping the militia will just forget you owe people money?" 

"I'm resigning my commission." Wickham shrugged. "Not a lawyer, not a soldier, not a vicar--" 

"You gave up that occupation," Darcy snapped, wishing he wouldn't react to Wickham's sneers. He said as calmly as he could, "I want to see Miss Lydia." 

"She's not your type," Wickham said with a leer. Darcy waited. Wickham sighed theatrically. "Upstairs."

Wickham was lodged near the Strand. The house had several apartments grouped together around a dim stairwell. The only maid--there was also a live-in cook--showed Darcy to the upper room of Wickham's suite. 

"Stay," Darcy told the maid. She gave him a baffled look but raised her brows and followed him through the door. 

A young, buxom woman sat by the uneven windows, playing with a kitten. She rose as Darcy entered; the kitten pounced on her drifting sash.

He recognized her from Hertfordshire, and he was abruptly conscious that despite her youth, she, like Georgiana, had a full figure. He battled a sudden aching desire to go down and kill the blithe man sitting in the room below. But gratifying his natural man would not help anyone. 

"Oh, la," Miss Lydia said. "It's Mr. Darcy." 

"Hello, Miss Lydia. I've come to return you to your family." 

"Why?" 

"They are worried about you. Your sister, Miss Elizabeth, was upset when she learned you had eloped." 

"Jealous, no doubt," Miss Lydia said. "I managed to capture Wickham's affections, not her." 

"Are you sure he cares for you?" 

Miss Lydia was astonished rather than offended. "Of course. He gave me Bert--" she scooped up the kitten, held it out. It looked like a species of alley cat. 

Darcy found himself exchanging a glance with the maid, who shrugged. 

He tried again: "He hasn't married you." 

"He's just waiting to get some money that was promised him." 

Darcy stared at her. She was possibly the most non-thinking creature he had ever met. And yet, there was something ingenuous about her; she was amiable if exasperating. 

He went down to Wickham's sitting room, towing the interested maid behind him. It was a wise precaution. Wickham was ready with his smutty accusations--"If you insist on seeing Lydia alone"-- but stopped when he saw the maid.