Page 75 of An Accidental Meeting
She did not doubt that he would have some rather particular words to share with her, but she could not have allowed Mr. Wickham to leave with her sister. He had a sister himself—he would understand.
“Should I not tell the magistrate what I saw?” she inquired.
“Mr. Wickham was caught inside Pemberley in the middle of the night with a sack full of gold and silver coins from my safe," Mr. Darcy replied. "I do not think the particular window he used to enter will be of much concern.”
She was relieved to hear it. Elizabeth said her good nights and was under her covers before she realised that Mr. Darcy had once more called her by her Christian name. She allowed the delightful sound of it to lull her to sleep.
“Well, Mr. Darcy, Judge Darcy,” the magistrate said as he took his hat from Mr. Rhoades, “I am sorry you all had such a harrowing night.”
The sun was rising as they all stepped outside and onto the gravel, where George Wickham sat in a cart, hands bound behind his back.
“You are only doing this because I dallied with your precious sister,” Wickham called out.
Darcy did not react, instead continuing to stare at Wickham as though he were some strange creature speaking an unknown language.
Uncle Hugh was taking notes with a pencil in his little book.
“That Bennet chit too—she was only too willing to come to Pemberley with me.”
Darcy’s uncle wrote more.
“But you were not at Pemberley at all,” the magistrate said coolly, “which is why I presume you had to break in.”
“I was invited inside!”
“Yes, you said one of the ladies allowed you ingress.” The magistrate nodded. “I am sure that is precisely what happened. Did the lady open the safe for you, too?”
“I had a key! And I ought to have been staying here,” Wickham spat.
"He stole at least two keys," Darcy said. "For I always lock the study as well as the safe. Did you take one for the back entrance, too? Is that how you entered, Wickham?" He knew how Wickham had entered, but it was true that he might have taken more than just the key to the study and the safe. Mrs. Reynolds would have to inventory every key on her chatelaine.
Wickham's face was nearly purple. “I ought to have been married to Georgiana!”
The two men sitting in the cart with Wickham laughed heartily at that. Darcy leaned over to the magistrate. “I do not think he is well. He also says that Miss Bennet’s sister was his intended.”
Uncle Hugh turned a page in his book.
The magistrate snorted. “Wishes to marry two women at once, eh? Proof enough he is not all there.”
“I should not wish anyone to take the ramblings of such a man as truth. My sister’s reputation is above reproach, but Miss Lydia is not known hereabouts.”
The magistrate rubbed the back of his balding head. “She is a guest at Pemberley, sir. That is enough. Besides, Mr. Wickham has a reputation for dishonesty in Lambton. You need not worry that anyone will listen.” He tugged his hat on.
“I had them both!” Wickham shouted.
Darcy’s anger rose, and he took a step forward without thinking—the magistrate moved to block him from going any farther.
“Leave it to me, sir. Would not do for you to skewer the prisoner before he stands trial.”
Darcy nodded brusquely.
“You ought to be aware that slander is a very serious offense, Mr. Wickham,” Uncle Hugh remarked loudly.
Wickham was finally beginning to panic as he watched the magistrate speaking to his men. “It is not slander! No woman can resist me!”
The magistrate turned with a small, amused smile. “You think that,” he said dryly, “if it gives you comfort.”
Two men swung up onto the cart, and one took the reins. “The gent’s not seen a looking glass this morning, has 'e?” the driver said, nudging his counterpart.
