Page 76 of An Accidental Meeting
“Apparently not,” his friend replied as the cart jerked into movement.
“Your father would be furious at the way you are treating me, Darcy!” Wickham cried. “You owe me! My godfather gave me the key to the safe himself!” He continued crying out about women and money as the cart trundled down the drive and out of sight.
There was something very satisfying about hearing Wickham being the one who was disbelieved. After all the lies the man had told, no one would believe him even when he told the truth, or part of it.
Uncle Hugh reached into a pocket for his card. “I nearly forgot,” he said to the magistrate, who was about to enter his own carriage. “Please give this to the circuit judge and let him know I am happy to speak to him should he have any questions about the matter.”
The magistrate grinned. “Will do, Judge Darcy. As luck would have it, he is due today.” He tucked the card away in his pocket, climbed into his carriage, and was soon headed in the direction of Lambton.
"Fitzwilliam," his uncle said, "do not take that miscreant's words to heart. There is no chance that your father gave him the keys to the study and the safe. You were right to say that he most certainly stole them—he was in your father's study often enough, and George trusted him."
Darcy was also sure his father had not been so unwise. But neither would he ever have suspected Wickham would steal the keys. He wondered why Wickham had not attempted to use them before, but perhaps he had, when Papa was alive. Once Darcy had assumed management of the estate, he had made certain that Pemberley was always well guarded. Perhaps Wickham simply had not been desperate enough to risk it until now.
“Do you think he will hang?” Darcy inquired as he watched the procession depart. They had not mentioned the man's attempt to force Miss Lydia to leave with him, for it would do more harmto her than to him, but he had attempted to steal a great deal of money. Still, he had not succeeded, and Darcy did not wish Wickham dead.
Uncle Hugh put his notes away. “Well, he might have a few years ago, but lately the courts prefer to send thieves away to Van Diemen’s Land, even if the value of the stolen goods is considerable.”
Perhaps if he was transported, Wickham might make use of his education and gifts to make a life for himself. As long as the man was required to do so far away from Pemberley, Darcy would be satisfied.
Lydia’s brow was furrowed. Elizabeth could not recall ever seeing her so serious.
“So, I am to tell Mamma that I could not remain with Mrs. Forster any longer because she was jealous of me and we quarrelled? And that when I left to travel to Gracechurch Street, she told everyone I had eloped, but that it was never true at all?”
“Exactly.” Elizabeth hated to lie, but it had to be done.
Mrs. Forster had evidently encouraged Lydia to elope with Wickham, thinking it romantic, so Elizabeth could not be sorry that the woman’s actions were being misrepresented.
“And that you and my uncle and aunt do not know how to have any fun, and because I travelled on to Derbyshire with a chaperone without telling anyone, you are sending me to school?”
“Yes, Lyddie,” Elizabeth said. “That is perfect.”
The rest of the story had been determined this morning. Lydia was to say she had originally journeyed to Gracechurch Street, where she had learned of Elizabeth’s engagement from Mr. Kerrit. When he told her that the Gardiners and Elizabeth werestill at Pemberley, she had decided to invite herself to the fun rather than return home. She had paid her first chaperone, an officer's widow leaving Brighton for London, and through her had secured herself a second, who was travelling to Derbyshire. Lydia had then surprised everyone with her arrival, which had been her intention all along.
There was just enough imprudence in the tale to make it believable, but not so much that anyone’s reputation would be ruined. Tarnished a bit perhaps, but the weight of it would remain Lydia’s responsibility and not her sisters’. And when everyone heard that as a consequence of her behaviour Lydia was now installed at a finishing school, people would nod their heads and consider that it would all come right in the end.
Lydia bent to her task. She had been strangely quiet and subdued since the night before, which Elizabeth hoped meant she was capable of some reflection. “I cannot believe you are to marry Mr. Darcy.”
“And yet I am.”
Lydia set her pen down so she would not blot her words. “I thought you did not like him.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I did not, but I do now.”
Strangely, this made perfect sense to Lydia. “Mr. Darcy said that you would take me to London when I turn eighteen.”
“If you attend to your lessons,” Elizabeth reminded her.
A smile graced Lydia’s countenance. “Oh, I shall, I promise, Lizzy.” She hesitated for a moment. “I never did anything with Mr. Wickham, you know. I thought you ought to know that. He was all pretty words, but I have read Charlotte Temple, and I was determined to be wed, you see.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose of their own accord. After everything her youngest sister had been taught, it was a novel she had allowed to instruct her.
“London.” Lydia gazed at something in the air, probably imagining dancing in a very fine gown. “Just think of it!” She picked up her pen and began to write with energy.
Elizabeth shook her head. Her sister had been wounded by Mr. Wickham’s actions, and she was thoroughly chastened—but she was Lydia still.
When her sister had sealed her letters, Elizabeth took them with one of her own to Mr. Darcy’s study.
“All finished, then?” he inquired, motioning to a salver where several sad-looking missives already sat.
