Page 36 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Elizabeth said, “I must go see Georgiana and Mr. Darcy, and I must find out what happened with Miss Bingley.”
“And also, could you please find out if Mr. Bingley is well?”
“Certainly, dear,” Elizabeth kissed Jane’s cheek, but a part of her wanted to counsel her sister to disengage her feelings from Mr. Bingley, remembering her feeling that he was not worthy, after all.
However, since he had been very assertive and fair-minded the night before, Elizabeth supposed that she could wait one more day in hopes that he would further redeem himself. She abandoned her sister to Molly’s care as she sought answers from Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 22
Darcy
Darcy asked one of his most trusted manservants to stay with Wickham’s body, and he asked Richard to alert the magistrate and the apothecary of the incident at Netherfield. He comforted Georgiana before turning her over to her maid, and he checked to be sure that Elizabeth, her sister, and Molly were together. Then he trudged back to the small parlour where he had left Bingley with his younger sister.
But everything about the parlour looked different.
The room itself was a testament of some violent altercation. One of the chairs and a small table had been overturned, and a number of books and papers were strewn across the floor. Across the small room from that mess, several cushions, flowers, a broken vase, and water were likewise on the floor. One of the pictures hanging on the wall was askew.
As to Bingley, the man had never looked so authoritative as he stood over his sister, demanding, “You must tell me the truth, Caroline. All of it. Whatever your plans, whatever your scheme, you have lost. But you could secure some sympathy, as you face the consequences of your choices, if you tell the entirety of what you know.” Darcy was very impressed by Bingley’s voice and manner. He felt as if, whatever had happened here had propelledhis friend into a sudden maturation, into personal growth. But he was horrified by the evidence of “whatever had happened,” because Bingley’s nose was bloodied and swollen, his face was cut—and one cut was still seeping blood—and his cheek was bruising.
Miss Bingley’s face was paler than usual, set in its most arrogant expression, and she was sitting straight and stiff in a chair, her mouth pursed as if she had no intention of ever speaking again. But her usual elaborate coiffure was half down, her gown was rumpled, and her wrists were tightly bound together with a long orange scarf. He assumed that her ankles were bound together as well.
Darcy stopped just inside the door, feeling hesitant about interrupting Bingley’s efforts at interrogation. His friend flicked a quick glance his way and gave him a little nod in acknowledgement that he had returned, but Miss Bingley changed yet again: Her face took on a sort of ecstatic expression, as if she were a wrongly accused prisoner seeing the arrival of her saviour. She went from apparently stubborn silence to a wail of pain and then a piteous plea: “Oh, Mr. Darcy! Thank heavens you have returned to us. My brother has become quite mad; he has accused me most wrongfully. You must help me!”
Bingley’s shoulders sagged a bit, and Darcy understood that he was discouraged in his efforts with his sister. But he quickly turned to Darcy and asked, “Is everyone well? We heard distressing sounds, and I am quite certain that the house itself is at least somewhat damaged, but are Georgiana and Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth safe and uninjured?”
“They are.”
“And Colonel Fitzwilliam? The servants? The Hursts?”
“As far as I know, all of your family, your servants, and your guests are safe and uninjured…other than the two of you, I am sorry to see.”
Bingley nodded in relief, but Miss Bingley screeched out, “Mr. Darcy,Iam the victim here! Do you not see? My monstrous brother held me captive with his greater strength and then called upon one of the footmen to actually place me in bonds, as you can surely see!” She thrust her feet out and lifted her legs up enough that he could see that yet another orange scarf had been utilised to secure her feet.
Darcy only glanced her way, blushing a bit at the revelation of the woman’s lower legs, and then he looked back at Bingley. “My friend, those distressing sounds were made by a previously unknown player in the tale I relayed to you not half an hour ago.” He realised for the first time that some of the papers on the floor were the two notes that had been shoved under his door, evidence of attempted blackmail, and he promised himself to safeguard the evidence. But for now, he continued, “Do you wish me to apprise you of the news here, in front of your sister, or in private?”
Bingley heard respect in Darcy’s words and tones, and he resumed his original authoritative posture. “By all means, tell us both what has happened.”
Knowing that, in the past, he had mentioned Wickham to his friend a few times, but that he had never told Bingley very much about him, Darcy now told him how he had grown up alongside Wickham, about the man’s descent into debauchery and dissipation, his habit of running up and then running away from debts to merchants as well as debts of honour, and his ruination of maids and merchants’ daughters as well as his attempt to elope with an heiress.
He did not name the heiress, but Miss Bingley did. In the most poisonous tone, she said, “It was thepreciousGeorgiana who Wickham made love to and convinced to run away with him. Mr. Darcy acts as if hisdarlingsister was everythinggood, and she pretends to be virtuous, but she participated in scandalous behaviour!”
Darcy blanched but kept his voice in its normal, neutral register as he explained to Bingley, “My sister was but fifteen, and unfortunately I was very much mistaken in the character of her companion; the woman was in league with Wickham and managed to convince my sister that his behaviour was honourable. Also, thank God, we found that he did not—he apparently knew better than to scare her off by?—”
Realising that he could not seem to use the words needed to convey the fact that utter ruination had not occurred, Darcy was grateful that his friend hastened to interrupt: “I understand, and I also thank God that you were able to retrieve Miss Darcy in time. I am so sorry that your sister—and you!—had to deal with such a distressing incident. But…?”
Bingley’s questioning inflection urged Darcy to relate the particulars ofthat day’sdistressing incident: that Wickham had come to Netherfield; that he had broken Miss Bennet’s window and had climbed a rope to enter her room, but had not touched her or taken anything; that he had climbed down again in an effort to escape Richard but had died by gunshot, by his own hand.
“He is dead?” Miss Bingley screamed.
“He shot himself?” Bingley asked, sounding incredulous.
“He did, but it was an accidental discharge of his weapon. I am only glad that he was not able to shoot me, as he was attempting to do.”
Miss Bingley screamed again. She began to sound more and more like a Bedlamite.
Bingley turned to his sister and asked sharply, “How is it that Wickham appeared at our home, sister?”
“Well…he…I….”
