The inflamed blotch marring her beautiful breast was gone in two days, thanks to Michael and the various medical treatments, internal and external, that their resident physician prescribed.
Alexander experienced lingering lethargy during that first day, his stomach was easily upset, and he too coughed. A honeyed tonic brewed by Uncle Goj remedied the unpleasant symptoms and after another night of restorative sleep he was physically one hundred percent cured. However, nightmares that he never remembered upon waking plagued him for weeks with Darcy called upon to pacify his terrified son until returned to sleep.
Observing their distress with no way to remedy it other than embracing caused him immeasurable pain, in some respects worse than their suffering. His sleep was disturbed by their nightmares and his own plagued dreams. The daytime hours were busy, allowing little time to rest until later in the evenings when the four of them gathered together in the large bed for play and stories, inevitably falling asleep in a tangle of limbs.
The laceration to his scalp was not large and healed without festering. The only negative effect was an annoying tingling as it healed and an occasional headache. His greatest physical pain arose from the wallop against the heavy oak door, the bruises scattered over his body, and muscles stressed during the altercation. Luckily, he was a quick healer and daily hot baths, soothing compresses given by his uncle for the biggest bruises, and deep massages from Samuel speeded his recovery.
The combination of bath, medicines, and massage definitely helped that first morning, Darcy exiting his dressing room prepared to deal with the consequences of the prior night’s events.
Richard had not returned to Darcy House during the night, assuming his cousin would be otherwise occupied and trusting that Dr. Darcy would handle the medical needs with his typical brilliance. Besides, after taking care of matters as completely as possible considering the late hour and extending thanks to the men from his former regiment, all of whom had enjoyed themselves and shrugged off his thanks, he was exhausted and hungry for his wife’s comforting arms.
However, knowing his cousin as well as he did, Richard rose early and rode straight to Darcy House after breakfasting with his new family. Once the hot pot of coffee was delivered to the combination study and library where Darcy sat waiting and steaming cups were held in their hands, Richard launched into his update.
“The men guarding the house were scum Wickham had hired. None of them had any idea they were working for the Marquis of Orman, content to take the money and ask no questions. The fear instilled by my associates and I, obviously military despite not wearing uniforms, was enough to subdue, especially after a spell in Newgate just for good measure.”
He sipped gingerly, continuing, “My comrades enjoyed trussing them up and finding the ricketiest cart obtainable for the long ride back to town. A handful of coins to the gaoler and vague information on their crime will be enough to keep them in misery for a good while.”
“Will they be executed?”
Richard shrugged. “It is easy to arrange that and they deserve it since they knew a woman and child had been kidnapped. Men of that ilk should not be roaming free for the next criminal to take advantage of. I will see what I can arrange and still leave your name out of it.”
“Thanks. What about Orman?”
“Still raving and frothing at the mouth last I saw. Campbell and Willet took him to Bethlem. No news from them today, but I plan to visit the barracks when I leave here. I am not a doctor, Cousin, but the man seems insane to me. It might get tricky since he is a peer of the realm. However, if your name has to come into it, we can merely say he threatened you in some way and not mention Elizabeth or Alexander.”
Darcy visibly relaxed, sighing and nodding in relief. “I will go to great extremes to prevent them being dragged into this and harmed in any way possible.”
“Even lie?”
“I know, I know. It goes against every principle I embrace, but in this situation I will employ every ounce of my poker skills to bluff if need be.”
Richard could not resist laughing. “Well, let us work on a plausible story since your skills at poker are dismal!” Darcy grunted but did smile, and Richard continued. “It will not be difficult to spin a tale. Everyone knows your past with Orman, and his insanity and living conditions are real enough. I say keep it simple and close to the truth. Call me a cynic, but I would be shocked if the authorities waste time on investigating too thoroughly. They will take one look at him, toss him into a cell, and happily confiscate what property and money he has in the name of the Crown. He will not be an enigma in that madhouse they call a hospital, I assure you. He can share a room with Lord Attenborough or Baron Warburton.”
They spent a few more minutes hammering out the finer details and then broached the most distressing topic of all.
“What about Wickham? I am not crying at his demise, but he was, well…”
“Family,” Darcy spat bitterly, “yes, I know.” He paused for a large swallow of coffee. “What did you do with his body?”
“We took it to the yard, placed in the morgue for now. No questions will be asked, yet, but I cannot keep him there forever. May I make a suggestion?”
“By all means do.”
Richard leaned forward. “From what I have deduced, the only person on this planet who will miss the wretch is Mrs. Wickham. I do sympathize with her loss since she appeared to love him. Therefore, I see no point in multiplying her grief by learning the truth about the man she was married to or how he died. Certainly knowing you were involved will add unnecessary strain that benefits no one.”
“No argument there. I am not looking forward to telling Elizabeth he died at my hand, let alone sharing that with Mrs. Wickham and the Bennets.”
Richard barked a laugh. “I would not worry about Elizabeth’s reaction. Somehow I think she will show her gratitude and pride enthusiastically. As for the rest, here is what I propose: We know he left Mrs. Wickham over a week ago, sending her home or wherever while he came on to London. It does not matter what story he concocted for her benefit. All you have to say is that he was discovered dead on the side of the road, neck broken as a result of falling from his horse as far as can be ascertained, and you were contacted because of this.”
Richard pulled a folded paper from his coat pocket, placing it into Darcy’s hand. The parchment piece was yellowed with age and torn along the edges, the creases grimy after years of being stuffed into pockets, and the charcoal drawn faces smudged in places, but there was no doubt who the two smiling young men were even if their names had not been written underneath.
“I remember sitting for this,” Darcy whispered mouth agape in shock. “We were days away from leaving for Cambridge. Mr. Wickham was proud that his son was to attend with me, intelligent enough to pass the entrance exams even though younger. He held such high hopes of his son’s success.” Darcy coughed around the tightness in his throat, not every memory involving Wickham an unhappy one, especially where Pemberley’s previous steward was concerned. “Mr. Wickham requested his wife draw us. She was talented with charcoal, although not as much with paints. I have to admit that during this time, especially noting how happy his family and my father were, I completely forgot my misgivings where Wickham was concerned. For a while he was George again, my boyhood friend.”
“It was among his papers, the only personal item. He did not even have a drawing or reference to his wife.”
“Mr. Wickham had this framed. I remember it sitting on his desk. After he died, Wickham came for the funeral. I fulfilled Mr. Wickham’s wishes in giving everything to his son, other than a few trinkets specified for others. I gave the picture no thought. Why do you think he carried it?”
“I do not know, Darcy. Perhaps in a twisted way he held a modicum of affection for the past. Or then again, maybe it was so he could look at your face and heap curses, Gypsy style. We will never know and I beg you not to let it distress you. For the sake of the present, it provides a reason for why you learned of his death and were left to handle it. And we can point to this and his past connection with your family, positive as far as most know, as a way to deflect any rumors that may arise.”
“I find it difficult to believe he held any affection, so more likely the curse theory is the correct one.” He folded the paper, handing it back to Richard. “Nothing ties him to Orman?”
“Nothing that I can see. Even my spies drew blanks on that count.”
“What about Geoffrey Wiseman?”
“I will look into anything here in London, but he will disappear with no one the wiser, I suppose, except for
