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Posted on Sunday, 24 June 2007
Chapter 1
March, 1822
Lydia sighed.
The house was a mess. Her children needed baths, a meal, clean clothes . . . frankly, they needed everything.
After nearly 10 years of married life, there were 5 Wickham children: George jr, 8, Thomas, 7, Lizzy, 5, Janie, 3, a young Alexander, 1 – and now she suspected that there would be another.
She needed another maid, at least, to manage it all. Instead, she was facing a sullen Margie who insisted on being paid, and now. Lydia knew the routine: as soon as the girl was paid she would be gone, never to return.
"I cannot pay you now, Margie," she insisted wearily. "You will simply have to wait until Mr Wickham comes home and gives me the money. In the meantime, would you please give Lizzie and Janie their baths while I mind Alex."
Margie stubbornly shook her head.
"Yer been sayin that fer four days now, ma'am. He hasn't showed up yet."
Lydia did not need to be reminded. Her husband's absences from home, always unexplained, were happening with more frequency and lasting longer.
And when he was home, his mood was generally foul. The 'brats' were in his way; the meals were not up to his standards; his wife left much to be desired. Nothing suited him, and everything was Lydia's fault.
When she informed him that she needed money, he would retort "Learn to manage better," in a tone whose menacing nature she had come to recognize. It silenced her, now, as it would not have done early in their marriage when she had noisily insisted that she could not manage better on next to nothing.
When her "dear Wickie" was tired of being bothered about money, he taught his wife the value of silence. Never had Lydia believed that anyone would apply violence to her, but she had learned otherwise.
A squabble between Thomas and Lizzie at last became loud enough to get their mother's attention. Yelling at them to hush, she turned back to the cantankerous maid.
"He will return as soon as he is able. In the meantime we must do what needs to be done, beginning with the baths."
"Yer 'ave no way of knowin he'll come back," Margie stood her ground. "With all the bridle cull* attacking carriages in the country, there's no tellin if an when a body'll turn up."
"I do not," Lydia turned on her furiously, "need to be reminded of the dangers on the roads. I hear the stories as well as you. But Mr Wickham can defend himself. He's not one of those sissies who is afraid to leave town because of a highwayman or two."
"It's a whole gang," insisted Margie. Not even yer Mr Wickham can beat an entire gang a robbers."
"Bath, Margie. The children need their bath."
"My pay, ma'am. Yer owe me three months pay."
"When Mr Wickham returns . . . " her voice trailed off. In disbelief Lydia watched Margie remove her apron and walk out the door.
She was alone with five children, no help, next to no money, a minimum of firewood and water – to say nothing of food.
Despair overwhelmed her. Lydia placed her youngest on the floor at her feet, sat down on the nearest chair and wailed.
*bridle cull – highwaymen
Chapter 2
Wickham did indeed return home later that night.
Both Janie and Alex sat on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Lizzy had been going through every cupboard and closet, hoping to find something she could eat.
All she managed to do was disturb a rat that snapped at her. With that she joined the little ones in their tears.
George and Thomas surveyed the scene from the corner farthest away from the door. When dusk began to descend, the two oldest silently slipped out. Lydia hardly paid attention. She was warming up what little water she had to bathe the younger children.
Her husband walked in at that point, an immediate sneer indicating his displeasure at the scene.
He yelled at the children to silence them, barked at Lydia for his supper, and sat at the table, pulling out a bottle.
Hesitantly she informed him that there wasn't a crumb in the house. He threw some coins her way and ordered that she find something. Lydia snatched up her youngest and left, Lizzy and Janie trailing behind her.
A half hour later she returned with a bag of buns and sausages from the nearest tavern. With some of the water that she'd been heating for baths she produced a pot of tea and the Wickhams sat down to a late supper.
"Where are the boys?" As his wife was cutting up Janie's sausage, Wickham had noticed at last that his sons were missing.
She sighed. "I cannot say. When there is no food in the house, they just leave."
"I should have known that your mother lacked the sense to train you to run a household," he snapped. "Youngsters need discipline – something you wouldn't know about."
She remained silent.
Once they had eaten, she washed the children as best she could and put them to bed.
"Get yourself over here," Wickham ordered.
"The dishes . . . "
"Now!"
She went to him, knowing well what he wanted. Her husband proceeded to help himself to what his wife had to offer; she was half undressed when the two older boys snuck in.
Furious at the interruption, Wickham took a strap to both boys until he had reduced them to tears.
"Pack up your stuff before you get to bed," he ordered. "We leave Newcastle in the morning."
"All of us?" questioned a completely surprised Lydia.
"No, not all of us," he replied sarcastically. "I'm taking those two to school. It's time they learned something useful."
"School? Can we afford a school? Where is it? They will need new clothes . . . ."
"They need what I say they need." Turning back to George jr and Thomas, Wickham snarled, "Get to bed – and quick. I expect you ready at dawn."
The night was far advanced before Wickham was done with Lydia. Exhausted, she was asleep the moment he let her be.
When her husband stirred first thing in the morning, she hardly noticed. Wickham and the boys were gone by the time Lydia was fully awake. It was mid-morning before she managed to rouse herself to feed the little ones. Instructing Lizzy to look after her younger siblings, Lydia set out to fetch water, then headed for the market.
She used most of the few coins left for wood and a bit of coal, and also managed to purchase some chewitts and a small kidney pie.
There was nothing left to pay Margie.
Lydia took to bringing her three little ones to bed with her, even in the afternoon. Napping together, they kept each other warm, and sleeping children did not whine to be fed.
By the third day after Wickham had left with the boys, his family was once again out of everything. Lydia was desperate – when would he return with household money? What was she to do in the meantime?
All these years their income had been augmented by Mr Darcy and sometimes the Bingleys. Her mother had frequently sent money from home. But it had been some weeks now since Lydia had received any mail, and without those letters there was nothing from Longbourn, nothing from Swithers Grange where the Bingleys now lived. The money from Mr Darcy came to her via Wickham's regiment, but she had seen none of that for some weeks, either. Asking Wickham about the missing funds only brought on his raucous laughter.
"Darcy is no doubt fed up playing the generous brother," he informed her. "Perhaps he has tired of Mrs Darcy, and you, being her sister, will feel the consequences."
Posted on Saturday, 30 June 2007
Chapter 3
She sighed as she turned over the various possibilities in her mind, but unless the mail brought her a letter with some money in it, she knew not where to turn.
It was while Lydia was thus despondent about her situation that she received a visitor.
To her considerable surprise, Wickham's commanding officer appeared at her door.
"Colonel Cleland! I am sorry, but my husband . . . is not here . . ." Struck by his look, Lydia's voice trailed off.
"I see. May I ask, Mrs Wickham, when he was last here?"
Her hesitation was not overlooked. The Colonel looked about the apartment, looked at the children whose tear-stained faces peaked out at him from behind their mother's skirt, and could not miss the decided chill in the place.
"He did not come home last night?"
Embarrassed, she could only shake her head.
"The night before?"
"No, it has been three days since we saw him. He left Tuesday morning – early – to bring our boys to school."
"To school?" He seemed surprised. "Which school are your sons attending, may I ask?"
"I cannot say . . . I am sorry, but . . . he . . . he did not tell me."
"Mr Darcy mentioned nothing about schooling for your sons, Mrs Wickham, not has he sent additional funds for that."
"I have not received a penny from Pemberley for weeks," she said resentfully.
"Mr Darcy has faithfully remitted the usual amount, Ma'am. I have been sending it to you via young Jim Hants every week," he declared firmly. "Surely you have enough with your husband's income, with Mr Darcy's contribution – and I understand that you occasionally receive funds from your parents and some of your sisters. Have you no maid?"
Again Lydia shook her head.
"Why ever not? How do you manage?"
Looking around him, it was rather obvious that she was not managing well at all.
"She left . . . last week . . . because I had not been able to pay her for three months and she was not willing to wait any longer."
The Colonel looked at her severely.
"Mrs Wickham, what have you been doing with all your income? Considering the amount given you for this household, there is no need to neglect the servants' wages."
Lydia's face burned in shame and anger.
"The amount I am given for this household, sir? Surely you know that I have received not a penny from Mr Darcy for some weeks now, and there has been no mail from anyone else in the family, either. When I ask Mr Wickham for household money, he gives me a few coins, hardly enough to supply us with food . . . definitely not enough for anything else."
The Colonel frowned.
"Mr Darcy has not been remiss in sending the usual amount for you, Ma'am. What happens to the money when young Jim Hants brings it?"
"He has not been here."
The Colonel hardly looked as though he believed her. He looked around the place again – she wondered what it was he was searching for. Finally his eyes returned to her.
"Do you drink, Mrs Wickham?"
He could hardly get any more blunt than that, and it was enough for Colonel Cleland to see a little of the Lydia of old.
"How DARE you suggest . . . ." She was furious to the point where she could hardly continue.
After one deep breath, Lydia found her stride.
"Perhaps, Colonel Cleland, if your officers drank less, and gambled less, their families would have the resources to sustain them and you would be spared the need to insult their wives.
”Were your men sober more often, they might not feel the need to beat their children and . . . "
Just in time, the thought occurred to her that Wickham would not appreciate her complaining to his commanding officer. She did not need him to take his inevitable wrath out on her.
But Colonel Cleland had heard enough.
With another look around the Wickham habitation, he excused himself, promising to be back before the day was done.
Lydia did not believe him. Why would she?
She was too numb even for tears.
Chapter 4
But Colonel Cleland did return.
Before the sun was down, he knocked again at the Wickhams' door.
This time he was accompanied by several of his men laden with wood, coal, foodstuffs – enough to last for days – certainly more supplies than Lydia had seen in a good many weeks.
The Colonel sent out all the men but one to fetch water. Staying behind with him was a rather frightened-looking boy who turned out to be Jim Hants.
"I have spoken to this young man, Mrs Wickham. And it seems that I owe you an apology. Instead of following my orders to deliver Mr Darcy's money to you, he claims to have been giving it to your husband – on Mr Wickham's orders. Assuming that he has been telling me the truth, your claim to lack the funds from Pemberley must be accurate.
"Be assured that Jim's punishment will be severe, and that I will get the necessary money to you, as per my agreement with your brother.
"Will there be anything else, Ma'am?"
Once again she could only shake her head, but this time it was in amazement at her sudden good fortune.
"One more thing, Mrs Wickham. By now, your husband has officially deserted. I will be posting a guard outside – should he return, he will not be entering your home. Instead I will see to it that Mr Wickham is taken into military custody."
With that the men left.
The Wickhams feasted that evening in warm, cozy accommodations. Lydia managed to bathe her little ones, and was even able to wash her own hair – something that felt downright luxurious.
Morning broke warm and sunny. While feeding breakfast to the three little ones, Lydia decided on a treat: they were going to the nearest park. The children had not enjoyed an outing
in the longest time; Wickham had always been furious if he came home to find her away, and gradually she had given up on the idea.
Certainly there was laundry to do, and the place needed a good scrubbing, but that could wait. They all needed to get out.
Before she was able to leave, Lydia was surprised by more visitors. A sturdy woman accompanied by Jim Hants presented herself with a note from Colonel Cleland, explaining that Mrs Alton was to spend the day at the Wickhams', doing the laundry and as much else as she could get done. Young Hants, like it or not, was designated her helper. One look at his face made it clear how demeaning he considered his designated tasks; it was hardly what the boy
had expected on joining the army.
Lydia showed Mrs Alton where to find what she needed for the chores and packed up her children for their planned outing.
She managed to hire a hack to convey them to the park, where they proceeded to have the best time of it in weeks. The place was popular with military families on outings, and soon Lydia was in her element, gossiping with the wives of officers from Colonel Cleland's regiment while her girls played with theirs, and little Alex alternately toddled away from his mother only to sit himself on the ground with a plunk before demanding she stand him up again.
Venders plied their trade at the edge of the green space, giving them the opportunity to munch on a treat for luncheon. At this rate, she could once again enjoy life in Newcastle, Lydia soon decided.
When the other families began to disperse, the Wickhams most reluctantly packed up as well, located another conveyance to return them home and soon entered their lodgings.
Lydia had to convince herself that the old dread of returning to the place need not haunt her any more. Colonel Cleland had promised to keep watch, and he obviously was going just that. The soldier on guard could not be missed.
She could not help, though, wondering how long this could last? Even if her husband was punished for desertion, how long an incarceration would he be subject to? Once he was
released, would her life not quickly return to what it had deteriorated to?
Lydia would not be easy – not completely easy, anyway.
Entering the apartment, they were greeted with the appetizing aroma of stew bubbling on the stove. Mrs Alton came to greet them, apologizing that there hadn't been enough time for her to bake bread, and indeed, much of the laundry was still hanging on the line behind the building.
"But it looks to stay warm and dry all night, Ma'am, so you should be able to leave it out until morning. By then I would think everything should have dried."
She continued, "Colonel Cleland says that if you're pleased with my work, he'll send me here twice every week. I can do the laundry on one day and iron as well as clean the place on the other."
"Oh, yes!" Lydia's eyes lit up. But then she remembered Margie and a succession of maids before her, and hesitated. "How much would you be expecting me to pay you, Mrs Alton?"
"Oh, no, Mrs Wickham. The Colonel pays me – he said you weren't to worry about that. With your husband . . . . " Mrs Alton hesitated. "Anyway, you are not to pay me. That is my arrangement with Colonel Cleland. Says he won't let the families of his officers be disgraced."
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Lydia could only agree. Mrs Alton finished the last of her chores and put away her things while the Hants boy trudged off to fill every single tub and pail with fresh water to last them the night, if not all the next day.
The evening passed pleasantly enough. With their stomachs satisfyingly full, the children were soon tucked in and asleep, the outing having quite exhausted them.
Once she had put their things away, Lydia found that for the first time in months, if not years, she could relax – fully relax – and enjoy a quiet hour before she, too, headed off to bed.
Jim Hants showed up every morning, emptied the chamber pots and waste water before fetching them a plentiful supply of fresh. He carefully inquired if Mrs Wickham needed anything else before he left, and Lydia soon found herself saving jobs for him to do. Having his services certainly helped a lot, although she doubted he was enjoying this aspect of his life.
Mrs Alton came as promised and cheerfully set to work. This time she did pull a batch of bread from the oven before leaving the place immaculate and their clothes neatly put away.
They feasted on fresh bread and butter that evening, along with some strawberries that Lydia had found at the market – the first of the season, she thought. Either that or her previous limited ability to shop had not given her the opportunity to notice them. At any rate, she never knew the fruit could taste so good. At Longbourne berries as well as apples, plums and pears had grown in their garden, but she had paid them little attention, taking the fruits very much for granted. Living in Newcastle on a very limited budget had made them much more valuable.
Posted on Friday, 6 July 2007
Chapter 5
Colonel Cleland paid her another visit the next morning. Once Jim Hants was done his usual chores, he was ordered to take the children outside and amuse them while his commanding officer spoke with Mrs Wickham.
Lydia did not miss the stunned look on the young man's face before he hesitantly and not very happily shepherded the children out the door.
She turned to the Colonel, who looked very grave indeed.
"Mrs Wickham," he began, "I have news that may quite shock you. Your husband has been found."
Lydia's stomach began to tighten. Was her short period of freedom at an end?
"My men have been patrolling the road north of town regularly – you have heard, no doubt, about the problems with highwaymen robbing and . . . well, robbing coaches?"
"Yes," was all she managed.
"Three days ago a report reached me that the gang had held up a coach that gave them rather more trouble than they had bargained for. Two well-armed men were riding in it, and defended themselves ably. Three of the robbers were killed; two more escaped, but the gentlemen believed them to have been injured.
"We have located the injured men, who are now in the local prison awaiting trial for robbery and murder. And they have been cooperating fully in our investigation, no doubt hoping for a lighter sentence."
He hesitated, refusing to meet her eyes for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued.
"Of the three who were killed during that attempted robbery, we have been able to identify one man. The prisoners claim that he was their leader. They knew him as Tom Bennet."
Lydia gasped.
"We knew him as George Wickham."
At first she could not believe what she was hearing. Her husband, a robber? A highwayman? The man who had once been her Wickie was the notorious rake who not only robbed travelers on the road, but was rumoured to have had his way with any woman that he was able to take away from her traveling companions? Wickham the leader of the band of robbers who had terrorized Newcastle for months? And he had the audacity to do it using her father's name!
Her husband. The man she thought she had loved, had eloped with . . . the man who had turned out to be so very different from what the young Lydia had foolishly believed him to be those ten years back. She had convinced herself that he loved her at the time – a conviction that she had long ago come to doubt.
Mr Darcy's efforts to convince her to leave Wickham and return to her family came to mind. How she had despised him for it – and how wise he had turned out to be.
She was a widow – a widow with five children and likely another on the way.
Which brought up another matter: George jr, and Thomas. Wickham had taken them away to school, but she had no idea which school, or where it might be.
How would she find her boys again?
She raised the subject with Colonel Cleland. He knew no more than she did, and with Wickham dead, he had no way of finding out anything more. For now the Wickham boys were missing.
When the Colonel left with Jim Hants, Lydia hardly knew what she felt.
Her husband was dead. She ought to mourn him – which reminded her that she ought to be in mourning. While she now had sufficient money in the house to meet the basic needs for the children and herself, purchasing a complete new wardrobe was something else entirely.
Had she not always hated black? How could she, how could any woman look well in black? Yet if she refused to wear mourning, she would cause a scandal – and how would Colonel Cleland react? She was completely dependent on him, she knew well. Much as she might resent it, his opinion mattered.
While she was mulling this latest development over in her mind, she was surprised by yet another visitor: Mrs Cleland had come to call.
Lydia did not know the Colonel's wife well, having always considered her too old and too stodgy to be of interest. Now, however, things were different. Not only was she dependent on the husband, she undoubtedly needed the wife's good will as well.
The lady quickly made it clear that she had not come with expectations that she be entertained. She was concerned about the young family, and seemed eager to help.
Mrs Cleland had questions that Lydia herself had not yet come around to considering.
Did she wish the regiment to provide a military funeral? Since she had no family near Newcastle, what were her plans? Would she consider returning to her parents, or other relations?
They were all questions that Lydia understood she needed to deal with; they were asked gently but firmly.
The military burial she accepted with gratitude. Really – what else could she do?
About staying on in Newcastle – what would be the point? The place held some pleasant memories, certainly, but there were also many others that she would rather put behind her.
Yet there was the matter of her missing sons. What would happen to them if she left her current address?
She was reassured that Colonel Cleland would take care of the matter. Any mail that came for her would be promptly forwarded to Mr Darcy. If the boys came looking for their family, the regiment would see to it that they were brought to Pemberley, where Mr Darcy would then see to reuniting them with their family.
Finally Lydia was assured that her leaving Newcastle was not a problem; she was not abandoning her sons. It was with considerable relief that she finally told Mrs Cleland that yes, she would like to go home to Hertfordshire.
The colonel's wife was surprised at her choice. Hertfordshire, she gently pointed out, was quite a long trip to undertake with three small children. Derbyshire was ever so much closer; surely Mrs Wickham's sister would have no objections to their seeking refuge at Pemberley. Her sister might not, Lydia thought dully, but she herself certainly did. Pemberley, grand as it might be, was not Longbourn; was not home. Lydia felt an overwhelming need to go home.
Mrs Cleland might be soft-spoken and gentle – not unlike her sister Jane, Lydia thought at one point – but she could be firm when she knew herself to be in the right, and when it came to Mrs Wickham choosing Derbyshire over Hertfordshire as a destination, Mrs Cleland was convinced of being right: the shorter journey was preferable. It also helped that she knew quite a lot about Mr Darcy, and everything she had ever heard about the man augured well. About Lydia's parents, on the other hand, she had never heard a thing. She was aware only of the fact that they had raised a daughter rather lacking in sense and discretion, for Mrs Cleland had never believed that marrying Mr Wickham at such a young age had been a prudent thing for Mrs Wickham to do. Recent events had only confirmed her initial opinion.
Reluctantly Lydia at last backed down: she would take the children to Pemberley.
Chapter 6
Wearing the mourning gown that the Colonel's wife had supplied, Mrs Wickham paid one brief visit to her husband's grave. It was her last day in Newcastle; tomorrow morning she was to set out for Derbyshire.
Colonel Cleland paid their fare and saw to it that the family was safely ensconced in the coach that would take them on the first leg of their journey. As the day dragged on and the children alternated between restless complaints and napping, Lydia found herself dealing with cramps.
She did not recall having felt anything like this so early in her previous pregnancies, but with the endless jolting during the long ride, it was no doubt to be expected.
It was evening when they finally arrived at Darlington, and the weary little band trudged across the street to an inn. With funds that the Colonel had supplied, Lydia was able to afford food and lodgings. The children were asleep soon enough, but Lydia, now feeling a greater longing for Longbourn than ever, had to deal with more cramps before she was finally able to doze off.
Come morning she was surprised and somewhat distressed to find herself bleeding. Perhaps there was no baby after all.
They were now to board a coach for Derbyshire, but feeling unwell as she did, Lydia decided that with judicious use of the funds supplied by Colonel Cleland, she could manage the journey to Hertfordshire. She needed to go home. Her enquiries met with a satisfactory response: a coach for Leeds was to leave within the hour.
The children were more restless on this second day being cooped up in the coach, and Lydia found herself repeatedly running out of patience. She did not feel well, and the cramps were back, and they were intense.
Wearily she dragged the children to another inn, one that looked less expensive than the others on the street. Again they found food and lodging, but the currency left to her was shrinking at an alarming rate.
Once the children were in bed, Lydia dropped down on her own pillow, hoping for a good night’s sleep.
It was not to be.
The cramps were worse than ever, and she could no longer deny that her bleeding was heavier than any she had ever experienced. Tossing and turning all night brought no relief, and when at last the children awoke, she again sent Lizzy to find a maid.
When she came in response to her summons, the young girl was unsure what to do and left to get Mrs. Becker.
That lady turned out to be the wife of the innkeeper, who quickly assessed Lydia’s condition, complained loudly about the way her establishment was being abused, and left with a protesting Alex under her arm.
She eventually returned with the local apothecary, who did a cursory examination and declared that the bleeding must be stopped. This he was going to achieve by bleeding the patient.
Lydia was too exhausted to object, and was promptly bled – twice – before he left with a promise to return the next day. The maid was in and out several times. She brought a little breakfast for the children, for which Mrs. Becker promptly collected her fee.
The treatment did little to help matters, and Lydia continued to twist and turn in agony, moaning as her ordeal dragged on. At times she was quiet, only to be aroused again in an hour or so with continuing pain and misery.
The apothecary returned in the morning, bled her again, collected his fee as well and left, promising that the bleeding could not fail to stop. Lydia’s hands began to tingle; she started to shake uncontrollably. Although covered with blankets, she felt icy cold.
The same maid now fed the children and put them to bed. When Mrs. Becker looked in on them before going to bed herself, all was quiet.
In the morning, little Lizzy tried to wake her mother, but did not succeed. In tears she once again sought the maid that had helped them yesterday, who eventually found the time to return to the room with the teary-eyed little girl.
There both Janie and Alex were crying at the top of their lungs. The maid checked their mother, who did not stir. Finding Lydia deathly pale, she shook her – to no avail – and fled the room in a panic..
Mrs. Becker at last arrived on the scene to find her worst fears confirmed. The lady in the back room had passed away; her stash of money was used up (the innkeeper’s wife quickly seeing to that) and they were left with three hungry, crying children.
Loudly lamenting her fate, she summoned her husband. He immediately ordered her to be silent – did she want all the world to know they had a dead woman in the house? – and took charge.
The constable was summoned; the apothecary’s presence was once again demanded. It was quickly determined that the unknown woman had died in childbirth; she was to be buried in a pauper’s grave, the children taken to the nearest orphanage.
Lydia’s belongings quickly disappeared, Mr Becker being convinced that the fewer people knew about any of this, the better for the reputation of his establishment.
Posted on Saturday, 14 July 2007
Chapter 7
The very day that he had seen the Wickhams off on their way to Derbyshire, Colonel Cleland returned to the family's lodgings with two officers and Mrs Alton. They searched the place thoroughly but found nothing that connected Wickham to the highwaymen. One officer remarked as they left that so few of Wickham's belongings had been found that it was hard to believe the man had lived here. Colonel Cleland was up late into the night, composing a detailed missive to Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy about the matter.
The letter arrived at Pemberley two days later, providing no little surprise to its recipient.
Darcy went looking for his wife, currently very pregnant with their fourth. She was as astounded by the events as he, and prepared for the imminent arrival of the Wickhams.
One concern that they did not discuss in front of family or staff was Colonel Cleland’s account of the missing boys. This development was puzzling in the extreme. That Wickham would, on the spur of the moment, place his sons in a school did not ring true with either Darcy or Elizabeth.
When night fell with no sign of Lydia or her little ones, the Darcys finally started dinner without the expected guests, and eventually retired, wondering what had delayed their sister.
Later, alone in Elizabeth’s room, she and her husband at last discussed the missing boys.
What could Wickham have done with them? What school was likely to take them on such short notice, at tuition that Wickham was willing and able to pay? And why – why the sudden decision about a school?
The expected behaviour would have been for him to pressure Lydia to write to the Darcys or the Bingleys to beg money for tuition, yet Darcy had received no such request, Elizabeth had received no letter from Lydia in several months, and the Bingleys had indicated nothing of the sort, either.
They settled that Elizabeth would write to Jane in the morning – after all, there was a possibility that Lydia had changed her mind and was even now safely at Swithers Grange.
The letter was dispatched early in the morning , and the servant had strict orders to return with Mrs Bingley’s reply.
That reply, however, only made it clear that Charles and Jane were as astonished as the Darcys at the information Colonel Cleland had related, and they had seen no sign of Lydia, either.
When another day passed and the little family still had not arrived at Pemberley, Elizabeth began to seriously worry about her youngest sister. The Colonel had been precise: Lydia had boarded a coach bound for Darlington, where they were to stay the night.
The following morning she was to take another coach, which would have brought her, if not precisely to Pemberley, at least very close.
Darcy sent out three trusted men to scour the nearby towns and villages that might be a stop-over between Lambton and Darlington – perhaps something had slowed the family down?
They returned, having learned nothing.
Lydia and her children had now been missing for a week. It was time to consult the Colonel again, and Darcy sent an express early the following morning that would reach Colonel Cleland late in the day.
That the Colonel was astonished at Lydia’s disappearance with her children was obvious from his hastily penned reply, which reached Pemberley little more than 24 hours after Darcy’s letter had left. He was going to investigate at his end; could Mr Darcy begin again from Derbyshire?
The search for the Wickhams was on – this time it included the older boys, the three younger children and Lydia herself.
Another express reached Pemberley less than a day later. While it brought no news that Lydia had been found, it did reveal the information that Mrs Cleland had to persuade Lydia to bring her children to Pemberley – had the choice been Lydia’s, her destination would have been Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth’s spirits sank. It was enough of a challenge to find the missing Wickhams between Newcastle and Derbyshire; adding a possible change in destination to as far away as Hertfordshire turned the search into an undertaking on a massive scale.
Darcy, now becoming concerned that the situation with her missing sister could stress Elizabeth to the point where her infant was affected, made every effort to project a calm, controlled image. He should have known that it was pointless; his wife knew him too well to be fooled.
Where to begin? It was unthinkable to write to Longbourn. Should Lydia not have arrived there, either, such a letter would only distress her parents. Just the thought of Mrs Bennet’s wailings and flutterings threatened to bring on a Darcy headache.
He could go to either Newcastle or London himself, hire an investigator and start a professional search for Lydia – but it was equally unthinkable to leave Elizabeth so close to her confinement.
That left him two choices: ask Bingley to undertake the trip, or make the arrangements by letter. Neither he nor Bingley were acquainted with anyone in Newcastle who could handle such a commission, and Darcy was not interested in entrusting the matter to strangers. In London he did know who to turn to, but precious time would be lost while the letter made its way south, and the investigators then traveled north.
Still, it needed to be done.
Darcy wrote a detailed explanation of everything he knew about the missing Wickhams, complete with the direction to contact Colonel Cleland, and a miniature of George Wickham that was to be copied for the men who would conduct the search.
That express left Pemberley before dawn the following morning. Per Darcy's instructions, one man was to spend sufficient time in and around Meryton to learn if news of the Wickhams’ arrival at Longbourn was making the rounds of the gossip circuit. If that was the case, he would send an immediate express to Pemberley as well as one to his partner who was already en route to Newcastle. If there was no indication that the Bennets were hosting visitors, an express to that effect was to be dispatched to Pemberley, while the man would immediately follow his companion north.
There was now little to do but wait. Elizabeth fretted; Darcy alternated between anger at Wickham and worry about his family. Over at Swithers Grange the Bingleys fared no better.
Where was Lydia? Where were the children?
Chapter 8
At Pemberley the Darcys distracted themselves as best they could with the daily routine of family life, with the management of the house and estate, with extensive time spent with their own children.
During private moments they consoled each other with comforting embraces and quiet conversation. More and more it was obvious that something had gone horribly wrong with Lydia.
When the first of the investigators’ reports reached them, it offered no succour. Mr Johnson reported no visitors at Longbourn; that last faint hope was gone. The search would now concentrate on possible routes from Newcastle.
Roughly every third day Johnson and Hadley penned their reports. As they worked their way north, they turned up nothing, and arrived in Newcastle with empty hands.
After a consultation with Colonel Cleland they started the search again, this time following Lydia's route south.
Having learned from the Colonel exactly which coach Lydia had taken for Darlington, they made sure to be at the posting inn precisely at that time. At last they met with success: the coachman did indeed remember the lady with three young children he had brought to Darlington some two weeks ago. He could even point them to the inn at which they had stayed.
Johnson and Hadley began to feel some optimism at last.
Once they arrived in Darlington and were pointed to the Red Lion, they headed straight for it and began their inquiries.
Indeed, the innkeeper recalled the young family. They had stayed one night and departed in the morning.
No, he had not seen which coach they boarded, nor was he certain what time they had left.
Johnson and Hadley had a quiet supper, not missing an opportunity to question the serving girl or any maid that came their way. None offered anything useful, and at last they retired.
Was this the end of their luck?
Johnson arose at the crack of dawn and headed downstairs to begin his inquiries again. He saw no maids that had not already been approached the previous evening. The first coach was not expected for another couple of hours, so he slowly sauntered out to the stables.
A young lad was mucking out the farthest stalls, and Johnson casually made his way towards him and asked his questions.
The boy stopped his work only to look at him rather stupidly for a moment, then resumed his chores. A second time Johnson asked, with the same result.
Catching on, he took out a couple of coins and asked again. This time the lad stopped long enough to reach out a grimy hand. Receiving the coppers, he admitted that yes, he had seen the lady and her children.
Asked if she had taken the first coach to Scarborough or a later one, the boy looked genuinely surprised.
The lady had not taken a coach for Scarborough at all, he insisted. She had put her children on the earliest coach bound for Leeds.
Leeds? Johnson supplied two more coins. Leeds it was, the boy was certain. He had helped lift the little ones into the coach.
Hopeful once again, Johnson hurried back to their room and woke Hadley with the news. They had time for a leisurely breakfast and to pack their bags before meeting the coach for Leeds.
A further supply of coppers convinced the lad from the stables to confirm that the coachman was the same that had driven the lady with her children.
And yes, that man also remembered the young family. He was not certain which inn they had gone to in Leeds, but they definitely did travel to Leeds.
To Leeds Johnson and Hadley would also go.
Posted on Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Chapter 9
April 1822
Once they arrived, Johnson and Hadley checked into the Castle and Ball, and again began their inquiries. No one knew about the young family. There was time that evening to ask at two more inns, but the men learned nothing. They had no choice but to turn in and continue their efforts in the morning.
Both were up early to resume the search . Assuming that a woman traveling with small children was unlikely to go very far to seek accommodation, they concentrated on the inns within view of the posting inn.
Nothing.
When they got together that afternoon to compare notes, it looked discouraging. Each inn along the street had been visited; no one had noticed a thing.
After a quick repast they set out again, this time reversing their directions. Johnson now visited the Bell, the Queens Head, the Three Cranes, and the Swan, leaving Hadley to investigate the Fountain Inn, the Kings Arms, the Bull, and the Crown.
Again it was Johnson who thought he had a lead when he spoke with Mrs Becker at the Swan. Yes, she had seen a lady who might match that description, but it had been some time back; many guests had been here since, and she really could not recall the sort of detail the man wanted. Presumably the family had departed on some coach, but she was really too busy to watch where people went once they left the Swan.
It was not much, but when he once again compared results with Hadley that evening, it was all they had.
"It is interesting," Hadley mused over an ale. "When I checked at the Swan, I spoke with the owner, not with the wife. He insisted that no one answering to the Wickhams' description had stayed there at all. Now it seems that they did, indeed, go there. Why would he deny it?"
"It has been two weeks," Johnson pointed out. "People forget."
"Perhaps." Hadley did not sound convinced.
Before retiring for the night, they agreed that the Swan rated another look, especially since it seemed the only place that might be worth further effort. "As a matter of fact, why not take lodgings at the Swan," Hadley finally suggested. "What better way to have access to the place?"
In the morning they checked out of the Castle and Ball, and hired a hack to drive them through the town to Park Mills where they switched to a different hack for a visit to the ruins at Kirkstall Abbey overlooking the Aire. They wandered around the place until at last they deemed it a suitable time to check in at the Swan.
While Hadley secured their lodgings, Johnson wandered around back to seek further information. Two stable hands seemed to know nothing. Laundry was hanging behind the inn, and Johnson thought that showing himself there might bring him to the attention of more of the staff. It certainly did, but neither of the women offered any information.
Supper was a quiet affair under the watchful eye of the innkeeper. Hadley suspected that Becker remembered his previous visit. That might be a problem; it might also have advantages. Nervous men make mistakes.
After spending an appropriate time over ale at their table, the two retired to their room.
It was satisfactory if not luxurious.
"Looks like a brand new mattress," Hadley noted. "That's something we don't see in inns very often, especially in the not-so-prosperous establishments – which describes the Swan quite well."
Johnson grunted his assent as he prepared to turn in.
He bent down to push his trunk under the bed, but straightened up instead and asked Hadley to take a look. Surprised, he did so, and also saw what his partner had noticed. While the entire room appeared clean and freshly scrubbed, under the bed there appeared to be a stain – quite out of keeping with the cleanliness of the rest of the place.
Both wanted a closer look, but feared that pushing the bed aside would be heard below. Carefully they moved the blankets and mattress aside, and then each took an end of the bed, lifted it up and carefully moved a half dozen steps over before gently setting it down again.
A stain it was. They looked at each other, the same thought in both minds: blood. While it was certainly not fresh, it did not look to be particularly old, either. Carefully they put everything back in place and gave the room a thorough going-over. Nothing was out of place; the room was very neat and clean indeed. It was that very cleanliness which made the solitary stain all the more suspicious.
When they left their room for breakfast the following morning, everything was very neatly back in place. Each man had pushed his trunk under the bed on his own side; papers that could reveal the purpose of their visit to Leeds had been secreted in their coat pockets. The trunks were so very precisely packed that it would be virtually impossible for anyone trying to do a quick search to replace the contents as neatly as they found them.
They breakfasted under the watchful eye of their host. Their meal finished, Hadley gave Johnson an almost imperceptible nod and left the building, while the latter wandered over to Becker and started a conversation, informing the innkeeper that they had been hired by a wealthy lady who fancied herself an artist to scout out the area for suitable sites that she might paint.
They had been by the Aire, and had visited Kirkstall Abbey already and considered it one possibility, he confided in the man, but could Mr Becker recommend other scenic spots near the city, he wanted to know. Surely a man who ran a successful business and dealt with the public on a regular basis – a man such as himself – would know what was available. They had to provide a list of picturesque locations so that the lady would pay for their services.
Johnson was not at all sure that Becker bought his tale, but it was as good an excuse for exploring the area as any other.
"I hear that there's an estate not far from here – Harewood House, is it? Would it be worth takin' a look at?
"If the lady is so wealthy," Becker replied drily, "surely she can get herself a proper invitation to a place like Harewood House."
Johnson managed a smirk.
"She does not seem to have any connections, only money. And she's pretty tight with that," he nodded sagely.
"I know the type," Becker agreed.
Johnson pressed him again.
"What's the estate like? Can she get close enough to see anything worthwhile?"
Impatiently, the innkeeper responded, "I don't have time to go gallivantin' through the country. There's work to do here."
"Oh, of course."
This was as much as he was going to get from Becker, and it wasn't much.
Chapter 10
Johnson left the Swan, turned right and walked briskly along the street. Just before he reached the crossroad, he noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eyes. Hadley had secreted himself in a convenient spot to watch the comings and goings from the Swan. Johnson doubled back via the next street that brought him to the back of the Swan and kept watch there.
Nearly a half hour after Johnson left the inn, a young woman came through the same door, tying on a bonnet as she hurried out. Observing her for a moment, Hadley decided that she might be worth speaking to.
He stayed on his side of the street until they were out of sight of the Swan, then crossed over to her side, carefully checking if anyone followed her. She soon entered a shop, leaving Hadley to wile away the minutes out front.
When the girl returned outside with a small package, she continued down the street toward the investigator. Seeing no one else near them, Hadley approached her, politely doffed his cap and asked, "Excuse me, ma'am, I was looking for some information and thought you might be able to provide it."
She looked surprised.
"And what might I be able to help you with, sir?"
As soon as she understood the nature of his quest, she looked worried – frightened, even, Hadley thought.
"I need my position, sir."
"The lady's family is desperate to locate her, ma'am, and the children as well. Can you not help reunite them with their relations?"
"No."
"If necessary, I will speak to the constable. He will certainly see to it that you reveal what you know."
"That he will not," she insisted, now truly agitated. "And I will lose my position if I am seen speaking with you."
"You may lose a lot more than your position at the Swan, ma'am, if you do not confess what you know about the missing family."
She said no more, but hurried along. Hadley kept up with her, saying nothing, waiting for her to speak.
When she stopped at last outside another shop, she turned to him and said wearily, "You will find Mrs Wickham at the corner of Bowman and Dell." With that she entered the shop, leaving a rather surprised Hadley standing there. He had not mentioned the name Wickham to anyone in the inn – anyone in Leeds, for that matter – and he was certain Johnson would not have been so foolish, either. Yet she knew . . . and she worked at the Swan.
He retraced his steps, found Johnson and discussed the information with him. It was decided that they would visit Mrs Lydia Wickham together; there was no telling in what sort of place they might find her.
After several queries Johnson and Hadley found themselves on Dell Street headed toward Bowman. When at last they arrived at the intersection, they found a small church on one corner, several run-down houses on two others – and on the remaining corner a cemetery.
Neither was quite certain in what sort of place he expected to find Mrs Wickham, but a cemetery had not quite been on either mind . Yet there had been that blood . . . why should they not have considered death a possibility? Scant attention was paid to the houses at the intersection; they searched the cemetery.
The name Wickham was not to be found on any cross or headstone, but there was an obviously new grave.
They headed to the church across the way. An elderly housekeeper admitted them and went in search of an equally elderly minister.
Once they had explained their mission, he nodded gravely.
Yes, there had been a burial. Mr Becker had kindly paid the expenses out of his own pocket – was that not good of him?
The deceased was a young woman, he told them, who had apparently died in childbirth.
No one knew her name or where she was from, not even the constable. Nor did the good minister know how Mr Becker had come to pay the expenses; he just had, and the church was grateful, he assured them.
Asked if the deceased had any children, he shook his head. No children had accompanied the corpse; no one but Mr Becker and Constable Adderley.
They thanked the parson and turned their steps back to the Swan.
Now there was news to write to Mr Darcy, although it was hardly the sort of news he would have hoped for.
But their work was certainly not done. Assuming, as they did, that it was Mrs Wickham in that new grave, there remained the question of the children.
Mr Becker and Constable Adderley had claimed not to know the lady's name, yet the maid from the Swan knew it. Initially Becker had claimed that no one resembling the Wickham family had been at his inn, yet here he had been paying for the lady's burial. And Mrs Becker, who admitted to having remembered Mrs Wickham and her children, claimed to have no idea where they had gone after leaving their establishment.
The constable's involvement also explained why the maid was so convinced that he would not question her. If he was involved in – what exactly he might be involved in they could not be sure – then he already knew what there was to know about the matter and had no interest in doing anything further.
One possibility was, of course, that the Wickham children had simply been taken to a local orphanage; that would be the easiest way that Becker as well as Adderley could wash their hands of the three of them.
It could be a simple matter of the lady having died in the Swan without anyone having done her any harm. Yet why the secrecy – unless the Beckers simply did not want it known that someone had died in one of their rooms? It wasn't likely to be good for business.
Back in their room, the trunks were checked. It was certain that both had been tampered with.
Hadley went to work on his letter to Mr Darcy; there was quite enough to relate. That done, they went down for a late supper. Once again Becker kept a close watch on the two. They took their time with the meal and several tankards of ale – if the innkeeper wanted to watch them, they might as well give him something to watch.