A Wife for Mr. Darcy

for more than a day because of your thoughtless actions, and they will be glad to have the extra rations. Of course, that means you will go without any nourishment until breakfast.”
    “Mr. Wickham told me how arrogant you were and how you denied him his proper inheritance,” Lydia said, practically spitting out the words, “and he warned me that everything that comes out of your mouth when talking about him are lies.”
    “Lies. That is a good place to start because, Miss Lydia, you have been used most grievously. You have your sisters to thank for your rescue. When Jane read of Wickham’s excessive attention to you, she wrote to Elizabeth at Pemberley. Unfortunately for Wickham, but fortunately for you, I knew the truth about his meanness of character.”
    Lydia turned her back to him and went to the window.
    “And I have the documents to prove it, and since you have a solicitor in the family, he may wish to examine the receipt for three thousand pounds paid to Wickham by me in lieu of a living or another receipt for one thousand pounds as settlement of my father’s will. That is a lot of money, Miss Lydia. Where is it?”
    Lydia turned to face him, and he could see by the look on her face that he had succeeded in planting seeds of doubt. But a defiant Lydia insisted that she would have married him anyway.
    “You see, Miss Lydia, the problem is, he would never have married you . You do not solve his problems. He is knee deep in debt, and if the colonel cannot bring charges against him, he will turn him over to the debtors’ courts. Since he has no way of coming up with the many hundreds of pounds he owes, probably just here in Brighton alone, he will be sent to debtors’ prison. Wives are allowed to join their husbands if they can pay for their board, but I would not recommend it. Marshalsea Prison is right on the Thames, and it gets very cold there, and the dampness creeps right into your bones.”

The only other time Darcy remembered being this fatigued was when he had received word that his father had died. Richard and he had been on the Grand Tour, and they were making their way south through France with a destination of Nice when the news had reached him. With his sister’s wellbeing in mind, Darcy had made record time in reaching the port of Calais, but then there was still the Channel crossing and the long journey to Derbyshire. When he had finally arrived, he was unshaven, bedraggled, and in need of a bath, much as he was now. Thank goodness he was back in his own home, and he would shortly be asleep in his own bed.
    “Will, let me have Mercer draw you a bath,” Georgiana said to her brother, who was slumped in a leather chair in the study, saying he was too dirty to sit anywhere else.
    “No. Please don’t. He is more tired than I am.”
    “Then I shall ask Rogers.”
    “No, first I want to have something to eat, then a bath, and then I am to bed, hopefully, until late tomorrow morning. I am weary to the bone. I do not even know how long it has been since I left Pemberley.”
    “This is the sixth day since you departed, but tell me what happened in Brighton. Hopefully, you were in time.”
    “We were in time. When I left Miss Lydia, she was sobbing in her father’s arms. Mr. Bennet was very grateful for my intervention, but all he wanted to do was to get his daughter home. I assume your return to London was uneventful?”
    “Perfectly so,” Georgiana answered. “The three of us left the day after you did. Richard has returned to his regiment, and as for Antony, well, he is staying here—not permanently, of course, but please allow me to explain.”
    “Please do.” Darcy was so tired he did not have the energy to protest.
    “Before leaving London, Antony hired an agent to find someone to take up the lease on the townhouse, and in the short time we were gone, the agent found someone—a Mr. Whitby. Antony says he’s as rich as Croesus and made his money in hemp, whatever that means.”
    “Whitby supplies the Royal Navy with much of its rope. Through Bingley’s financial advisor, you and I are venturers in his concern, and he has done very well by us.”
    “Antony said he asked a ridiculous amount for the lease, and Mr. Whitby did not bat an eye when the agent mentioned the amount of the rent. They are to go to Briarwood, and our dear cousin is hoping the gentleman will buy the manor house. I received Mr. Whitby here for dinner, and I watched as Antony shamelessly told that