Page 22 of Until My Last Breath

“If something happens to me, and I do not survive, I want you to know the truth. I do not want to die knowing you think ill of me.”

Those were the last words she heard from his lips before he fell into a troubled sleep.

~ ♥ ~

Richard had a most difficult task ahead of him. Of all the battles and campaigns he had fought against Napoleon on the Continent in his many years in His Majesty’s Army, nothing had prepared him for what he was about to do from this day on.

Lady Catherine had been displeased by the apparent desertion of both her nephews and rumours of trespassers, and asked her butler, Mr Gilbert, to inform her of Fitzwilliam and Darcy’s presence as soon as they were seen inside the house. So, when he saw the colonel entering the house, he did not waste any time in obeying his mistress and went to her.

“Gilbert!” Richard called the butler, halting the man quick steps. “Please tell my aunt to meet me in the drawing room as soon Mr and Mrs Collins arrive. Oh! And ask Cook to have some herbal tea prepared. At least two pots. Very strong and very sweet.”

Mr Gilbert, who had been Lady Catherine’s butler for the last fifteen years, had never seen Colonel Fitzwilliam’s countenance so dark. He knew something was amiss. Without any further delay, he went to the kitchen and passed on the colonel’s orders.

Mr and Mrs Collins did not take long to arrive, and they were directed to the drawing room. Lady Catherine soon joined them.

After a few more minutes, Richard also entered the room.

“What is the meaning of this, Fitzwilliam?” Lady Catherine asked, concern stamped on her face. “And where is Darcy? Why are Mr and MrsCollins here?”

The immediate silence in the room became heavy.

Richard inhaled deeply a couple of times. All eyes were on him now. “Please take a seat… and a cup of tea. Gilbert, would you mind pouring the tea, please?”

Richard waited for everyone to accommodate themselves before continuing. He knew his aunt’s weak heart would need him to be careful. “This morning, while I was breaking my fast, I heard a gunshot. I left the house…” he begun, narrating all the events as they had happened. “And so, I believe they were both taken away, and one of them, if not both, is seriously injured.”

Richard turned to Charlotte. “Mrs Collins, considering you are better acquainted with Mr Bennet and his family, would you mind writing a letter informing him of these events? Let him know we are doing everything to find not just my cousin but also Miss Elizabeth.”

Lady Catherine mumbled some strange words; she had a green expression that inspired care. Her lady’s maid was called to assist her. She was then conducted to her bedchamber and, after receiving some sleeping draughts, was left sleeping.

Richard excused himself and headed to his bedchamber. He had some letters to write.

~ ♥ ~

Making sure Mr Darcy was still breathing, Elizabeth took the remaining bandages and balled them into an improvised pillow, resting his head on it. Then, sitting on the opposite seat, she observed his broad chest rising and lowering in time to his laboured breath. He looked so vulnerable. She lifted another prayer for his life, begging once more for God to spare him.

After a long time, when her eyes were finally dry and she was able to focus them again, Elizabeth opened the curtains and started reading MrDarcy’s letter.

11th April 1816.

To Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

Please forgive me for presuming you would allow me the right to defend myself against the accusations you pressed against me last night, but my honour demands I clarify them.

The first of them is of a very personal nature and, therefore, I beg for your secrecy, as these facts could seriously damage my sister’s reputation.

Mr Wickham and I grew up together as he was the son of my father’s steward. My father was very fond of him and, after Wickham’s father passed away, my own father supported Wickham at school and later at university. Contrary to what you said yesterday, he received the education of a gentleman. Unfortunately, his behaviour was not consistent with it and soon I found out that his manners were lacking and far from proper, actually more aligned to dissolution and debauchery.

Wickham knew my father wanted him to take orders and receive the valuable living of our family, but when my father passed away five years ago, he seemed to have changed his mind, insisting he would rather prefer to study the law. He then received a compensation of three thousand pounds and our acquaintance was severed — until last summer.

My sister, Georgiana, is more than ten years my junior. After my father’s death, my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and I shared her guardianship — our mother having died shortly after Georgiana was born. Last summer, my sister was enjoying holidays with her companion, Mrs Younge, in Ramsgate, where Wickham presented himself as a family friend. After spending some time in her company, he led my sister to believe she was in love with him and that an elopement was the best way to keep them together. He cleverly pointed out that I would never be favourable toward someone of such low birth marrying my sister.

Fortunately, by God’s grace, planning to surprise her, I arrived at Ramsgate three days before the supposed elopement. On seeing me, my sister could not keep the truth to herself and acknowledged the whole plan immediately.

To my own mortification, I found out that Mrs Younge — the companion I had personally hired for my sister — and Mr Wickham were already lovers and had planned to use my sister’s dowry to start their new life somewhere far away, leaving her behind, disgraced and broken hearted.

You can imagine how I acted.

I do not see any of my decisions as unnecessary or cruel. I swore to him that, if he was found less than two miles from my sister, I would take him to justice. As I had already bought his previous debts in Cambridge and Lambton, I knew I had enough proof to send him to the debtors’ prison for many years.

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