Disdain, Agony, Hope, and Love #Wattys2020

Chapter 38

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The part of London where Darcy was this time was, if it was possible, even worse than the area where he had found Mrs. Younge. There was little light, except that which spilled onto the street from shuttered windows. Some looked around furtively in the manner of hunted men. Across the road, stood some scantily dressed women who beckoned to any man passing. Children, their faces dirty, impertinent and ragged, chased each other in the gutters. Once, Darcy had caught a young boy with his small hand reaching into his coat pocket. He had given the child some coins and told him to be on his way. On the face of every man, woman and child was an expression of desperation and hopelessness.

What a place to bring a young lady.

He was hiding somewhere near. The crowded neighborhood made it easier for such a man to hide himself away.

But the man had a young lady with him, a lady who had no claim on Darcy apart from being the youngest sister of the one he loved. And for his love's happiness, Darcy would go to the ends of the world to find Mr George Wickham and Miss Lydia Bennet.

What he was going to do when he found the pair, Darcy did not know. He only knew that Wickham's desire for money was a weakness that could be exploited.

But he had to be very careful not to give Wickham any advantage or let him see any weaknesses in himself. If he did so, Wickham could get whatever he wished from him.

If they be married, then I shall give them as much financial support as I can. If they are not, then it shall merely be a case of taking Lydia home to her family.

In a dark alleyway, Darcy glanced down at the paper he was holding. If the directions Mrs Younge had given him were correct, Harwood Street was at the end of the alley.

He continued to the exit. A woman passed in front of him and entered the building immediately to his left. He stood in front of the building and looked up, then left.

Is this the right place?

A wooden sign hanging on the front told Darcy the building was an inn. Seeing no other inns along the road, he glanced up.

There was a face at the window. The figure looked away, then stared directly at him. Soon, it was joined by another taller figure who took one look at Darcy then rapidly disappeared. The second figure was a very familiar one.

He walked determinedly to the door. He opened it and asked the startled innkeeper,

"I wish to see two of your guests, a man by the name of Wickham who brought a young lady with him called Miss Lydia Bennet."

The innkeeper gestured towards the stairs.

"Of course, sir. Up the stairs, last room on your left."

Without acknowledging the man Darcy ascended the staircase. Finding the room, he knocked on it.

There was no answer. He knocked again, this time more firmly.

He could hear sounds of a disagreement on the other side of the door.

"It has been absolute ages since we've had any fun. I'm letting him in!"

The door was opened by Lydia Bennet. She was dressed for bed in a pink robe.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet," said Darcy in a detached tone.

"Mr Darcy, what a surprise!" exclaimed Lydia. "What are doing here?"

He ignored the question. "May I enter?"

"Of course." She stood aside as he walked past her then shut the door.

Wickham was standing in the middle of the room, wide-eyed but otherwise revealed none of the emotion he was undoubtedly feeling. Disheveled, shirt unbuttoned and traces of wine about his person he looked nothing like the 'gentleman' Darcy had seen briefly in Meryton.