Betrothed to Mr Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Romance by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 21

The Real Mr Wickham

Elizabeth remembered where the hackney stand was and, though the wind was sharp and the weather not in the least conducive to a pleasant walk, she proceeded there with great determination. Once or twice, hearing the approach of a carriage, she feared that it might be her uncle. But nobody recognized her, and she found a single hackney waiting at the stand. The coachman was a robust man, whose astonishment at seeing an unescorted young woman requesting a ride was limited only to a quick jump of his bushy brows.

Elizabeth felt a moment of hesitation before climbing in. The danger to her reputation, let alone her safety, occurred to her now that she had almost committed herself to pursuing her plan. But then she thought of Mr Darcy, and how much pain and money she would save him if she could see it through. It was not so very unlikely that she could do it, after all. Mr Wickham really did think her enchanted by him. If anybody could persuade him, somehow, to give the letters up, surely it would be she.

“The Surrey Theatre,” she said to the coachman, and then climbed in and snapped the door shut behind her. This was all she knew of Mr Wickham’s address. His letters contained complaints of the noise of that theatre and some against the man from whom he rented his room: a Mr Caplan. It was all the intelligence Elizabeth had by which to find him, since the letters had never been sent by post, but delivered by Mr Darcy’s ward.

She pulled her cloak more tightly about her. A shiver passed through her. At first, she was watching the streets, trying to calm her nerves, but when one or two passing walkers followed her curiously with their eyes, she decided to draw deeper into the darkness of the carriage and to look ahead, so as to obscure her face from observation by the hood of her cloak.

They crossed the river. It was not a busy time of day or year. Many of the men who usually created a bustle in these parts—the dock workers, lightermen, watermen, shipwrights, coalwhippers and coopers—had been made unemployed by the cruel easterly winds which made shipping up the Channel in the winter impossible, and so the area was quiet, and Elizabeth recognized where she was chiefly by smell.

She opened her reticule and tried to count her coins, though her hand was shaking and she had to count again and again.

The hackney stopped by the side of the road, only a few steps from the theatre. Here the traffic was thicker, as a small crowd milled happily at the entrance.

“Surrey Theatre, miss, as were known as the Royal Circus not so long ago.”

Elizabeth climbed down and then reached her hand up to pay the driver. He looked at the coins in his hand and then down at her.

“You quite sure what yer about, miss?” came the gruff question.

“Yes, thank you.” She wished she could sound as bold and confident now as she had when she was talking to Georgiana before.

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