The search for Lydia began as soon as Mercer hand-delivered Darcy’s note to George Bingley at his London office. Methodically, Bingley’s men went to work. They eliminated those sections of London where the arrival of a gentleman and a lady would bring too much notice. They then concentrated on the areas of town where someone who was short of funds, but who gave the impression of having money, might find a room. It was known that Wickham had left Brighton wearing his uniform, so that narrowed it further. A week later, one of Bingley’s men was interviewing a certain Mrs. Epping who ran a boardinghouse with her husband, and for five pounds, she was willing to answer all questions asked of her.
“I knew someone would come looking for her,” Mrs. Epping began. “And I’m glad you did. I am so sick of listening to those two argue. Him saying he wants what he wants, but her saying he ain’t getting it until he give her her wedding clothes. I never heard no one talk about one thing as much as that girl talks about her wedding clothes. It got so I couldn’t stand it no more, and I sent her across the way for two days to stay with my sister. But then she had enough and sent her back.”
“Then it is your opinion that the couple did not consummate their relationship,” Mr. Rhys asked Mrs. Epping.
“Well, I don’t know about that. What I do know is that the two of them didn’t have sex. That’s what all them arguments was about.”
“But they shared a room?”
“And I made up their room most nearly every day until they stopped paying for it. I can tell you the man was sleeping on a blanket on the floor, and the princess was sleeping in the bed. And if that ain’t proof enough, Mrs. Royale, which is what she calls herself, spelled with an ‘e’ she says to me, come down one night ’cause Mr. Royale got drunk. He had got it in his head that he was going to have his way, and she run away from him after knocking him down. I can tell you that girl gives as good as she gets. That’s when she told me they weren’t married. No surprise there. And the reason why they was hiding out was because she was the daughter of a lord, whose name she couldn’t mention, who wouldn’t let them get married. She now wants to be known as Miss Augusta, like one of the royal princesses, even though I know her name is Lydia ’cause I heard it shouted often enough. That girl can tell some tall tales.”
“How did they pay for the room?”
“With sovereigns to start, and then he give me a clasp from his cloak. I can get a nice price for it, so I told him that would take them to the end of the week. But I was almost hoping they couldn’t pay so they would leave. I was getting complaints from the other lodgers.”
“Have they had any visitors?”
“No, he ain’t been out that door. He comes down every morning to read the newspaper after Mr. Epping finishes with it, but since he drinks wine all day long, he falls asleep right after their evening meal. While he’s snoring away, Miss Augusta comes down and talks to me. She says he’s got a friend who’s bringing him the money to buy her wedding clothes. And I asks her why he don’t go and get the money himself, and she says it’s complicated. His father is an important man what lives in Derbyshire, and since the money has to come so far, that’s what’s taking so long.”
Mr. Rhys gave Mrs. Epping another five pounds and an address and told her to send a messenger if there was any change in the routine of Mr. and Mrs. Royale.
While Mrs. Epping was talking to Mr. Rhys, Wickham was staring at a sleeping Lydia and counting the hours until he would be rid of her. Just another day or two, and it would be safe to leave the lodging house.
Before they even left Brighton, Lieutenant Fuller had followed through on his threat to go directly to Captain Wilcox because of Wickham’s insistence on taking a sixteen-year-old girl with him. Fuller knew it would be Wilcox who would feel the brunt of Colonel Forster’s wrath because it was he who had recommended Wickham for his wife’s card parties. Wilcox would have his liver if he ever got his hands on him.
But a colonel in the militia has limited resources, and a search could not go on indefinitely. Colonel Forster would have to accept that the couple had disappeared into the recesses of the largest city in Christendom and could remain hidden indefinitely, and since the Bennets certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to conduct a search, Wickham would be able to leave without fear of discovery. But in the meantime, he would have to endure the little brat’s company. It was hard to believe it was little more than two weeks since they had left Brighton. It seemed like months.
By the time Wickham and Lydia had changed from the chaise to the hackney in Clapham, he was ready to roll his handkerchief into a ball and stuff it in her mouth. Her incessant chatter would have been annoying enough, but all she cared to talk about were her wedding clothes and where they would set up housekeeping. He knew her to be gullible, but it was turning out she was stupid as well. She believed everything he told her, and she took his lies and built castles in the air with them.
Once they arrived at the Epping lodging house, he was ready to claim his reward for all the frustrating clandestine meetings they had had under the pier. But when he pressed her, she turned on him, telling him he would not get her in bed until she knew for a fact that they were to be married. The only way he could prove that would happen was to buy her the goddamned wedding clothes, and so the standoff began.
He wrote a letter to every person he knew asking for money, explaining his bride was ill, and he needed help with the doctor bills. But he had heard from no one. All he had left was some jewelry he had taken from his paramour. He was trying to figure out what his next step would be when Mr. Rhys arrived at his door. A woman, who identified herself as Mrs. George Bingley, insisted Lydia come with her. Once a hysterical Lydia was reassured that the lady was acting on behalf of the Bennet family and that she and Wickham would be reunited, she agreed to go to the Bingley home in Cheapside. Wickham, who was sandwiched between two strong men, was told by Mr. Rhys to leave the lodging house as quietly as possible, and once out onto the street, he was thrown into a waiting hackney. Not knowing where he was going or what would happen to him, Wickham was terrified. But when he emerged from the carriage, he saw George Bingley’s name painted above the door of a warehouse, and he was reassured. If the Bingleys were involved, it was likely Darcy was as well, and from his own personal experience, he knew that Darcy was willing to pay good money to get rid of a bad penny.