Chapter 8

B y the time the Bennet carriage reached Netherfield Park, the rain was no longer light, but was in fact, a deluge. The sisters thanked their lucky stars their mother had not prevailed and they had travelled by carriage.

Two footmen, dressed in oil skins, each with a large umbrella waited outside of the conveyance. As each sister alighted the men held them in such a way that nary a drop reached either Miss Bennet. They were escorted to the portico over the door where the services of the footmen were no longer required.

"Welcome Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," Mrs Hurst enthused while curtsying as soon as the butler, Mr Nichols, had relieved the sisters of their outerwear.

"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs Hurst," Jane responded for both Bennets as they gave curtsies of their own.

Their hostess led them to the drawing room where a surly Miss Bingley was seated on a settee. She did not rise when the guests followed her sister into the room. It took a pointed look from her older sister before she stood and gave what passed for a curtsy.

Not wanting to display bad manners like Miss Bingley, Jane and Elizabeth gave proper curtsies. "Miss Bingley, how do you do?" Jane asked.

All the youngest Bingley did was grunt and flop back down onto the settee showing her disdain for the Bennets. Mrs Hurst leant over, and placed her mouth close to her sister's ear. " Unless you want me to report to Charles that you are unable to behave in a manner befitting a lady, either behave as you should or politely excuse yourself and take yourself to your chamber," she hissed so only her younger sister could hear.

Miss Bingley stood. "If you will excuse me, I need to rest before dinner. I will rejoin you then," she stated. Her nose was high in the air as she swept out of the room not waiting for anyone to respond to her.

The temperature seemed to rise in the drawing room as soon as Miss Bingley and her frosty attitude left it. Mrs Hurst called for tea, then the three ladies got about the business of learning about one another. It did not take long before the three decided to discard formality and call one another by their familiar names.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

During the before dinner drinks, Darcy expected Mr Bennet to come take him to task for not apologising to his daughter. However, other than smirk in his direction, the Bennet patriarch did not approach him. Rather than fear Mr Bennet speaking to him, Darcy had hoped the man would do just that. Then at least he would have been able to explain Miss Elizabeth had spurned every attempt by him to apologise to her.

Bingley noticed the way Darcy was watching Mr Bennet. "He will not say anything to you. According to Miss Bennet he loves to make sport of others and be amused by them," Bingley told his friend. "If you want to have something reach Miss Elizabeth the better way is via Miss Bennet, they are the closest of sisters."

Darcy did not know why he had not considered that avenue of attack yet. Surely Miss Elizabeth would not refuse to speak to her own sister. As he and Bingley passed a group of three officers he could have sworn he had heard the name Wickham, but Darcy was not sure and he did not want to approach the men and ask them if he had heard the name correctly. Besides, the last thing George Wickham would do was to toil for his daily bread. As Wickham believed he was due whatever he desired, Darcy could not imagine his former friend earning an honest and honourable living.

It would be very good if the miscreant was in the militia. Unlike after Ramsgate when he had the misguided notion he would have dishonoured his father if he took action against the bastard, Darcy no longer laboured under that misconception.

A meeting with his uncle, aunt, and two cousins had set him straight on that front.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

July 1812, Matlock House

As much as he had believed it was his failure and his alone that Gigi had almost eloped with the profligate wastrel who was George Wickham, all due to Darcy being duped by the companion he had employed, his family members would not agree with him.

Darcy was at Matlock House in his uncle's study. His Aunt Elaine, Uncle Reggie, Andrew—Viscount Hilldale— along with Gigi's co-guardian, Richard—the Colonel—were all present.

"William, are you addlepated? I was as much, even more, at fault! I suspected something was off with Mrs Younge and I said not a word to you," Richard insisted. "I thought it was the natural suspicion I have as an officer rearing its head, so I ignored my instincts. Also, how many times have we told you that were it not for you, poor Gigi's life would have been over. Even had that bastard," the Colonel paused and turned to his Lady mother. "Sorry for the language, Mother."

"As it is appropriate in this case, there is nothing for me to pardon," Lady Matlock stated. "Do not make a habit of it, Richard. "

"Yes Mother, thank you for your forbearance. As I was saying, as her husband he would have made her suffer to extract his pound of flesh for not being paid her dowry," the Colonel continued, "and as you would not have allowed me to run him through, we would have had no legal recourse. Why you have been reluctant to have him thrown in debtor's prison, I do not understand."

"You know why, I cannot do that to my father's godson, a man he held in high esteem," Darcy averred weakly.

"Come now, William!" Lord Hilldale exclaimed, "that is stuff and nonsense, and you know it. With all due respect to my late uncle, he had a very bad blind spot where that blackguard was concerned."

"Andrew has the right of it. My brother refused to see what all of us could, and he would not hear a word against his favourite," Lord Matlock boomed. "William my boy, I guarantee you, Robert, had he still been in the world of mortals, would have led the charge against that libertine for what he attempted to do."

"Uncle, how can you say that? Father, as misguided as he was, never saw any ill in Wickham," Darcy asserted.

"You are being as blind as my late Uncle Robert," the Colonel said as he placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Did or did not your father love and cherish Gigi, especially as she began to look more and more like our late Aunt Anne?"

"Yes, that is true," Darcy owned.

"Now remembering what Rich just pointed out, what do you think your late father would have done to Wickham had he known what the wastrel attempted with Gigi?" Lord Hilldale pressed.

With a little cogitation, Darcy came to a realisation. "He would have him hung, drawn, and quartered!"

In front of him, even his aunt was nodding. "Welcome to reality, William," Lord Matlock drawled as he clapped his nephew, who since his parents passed away was like a third son to him, on the back. Gigi was just as a second daughter to he and Elaine. Gigi and Becca were as close as sisters, just as Richard and William were like brothers.

"If I come across him again, he will not get away scot-free like he did at Ramsgate. I will put the more than two thousand pounds I hold of his purchased debts, to work, and see him in a debtor's prison for life," Darcy vowed. It was like a great weight lifted from his shoulders as he released the self-imposed guilt over his desire to see Wickham punished at war with his belief it would be a betrayal of his father.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

As Darcy remembered the meeting with his family, his resolve to make Wickham pay for his crimes firmed once again.

As soon as dinner was called, he found himself a seat between Bingley and Hurst and did not attempt to approach Mr Bennet again. He was aware the man would periodically look at them, but it seemed as he found nothing amusing, his attention was not fixed on them for very long.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

George Wickham was well pleased the regiment was departing Westingham in Northamptonshire in a matter of days. He had only been a member of this regiment of the Derbyshire Militia for a month, and already the local merchants were demanding payment. The story he was owed a substantial amount of money which was to arrive any day was wearing thin.

In addition, he needed to escape the three girls who he had convinced to surrender their virtues to him with a false promise of marriage. It was amazing to him that his oft used line about the girl not loving him enough to anticipate their vows worked. But it did, and until it did not, he would keep using it. Over the years he had found girls from the ages of fourteen to sixteen were especially susceptible to his charms.

He scowled when he thought how close he had come to avenging himself on Darcy with the man's fifteen year old sister, Georgiana. All for the crime of possessing all that which Wickham desired for himself. He was sorry now he had not pushed her to anticipate their vows as he had believed he would be married to her in Gretna Green and then he would claim her dowry of thirty thousand pounds. How he would have loved to have seen the pain on the prig's countenance when he had waltzed into Pemberley with the former Miss Darcy as his wife.

No. Damned Darcy had arrived three days earlier than expected, and two days before they were to depart for Scotland. Not only did little mousy Georgiana escape his web, but even had he married her, he would have received not a penny of her dowry. The old man who Wickham had spent so much time charming, had put a clause in his will prohibiting the release of her dowry without permission being granted by her guardians before the wedding.

That was something else which angered Wickham. All the time he had devoted to old Mr Darcy and what was left for him in the will? A satellite estate? A large legacy? No! A measly one thousand pounds and a recommendation to the Kympton living if he took orders. Sermons had never been in Wickham's future so he had demanded ten thousand pounds in lieu of the living; he settled for three thousand instead. He had told Darcy he intended to study the law, and of course the interest on the one thousand his godfather had bequeathed him was not nearly enough for that. Damned Darcy had tricked him into signing away any future claims to the living before the bank draft would be released. Thanks to his owing money to men on whom one did not welch, Wickham had signed thinking regardless of what he signed, when he needed more money, he would claim the living again, and have Darcy pay him off once again .

It had not been his fault that after he paid the Spaniard, he had lost the balance of the four thousand pounds he had had in less than three years. Just when he thought his luck was all bad, he had heard the incumbent vicar at Kympton had retired. Not wanting the living, he had nevertheless written to Darcy claiming it. He had planned to offer to not take his living for the low sum of five thousand pounds. The fact he had never taken orders, or read the law like he had claimed he would, was neither here nor there.

Bloody Darcy had refused to give him anything! That was when he had begun to plan to extract his revenge. How fortuitous it had been when he had seen an advertisement in the paper for prospective companions to apply at Darcy House for a young lady of fifteen. Luckily, his paramour, Karen Younge , had been willing to act as the companion and they had paid a man to create characters for her. Fortune had smiled on them when Darcy and Fitzwilliam—now that was one man Wickham truly feared—had not verified her characters. With the coaching Wickham had provided, Karen had known just what to say. The position had been awarded to her.

Everything had been going according to plan, and then the prig arrived. Wickham had thought Darcy was about to beat him, but he had just been sent away. When he had attempted to extract money for his silence, Darcy had threatened sending his cousin after him. Wickham had left Ramsgate with all speed, thankful to be alive and not to have Richard Fitzwilliam on his trail.

He had not seen Karen since the day Darcy had arrived in Ramsgate. Wickham knew not what she had done after, but he had heard Darcy sacked her on the spot.

From what Denny had told him on his return from scouting for an encampment in Meryton, there were lots of trusting merchants and many pretty girls to be proposed to. Under normal circumstances Wickham shied away from gently bred girls as they were always well protected, but his friend had related that there were two in particular who would share their favours with any officer sporting a scarlet coat. Once Wickham had his fun with the willing girls, he hoped he would encounter an heiress in this Meryton.

One thing he was certain of, he would never see Darcy or Fitzwilliam in a backwater town in Hertfordshire. If he never saw either of them again it would be too soon.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Miss Bingley sauntered into the dining parlour with her nose still in the air. She was on her way to sit next to her sister so she was most put out when she saw a Bennet girl either side of Louisa. That she would have to sit lower than these country mushrooms did not sit well with her. She thought herself supremely fashionable.

When Miss Bingley entered, she was in a hideous shade of orange, with a matching turban and three dyed ostrich feathers stuck into it. The colour of her hair and her ensemble clashed violently. Elizabeth had to force herself not to laugh at how ridiculous the woman looked. She reminded herself of the promise she had made Jane and schooled her features.

Nothing was said while the creamed leek soup was served. As soon as the footmen withdrew, Miss Bingley pounced. "Did I hear your mother is the daughter of a solicitor?" she stated with an insincere smile on her face.

"That is correct," Jane replied, but added no more than that.

"I am sure you have illustrious connections with a mother whose roots are in trade," Miss Bingley declared nastily. "Does your mother have family?"

"Her sister's husband took over the law offices when our late grandfather Elias passed away, and Mama has a brother who lives in London," Elizabeth responded through gritted teeth as she fought to keep her temper in check.

"In London you say? I am sure he does not live at a fashionable address like we members of high society do," Miss Bingley asserted cattily.

"Uncle Edward lives on Gracechurch Street near Cheapside," Jane averred. She could see Lizzy's ire building and tried to answer in her stead all the while she was feeling worse and worse as she felt a fever beginning to burn.

"How quaint. All of your connections are in trade. Although your family owns an estate, insignificant as it is, it is entailed away to the male line, so you will one day be evicted from it," Miss Bingley alleged with a sneer. "I hear you have no dowries, while I myself have twenty thousand pounds."

"Caroline! Cease!" Mrs Hurst hissed.

"Then it seems we have much in common, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth proclaimed.

"We have nothing in common!" Miss Bingley screeched.

"Of course we do, we have family in trade, while your late father was in trade, and unless I err, there are members of your family still working for their money. The money for Mama's dowry was earned from good, honest work, as was yours," Elizabeth pointed out with saccharine sweetness belying the anger behind her words. "I am afraid that is where the comparisons stop. You see, entailed or not, the Bennets have held Longbourn for hundreds of years. Unlike you we were raised in the gentry. My mother, like Louisa, was elevated in rank when she married a landed gentleman. Lastly, I will offer you a tip for one who was not raised as part of the gentry—it is considered rather vulgar to speak of one's dowry."

" HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME IN THAT WAY ?" Miss Bingley screamed as loudly as she was able. At the same time she slammed her fist down on the table not noticing her soup bowl was right there. Her fist struck the near side of the bowl, causing the still hot soup within to be sprayed all over her burnt orange ensemble.

Miss Bingley howled as the hot soup seeped through her dress. She jumped up before a footman could pull her seat back and rushed out of the dining parlour, a stream of expletives issuing from her as she ran. It was not long before the sound of a door being slammed was heard.

"I am so sorry Louisa; I could not sit quietly while she attacked my family. If you desire us to leave, we…" Elizabeth stopped when her new friend placed her hand on her arm.

"Lizzy, I am not angry with you. In the face of Caroline's unacceptable behaviour you showed admirable restraint. No, you are not going anywhere…" Mrs Hurst saw Jane and how flushed she was, while at the same time not looking at all well. "Jane are you well?"

"I believe I may have a fever," Jane said, "I am not…" Jane lolled back in her chair.

Mrs Hurst summoned the housekeeper and with great efficiency and gentleness, Miss Bennet was assisted up to a suite in the guest wing. Elizabeth was assigned the second bedchamber in the suite.

"With this rain, I doubt whether you and Jane would have been able to return to Longbourn in any event," Mrs Hurst opined. "I will have a groom ride to your estate with a note as soon as it is safe for him to do so."

‘ Well at least that means the men will have to remain at the inn ,' Elizabeth told herself silently.

As she had that thought, three soaked men arrived back at the manor house.