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“I assure you, my good man, I am a gentleman. I pay my debts.” Wickham gazed at the pudgy proprietor before him, his endearing smile masking his perturbation.

Martin stood his ground, the old wooden counter between them creaking beneath the pressure of his palms. Despite its smaller size compared to those in bigger cities, he was proud of his store.

The shelves on the walls were polished, and they kept the goods in order.

He would not let this soldier before him try to take advantage.

“I do not doubt that, sir, but I have to run my business profitably. Rumor has it that the troops got paid yesterday. You have more than a pound on your account. Until you pay off your current tab, I will not be selling you anything.”

“It is merely a few trinkets and a bottle of whiskey. I would think you would prefer my continued patronage over whining about such a paltry issue.” Maybe a little pressure would sway him. Wickham found his winsome smile could convince many a person to do his bidding.

“I am sorry if you feel that way, sir, but this is my policy for all the soldiers. Everything should run smoothly as long as you pay off what you owe after they pay you.” Martin glanced into the angry eyes of the red-coated man before him and was grateful for Mr. Darcy’s wisdom.

This man would never pay a penny piece if he thought he could get away with it.

Eyes narrowed, Wickham spoke with a hint of his malice seeping through his facade.

“I had not thought that you would treat me in such a manner this day, so I have not brought my money with me. I will, of course, pay you what I owe next time I am here.” Wickham tugged his red coat into position and contemplated his next move.

His anger translated itself into his boots, striking against the hardwood floor even if the smile never left his face.

Martin gathered the handkerchiefs and bottle of alcohol from the counter to put back on his shelves.

“I will look forward to seeing you then, sir.” The man’s footsteps were like thunder as he left the room, and Martin shook his head in disbelief.

He doubted he would return, but did not regret losing the soldier’s business.

Wickham became more harried as the day progressed.

Though he had thought the grocer’s attitude would be a singular event, it did not prove to be so.

The cobbler would not make him the new boots he wished for without payment upfront.

The haberdasher would not give him the cravat he wanted without payment for the waistcoat he had ordered already.

Even the tavern had held an unwelcome surprise.

They did not permit him the meal he had asked for without first paying off his tab.

He refused to eat the swill available to the soldiers unless forced, so he had to hand over the three pounds and two shillings.

It was nearly all he had left after the sergeant had found him this morning and demanded his winnings from the card game last night.

At least the tavern owner generously put two bottles of whiskey on his tab after he had paid off everything else.

Worse, he had made no progress with the local girls.

Even forgetting that horrible blunder with Miss Bennet, he had made little progress where it mattered.

Though the tavern girls had smiled and blushed at his advances, he had gotten no further.

The grocer’s daughter always seemed to have her brother or father about, so that had gone nowhere, and it was the same story wherever he looked.

There was nothing for it. Since joining the militia, every decision he made seemed to backfire.

Not only was he required to follow the orders of the buffoon of a colonel, but they also made him rise at a truly ungodly hour to do drills.

All those years of bowing and scraping to that old nabob had not been worth it if he had ended up here.

He thought he would have an estate, at least, for his efforts.

A living and a thousand pounds? How ridiculous.

He would just have to find his way, as he always did.

He could surely convince someone to fill his pockets by their own will or otherwise.

He cautiously made his way back to the camp, the bottles in his satchel jostling against one another with each step.

Maybe he would have better luck at a card game.

As he crossed the street, he saw a familiar figure in the distance atop a great, dark steed.

Suddenly, everything felt still and clear.

Darcy was in town and was once again meddling in his affairs.

The implication was clear: the sanctimonious prig had protected the poor people of Meryton from the unscrupulous soldiers that had come calling. He had probably warned everyone about giving credit and protecting their daughters.

Why had Darcy always cared about the people who were no better than the dirt beneath his feet? They deserved no notice or concern. It was their lot in life to serve those who mattered. Darcy foolishly attempted to help people, even the women whom Wickham had jilted and the brats they had produced.

Well, his time here was a wash. There was no way he could get out of the town what he needed, not with everyone wise to his ways. It would take more work than he wanted to put into it. He would leave and find another way to gain his fortune, but first, Darcy would pay for interfering.

Mr. Thomas Bennet looked around the dinner table in satisfaction.

He gained something to see all of his family so cowed.

The atmosphere was one of quiet reverence around the table, as they respected his wishes and intelligence.

They knew that anything they would say would be drivel and so kept silent.

He had been keeping a secret from them all and he felt now was the time to reveal all and reap his reward for being so patient.

“Mrs. Bennet, I wish to inform you of a guest who will arrive soon. You will have the great pleasure of failing as hostess for my cousin, Mr. Wilberforce Collins.” His sneer spoke of his cruel intentions.

Mrs. Bennet tried to gain more information as she thought. “Your cousin, Mr. Bennet? I do not believe I have met him yet.” She began going over preparations in her head. The guest room would need to be made up, but it would not do to have Mr. Bennet see her flustered.

“No, you have not met him. He is the man who will inherit this ruinous heap on my death and cast you all into the hedgerows before I grow cold in my grave. I would think you would try to be on his good side for all that he holds over you. Yet he arrives in mere hours, and you have nothing prepared for his visit. It does not bode well, my dear.” His chuckle was grating on all of their nerves, for they knew it held no joy, only malice.

He caused a stir at the table and sat back, pleased to observe their wide eyes and quick glances, excited by their panic.

That should do it. He would be quite content in his library for a while.

Then he would come out and see what more he could do once his odious cousin arrived.

Once he had left, Mrs. Bennet reached over and held Kitty’s trembling hand. She wished she could take her girls far away from here, but that was not to be, so she had to stay strong.

Mrs. Bennet began by clearing her throat.

She attempted to loosen the anxiety that was coiling in her chest by breathing slowly.

“I will talk with Mrs. Allen about food and Mrs. Hill about the room. Lydia, could you collect something nice from the garden for his room? I believe that the best option would be to put him in the green room. It is the farthest away from you girls and we can say that is because we thought he would appreciate the quiet. I may ask you girls to share while he is here. We will come through this as we always do. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to talk to the staff.” If her voice wavered as she spoke, no one pointed it out.

Jane’s hands moved to smooth the fabric of the plain linen tablecloth.

“Maybe he will be a kind gentleman, and it will be a pleasant visit.” Jane’s optimism brought such thoughts to the fore.

But even though she tried to keep her emotions in check, she could not deny to herself that this new situation made her uneasy.

Lydia’s mind had been cataloging the garden and the need for flowers.

She did not want to donate her flowers to the cause of a cousin many times removed with plans to make her homeless.

“There are few blooms in the garden this time of year. Do you think a bundle of fragrant herbs would be acceptable?” Lydia thought over her herb garden plots to consider options.

Anxiety having soured her stomach, Mary managed only a small bite of her toast. “I am sure that would be acceptable. I know I am fond of both rosemary and sage in a sachet.”

Elizabeth looked down at her plate with an uneasy stomach.

The poached eggs had sounded lovely before her father spoke.

Now they just seemed congealed and inedible.

“I know I may regret this, but I find I cannot finish eating. I will go see if I can help prepare the guest room.” Elizabeth slipped from the table, leaving her cloth serviette by her plate.

As she walked out of the room, she gave Kitty a hug.

The poor thing was not handling the issue well.

“I am so thankful for your magnanimity in allowing me to visit, Cousin Bennet. I look forward to familial unity and the rectification of the former breach.” Proud of his practiced greeting, Wilberforce Collins attempted a grand, sweeping bow.

It was a rather bunglesome display because of his lack of coordination and unhealthy proportions.

On regaining his footing, he surveyed what he viewed as his domain.