Page 5 of Darcy in Distress (Pride and Prejudice Variation #17)

“Darcy,” Wickham said cheerfully as his friend entered the library at Netherfield.

“Wickham,” Darcy answered, looking around with a mixture of bemusement and horror at the mostly bare shelving surrounding him.

Wickham chuckled. “I know, my friend. It is quite dreadful. But do keep in mind that Bingley is not a great reader.”

“Yes, I know, but this is a travesty. This is no more a library than the water closet on the second floor!”

This caused a hearty guffaw from his friend, and Darcy found himself smiling along with him. Netherfield seemed to be agreeing with him; he had not felt this cheerful in many weeks.

“It is not quite that bad,” Wickham said when he had recovered, “though perhaps you should acquire some books to inhabit these forlorn shelves. I believe there is a book store in Meryton.”

“Is there? I would not have thought such a small town could support a book store. ”

“Well, apparently the proprietor sells paper and ink and the like also. Mr. Bennet of Longbourn is also a great reader and purchases books frequently.”

“That does not surprise me,” Darcy replied. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is remarkably well read for a young lady, and she did mention something about her father’s library.”

“I understand the gentleman is somewhat reclusive and eccentric, but locally is known as an intellectual man.”

Darcy nodded and did not bother to ask how Wickham had come by his information; his friend had a remarkable capacity for sniffing out pertinent facts about everyone he met.

“Well,” Wickham said briskly, stepping over to sit down at a sun drenched table, on which several letters were neatly stacked.

“I received an express this morning regarding your cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. His military transport ship landed in Plymouth a few days ago, and he was given leave to journey to London.”

This intelligence wiped any amusement away in an instant.

“You are certain?” Darcy demanded.

Wickham merely lifted an eyebrow, and his friend shook his head in contrition. “I apologize, of course you are certain. Nor do I wish to know how you came by such knowledge so quickly.”

Wickham grinned at him. “I promise you that I did nothing illegal or immoral; I merely used my considerable charm to encourage a friend in the army to send me word of Fitzwilliam’s return to these shores as quickly as possible.”

Darcy bit his lip and sank into a convenient chair. “The colonel may well be at Matlock House in London already.”

“I agree, but if you imagine Richard will believe everything his father tells him, you are wrong.”

Darcy groaned and massaged his temples. “I know that Richard is his own man. Nonetheless, I am concerned that my uncle will poison him against us; after all, the colonel has been away from England for more than a year. He has no way of knowing the truth about my battle with the earl.”

“You did not write to him about what was occurring?”

“I did not,” Darcy returned heavily. “My uncle Matlock may not care about our good name, but I do. If I described in detail the earl’s recent actions, and the letter fell into the wrong hands... ”

“Precisely. Well, I do urge you not to worry, Darcy. Matlock has been growing only more eccentric with time. Richard is intelligent; he will observe the changes and take them into account when he speaks to his father.”

“Richard is Georgiana’s other guardian; if he chooses to support Matlock, our situation becomes far more tenuous. I hope you are right.”

“I know I am right. Truly, do not worry, my friend. Richard is fond of Georgiana, and she in turn is attached to both you and Lady Anne. He will not easily be convinced to have her placed in the custody of Matlock. But I would suggest that you write a letter, a sedate one in case it falls in the wrong hands, and I will arrange to have it delivered to the colonel when his father is not around. I also suggest that you ask Bingley if the colonel can visit us so you can explain your side of the situation.”

Darcy stared at Wickham in wonder. “How will you arrange to have the letter delivered ... no, never mind. I do not need to know.”

“You do not,” his friend agreed. “But come, how are your mother and sister this day?”

“They are very well. They enjoyed a restful sleep, and both indicated they like Netherfield.”

“I think it will be very good for Lady Anne to be away from the hustle and bustle of London. She needs peace. ”

“She does,” Darcy agreed softly. “She does.”

/

“But I wish to come as well!” Lydia Bennet exclaimed. “It is not fair that Jane and Elizabeth are permitted to call on Mrs. Hurst at Netherfield without me! I have just as much a right to capture Mr. Bingley as Jane does!”

Mrs. Bennet looked harassed, but she did not give way to her favorite daughter’s pleading. “No, Lydia, you may come another time, but it is Jane to whom Mr. Bingley is especially drawn; he danced with her twice at the assembly, whereas he only danced with you once.”

“But Mama,” the fifth Miss Bennet pouted, “the only reason he could not dance with me twice was because my dance card was full.”

“Nonetheless, this time I will go with your two eldest sisters, and we will see about visiting again soon. My dear Lydia, you are but fifteen years of age, and Mr. Bingley must be at least five and twenty. He is far better suited for Jane than you.”

“But Mama! ”

“The carriage is here,” Jane said from the window.

Mrs. Bennet rushed out of the door of the drawing room and into the hall, where she hastily donned her outerwear.

Jane and Elizabeth drew on their pelisses and gloves more slowly, and thus were left behind when Mrs. Bennet escaped out the door to the carriage.

“Jane, Elizabeth, please, please tell Mama that you wish me to come as well!” Lydia pleaded. She had, of course, followed her elder sisters out to the vestibule, and her brown eyes were piteous on her pretty face.

“My dear Lydia,” Jane answered, lifting her face to kiss her taller sister on the cheek, “I have no doubt that you will find a wonderful husband in time, but you are still very young to be thinking of marriage.”

“But I wish to marry as soon as I can,” Lydia insisted with an angry jerk of her head. “I am lively and beautiful and...”

“We must go, Jane,” Elizabeth insisted, grabbing her elder sister’s arm and pulling her out the door. “Lydia, we will see you later!”

She hustled out the door with Jane in tow, then into the carriage where Mrs. Bennet was waiting.

The door had hardly shut behind them when their mother called out for the coachman to leave.

The two eldest Bennet girls found themselves jolted off their feet and fell on their seat in a tangle of arms and legs and skirts.

The two girls managed to get themselves situated, chuckling softly, as their mother muttered unhappily, “Poor Lydia. I do feel quite badly that she is so disappointed. Perhaps we should have brought her along.”

“Oh, I do not think so,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Lydia is too high spirited, Mama. She would likely interrupt Jane’s conversation with Mr. Bingley.”

“She is young and vigorous!” Mrs. Bennet declared, defensive of her favorite child.

“But it will do no harm to have her stay home today, and it might do some good; it would be a pity if Mr. Bingley was attracted to both Jane and Lydia! I declare the gentleman is meant for you, dear Jane, and if I could see you installed as mistress of Netherfield, and your sisters equally well established, I would have nothing to live for! One of you, at least, must marry well, or we will be thrown into the hedgerows when your father dies.”

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances but did not speak; both now knew that their financial situation was far more positive than generally known due to their father’s secret writing income, but even Jane had agreed, reluctantly, that it was best for their mother to know nothing about the monies being held by Mr. Gardiner.

/

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of his Majesty’s Regulars stepped through the doors of White’s, one of London’s most exclusive gentleman’s clubs, and looked around him.

It was always surreal entering such an establishment after months abroad; the same gentlemen came and went, the same servants and stewards brought food and drink to the patrons, the very smells were exactly the same as they had always been, as if this place had been frozen in time while he had been living in a tent, eating rations of doubtful provenance, and occasionally engaging in battle against the forces of the Corsican tyrant.

“Fitzwilliam!” a voice called out, causing the colonel to turn.

“Astley,” he replied to the gentleman standing just inside the dining room, and he strode over to shake his old friend by the hand. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Yes, and at such an hour, old chap! I rarely rise before noon and here you see me, dressed and upright, at eleven o’clock in the morning. You owe me a great favor now.”

The colonel laughed and gestured for Mr. Astley, formerly a captain in the Regulars, to precede him to an unoccupied table nearby.

“You do look quite the dapper dog, Astley,” he mused, casting an appreciative eye over his friend’s ensemble, which included dark breeches and coat, a white shirt and green and blue patterned waistcoat, along with an intricately arranged Oriental neckcloth.

“Well, I must find something to do with my time, after all, now that I have sold out.”

“I suppose that is true. How is your shoulder?”

“Oh, it is well enough, I suppose,” Astley declared, though his tone was disconsolate. “I can use it quite well, and it only pains me significantly when the weather is changing. I was fortunate.”

“You are fortunate inasmuch as you are alive, but being shot is no small thing,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared.

“It is not,” Astley agreed. “I understand you were hit at Albuera?”

“Just the veriest graze,” Fitzwilliam returned. “It was nothing.”

A waiter arrived at this moment, and the colonel looked up and said, “A glass of your best Madeira for me.”

“I will take the same,” Astley chimed in.

The two men lapsed into silence for a minute as a waiter brought over a decanter of the Portuguese wine. Astley silently poured for both men, and they both drank deeply .

“I expect Lady Matlock was pleased to see you in good health,” Astley commented at last.

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned and said, “I have not yet been to Matlock House. My father has been sending me increasingly peremptory letters of late, insisting that I return to England to assist him with some kind of disagreement with my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I wished to see you first to find out what exactly is going on between Lord Matlock and Darcy.”

Astley raised an eyebrow. “And why do you think I would know of such things?”

Fitzwilliam wagged a reproving hand and said, “Come, my friend; a man who worked intelligence must have his finger on the pulse of society.”

His friend pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. “That is true enough, though sadly in this case, the rumors regarding your extended family are widely known throughout London society.”

Richard swallowed hard and said, “And what are the rumors?”

“That your aunt, Lady Anne Darcy, is insane and that your cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, is showing signs of madness as well.”