Page 18 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Colonel Forster’s Study

Hired House

Meryton

Colonel Forster was unhappy and unsettled.

He was not in the habit of rising terribly early, and he preferred his mornings to be leisurely when he finally did leave his chamber.

Breakfast was usually a protracted affair, during which he would enjoy a hearty repast of coffee and ham and eggs and buttered bread, before finally retiring to his study.

Even there, he was not often particularly busy, for the duties of a militia colonel were not generally arduous and typically involved perhaps an hour’s worth of paperwork a day.

If he were feeling unusually energetic, he might arrange for a parade or a drill.

Certainly none of his plans for the day had involved the sudden invasion of two powerful and irate gentlemen into his sanctum, yet here he was, standing on one side of his desk across from Colonel Fitzwilliam of the Regulars, the son of an earl, along with the man’s very wealthy, well-established first cousin, Mr. Darcy.

Colonel Forster regretfully bid his leisurely day farewell and surveyed the miscreant the two gentlemen held captive between them.

He had never set eyes on this Mr. Wickham, but if he had, the colonel would have hailed the man with delight and welcomed him to the regiment with open arms. The goodwill of the towns where they were billeted depended much on how socially adept the officers were, and a well-dressed, cultured gentleman with a fine figure and remarkably handsome countenance would have been a boon indeed.

However, it was unthinkable to cross the son of the Earl of Matlock and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.

“I do apologize, sirs,” he said in a placating tone. “Captain Denny informed me that a friend of his, Mr. Wickham, would be joining the militia as a lieutenant, but if you say he is a scoundrel, naturally I will not permit him to join.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned ferociously and said, “There is no question of his joining the regiment, of course, but I appreciate that you will not stand in our way.”

“In the way of what?” Forster asked nervously, looking from the earl’s son and then to Wickham, who was standing between his captors, his expression sullen.

“Wickham owes hundreds of pounds in debts, so I will be escorting Wickham to Marshalsea,” Richard explained.

This provoked a squawk of horror from Wickham, who turned to the master of Pemberley and cried out, “Darcy, you cannot do this! I am your father’s godson!”

“He never knew what you were,” Darcy said grimly.

Wickham shook his head wildly and said, “You … you dare not! If I tell everyone what happened with Georgiana, her reputation will be…”

This time it was Darcy who punched him in the jaw, and he fell back against a chair, which overturned in a loud clatter.

Colonel Forster turned startled eyes on Darcy and said, “May I inquire as to whom Wickham is referring to?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam answered, his eyes narrowed with fury.

“Miss Georgiana Darcy is my cousin and Darcy’s much younger sister, and she turned sixteen three weeks ago.

A few months previous, Wickham conspired with Miss Darcy’s governess to convince her charge that Wickham was an appropriate husband.

Darcy fortunately arrived unexpectedly before Wickham could carry my young cousin off to Scotland for a marriage over the anvil. ”

Colonel Forster stared at the earl’s son in disbelief and then bent a furious look on Wickham, who had climbed to his feet, his mouth bloody and his face twisted in anger and fear.

“Is that true, Wickham?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Wickham declared, his own gaze fixed on Darcy, “it is.” A small smile appeared on his face, and he continued. “And you know that when word escapes into London society that Miss Darcy of Pemberley nearly ran away with me, her reputation will be ruined. I suggest you rethink your intentions.”

Colonel Forster snorted like a particularly fractious bull and said, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, I will have Wickham locked up here in this very house, under guard by several of my privates, until you are ready to escort him to debtors’ prison.”

Wickham turned a shocked look on him and said, “Colonel Forster, how dare you insert yourself into a situation that has nothing to do with you!”

Forster took a few steps closer, his eyes narrowed, and said, “I have a much younger sister myself, Wickham, and it makes me sick to think of a handsome man trying to convince her to run away with him. You, sir, are no gentleman, and it gives me great pleasure to imagine you rotting in Marshalsea!”

***

Dining Room

Netherfield Hall

Dinner Time

Darcy knew that he was eating roasted chicken, skillfully cooked, but not a single bite was making an impression on him.

His mind’s eye was still filled with Wickham's face, turned unexpectedly towards him in the main street of Meryton.

Darcy had been too thunderstruck to react with any speed, and he was grateful that Richard had acted in his place.

It was surreal to think of Wickham being locked in the house of a militia colonel under strict military guard only a few miles distant, but he was thankful that Wickham was now imprisoned and not able to simply disappear.

Darcy could not yet think of the debacle at Ramsgate without the blood pounding hot in his ears.

He had been livid with fury when he had entered the drawing room and been met by not only Georgiana's cry of delighted greeting, but Mrs. Younge gaping at him aghast and Wickham rising from his place at Georgiana's side, scrambling for what to say to make the dreadful situation look less incriminating.

There had been nothing he could say, of course.

Darcy had unceremoniously evicted the villain and his henchwoman and whisked Georgiana away from the rented house in Ramsgate.

It was not until later, when he was recounting the whole affair to Richard Fitzwilliam, that it occurred to him that he ought to have done more.

Richard had marched up and down the floor with clenched fists, incensed, while Darcy had watched from the chair where he had wearily collapsed.

"I cannot believe you did not bloody the rogue's nose for him, Darcy," Richard had said. "For my part, there is nothing I should like to do better right now!"

"Georgiana was my priority, of course," Darcy had responded uneasily.

"Rogue he was, but Georgiana fancied herself …

she had been convinced that she was in love with him.

Separating them before she could come to further harm was my uppermost thought.

And think of the damage to her reputation if word got out! "

Now, faced so unexpectedly with Wickham again, and with the scoundrel's threats renewed, Darcy could admit readily to his cousin's point of view.

Part of him was viciously glad that he and the fierce colonel would be taking Wickham to Marshalsea on the morrow, but part of him was uneasy with a familiar guilt, and all of him was in stunned disbelief that it had all come to this at last. But he could not let himself be paralyzed by his shock.

It was high time that Wickham was dealt with decisively and permanently.

The man posed a threat to any merchants and young women around him, and it was Darcy's responsibility to end that threat.

Even so, he was not sure that he would have been able to do what was necessary without Colonel Fitzwilliam's determination.

Richard was willing to do whatever it took to see Wickham disposed of for good, with no regard for Darcy's scruples or hesitations.

In the past, Wickham had often reminded Darcy how his godfather had loved and provided for the young Wickham, wanting to see him comfortable and safe and happy.

These reminders had always given Darcy pause and stayed his hand.

Richard had no such qualms, and for that Darcy was grateful.

“Perhaps we ought all to return to London,” Miss Bingley suggested, drawing Darcy’s attention away from his thoughts.

Bingley lowered his wine glass and turned a confused look on his younger sister. “Leave for London, Caroline? Why would we do that?”

The lady dabbed her lips delicately with her napkin and said, “Why, I merely thought that since two of the gentlemen are leaving for Town on the morrow, we all might wish to do so as well. We have been here for some weeks, after all, and without fail London is more interesting than the country, do you not agree, Lord Stanton?”

“I do not, actually,” the viscount said blandly. “I have always preferred the country to the city, and moreover, London is cold and smoky at this time of year. But if you and the Hursts wish to leave, I hope you will do so. I daresay Bingley and Sir Quinton and I can rub along well enough alone.”

“Oh!” Miss Bingley said in a startled tone. “Oh, no, I would not dream … that is, of course, we will stay.”

She smiled winsomely and shifted slightly to better show off her décolletage.

Lord Stanton nodded without smiling and turned his attention back to his food, and Darcy felt a surge of thankfulness that his cousin, the viscount, had joined the party.

If Darcy had been the only guest at Netherfield, doubtless Miss Bingley would have focused her efforts on him, which would have been tedious indeed.

Given the presence of two noblemen in residence, she largely ignored him, which Darcy greatly appreciated.

***

Dining Room

Longbourn

Elizabeth cast a brief glance at the empty spot at the head of the table, feeling vaguely betrayed by her father's absence after he had invited his absurd cousin to stay with them.

He had sent word that he had a terrible headache, and if that was true, well, she was certainly more in charity with him for seeking to escape Mr. Collins's buffoonery, for she could not endure the man if she had a headache, either.

She took a bite of chicken breast, looking over the table with a sardonic eye.

Mrs. Bennet's table was always well-appointed, but now it positively groaned beneath the weight of the ordered dinner.

They did not often have guests to stay, and of course, never before had they hosted the heir to Longbourn.

Mrs. Bennet was beside herself with her attempts to impress Mr. Collins, even if her daughters did not share her enthusiasm for the endeavor.

As for tonight, another subject had claimed all their attention.

“And then,” Lydia said, waving a broiled chicken leg around dramatically, “Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam dragged Mr. Wickham away!”

“And he was so handsome,” Kitty said sorrowfully. “It seems such a pity.”

“ For theLordseeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but theLordlooketh on the heart ,” Mary said gravely.

“That is entirely correct,” Mr. Collins agreed, turning an approving look on the third Bennet daughter. “Many a villain hides behind an attractive face.”

“Moreover, Satan himself sometimes masquerades as an angel of light,” Miss Fairchild said softly.

Kitty frowned heavily and said, “But surely … how does one determine whether a gentleman is a good person if one cannot depend on his appearance and charm?”

This was an excellent question, and Elizabeth, still thoughtful over the events of the day, turned interested eyes on Miss Fairchild, who was proving herself to be both wise and sensible.

“A most important query, Miss Kitty,” Mr. Collins said in an authoritative tone.

“The answer, of course, is to determine whether a man has sufficient respect for the authority of those above him. Now Mr. Wickham, it seems, was the son of a retainer of Mr. Darcy, and yet he did not abase himself honorably before the higher-ranking gentleman. As Lady Catherine de Bourgh, my esteemed patroness, often says…”

Elizabeth deliberately tuned out her stupid cousin’s vacuous remarks in favor of her own musings. It was true enough that a gentleman might appear an honorable person and yet be hiding a wicked character. But if a man spoke like a fool, surely it meant he was a fool?

Her eyes shifted to Mr. Collins, who was still holding forth, his plump face oily in the candlelight, and she repressed a shudder. Heir or not, he was an idiot, and she pitied the woman who married him.