Page 67 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Jane and Elizabeth entered Longbourn to the sound of Lydia’s voice crowing loudly. “Dear Mrs. Forster! How I adore her! I am so happy! Oh, Brighton! There will be officers everywhere, I daresay!”

The eldest Miss Bennets exchanged alarmed glances and hastened to the drawing room, where Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Mary were seated, and Lydia was striding around energetically.

“But Lydia dear,” Mrs. Bennet interposed when her youngest allowed her a few seconds to speak, “I am not at all certain you should go to Brighton. What if Mr. Darcy proposes to Lizzy? He is so rich that he can easily afford a license and might well wish to marry quickly. You must be here for your sister’s wedding, Lydia!”

Lydia’s eyes flared wide with incredulity. “Oh Mama, what does that matter? You cannot even think of preventing me from going to Brighton for such an absurdity! Mr. Darcy seems in no hurry to wed, and even if he proposes, it will take some time to make the arrangements. Father can easily fetch me back in time for the wedding if necessary.”

“I suppose that is true,” Mrs. Bennet said, mollified. “Very well, Lydia, I do hope you have a wonderful time with Colonel and Mrs. Forster.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth in protest and then closed it. Nothing she said would convince her mother that Lydia could not be permitted to run amok in a camp full of soldiers!

“Oh, I will!” Lydia rhapsodized. “There will be so many officers there, Mama. I can hardly wait! Indeed, I should not be at all surprised if I was to find a man of my own to marry. Would it not be delightful if I was the first one married of all my sisters?”

“I daresay you would enjoy it very much,” Mr. Bennet commented, wandering into the room. Elizabeth shot an outraged look at her father, only to see him wink at her deliberately before he strolled over to a couch and sat down next to Mary.

“Yes, my dear,” Mr. Bennet continued in a thoughtful tone, “it would be most exciting to be married at sixteen. And after all, there is no guarantee that when you fall with child, you will be quite as ill as your mother was.”

Lydia, who was actually bouncing in place with excitement, froze in position, an almost ludicrous expression of confusion on her face. “Ill? Of what are you speaking, Father?”

“Oh my, yes,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, nodding her head eagerly. “I was terribly ill during each of my pregnancies, especially with Jane. I threw up several times a day for weeks and weeks, and I was so tired. I used to fall asleep at the table, did I not, Mr. Bennet?”

“You did indeed,” her husband concurred with a sympathetic smile. “I believe you were a little better with the other children.”

“A little,” the Bennet matriarch admitted reluctantly, “but that was probably because I was more cautious in what I ate. I still vomited, but not as often. Do you remember how badly my legs swelled during Kitty and Lydia’s pregnancies?”

“I do,” her husband agreed solemnly. “It was difficult for you to get around.”

Now Lydia’s eyes were wide in horror. “That will not happen to me!”

“It probably will,” her mother assured her cheerfully. “My mother and grandmother both had challenging times when they were with child. I remember when your grandmother was increasing with your uncle Gardiner that she was confined to bed for a full four weeks, though that was at the end when there was fear she would deliver too soon.”

Her youngest daughter shook her head fiercely. “If that is what it is like, I will not have a child for at least … at least ten years!”

“My dear girl, you do not imagine that you have any decision on that, do you?” Mrs. Bennet demanded irascibly. “You know enough about animals to realize that once you are married and … together, with your husband, you will almost certainly conceive a child.”

“If that is what it is like to be increasing, then I will not be together with my husband!”

Her mother laughed openly. “It would be a rare husband who would permit such a thing, my dear, nor do I expect you would wish for it yourself.”

This was said with a definitely coquettish glance at Mr. Bennet, who grinned openly in response. All five of their daughters blushed in unison, which made their father chuckle aloud. In truth, while he found his wife quite tiresome in many ways, he had never been dissatisfied with their intimate relationship.

“I am quite certain I will do far better when I am pregnant!” Lydia insisted.

“You probably will not do better,” Mary commented unexpectedly. “Poor Mrs. Curtis, the tenant family on the southeastern corner of the estate, is expecting her fourth child and is laid low with sickness. She is forcing herself to be up and about because she has no money for servants, but she is having a horrid time of it.”

Mr. Bennet smothered a grin; his plan was going better than he had thought likely. “And you are so energetic, my dear Lydia, that having no servants to help because you have married an officer will be of no consequence.”

“Why would I not have any servants?” Lydia squeaked in horror.

“Most of them are not wealthy men, and would not be able to afford much domestic help,” Elizabeth declared, and then turned to Mary. “Poor Mrs. Curtis!” she continued worriedly, as Lydia’s ever widening eyes shifted around the room frantically. “Perhaps we could lend one of our housemaids a few times a week?”

“I was hoping we could,” Mary admitted. “Mama, do you think that we could spare Marianna for a few hours in the afternoons? That is the time when Mrs. Curtis is feeling the very worst.”

“Oh yes, that is fine,” Mrs. Bennet said absently. “By all means, Mary. Where are you going, Lydia?”

Her youngest daughter’s eyes were now distant and strange, and she paused only long enough to say, “I am going to my room, Mama, to think.”

“Very well, my dear,” her mother responded.

***

“Mrs. Younge?”

The landlady looked up in exasperation. She had far too much work to do for casual visitors. A moment later, her annoyance turned to concern. The man standing in front of her was not especially tall, but his muscular figure, erect posture, and red coat marked him as a man to be reckoned with. Furthermore, she could see several more military men in the vestibule, all of whom were probably tracking dirt onto her clean floor.

“What is it?” she demanded, scowling to hide her fear. “I have no extra rooms at the moment, so if you need lodging, you will need to go elsewhere.”

Theofficer shook his head and glanced around with keen interest. “I have no need for lodging, Mrs. Younge. My name is Major Rankin, and I am here on a far more serious matter. I believe until a week ago, you had a lodger by the name of Benjamin Tucker?”

The landlady hesitated and then nodded grudgingly. “I did. What of it?”

“He was an army deserter and has been arrested for thievery. We found some items on his person, but have not found anything else. My men will search his former room as we believe he might have hidden items away in the floor boards or cubbyholes.”

Mrs. Younge’s eyes drifted nervously to a clock sitting on the mantle of her fireplace and then forced her gaze back to the military man staring at her.

“Nonsense. Why would he leave such articles here?”

“He knew he was being followed and probably hoped to creep back when he felt safer.”

“I have another lodger in that room and she has not found anything,” Mrs. Younge declared irritably.

“I would not expect her to,” the Major said patiently. “Now come, madam, the sooner you allow us to search, the sooner we will be able to leave you in peace.”

“Very well. I will fetch my lodger, unless you wish to disturb a decent woman in her room?”

To her pleasure, the major actually blushed a little. “No, I would be most grateful if you would call her down.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Younge set aside her mending, rose to her feet, marched up the stairs, and knocked on the third door to the left. “Mrs. Jamison? Please come out!”

***

De Bourgh house in London

Mrs. Jenkinson curtsied to Colonel Fitzwilliam, Lady Catherine, and ‘Major Rankin’ and reported with satisfaction. “I am nearly certain Miss Darcy’s letters are in the clock in the parlor.”

“The clock?” Colonel Fitzwilliam asked in surprise.

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Jenkinson replied, taking a seat at a gesture from her employer. “While the ‘Major’ and his minions were searching my room, I sat with my landlady, and her eyes turned repeatedly to the clock on the mantle, especially when the men were being especially loud in their searching upstairs. I am familiar with such timepieces and am aware that many have hiding places in the back, beneath the mechanism itself.”

“Yes indeed,” Lady Catherine concurred. “In fact, we have a similar clock at Rosings that has been used as a hiding place for certain documents. Excellent work, Mrs. Jenkinson. I must also thank you and your brothers, Mr. Colby, for taking time to be part of our little drama.”

“It was our pleasure, Lady Catherine,” the man replied cheerfully. “You know we will do anything for the League. Aunt Jenkinson, will you need help retrieving the letters?”

She rose again and kissed her nephew’s cheek fondly. “Yes, I might need your assistance; I can retrieve the documents whenever I wish, but it would be helpful to have someone available to take the letters to Lady Catherine as soon as I have them in hand.”

“Send me word whenever you need me,” the man requested. “If that is all, I will take my leave. Until we meet again.”

There was a chorus of farewells and Mr. Elijah Colby departed, leaving the three co-conspirators to make their final plans.

Lady Catherine tapped her lower lip thoughtfully and continued, “I had a letter from Miss Colby today regarding progress in Meryton. There is to be a ball at Netherfield in a few days and since Wickham is hoping to woo my daughter, he will be there. Miss Colby will search Wickham’s lodgings for the letters then. Now, do you think it is safe to retrieve the letters in the clock now, or do you believe they would be missed immediately?”

“I believe it is safe enough to retrieve them at any time. I noted that the clock is covered in dust, so she is clearly not picking it up and moving it frequently to check the contents. On the other hand, tonight there will be people coming and going since it is Saturday, and I am not certain of Mrs. Younge’s schedule on the Sabbath. I believe I will make my attempt on Monday. If Mrs. Younge does happen to notice they have disappeared, I will take the appropriate steps.”

“What kind of steps?” the colonel inquired in some alarm.

“I will abduct her,” the woman explained, “and bring her here until we have dealt with Wickham.”

Fitzwilliam gazed at her in astonishment, then turned to his aunt, who was nodding placidly.

“Is that not … illegal?” he asked doubtfully.

“It is also illegal to blackmail a gentleman, Richard,” Lady Catherine pointed out crisply. “We will not harm Mrs. Younge, merely hold her until we can safely release her. In this case, my position as daughter of an earl will stand me in good stead; any magistrate in London would concede my right to protect my family from blackmail attempts. In any case, it will not be a problem, I suspect, since Mrs. Younge does not check the letters often.”

“What if Miss Colby does not find Wickham’s letters?” Colonel Fitzwilliam worried.

“I would be astonished if she failed,” Lady Catherine said with an amused quirk of her lips. “She has a remarkable ability to sniff out hidden objects.”

***

“Fanny?”

“Yes, husband?” Mrs. Bennet asked drowsily, smiling happily at the man lying beside her. They had separate bedrooms, of course, but came together at least twice a week, either in his bedroom or hers, and tonight it was hers.

“I will not be allowing Lydia to go to Brighton with Mrs. Forster.”

This caused his wife to sit up in surprise and vexation. “Why on Earth not, Mr. Bennet? The child will be most disappointed.”

He gently pushed her down and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I have spoken to Lizzy, and Mr. Darcy is concerned that Lydia might not behave properly in Brighton, away from our oversight.”

“But Colonel and Mrs. Forster will take care of her!”

“Colonel Forster is leader of an entire regiment of militia and thus a busy man, and Mrs. Forster is not much older than Lydia. No, my dear, we would not wish for our youngest child to endanger Lizzy’s courtship with the master of Pemberley.”

Mrs. Bennet’s expression fell with ludicrous speed. “No, you are quite right, Mr. Bennet! I am certain Lydia would behave well enough, but if Mr. Darcy is concerned, well, it is not to be thought of! The dear girl will be most unhappy, I fear.”

“A little disappointment now is far better than being thrown into the hedgerows when Mr. Collins inherits Longbourn,” her husband murmured in a placating tone.

“Yes, indeed!”