Page 69 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

“Here he comes,” Miss Colby murmured.

Anne chuckled softly and took a small sip of tea. “He is watching for me carefully, it seems.”

“Of course.”

A shadow fell over the ladies and Anne looked up with well-simulated surprise. “Mr. Wickham! How pleasant to see you!”

“It is wonderful to see you,” Wickham returned, keeping his head up and chest out in what was, he knew, a very handsome pose. “I happened to catch sight of you through the window and could not bear to pass by without offering you my respects.”

Anne glanced out the window and then asked, in a fluttering manner, “Would you … do you have time to join us for tea, sir? I would not wish for you to set aside your responsibilities for the militia, of course.”

“No, no,” Wickham returned eagerly, seating himself next to her. “I always rise early so that my duties are largely complete by this hour of the day. I hope you are well, Miss de Bourgh?”

“I am well enough,” Anne answered, batting her eyelashes at the man, “and I confess I am better now that I have the pleasure of your company. I fear that I am quite disappointed in this place. My tea is entirely too weak.”

“Oh, Miss!” Priscilla Colby exclaimed. “I am so sorry! I will fetch you a different cup!”

“Please do, Miss Colby,” Anne replied, and watched as Miss Colby scurried away, though she knew that Priscilla would not stray far. It was extremely unlikely that Wickham would try anything here in public, but Miss Colby was a fierce protector of the heiress of Rosings.

“I fear that while the proprietor of the Pig in the Poke does his best, he is not used to serving such fine ladies as you,” Wickham said gently, shifting a little closer to Anne.

Anne shrugged pettishly at these words. “I suppose I should be glad enough that he has a parlor for ladies, anyway. I would not have left Netherfield at all except that Darcy is busy making sheep’s eyes at Miss Elizabeth, and Bingley at Miss Bennet, and Miss Bingley is rushing around harrying the servants over the upcoming ball. It is quite tedious.”

“I confess I find it altogether astonishing that Darcy would prefer a young woman like Miss Elizabeth to you, Miss de Bourgh,” Wickham said solemnly.

“Well, and so am I,” Anne cried out indignantly. “It is all very well to say she has fine eyes, but Miss Elizabeth is poor and her manners are not at all fashionable. Not that I have anything against her; she is really a sweet girl, but … well, I must not complain too much. Now I can choose my own husband, and that is a wonderful thing.”

“Indeed it is,” Wickham replied as the dragon of greed in his heart stretched and purred in anticipation.

***

Mrs. Jenkinson crept carefully down the stairs, carefully avoiding the fourth step down, which squeaked, and the third step from the bottom, which had a tendency to groan. Once she had attained the main floor of the boarding house, she waited for a full five minutes, listening carefully. But no, all was quiet in the house, which was as it should be. It was three o’clock in the morning, and even the men who spent their evenings drinking and carousing had finally sought their beds.

She made her way into the drawing room, where the clock sat on the mantelpiece, its ticking strangely loud in the otherworldly silence. She carefully lifted it down and set it on the table and, illuminated by the oil street lamp shining through the window, quickly picked the lock in the drawer in the back.

It was full of papers, and two of them were indeed Georgiana’s letters. Mrs. Jenkinson suspected the other documents were likely other blackmail material, and she had no compunction in taking them.

She closed the drawer, relocked it, carefully set the clock back in its place, and wafted like a mist through the kitchen to the side door. She opened it and whistled two notes, one high, one low. There was a soft rustle and her nephew, the eldest Mr. Colby, appeared from the shadows.

Without a word, she handed over the papers to her nephew, closed the door, and made her way carefully up to her room for a few hours of sleep.

She had succeeded in finding two letters, and now could only pray that Miss Colby would be equally successful in finding the others in the vile Wickham’s possession.

***

Ramsgate

Dearest George,

I hope that your business in Maidstone is proceeding as quickly as you hoped. I miss you so very much and am counting the minutes until we meet again. It seems like a thousand years since you were with me, when it has only been a few days.

Mrs. Younge is right, however; your letters make me feel close to you, and I hope my little missives make you feel close to me. It will not be long before we are together again and not just for a few days, but forever! Oh George, I am happy not just on my account, but on my brother Fitzwilliam’s as well. I know how much your separation grieves him, and my heart rejoices that I will be the means of bringing my two favorite men in the world together to enjoy the bond of friendship, and yes, brotherhood.

My apologies for this short letter, but my French tutor has just arrived.

With much love,

Georgiana Darcy

Lady Catherine de Bourgh shook her head dismally and carefully threw the letter into the sitting room fire. It curled in the heat, then caught flame, the words darkening and then disappearing forever in the blaze.

“Georgiana’s letter?” asked a male voice from the door. Lady Catherine made an abortive move toward her knives and then stopped in relief.

“My dear Richard, you ought not to sneak up on me like that!” the lady exclaimed irascibly.

Her nephew regarded the lady with respectful awe. “If you are in the habit of sticking knives into individuals who alarm you, I will be more cautious in the future, I assure you!”

Catherine de Bourgh smiled a little and gestured imperiously. “Do come in. The express has been sent off to Darcy that we have retrieved two of the letters?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. To answer your question, yes, this is the second missive, and the first has preceded it into the flames.”

“Did you … read them, Aunt?”

“I did,” the lady stated. “I wished to know the extent of Georgiana’s … interactions with Wickham. You will be relieved, I know, to learn that her love was innocent and indeed naive, and there was no hint of physical intimacy.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam let out a deep, relieved sigh. “Yes, that is a great relief.”

“That is not to say that the letters themselves were innocent. If they were published, Georgiana’s reputation would be ruined.”

Fitzwilliam blew out a slow breath, “We can only hope, then, that Miss Colby successfully retrieves the other papers tomorrow night.”

“Yes. There is one other thing, Fitzwilliam, though it is more a matter for the League. Mrs. Jenkinson retrieved other documents from Mrs. Younge’s clock, and some of them are falsified references from a baronet.”

Her nephew grimaced. “Yes, Darcy was quite angry at himself for not checking Mrs. Younge’s references when he hired her to be Georgiana’s companion. They were certainly forged.”

“They are very good forgeries,” Lady Catherine mused, lifting one of the papers and inspecting it in the candlelight. “I wonder where she obtained them...?”

***

“My poor Lydia,” Mrs. Bennet lamented miserably. “Sally, do capture that curl of Lizzy’s that insists on escaping. It will not do for her hair to be riotous tonight.”

Elizabeth was confident that Mr. Darcy would not care if her hair was a trifle disordered, but she knew her mother was distressed at Lydia’s screaming, and thus did not argue as Sally carefully pinned the vagrant strand into place. Her dress, a new one, had a soft yellow bodice with an outer dress of green and it brought out the viridescent sparkles in her eyes. She would never be as handsome as Jane, but she was quite lovely in this dress.

“I do wish your father would have mercy on the poor girl and allow her to come to the ball,” her mother continued, glancing fearfully toward the back of the house, where Lydia was shouting abuse and even banging the walls of her bedroom.

“Mother,” Jane said irritably, “Lydia has been entirely out of control for more than a day, yelling and screaming and carrying on in a most infantile manner. Mr. Darcy is not used to such antics, and you would not wish him to be fearful of offering for Elizabeth.”

“No, no, of course I would not!” Mrs. Bennet acknowledged eagerly, and then her mouth turned down in a pout. “Not that I am certain he ever will offer. Elizabeth, I do hope you are not chasing the man off with your impertinence! I do beg of you to listen to the wisdom of your mother, not that I expect it, but remember how I won your father. I smiled and held my tongue.”

Elizabeth could not hold back a chuckle at this dreadful advice and then, prompted by a stab of sympathy, said, “My dear Mama, we are very nearly engaged now. I am confident that he will offer, and I accept, within a day or two.”

“Oh Lizzy! If you can capture Mr. Darcy and save us from penury, I will want nothing more in life.”

Elizabeth shared an amused glance with her elder sister and replied sedately, “I am quite confident that your wish will be fulfilled, Mama. But come, I am nearly ready, and Jane is as well, but I have not seen Kitty and Mary yet. It would not do if they were not prepared for the ball when the carriage is ready.”

“Oh, not at all!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked, turning to rush from the room. “Kitty, Mary! Make haste, my dears, make haste! Sally, come as soon as you are finished with Miss Elizabeth’s hair.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Elizabeth stood obediently until the maid’s clever fingers had finished their work and then gestured toward the door. “You can go now, Sally.”

“Thank you, Miss. You both look very beautiful, if I may say so.”

“Thank you, and we appreciate your assistance. I know my curls are, at times, difficult to tame.”

The girl laughed and then said daringly, “I am certain Mr. Darcy will be delighted at your appearance.”

Elizabeth felt herself blushing and was thankful when the door closed behind the maid. “Is the entire countryside speculating on my courtship with Mr. Darcy?” she asked plaintively.

“Of course it is,” Jane responded with amusement, “but that is no surprise. On a more serious note, the servants at Longbourn must be especially curious as to our marital prospects; their own position is somewhat uncertain given that if Papa should die before his time, there is no guarantee the Collinses will keep them on here at the estate.”

“Charlotte Collins is far too kind and sensible a woman to get rid of valued and experienced servants!”

“True. But come, dear Lizzy, are you speaking the truth or merely attempting to assuage our mother’s distress regarding your suitor?”

“I am speaking the truth,” her sister declared. “I am quite ready to admit that Mr. Darcy is an excellent man, and I believe we are entirely compatible. I am ready to accept his offer.”

“Is he prepared to make that offer again?” her sister asked shrewdly.

“It is very clear that he is,” her sister said softly and, to ward off embarrassment, turned a questioning glance on her sister. “And what of you, dear Jane? You have been spending quite a bit of time with Mr. Bingley of late.”

“Yes, because you and your swain have required constant supervision!” the eldest Miss Bennet declared haughtily.

Elizabeth giggled at this, provoking an answering chuckle from her sister, who said, “In truth, Elizabeth, I do find myself drawn to Mr. Bingley again, but in what I hope is a more mature way. I am not yet ready to enter an official courtship, but I admire him for his willingness to take responsibility for his failings of the last year, and I am gratified by his continued pursuit of me. Many a man would run away screaming from a crotchety, cantankerous old maid like me.”

Elizabeth’s giggle shifted into uproarious laughter at these words, and she found herself clutching a chair for support, mindful that if she collapsed on the bed, her dress would wrinkle. In the midst of her merriment, she was aware of a throb of hope for her dear Jane. Perhaps she and Mr. Bingley would find a way to happiness together.

***

“My dear Miss Bingley, you have quite outdone yourself!” Anne de Bourgh exclaimed, looking around the Netherfield ball room with respect. She had expected that Caroline would gravitate toward decking the room ostentatiously with billowing silk curtains and vast mirrors, but instead the room was moderately austere save for numerous vases filled with local flowers, which were in turn set on small tables in the embrasures along the walls. The wooden floor gleamed in the rays of the sun, and it was entirely charming.

“Thank you, Miss de Bourgh,” Caroline responded complacently. “I am confident that the locals will be quite astonished to attend another ball of such sophistication in a twelvemonth.”

“I am certain they will,” Anne agreed with an inward sigh. It was a pity that Caroline Bingley, blessed with beauty, reasonable cleverness, wealth, and education, was so disdainful of those around her.

It did not truly matter. The stage was set for Miss Colby to search the barracks for Georgiana’s letters, and Anne had every intention of keeping the militia man busy so that he had no inclination to return to his quarters before midnight at the earliest. Once the letters were in hand, the League of the Golden Daffodil would find a way to restrain Mr. Wickham’s predatory behavior in a more permanent fashion.