Page 77 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Mr. Campbell, solicitor, looked up from his perusal of an article of sale for a piece of land in Kent. “Yes, Stokes?”

His clerk wore a slightly puzzled expression on his face. “A Lady Millicent to see you, sir, along with her nephew.”

Campbell was simultaneously pleased and bewildered. He had a large and thriving practice in the City, but his clients were exclusively middle or lower class; none of the gentry or nobility had ever seen fit to award him with their patronage. “Show her in,” he ordered, rising to hastily sweep off the two chairs for visitors with a clean handkerchief.

Lady Millicent was an older woman of some five and forty years, dressed ostentatiously in red crushed velvet, her face a mask of imperious arrogance. Her companion, a broad-shouldered man of some thirty years, entered the room at her side, and he too looked rather forbidding. Campbell gulped but managed a courteous bow to both. “Lady Millicent, Mr. erm…”

“You may call me Mr. Smith,” his male visitor suggested, alarming the solicitor even more. A man hiding behind a pseudonym was probably trouble.

“Mr. Smith, Lady Millicent, please do sit down. What can I do for you?”

Both his guests sat down with the air of owning the room, and the lady said, as she pulled several papers out of her reticule, “That is an excellent question. Kindly look at these, Mr. Campbell.”

The solicitor obeyed with confusion, which morphed into dread. “I … I do not understand. These are references for a Mrs. Younge? Are you wishful for me to, uh, draw up a contract with her…”

“Do not take us for fools,” Lady Millicent interrupted angrily. “I am quite confident you know the handwriting of your daughter’s husband. These are forged references and you, sir, are responsible for what is no doubt a quite profitable trade in such documents. You see, your son by marriage gave your name up very easily when we visited him but an hour ago.”

Campbell opened his mouth to deny the charge but then closed it. If Edward had confessed, it was pointless to prevaricate. On the other hand, the lady and her nephew were not law officers. Were they here to blackmail him?

“What do you want?” he demanded with pinched lips.

“I do like a direct person,” Lady Millicent responded with approval. “I do want something.”

“I am not a wealthy man, madam, but I can pay you…”

“I am not a blackmailer,” his tormentor interposed before a dangerous smile crept across her face. “Well, in truth, I suppose I am a blackmailer of sorts, but it is not money I need, but documents.”

“Documents?” Campbell repeated feebly.

“Quite. You will henceforth give up all trade in forged documents, Mr. Campbell, or you will find yourself thrown in prison. But do not be dismayed, I have no intention of taking such steps so long as you cooperate.”

Campbell hunched a little more and asked meekly, “Cooperate in what way, my lady?”

“My nephew and I have need for forged documents on occasion, sir. If you endeavor to provide me with what we need in a timely manner, I will overlook your former indiscretions. I assure you that I am aware of the three men who are currently forging for you, and will keep a close eye on them; do not attempt to continue your activities in the hopes of avoiding my oversight. If you behave yourself, I will pay you a reasonable fee for your assistance with these papers.”

Samuel Campbell was not a fool. “It would be my honor to serve you in any way possible, Lady Millicent.”

“Good,” the woman replied, rising to her feet. “Please give me a piece of paper.”

He obeyed and a moment later the woman took off a ring from her finger. She helped herself to some ink from the well, coating the ring with it, and pressed it into the paper, leaving the mark of an ostentatious and flowing ‘D’ entwined in a flower.

“When you receive a note with this marking, it is from me,” the woman explained. “For your own safety, and mine, I will not use my true name.”

“So Lady Millicent is not…”

“It is not,” Lady Catherine agreed, and frowned menacingly at the man. “Do not fail me, Mr. Campbell.”

“I assure you that I will not,” the solicitor assured her, wiping sweat off his brow.

***

“What is Miss Darcy like?” Elizabeth asked with trepidation. She, Lydia, Anne de Bourgh, and Miss Colby were wandering a path through a small wilderness behind Longbourn; Elizabeth, who had been particularly irritated by having to stay within while Wickham was on the loose, found herself taking in deep, happy breaths of softly scented breezes.

“Georgiana is very much like her mother in looks – she is tall, blonde and slender,” Anne responded, her eyes lighting appreciatively on a bush blooming with pink roses. “In terms of her character, she is very shy.”

“It sounds like she and Fitzwilliam are not much alike for brother and sister,” Elizabeth mused.

“They are both rather reserved, but whereas Darcy, sadly, comes across as proud and arrogant, Georgiana looks like she would climb a tree to escape a mouse. I believe you will be an excellent sister to my dear cousin, Elizabeth. You are a vivacious and energetic young woman, and Georgiana will love you.”

“I do hope so, Anne. I know that Fitzwilliam longs for us to be close friends, so naturally I worry that Miss Darcy will take a dislike to me.”

“That is not possible,” Anne assured her. “Georgiana looks up to her brother almost as a beloved father, and she trusts him. He has chosen you to be his bride, and that is all she really needs to know about you.”

Elizabeth smiled gratefully at the heiress of Rosings and turned her attention to a new concern, “Do you know Mr. Darcy’s favorite colors? There is no time for me to be fitted for a new gown for the wedding, but I have a number of dresses and would like to wear one that he particularly likes…”

Priscilla Colby suppressed a slight snort and Anne, with an amused glance at her companion, said cheerfully, “My dear Elizabeth, I doubt that Darcy would mind if you showed up at church in a work gown with a mob cap, but I believe he particularly appreciates the yellow dress you wore to dinner some four days ago.”

“That is my favorite,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I tore the hem a little while ago running up the stairs. Do you mind if I nip up to my bedroom and ask one of our maids to mend it? With all that has occurred of late, it quite slipped my mind, and I might forget again.”

“Of course,” Anne agreed graciously, “Miss Lydia can keep us company.”

As soon as Elizabeth had achieved the door to Longbourn, Lydia, who had thus far been completely silent, stopped in her tracks and swung to gaze intently at her two guests, “Miss de Bourgh, Miss Colby?”

“Yes?” Anne asked curiously.

“What truly happened with Mr. Wickham?” the girl demanded. “I have accepted that he was a rogue, but it seems impossible that he could truly have taken you both by surprise. I mean, Miss Colby, well, when she, upstairs in my room...”

The young lady halted and reddened a little, and Anne and her companion exchanged a quick look. Miss Colby nodded gravely and Anne reached for Lydia’s hand, turning her around so that they could continue walking together. “Miss Lydia, can I trust you to keep a confidence?”

Lydia had always been an entirely flighty girl, but the last few days had actually penetrated her immaturity to the point that she took a full ten seconds to consider the question, whereupon she asked, “Even from Elizabeth?”

“You may speak to Elizabeth and to Miss Bennet on these matters, but not to your other relations or friends or neighbors.”

“Very well, yes, I will keep a confidence,” Lydia promised, and she meant it.

“You are correct, Miss Lydia,” Priscilla explained. “We were not certain if Wickham was lurking in the area, but we thought it likely. Miss de Bourgh wandered the Netherfield pond as bait. When Wickham pounced, I was nearby along with Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He surprised us by having a firearm, and thus we were forced to shoot him to protect Miss de Bourgh.”

Lydia paled a little. “He threatened you with a gun, Miss de Bourgh?”

“He did. He held it up to my body and threatened to shoot me. I escaped by pretending to collapse in fear, whereupon I used my training to knock the gun out of his hand and then twist free of him. When he dropped the gun, I leaped into the pond. Even then, he was too foolish to run; he snatched up the gun to fire upon me and was in turn shot for his pains.”

Lydia Bennet stared at them both gravely for a full minute and then said, quite decidedly, “I wish to learn how to do such things.”

“To shoot a gun?” Anne asked carefully.

The girl shrugged. “To defend myself and others, at any rate. I was a complete fool about Mr. Wickham, Miss de Bourgh. I truly thought him the most handsome man of my acquaintance, and the most convivial. I used to dream of marrying him, and now I find that he was willing to try to force you into marriage, and all for your money. He was despicable.”

“He was,” Priscilla Colby agreed fervently. “The Bible says that man looks at the outer appearance but the Lord looks at the heart. Many of our sex are in danger of being taken in by charming manners and a handsome face, for we do not take the time to learn what lies beneath. And, in truth, some gentlemen focus more on the beautiful countenance of a lady rather than her character, which is far more important.”

“How can I learn to be more discerning?” Lydia asked quietly, her eyes now fixed vaguely on a group of waving blue irises.

“Your sister, Elizabeth, has been on a similar journey of late,” Anne pointed out. “Perhaps you can speak to her?”

“I believe Lizzy has always given me good advice, Miss de Bourgh, which I ignored entirely. Now I am willing to listen, but she will soon be married and gone from Longbourn.”

“What of Miss Bennet?” Priscilla inquired. “I believe she has also embraced some hard truths about life these last few months.”

The younger woman shuddered noticeably. “I love Jane, of course, but ever since she returned from London, she has been very altered. Indeed, I confess to being a little afraid of her!”

Anne smiled at this and said, “Do you think your father would permit you to visit me at Rosings in Kent after Elizabeth’s wedding? I would enjoy having you come for a few weeks, and Priscilla and I can work with you in a number of areas.”

Lydia, who had been looking downhearted, lit up in surprised delight. “Oh, I am certain he would! Oh, thank you, Miss de Bourgh!”

***

“Miss Darcy will be in the green room and her companion in the adjacent yellow room,” Caroline Bingley instructed.

“Of course, Miss Bingley,” replied the housekeeper. “I will instruct my maids to put fresh linens on the beds now. Good morning, Mr. Bingley.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Blythe,” Bingley responded genially.

The woman passed quickly out of the room, leaving Caroline and Bingley alone. “What do you want, Charles?” the lady demanded. “I am quite busy this morning arranging for the arrival of our guests.”

“I will not get in your way, Caroline, but I did wish to thank you for all your hard work here at Netherfield.”

Miss Bingley looked up from the list in her hand with a mixture of astonishment and suspicion. “What do you mean, Charles?”

“I mean that I had no concept of how much work is involved in planning balls and arranging for the care of guests. You have done a marvelous job making Netherfield a pleasant place to live, and I thank you for it.”

Miss Bingley’s face flushed a little at these words. “It is hardly anything special, Charles, for an accomplished lady. Louisa and I were, after all, educated in one of the very best seminaries.”

“I am quite certain that Louisa would agree that you are far better at overseeing a large household than she is, though she has, of course, her own gifts. I merely wished you to know that I am now more aware of all that you have done, and appreciate it. Thank you, Caroline.”

“You are welcome,” his sister replied, looking and feeling profoundly uncomfortable. “Charles, when will we be returning to London?”

Her brother shrugged a little. “I am not entirely certain. I have no intention of removing from Netherfield for many months.”

“Why on Earth not? Now that Mr. Darcy is … is … wedding Miss Elizabeth, there is nothing to keep us here!”

“Nothing to keep you here, dear sister,” Bingley responded drily. “As you know, I am pursuing Miss Bennet.”

“Oh Charles, must you continue to run after a woman who is not interested in you? It is undignified.”

“Nonsense, Caroline. I abandoned Miss Bennet for more than six months; it would be unlikely that she would find it in herself to accept an offer from me until she is more certain of my devotion to her. I intend to show her my friendship and pray that she eventually accepts my hand in marriage.”

“But Charles…!”

To his relief, the unmistakable sounds of an arrival emanated from beyond the door, along with a familiar male voice.

“Oh, I do believe that is Darcy returned from London, Caroline! We must go and greet him!”

***

“Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, Misses Bennet, welcome to Netherfield,” Charles Bingley said, his eyes seeking and finding Miss Bennet, who was dressed in a simple green dress. It was astonishing, he thought, that every time he laid eyes on the woman, she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Mr. Bingley, it is such a delight to be here,” Mrs. Bennet enthused. “I cannot thank you enough for hosting Mr. Darcy during this time. We are all looking forward tremendously to the wedding tomorrow!”

“It is my honor,” Bingley replied through a lump in his throat. It was remarkably odd, and sad, that he could have been married these eight months to Jane Bennet if he had only had sufficient determination to pursue the most wonderful woman he had ever met. Now his best friend was marrying his love’s favorite sister, and he was left with only hopes and dreams of happiness.

“Fitzwilliam!” exclaimed Elizabeth, her face glowing with happiness as her bridegroom walked into the room with a young, blonde lady at his side.

“Elizabeth,” Darcy returned, his heart thumping in his chest with excitement. How he had missed her these last days! He gently coaxed his companion forward to meet the woman who would soon be his bride. “Elizabeth, may I have the honor of introducing you to my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.”

“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said happily, “it is such an honor and pleasure to meet you at last!”

Georgiana was taller than Elizabeth, and her figure was that of a woman full grown, but her posture was uncertain and her response to Elizabeth was so quiet as to be only barely intelligible. “Miss Elizabeth, I am so happy to meet you as well.”

Elizabeth was thankful for Anne’s warning; if she had trusted Wickham’s lying words, she might have thought the girl proud. It was obvious, however, that Miss Darcy was actually extremely shy, and terribly anxious about meeting her future sister by marriage.

The girl quivered as the sound of voices rose behind the threesome, and Elizabeth turned to look on Darcy. “Fitzwilliam, I assume dinner will not be served for some time. Perhaps Miss Darcy and I can visit the music room together? I understand that you are a great performer on the pianoforte, Miss Darcy, and while I am not an adept, I enjoy speaking of music.”

Darcy smiled gratefully. He had been nervous about this meeting between the noisy Bennets and Georgiana; his shy sister would do better spending time alone with Elizabeth before interacting with the Bennet matriarch and her louder daughters.

“Of course,” he agreed, and led them toward the back of the house where the pianoforte sat in splendor along with a harp.

Elizabeth cast a speaking glance at Jane as she departed the front hall with Mr. Darcy, and Jane smiled back reassuringly. The eldest Miss Bennet felt herself entirely capable of managing the rest of the family while Elizabeth attempted to form a friendship with the diffident Miss Darcy. Mrs. Bennet would, of course, be somewhat vulgar and loud, but Mr. Bennet was in the mood to be a good conversationalist, and the younger two girls were noticeably chastened by the violent events of the last days.

“Oh, Miss Bennet, it is so pleasant to see you today,” Miss Bingley simpered, stepping forward and looking down her nose at Jane. “Your dress is charming, though they do say, do they not, that chartreuse is a difficult color for most women to wear advantageously?”

“Most women, yes,” Jane answered loftily. “It is most fortunate that I am able to wear more difficult colors with ease. I do confess to admiration at your own ensemble, Caroline. That particular shade of pink is a challenging one, especially when one’s hair has a red tint to it. But you have always been daring, I know.”

Caroline Bingley shot a nervous glance at her overdress, suddenly seized with terror that it did indeed clash with her hair.

Jane suppressed a chuckle. Yes, she could handle her family and Miss Bingley. Now the only thing remaining for her was to decide whether she wished to make Mr. Bingley her husband, or not.