Page 86 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Mr. Campbell’s Office
London
June, 1813
“This way, sir,” the clerk said, guiding Mr. John Warosa, Barrister, down the corridor of the office. “Regrettably, Mr. Campbell is busy with clients, but should be available in a short time. If you will take a seat in this office, he will be with you as soon as possible. I will bring you some tea in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Warosa returned with a courteous nod of the head. He followed the clerk into an office and, once the younger man had departed and shut the door behind him, Warosa looked around, both surprised and impressed. The office building of Mr. Campbell, Solicitor, built of gray brick and without architectural embellishment, looked like every other building on the street. This room, however, was remarkable; the Persian rug of scarlet and gray was as elegant as it was expensive, and the desk and chairs were made of mahogany. The bookcase on the wall held an impressive number of books which were, in their own right, a small fortune. Mr. Campbell must either be very successful, or he must come from money, or both.
“Lady Catherine, you must calm yourself!” a male voice exclaimed, and Warosa jerked in astonishment. There was a door to the right of bookcase and it was, the barrister realized, cracked open a little.
“Calm myself, calm myself?!” a feminine voice shouted. “You seek to throw me from my very home, the place where my beloved husband brought me as a young bride. How dare you? How dare you?”
Warosa shifted toward the door, unwilling to miss a word, though he kept his eyes on the books on the shelf; if someone entered unexpectedly, there would be no fault in looking at books.
“Mother,” a younger female voice said in a pleading tone. “Mother, please, you must understand...”
“I understand completely!” the older woman snarled. “Your precious Richard wishes to make himself master over me, and I will not have it! I am Lady Catherine de Bourgh, daughter of an earl...”
“And I am the son of an earl,” the deep male voice interrupted irritably, “and a man besides. I have a greater right than you to be master of Rosings!”
“You are but a younger son!” the older woman exclaimed in rage. “Anne, how could you be such a fool? If you had married Darcy, as I wished you to do...”
“If Anne had married Darcy,” the bass voice interposed angrily, “he would have swept Anne away to Pemberley, leaving you in control of the estate. I daresay that would have suited you very well, Lady Catherine, but Anne chose me, Richard Fitzwilliam, the son of the Earl of Matlock, and when my fiancée and I are married next month, I will be master of Rosings, and my first act will be to require you to move into the Dower House...”
The ensuing shriek was so loud that Warosa cringed. Whatever else might be true of Lady Catherine, she obviously had a strong set of lungs.
“I will see you in court!” the woman cried out in obvious fury. “You have no right to throw me out of my home. That was not what Sir Lewis wished!”
“Lady Catherine,” a new male voice said in a placating tone. “Please, I beg of you...”
“No! I will not stay here to be insulted and browbeaten! If you come to your senses, Anne, you will find me at Darcy House; at least I have one nephew who respects me appropriately. As for you, Fitzwilliam, I never want to see your face again!”
The door to the office creaked open, and Warosa quickly pulled out a random tome from the bookcase in front of him and opened it. It turned out to be an obscure treatise on the life and death of Sir Walter Raleigh, and he bent his head and focused intently on the printed page until a courteous voice said, “Your tea, sir.”
“Thank you,” Warosa responded graciously, turning to gaze benignly at the young man who had brought him here a few minutes previously. “Milk and two sugars, please.”
“Yes sir,” the clerk replied, and began pouring the tea. Behind him and through the open door, Warosa spied a young couple walking arm in arm toward the front of the building. The man, garbed in army attire, was murmuring softly into the lady’s ear, and the lady, dressed in an elegant blue day dress, wore an expression of distress and anxiety. A moment later, a middle-aged man stepped into sight, looking harassed, and then, spying Warosa, halted indecisively before stepping into the room and managing a smile.
“Barrister Warosa?” the man inquired. “I am Mr. Campbell. My apologies for the delay.”
“That is entirely all right, sir,” Warosa said genially. “I was looking over your books; you have an impressive collection.”
“Thank you. You can go, Hughes.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said, and scuttled out the door, shutting it behind him.
Mr. Campbell gestured toward the desk and said, “Please, will you not sit down? It was most kind of you to visit me, and I hope we can come to an arrangement that will benefit us both.”
Warosa took a sip of tea and said, “What do you have in mind, precisely?”
“My practice has been growing of late, sir, and at times, I am in need of a barrister in civil cases. I have been working with a Mr. Dumont, but he is growing old and wishes to retire soon; in any case, I have come to realize that I need a barrister with more vigor and energy. You come highly recommended, Mr. Warosa.”
“May I ask who recommended me?” Warosa asked.
“Well, it is in rather a roundabout way, admittedly. I have a second cousin who is valet to Mr. Winton, who has spoken in flattering terms of your expertise in the law.”
“Ah yes, the Wintons,” Warosa said with a pleased smile. “They are a most charming family.”
“I am certain they are,” his host agreed, pouring himself more tea, “though I do not know them personally, as we move in different circles. However, and I do hope I do not seem to be boasting, I have gained a few highborn clients in the last year; I suppose you heard the argument next door a few minutes ago?”
“I heard raised voices,” Warosa said cautiously, “though I could not make out what your clients were saying.”
“Yes, the walls are reasonably thick,” Campbell returned, looking around with satisfaction. “The family in question is experiencing significant upheaval as the heiress of the estate is marrying soon, and her mother is outraged that she will be relegated to the Dower House. It is possible that there will be a civil case in the matter, and I hope you would consider representing my client.”
“Who exactly is your client?”
“Lady Catherine approached me first, and I represent her. I hoped that the family could come to some sort of arrangement without involving the courts, but I fear that ... well, my client is a resolute woman.”
“What is the situation legally?”
“Legally, the estate passes to the daughter upon her marriage. Sadly, the lady in question does not accept that and has asked me to find a barrister who can represent her in a civil case. I know it is a challenging situation, but would you meet with her? You would be well paid, though I fear you will not win the case.”
Warosa made a show of thinking about it for a full minute and then nodded decisively. “I would be honored, Mr. Campbell.”
***
Darcy House
London
One hour later
“Anne!” Elizabeth Darcy exclaimed, rolling ponderously to her feet and waddling toward her cousin by marriage.
“Elizabeth, my dear, you look wonderful!” Anne de Bourgh cried. “How are you feeling?”
Elizabeth groaned and said, “Rather large, if truth be told. I still have months before the babe is born, and that seems a very long time.”
Anne kissed the mistress of Pemberley on the cheek fondly and said, “Do you wish me to commiserate with you, or would you prefer a distraction?”
“A distraction, please!” Elizabeth returned, smiling at the maidservant who had just entered the drawing room with a tea tray. “Put the tea down on the table, Rachel, and then you may go.”
“Yes, madam,” Rachel returned, and retreated out of the door, which she shut quietly behind her.
“I will pour tea, Elizabeth, while you sit down and rest,” Anne offered. “Now, how is Rachel doing?”
Elizabeth sat down thankfully and said, “She is doing well enough, I suppose. She is very bright, has learned her duties quickly,and gets along well with the other female servants. She is still timid, especially around men, but I can hardly blame her, poor girl.”
Anne nodded grimly at this. Rachel, the daughter of an innkeeper in Bath, had been seduced by a gentleman staying in her father’s inn; the man had not only taken her virtue, but impregnated her as well, only to repudiate her when her condition was discovered. Her father, concerned about the reputation of his family and other daughters, had asked for assistance from a friend with a connection to the League of the Golden Daffodil; Rachel had been whisked away to Rosings, where she gave birth to a healthy son. The baby, now ten months old, was currently living in the servants’ quarters of Darcy House along with several other babies; the mothers, who all served in some capacity or other for the Darcys, took turns caring for the infants.
“I feel badly that Rachel must work instead of spending more time with her child,” Elizabeth fretted. “The whole situation is terribly sad.”
Anne took a sip of tea and said, “It is, of course, but Rachel was not thriving at Rosings with the other women living there. She is intelligent and I hope that she will learn other skills which will enable her to care for herself and her child as time goes on. I appreciate you and Darcy making a home for her.”
“Oh, it is our pleasure, of course,” Elizabeth returned, wiping away the tears in her eyes. She had always been a cheerful, optimistic woman, but the combination of advanced pregnancy and exposure to the sorrows of this world had made her prone to occasional bouts of weeping.
“Are you all right?” Anne asked worriedly.
“Oh yes, please do not heed my vapors! I am not sleeping well thanks to my baby’s activities at night. Let us speak of this Barrister John … Barosa?”
“Warosa,” Anne corrected. “Yes, let us do so. The man is…”
The door opened, interrupting her, and Elizabeth looked over, her face lighting up with pleasure. “Fitzwilliam!” she exclaimed, lurching to her feet again. “Oh, I did not expect you home yet!”
“I finished my business at the bank early,” Darcy returned, wrapping his long arms around his beloved wife. “I found Lady Catherine and Richard on the doorstep, and they will be in directly.”
Even as he spoke, Lady Catherine and Richard Fitzwilliam entered the room. The Darcys, the de Bourghs, and the colonel collected tea and biscuits and arranged themselves comfortably.
“Elizabeth,” Lady Catherine said after she had quenched her thirst, “has Anne told you yet about this Warosa scoundrel?”
“She has not had time, no,” Elizabeth replied, shifting her bulk to find a more comfortable position. This provoked an anxious look from her besotted husband, who had taken a seat next to her, and she smiled reassuringly. “I am well, my love. Do not worry.”
“It is difficult not to,” Darcy admitted, putting his arm around her. “But come, tell us about Warosa.”
“John Warosa is a barrister,” Lady Catherine explained briskly. “That in itself is of no concern, of course; it is a respectable profession. The problem is that he is engaged in a money scheme which is almost certainly a swindle, and he is targeting women in particular. Thus, it behooves us, as leaders of the League of the Golden Daffodil, to investigate the man.”
“What kind of swindle?” Elizabeth asked.
“We are not entirely certain,” Richard admitted, setting his cup down on a side table. “I believe you know Miss Barfield? She heard of him first; her widowed aunt, Lady Baxter, who lives in Greenwich, invested her money in some financial scheme of Mr. Warosa’s; the barrister pledged ten percent interest per annum on Lady Baxter’s capital, and for the last two years has provided documents indicating that her money has indeed increased as promised.”
“And that is suspect, I assume?” Elizabeth asked.
“I do not see how an honorable man can guarantee such returns, especially given the uncertainty of the markets because of the war with France,” Darcy said heavily. “There are risky investments which might yield such healthy profits, but they are not assured. The other possibility is that he is engaged in some kind of illegal activity, perhaps smuggling of some kind. That is also of concern, since the women who have invested their money with him could potentially be prosecuted if their funds are being used to engage in unlawful acts.”
Lady Catherine sighed and nodded, saying, “One of the League members, Miss Camber, has a marvelous head for figures. She spoke with Lady Baxter and a few other women involved in this scheme. Her assessment is that the man must be a cheat or a villain.”
“Have any of the women in question withdrawn money from their accounts?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, indeed. Mrs. Winton, who introduced Lady Baxter to Warosa, removed all her money, including the interest, only a few months ago to pay for her twin daughters’ coming out into society. So Warosa is not taking the money and spending it all. Nonetheless, the situation feels wrong to us. If the man is, in fact, a genius investor, we will gladly let him go on his way. But if he is playing some kind of long game with the money of various women, he must be stopped.”
“How will you determine the truth?” Elizabeth asked, leaning up against her husband even as her child wriggled in her womb.
“We started this morning,” Richard said. “Mr. Campbell, who provides false papers for members of the League, invited Barrister John Warosa to his offices; we arranged for the man to overhear an argument between Lady Catherine, Anne, and myself. It ended with Lady Catherine storming off in a huff, loudly exclaiming that she would be staying here at Darcy House. Mr. Campbell was directed to tell Warosa about Lady Catherine; that she is autocratic, overbearing, wealthy, and quite enraged that her daughter will soon marry me, and that she wishes for legal representation.”
“I wish I could have been there,” Darcy said in amusement. “It sounds like a most remarkable performance on your part.”
“We all performed admirably,” his aunt agreed with an unladylike grin.
“Does this mean that Mr. Campbell knows your true identity now, Lady Catherine?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh yes. We decided several months ago that it was better to tell the man the truth. He is something of a rascal, but he is being well paid for his work, and I believe he is now rather fond of us.”
Anne laughed and said, “He may be growing fond of me and Richard, but Mother, he is terrified of you.”
“Terror or fondness, it matters not,” her mother said with an extravagant wave of her hand. “So long as he fulfills his tasks appropriately, I am content. Now Elizabeth, I wondered if you might like to be part of my discussion with the good barrister. I know that Bingley and Darcy are augmenting your younger sisters’ dowries; Warosa might leap at the chance to ‘invest’ their dowries and promise a high rate of return.”
“Is there any danger?” Darcy asked worriedly.
“Not at all,” Richard assured his cousin. “The man is not violent in any way. Furthermore, Miss Colby is in residence at the de Bourgh house, and we can send her here.”
Darcy relaxed at these words; Miss Colby, thirty years of age, pretty, and dainty, was in fact a most gifted warrior and quite capable of knifing a man if the situation called for it.
“If my dear husband is at peace, I would be delighted to participate in investigating this man,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “It will distract me from my bulbous form, and if this man is swindling women, I want to see him taken down.”