Page 90 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Netherfield Hall

Two mornings later

Barrister John Warosa opened his eyes and peered sleepily at the draped window; bright sunshine shone against the maroon curtains, meaning it must be at least ten o’clock in the morning. In London he never rose so late, but last night he had been awake well past midnight playing cards with Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and a neighbor named Sir William Lucas.

He groaned softly as he threw the bedcovers aside and clambered to his feet. He then looked around with a mixture of satisfaction and envy. The satisfaction was due to his present circumstances; Netherfield Hall was a charming estate and the company these last two days, composed as it was of gentlemen and very beautiful ladies, had been delightful. The envy sprang from his own reality; yes, he was moderately rich and successful, but he was not nearly wealthy enough to afford a lease on an estate like Netherfield Park. The old resentment rose in his heart; what had Charles Bingley done to deserve a father who, having made his fortune in trade, had arranged for his son and heir to attend Cambridge, whereupon the man had been fortunate to befriend Mr. Darcy? What had Mr. Darcy done that he deserved his Pemberley, with her incredible ten thousand pounds a year in income. Nothing! They had done nothing at all to earn their lot in life whereas he, John Warosa, Barrister, toiled and struggled each day to increase his wealth.

Well, at least he would be separating his host and extended family from some of their money. Only yesterday afternoon, Bingley and Darcy had agreed to invest funds in Warosa’s scheme on behalf of the three unmarried Misses Bennet.

He gazed at a mirror affixed helpfully on the wall and scowled at his reflection. He was handsome, he knew, and charming, and yet just because he had not gone to Harrow or Eton, or Cambridge or Oxford, he would never be accepted like the Bingleys and Darcys of this world. But at least he could enjoy the finer things in life.

Well, enough woolgathering. He needed to shave and dress, break his fast, and return to London, as little as that appealed to him. He had intended to leave yesterday – he had work to do, after all – but Miss Lydia had begged him to stay another day…

Miss Lydia was an enchanting girl, she truly was, and if she had been an heiress, he might have considered pursuing her. She was, of course, very young; not yet eighteen years of age, and he was over thirty. Nonetheless, her eyes sparkled with a special light, and her plump lips and pleasing form would attract any reasonable man. But Lydia Bennet was merely the fifth daughter of a country gentleman, and besides, he had no intention of marrying into one of his victims’ –his investors’ – families.

He sighed again and rang the bell for a servant to assist him into his clothes.

***

One hour later

“Mr. Bingley requests that you meet him in his office when you are finished with your meal, sir,” the butler informed Warosa as the barrister bit into his last slice of toast.

“I will be there within five minutes. Can you arrange for my carriage to be prepared to take me back to Town?”

“Of course, sir.”

Warosa finished his meal rapidly, wiped down his hands and face, rose to his feet, adjusted his cravat and coat, and strode out of the breakfast room, down the corridor, and into Bingley’s office.

He smiled slightly, though he made certain that his eyes were not squinty. He wanted to look approachable and friendly but also professional.

He stepped into the study and looked around at those gathered there. As he met the eyes of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, and Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his smile slipped away, his eyes rounding in confusion and dismay.

The former Bennet daughters were seated side by side on a small couch by the unlit fire, and while their beauty was unsullied, their expressions were truly forbidding. As for Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, who were flanking the desk, those gentlemen looked positively grim. Between them, on a hard-backed, wooden chair, sat Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and under her hand – surely not! It was quite impossible!

“Sit down, Mr. Warosa,” the lady ordered in a ringing tone. “Now.”

He gaped at her in astonishment before saying feebly, “Lady Catherine, this is a surprise. I did not realize you would be here.”

“Sit down,” Mr. Darcy ordered, striding forward to push him into a seat. The gentleman then retreated to stand in front of the door, blocking any escape attempt.

“What … what is this?” Warosa croaked, struggling to attain some measure of equanimity.

“I think it is quite obvious what this is,” Lady Catherine returned, her tone sharp as a whip. “These are the private ledgers from your office, describing your supposed investment strategy. Except there are no investments, are there, Mr. Warosa? You are not a brilliant strategist with a remarkable understanding of the Exchange. You merely take money from women, use it for your own expenses, and provide annual documents indicating that their holdings have increased ten percent per year. With those kinds of yields, most women naturally prefer to leave their money with you instead of withdrawing it. Those investors who do need their money are paid with the money given to you by new investors. It is a creative scheme, Mr. Warosa, but also entirely criminal.”

Warosa swallowed hard and then decided, with nothing else to lose, to go on the offensive.

“How did you get those ledgers?” he demanded.

“By infiltrating your office, and then breaking into your safe, of course,” the lady responded with an airy wave of her hand.

Warosa narrowed his eyes and snarled, “That is also criminal, Lady Catherine!”

“It is, of course, but given that I am a noblewoman, with all the privilege of peerage, I will not be arrested. Come now, Mr. Warosa; the best thing to do is to acknowledge that your scheme has been uncovered and that you have been beaten. Your only hope to avoid prison yourself is to cooperate.”

Warosa paled at this threat and said, “I hardly think you would wish to splash this entire affair across London society, Lady Catherine. Only think of the scandal if it was discovered that so many ladies had…”

He stopped speaking as his heart quailed within him. He had truly never seen such a martial light in a woman’s eyes; it was quite terrifying.

“Mr. Warosa,” Lady Catherine said crisply, “let us understand one another. There will be no scandal, because if you do not cooperate with us, you will be thrown into prison. I assure you that Darcy and I have plenty of connections in the judicial system; they will not permit any news of your clients’ imprudence to escape into society. As for you, you might well find yourself dangling at the end of a rope in short order. I suggest you dispense with your threats.”

Warosa gave the matter three seconds of thought and decided that the lady was not to be trifled with.

“What do you want?” he asked in a subdued tone.

“I want you to return the money you have taken from the women listed in these ledgers,” Lady Catherine said and then, as Warosa opened his mouth, she lifted a restraining hand. “I know you cannot do it now; I have read the ledgers, along with a friend with a marvelous head for numbers, and we know that you have spent much of what you have been given. You have assets, of course, and the first step will be to sell your house, and your carriages, and your horses…”

“You would see me beggared?” Warosa demanded, his pupils dilating in horror.

“You thought little of beggaring others, Mr. Warosa,” Elizabeth Darcy declared, her fine eyes flashing like fire.

“I took only from the wealthy,” Warosa said sullenly. “It is hardly fair that you and your families were born into wealth while my family is poor.”

Elizabeth Darcy’s eyes flashed in anger. “My sister and I grew up at Longbourn, and as you know, the estate is entailed to a distant cousin. If our father had died while we were all unwed, our mother and all five of us sisters would have been forced to live on the interest of a mere five thousand pounds. Our situation is not particularly singular; many women in the gentry have limited funds, and yet you have specifically targeted females for your schemes!”

“Nor was your family very poor,” Lady Catherine added drily. “You had sufficient funds to become a barrister.”

“That was only due to the death of my mother’s uncle, who left me a bequest sufficient to pay for my training. Even then, work was hard to find when I was first called to the Bar. It was only due to some fortunate investments from the last of my inheritance which permitted me to live at moderate ease...”

He trailed away, swallowed hard, and then continued rapidly, “Then, a friend of mine, aware of my success in the ‘Change, asked me to invest for him, and I was quite successful, which brought others interested in my expertise. For two years, all was well, and then I had some unfortunate reversals. Some of my clients needed their money, and I sold what I had to pay them, but it was not enough. Then Mrs. Winton invested a large sum with me, and I used it to pay my other clients, and she told others about me, and …”

“And so you decided to use new investors to pay off old investors,” Lady Catherine said grimly.

“No one will benefit if you throw me into prison,” Warosa said in a pleading tone.

Lady Catherine glared at him for a moment, then glanced around at the others in the room. “What do you think we should do with Mr. Warosa?”

To Warosa’s considerable surprise, it was the angelic Mrs. Bingley who spoke, “As you said, Lady Catherine, he must sell everything extra: house, horses, carriages, art, everything. If he does so, we can allow him his freedom with the understanding that he will give us half of his future earnings, so long as he does honest work.”

“I cannot live on that!” Warosa protested.

“Are you a good barrister?” Lady Catherine demanded.

The man straightened his back and said, with dignity, “I am an excellent barrister, but it is not enough to be skilled at my profession; my name is not well known, and I have not had many clients, thus my income has been insufficient for many years. Indeed, that is why…”

“I understand,” Lady Catherine said drily. She glanced around at her fellow members of the League and said, “Very well, this is our offer. One of my compatriots will accompany you back to London, to your home, and he will make a thorough catalogue of your possessions. You will sell what we tell you to sell, and we will distribute the money among those whom you have cheated. You will move into inexpensive lodgings, and we will provide you with some work as a barrister. Half of your fee will go to your debts, and you can live on the rest. If you work well as a barrister, you will no doubt find other clients. You will turn over half of any additional income to us as well. Now, I will give you a minute to decide whether to accept our deal or no.”

Warosa allowed himself thirty seconds of cogitation and then nodded. “I agree.”

What other choice did he have?

“One other thing, Mr. Warosa,” Darcy said, taking a menacing step toward their captive. “It is possible that you may, at some point, perhaps today, consider fleeing elsewhere to evade us. I would not advise doing that. We have friends in Scotland, and Ireland, on the Continent, and even in the New World. If you run, we will find you, and the generous deal you have agreed to will no longer be an option. Do I make myself clear?”

Warosa swallowed hard and muttered, “I understand completely.”

***

That evening

Darcy draped his silk nightrobe over a convenient chair and slid carefully into bed, hoping to avoid waking his dear wife, who was, thanks to a busy day, more fatigued than usual.

As soon as he achieved a supine position, Elizabeth wiggled toward him, showing that while her eyes were closed, she was still very much awake. He smiled and reached out one long arm to gather her in. He allowed his hand to rest on the mound where his child resided and was rewarded with a few fluttering jabs.

“He is kicking,” Elizabeth murmured.

“Or she,” Darcy returned. They had spoken of this several times already; Elizabeth, aware of the troubles for her family of birth when her mother had delivered only daughters, hoped for a son. Darcy, on the other hand, did not care in the least. He would truly relish either son or daughter, and he wanted his dear bride to know that he prayed only for a healthy mother and babe.

“Or she,” Elizabeth agreed, pulling her husband’s arm closer and sighing in contentment.

For a minute they were silent and then Elizabeth said, “Do you think we made the right decision about Warosa?”

Darcy lifted his hand to run his fingers through her soft hair and said, “I think so, yes. The man is a villain to some degree, but the ledgers show that he was telling the truth about one thing at least. He started as a respectable investor and only turned to deceit when his speculations failed. As he said, throwing him into prison will not allow him to repay his debts. In selling his house and horses and furniture, he will be severely punished, but he can continue to earn money to pay his debts.”

“Given how much he owes, it will take him many years to pay off accounts, if he manages to do it at all,” Elizabeth said in a troubled voice.

“Bingley and I have agreed to pay the remaining debt for now, and will be reimbursed by Mr. Warosa over time.”

Elizabeth wiggled around and rolled over with some difficulty so that she could peer into her darling husband’s face, though she could not see much in the pale moonlight shining through the window.

“That is very kind of you both,” she said, running a hand down his cheek.

“We can afford it easily,” he returned quickly. “There is no danger that we will…”

“Run out of money?” Elizabeth finished. “I know, my dear. Pemberley is very wealthy, and you, my love, are a careful and reasonably frugal man.”

“I am, because I love you, and I love our child, and any more children we have, and even with our commitment to the League, I am determined to provide well for my family.”

“I know. You are a good man and husband, and you will be a wonderful father. I have no doubt that you will provide all the financial stability we need, even as you assist those caught up in the vile schemes of others.”

Darcy leaned over and kissed her gently, lovingly, and appreciatively. What had he done to win such a woman, who was willing to spend his – their – fortune to help the poor and disadvantaged women around them? Who did not insist on spending recklessly on clothes and jewelry, but was devoted to the cause of those who could not easily help themselves?

“You are a woman in a million, my darling,” he murmured.

“I know,” his lady responded, planting an enticing kiss on his lips. “I know. Now, I do hope you are not too fatigued, because I think we have one more necessary activity before we slumber.”

“I agree,” Darcy said breathlessly.

The End of ‘The Swindler’ ... but turn the page and keep reading!