Page 93 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Mrs. Warwick’s House

Cheapside, London

19 th December, 1815

The bedroom was large but mostly bare. A bed, made up simply with white sheets and blankets, sat in one corner with a dresser alongside of it, and a wooden wardrobe filled another corner. A locked wooden chest inhabited yet another corner, while the rest of the room was entirely empty.

Three years ago, Lydia Bennet of Longbourn would have looked upon such a simple bedchamber with disdain, but to the relief of all her relatives and friends, the spoiled girl had given way to a sensible young woman. Lydia knew that while pretty dresses and expensive furnishings were enjoyable, there were far more important matters in life. In this particular situation, a clear, clean floor was the perfect place to practice her fighting skills.

Her adversary advanced upon her menacingly, and Lydia danced carefully to the side. Her opponent feinted right and then jumped left, but Lydia, seeing the danger, stepped forward boldly and hooked one rather large foot behind her foe’s leg and pulled, causing Priscilla Colby to crash onto the floor in a flurry of skirts. The youngest Bennet daughter jumped in excitement and cried out, “At last! At last!”

Miss Colby rolled gracefully to her feet and bestowed a small curtsey on her student. “That was excellent, Miss Bennet.”

“Thank you,” Lydia replied, blushing a little, before adding, “Considering you knocked me down six times before I learned that move, I would say I am a slow learner, but I know how fearsome a fighter you are.”

Priscilla Colby chuckled at this but did not demure. She was a slight woman with delicate features, but after her mother’s death, she had been raised by her father and four devoted, stalwart brothers, and had been trained to be a skilled warrior.

“You have improved enormously in the last months, Miss Bennet,” she said approvingly. “I believe...”

She froze and turned toward the door as a series of screams rent the air from the floor below. As quick as lightning, Priscilla rushed to the door and opened it to listen. A few seconds later, she gestured toward the wardrobe. “Come, Lydia.”

Three years ago, Lydia would have demanded to know what was going on, but she was now a woman under command, and she obediently followed her preceptor toward the wardrobe.

Priscilla opened the main door, pushed back the clothes hanging within and rapidly opened the hidden panel, which led to a secret compartment where they could hide. Lydia clambered inside and moved to one side so that Priscilla could follow her. Miss Colby pulled both the main door and hidden door closed and they waited, forcing themselves to breathe steadily and quietly.

They were only barely in time. The door to the bedroom squeaked open and heavy feet rushed in, moving to and fro. A heavy thump near the bed made it obvious that someone was looking under the bedframe. A moment later, the wardrobe door opened, and the girls heard the clothing shoved aside, but then the feet retreated and a male voice called out, “This bedroom is empty!”

Priscilla and Lydia waited another minute, and then Lydia asked softly, “What do we do?”

Priscilla Colby considered the situation for a full minute and then reached to her neck and fingered the key to the chest in her room. “Miss Bennet, how comfortable are you with a gun?”

***

Mrs. Hannah Scofield stood with her back to the rear wall of the house, her pistol pointed directly at the head of Mrs. Warwick, the mistress of this most useful establishment. She turned as Thomas Cadogan, her youngest nephew, clattered down the stairs, and pushed a particularly lovely servant girl in front of her.

“Is that all of them?” Hannah demanded.

“Yes, Aunt Hannah,” the young man said, pushing his prey into a corner where four other comely young women were huddling, wide-eyed with terror. Thomas’s eldest brother, Robert Cadogan, stood with his arm around the waist of the youngest of the girls; his other hand held a long knife, whose polished blade shone wickedly in the candlelight.

“Where are the rest of your girls?” Mrs. Scofield snapped at Mrs. Warwick, who stared back in horror.

“They are ... they are out working tonight, at Lord Maybury’s Christmas party,” the woman quavered. “What ... what do you want with me? I have a little money...”

Mrs. Scofield laughed harshly. “I have no need for you at all, Mrs. Warwick; I am solely interested in your girls. Thomas, bind their hands behind them. I advise you not to struggle, girls; I doubt you would enjoy watching Mrs. Warwick here bleeding out from a bullet...”

There was the sudden report of a pistol shot outside the house, and Mrs. Scofield and her minions glanced toward the back door in alarm. In that moment of distraction, another pistol fired, this one within the house, and Mrs. Scofield screamed as a bullet plowed into her right shoulder, the agony and injury causing her to drop her pistol and crash to the floor.

Robert Cadogan squealed in anguish as his diminutive captive kicked him firmly between the legs, just as another of the girls slashed his weapon hand with a knife. The next minute was confusing, as Mrs. Warwick punched Hannah Scofield in the head and then rolled her onto her front, and the other women of the League of the Golden Daffodil attacked the two Cadogan brothers and brought them down in a flurry of fists and well-aimed kicks.

Priscilla Colby, confident that the situation was well in hand inside the house, rushed toward the rear door with her own pistol still smoking. She dashed into the rather odiferous alley behind the house and then halted in relief; a large carriage stood outside with two horses standing placidly in wait, but there was no driver sitting in the box; instead, a long form lay recumbent on the ground, with Lydia Bennet standing near but not too near, with a pistol in each hand, though only the one in her right hand was pointed at her captive.

“Is everything all right?” Lydia asked anxiously. “I heard a shot!”

“That was me, and yes, all is well. Are you harmed in any way?”

“Of course not!” Lydia said indignantly. “I took him entirely unawares.”

Priscilla relaxed in relief. She had been concerned at sending Lydia out to handle the carriage driver alone, but she had not had many options since every other woman in the house had been captured.

“You did a wonderful job,” she said warmly, stepping over and placing a booted foot on the prisoner’s back. She reached down and carefully searched him, finding both a pistol in its holster and a knife in its sheath. Obviously, the man had been entirely too confident of his conspirators’ ability to kidnap the young women in the house. “I assume since you only fired once that it was not necessarily to blast a hole in this rogue?”

“Yes,” Lydia said sunnily. “He thought about attacking me but was wise enough to stand down when he saw the barrel of my pistol pointed directly at his heart.”

“Who are you?” the man demanded rather plaintively

“You will find out soon enough,” Miss Colby promised, removing her linen belt and tying the villain’s hands behind his back.

***

Mrs. Hannah Scofield, seated on a simple wooden chair with her ankles bound, stared with fearful eyes at her captor. Mrs. Warwick, who was herself sitting on a nearby cushioned chair, held a pistol pointed toward Mrs. Scofield’s chest. Her two nephews were somewhere upstairs under guard; while both men were tall and well built, Mrs. Scofield was doubtful of their ability to escape their beautiful captors, all of whom had shown a remarkable ability to defend themselves.

Mrs. Scofield swallowed hard, struggling to maintain some semblance of control. Her shoulder was still bleeding sluggishly, and the pain was considerable, though Mrs. Warwick had, at least, bound up the wound.

“You had best let me go,” Mrs. Scofield said tremulously. “I am a close relative to Lady Adbury, you know.”

“You are a second cousin once removed,” Mrs. Warwick commented drily, “which is hardly a close relationship. I am curious; is Lady Adbury aware that you and your nephews are in the business of abducting young women for nefarious purposes?”

Hannah gulped in terror. How did Mrs. Warwick know of her specific connection to Lady Adbury?

“I can pay you one thousand pounds,” she said, trying to sound confident. “That is a great deal of money, Mrs. Warwick, a very great deal indeed. I promise that if you let us go, we will never bother you again.”

The front door opened abruptly, and Hannah looked up in shock as Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy rushed inside, her face pale with worry, and demanded, “Is Lydia truly all right?”

Mrs. Warwick rose to her feet and smiled reassuringly at her guest as several other men and women crowded into the room, one of whom was Mr. Darcy.

“Lydia is entirely well, Mrs. Darcy, I assure you,” Mrs. Warwick said. “She was instrumental in handling this rather challenging situation. She is upstairs if you wish to speak with her.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, and dashed toward the stairs, her husband in pursuit.

Anne Fitzwilliam, with her husband Richard behind her, walked over to gaze down at Mrs. Scofield, who stared back at her with eyes like saucers. “Mrs. Fitzwilliam?” she stammered. “What are ... why are you here? You must help me! I have been ... this woman ... I have been shot!”

“What happened here, Mrs. Jenkinson?” Anne asked, keeping her gaze fixed on the prisoner.

Mrs. Jenkinson, alias Mrs. Warwick, said, “As you know, Mrs. Scofield visited us yesterday and asked that we send two girls to a dinner party at Lady Adbury’s house in one week’s time. Unfortunately, I let down my guard as I thought any attempt at abduction would take place at the party. We were thus taken by surprise when Mrs. Scofield and her nephews broke into this house and took most of us hostage. Mrs. Scofield held me at gunpoint while her nephews ransacked the house and hauled five of the girls in here. Fortunately, Miss Bennet and Miss Colby overheard our screams and hid in the wardrobe; Lydia then climbed down the ivy in the back and fired a shot outside, which distracted our attackers such that Priscilla was able to shoot Mrs. Scofield in the shoulder. The older nephew, Robert Cadogan, was knifed by Emily, though it will not prove a fatal wound. Mrs. Scofield will also probably survive unless her wound gets infected, which is all too likely.”

Hannah gasped aloud at these casual words and cried out, “You must get me a doctor! You must!”

Anne Fitzwilliam sat down on a wooden chair near her captive and considered the woman dispassionately. “Must I, Mrs. Scofield? You attacked my dear friend, Mrs. Jenkinson, and attempted to abduct a number of girls under my protection. The only thing I must do is call the constabulary to have you hauled away to prison.”

Hannah shook her head frantically as tears of terror and pain began rolling down her cheeks. “I did not know, I promise you! I had no idea these girls were ... you did not say that you were involved with Mrs. ... I thought her name was Mrs. Warwick? I am sorry! Please, call a doctor and I will never ... I did not mean ... why are you here, Mrs. Fitzwilliam! I do not understand at all!”

“That is simple enough,” Anne said with a feral smile. “We discovered you were involved in the abduction and disappearance of young servant girls in London, and set a trap for you. It worked surprisingly well. Now, before we talk about a doctor for your wounds, I insist on an answer. What do you do with the girls whom you abducted? Where are they? If they have been harmed in any way, you are responsible.”

Hannah gulped and leaned forward. “They are well enough, I promise you! They are in Scotland, in Edinburgh. A man there pays me well for attractive young women who provide...”

She trailed away at the fury in Anne Fitzwilliam’s eyes and cried out, “They are mere commoners, all of them! They do not matter, not like those of us of the upper classes. My husband left me penniless and my nephews are orphans. We need money, and these girls are worth eighty pounds apiece to Mr. Goudey in Edinburgh!”

Anne, while familiar with the horrors of the world, found herself trembling with disgust and outrage. She looked up at Richard and allowed him to pull her close.

“Take a few minutes, my love,” he whispered. “I know you wish to stab the foul woman through the heart, but that is not the answer here.”

“I know,” Anne agreed, and blew out a slow breath. “I know.”