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Wickham dismissed the urchin, feeling his confidence in his plan’s ability to succeed dwindle.

How could he take her if she was so well guarded at all times?

There were a surfeit of men watching her, not the normal one or two that one could often convince to leave a post for an ale or three.

He knew that his only hope was to find some weakness in her security he could exploit before the tenth day of April was upon him.

He did not know how yet but he had to succeed; failure was not an option that he cared to entertain.

His paramour noticed that he was in a bad mood and when she tried to enquire as to the source of his melancholy, he stalked off in high dungeon after helping himself to some of her coin.

With one of the toughs trailing him, he headed to the closest tavern to drown his sorrows.

Yes, he would get his due. Why should he have to work for what he wanted?

Look what happened to old Darcy when the old man had tried to cross him.

The same would happen to anyone else who tried to deny George Wickham his ‘rightful’ due.

As he always did, he conveniently ignored the fact that he had run from Ramsgate with his tail between his legs.

He could never challenge Darcy face to face.

George Wickham was a coward and the only way he had been able to exact his revenge on the father was to hide like a rat in his hole as he waited until the man and his mount were close enough for him to throw a sharp stone at the mount’s rump that had caused it to rear up.

Never in all of his delusions did Wickham imagine that he could ever face Darcy and win.

He remembered well the thrashings that he had received from his then friend the two times that he had pushed the stoic boy too far.

His knowing that Darcy was superior than himself in every way that counted was the basis for his hate and jealousy of the man he thought of as a prig.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Just after two Mr. Joseph Beckman strutted into White’s as if he owned the place.

Unbeknownst to him, he was barely tolerated and on the cusp of having his membership revoked.

Boodle’s had already chosen to deny him now.

As he walked toward the betting book to see if there were any wagers listed that he would like to bet on, he heard his name being called.

He turned and saw that the Duke of Hertfordshire was summoning him.

He preened like a peacock at the honour of being invited to join such illustrious company.

Mr. Beckman was a gambler, a bad one, he needed to compromise Miss Lavinia Ashton sooner rather than later.

He needed her thirty-thousand-pound dowry to pay off his debts and if there was a little left for betting on card games and horse racing, so much the better.

He was going to use the settlement that he had heard of so that he would not have to spend too much of his ill-gotten gains on its previous owner.

As he approached the group, he saw more peers in one place than he had ever seen before, and two of them dukes!

He did not observe that they were sitting in the centre of the room, and everything could be seen and heard by all other than the passing thought that all would see honour being bestowed on him.

Without preamble Lord Thomas Bennet launched his attack.

“Mr. Beckman, were you in this venerable institution a few days past boasting how you planned to use Mr. Darcy’s settlement to make sure the woman you plan to compromise will receive almost nothing?

” Beckman went white. Before he could think of an answer, Mr. Darcy, who he knew was lethal with all weapons, stepped forward.

“That settlement has one purpose and one purpose only. It is to protect against entrapment, not enable it!” Darcy said acerbically.

“You are no gentleman, sir. You gamble away your future and then think that the way out is to force an innocent lady into an unwanted marriage. As if that is not bad enough, you have the temerity to want to use my settlement to hurt the aggrieved party! You disgust me.” Darcy had not spoken softly.

Every conversation in the club had ceased and all eyes and ears were on the scene playing out in front of them.

By now Beckman had gone weak at the knees, and if it were not for supporting himself on the arm of a chair, he would not have been able to stand.

The Duke of Hertfordshire spoke again, “It did not take much to discover that your intended victim is Miss Lavinia Ashton. A note of warning was dispatched to her father before we came here.” The Duke paused for a moment, “Your name will be mud from now on. No one in polite society will ever receive you again. An innocent lady paying for your own folly? No, sir, it will not happen.” Beckman was then approached by the manager of White’s who informed the fortune hunter that his membership was summarily revoked and that he would never be admitted again, under no uncertain terms. The man, quaking in his boots, was led out of White’s by two large footmen.

Lord Sedgwick Bennet addressed the watching crowd: “Let it be known that any who tries to use Mr. Darcy’s settlement against a lady, for any other reason than the woman tried to entrap the man, will be ruined in society by all of us that you see here before you.

Make sure that any who think that they can cross us knows that they would be crossing the royal family in addition to us. ”

For a full five minutes there was silence at White’s after the Bennets and their party left.

It did not take many days for the salient message that was delivered to be disseminated throughout the Ton.

Joseph Beckman would never show his face in polite society again.

He would be forced to sell his estate in Essex to pay his debts.

The irony was that Lord Thomas Bennet purchased the estate at a vastly reduced price, using Frank Phillips as his agent so the identity of the purchaser was never revealed to the seller.

Beckman left England shortly after the sale, never to be heard from again.

The effect of the show of force at White’s had the intended result, no man dared consider, let alone speak, of using the settlement for any purpose other than its intent, which was to stop compromises.

Miss Ashton was safe, as were other unknown ladies who would have been targets of those from the same ilk as the disgraced Beckman.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The ladies stood in awe as they looked around in Harding, Howell, and Company Department store at 89 Pall Mall in St James's. There were four main departments spread over two floors. On the ground floor was one that sported fur coats, muffs, fur lined accessories, and fans. The department that shared the ground floor boasted jewellery, ornamental articles in ormolu, French clocks, and a vast assortment of perfumery necessary for one’s toilette.

On the first floor one found a haberdashery; including silks, muslins, lace, and gloves, as well as the department for millinery and dresses.

It was a cornucopia of wares to peruse and purchase, if something caught their eye.

The younger girls convinced Mrs. Gardiner to accompany them and their companions to the first floor, while Lady Anne escorted Lady Elizabeth, her niece Anne, and the current and former Bingley sisters.

Mrs Jenkinson, Anne’s companion, and Miss Jones trailed behind them.

Both groups were under the watchful eye of two footmen.

Biggs was trailing the group that included his Lady Elizabeth while Johns was one of two near the front entrance while two more men were at the rear of the merchant’s store.

There was much to admire at Harding, Howell, and Company, and had the ladies not been clients of the best modiste in London they may have been more interested in the ready-made gowns and dresses that were on display.

The ladies were there for the experience and camaraderie of being together more than to purchase items unless something called out to one of them and they could not resist the pull.

“It is still hard for me to believe that we will be cousins in March, Lizzy,” Caroline Bingley said as she looked at her engagement ring that had belonged to her betrothed’s grandmother Gardiner.

It was a gold band that had a larger diamond in the centre with four small diamonds surrounding it.

It was not the most expensive ring, but to Caroline Bingley it was perfect.

“The whole family welcomes you, Caroline,” Elizabeth said with meaning.

“You do realise what that means, do you not, Caroline?” Lady Anne asked cryptically.

“I am not sure what you mean, Lady Anne?” the normally quick but now baffled woman asked.

“As you will be our cousins as well, I think it is high time that you call me Aunt Anne like your cousin-to-be does,” Lady Anne elucidated Miss Bingley.

Mrs. Hurst and Anne de Bourgh also smiled as the information penetrated Caroline’s besotted brain. “It is fun to see my baby sister so in love that she cannot use that quick mind of hers effectively,” Louisa Hurst teased her younger sister, which earned her a playful slap on the hand.

“Do not forget about me,” Miss de Bourgh added playfully, “I am a cousin too!”

“Aunt Anne, Anne, I must plead that my brain was addled,” Caroline laughed at herself, “Oh my, the extended family will be so large, and…” The lady’s pallor changed as she looked almost distressed. “W-we will be distantly related to the royals!”

“Yes Caroline, you are correct. However, as the connection is distant, neither the Regent nor the Queen will be inviting you to family dinners…just yet,” Elizabeth teased her friend.

It worked; Caroline’s pallor returned to normal.

The ladies enjoyed two hours at the establishment before they returned to Bennet House where they met the men who informed them of what Beckman had intended to do and the consequences of his behaviour.

The ladies were very gratified that the men had let it be known that any who tried to use the settlement for nefarious reasons would be ruined and ostracised, just as had happened to the fortune-hunting rake.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Wickham was not happy. The report he had just received from the boy had angered him so that, in his inebriated state, he had hit the messenger because he did not like the message.

It cost him half a crown to placate the rascal and stop him from leaving and taking all his brothers and friends with him.

He had gone to the tavern to drown his sorrows only to return to receive more bad news.

When the object of his revenge-obsession went out with family there were even more guards.

The lad had reported that the excursion to Harding, Howell, and Company had eight footmen that watched the group, and, like at the modiste’s, two were posted at the entrance and two at the rear!

‘ How am I to get my hands on the harridan and save my neck? ’ Wickham asked himself.

He needed something to go his way soon or he was a dead man.

Luckily for him, Karen would forgive his pique from earlier and welcome him back into her bed. That was something at least. If only she was younger…