Page 20 of Longbourn’s Son (Pride and Prejudice Variation #22)
Mr. Bennet sat behind his desk in the library, gloating over his latest treasure, a third edition of Marmion, A Tale of Flodden Field . He had waited some weeks for the volume to arrive and looked forward to a pleasant evening of reading in solitude.
There was a knock at the door, and he groaned softly. The last thing he wanted was an interruption. Nonetheless, he called, “Come in!”
The door opened and Elizabeth, Jane, and Luke entered the room, all with solemn expressions. This did not bode well for his plan to read the evening away.
“Oh dear, you all look very serious,” he said with a wry grimace, carefully setting Marmion aside.
“We are serious,” Elizabeth said, gesturing for Luke to take the chair directly across from their father. She and Jane pushed their own chairs to flank their brother, and sat down. Mr. Bennet stared uneasily at this phalanx of progeny and asked, “What do you wish to say?”
“Luke has something of great importance to tell you, Father,” Elizabeth said.
“I hope it has nothing to do with thoroughbred horses, Son, or I shall return to my book.”
“It does, actually, but I am not advocating purchasing or riding any thoroughbreds, sir.”
“Ah, you wish to speak of horses, but not of Longbourn horses present or future. Very well, go ahead, Luke.”
The Bennet heir took a deep breath, glanced at his sisters for reassurance, and plunged into explanation.
He spoke of the unnerving party at the barracks, where spirits had flowed freely and he had been pressured into gambling.
He spoke of Wickham and Williamson’s discussion in the stable about horse racing and cock fighting and the local ladies and women.
When Luke finished, Mr. Bennet, who had been looking increasingly thunderous during his son’s recitation, stared into the fire for a minute before saying, “Thank you, Luke. I am most grateful that you told me about the wicked plans of these men. His remarks about Elizabeth, well, we will discuss that later. I must congratulate you for being wise enough to avoid their gambling schemes.”
Luke, who had been feeling uneasy about his father’s response to his actions, especially with regards to the horses in the Milton stables, relaxed noticeably. “I know that gambling is foolish, sir. So many men and women have lost fortunes.”
“They have indeed,” Bennet responded, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Let me think on how best to handle this, but do not worry – I will take steps. We welcomed the militia men with open arms, and for them to repay us in this way is abominable.”
“To be fair,” Elizabeth said, “only Mr. Wickham and Mr. Williamson have betrayed themselves; perhaps they are working together and are also taking advantage of other members of the regiment, as well as targeting local women.”
“True enough, Lizzy. True enough.”
“I am particularly worried and angry about Wickham’s remarks about my sisters,” Luke asserted, a martial light in his eyes.
“It is disgusting indeed,” Elizabeth said with a shiver of revulsion. “It sounds, however, like the daughters of servants and tradesmen and tenants are in far more danger from Wickham. We must warn them!”
“We will,” her father promised, “but do be cautious, Lizzy. I must request that you no longer walk Longbourn lands alone.”
Elizabeth’s face fell; she was an extremely active young woman, and her walks were precious to her as they provided both exercise and time away from the tumult of Longbourn.
“A manservant can go with you, Elizabeth, or I will go,” Luke assured her. “Father is right; it seems unlikely that Wickham will attack a gentleman’s daughter, but I did not like his tone in the least. We would be devastated if something happened to you.”
“Very well,” his second sister said reluctantly. “I will no longer walk alone.”
/
“I wish to host a ball here at Netherfield,” Bingley announced as he poked at his food at dinner.
This provoked startled looks from those seated around the table. Caroline Bingley, not surprisingly, recovered first. “Are you mad, Charles? Miss Darcy is not yet out and Louisa is in mourning!”
“Half mourning,” Louisa corrected her, “and I think a ball is a charming idea. I will not dance, but I would be pleased to enjoy the conversation of our new friends.”
“Especially Mr. Bennet, no doubt?” Caroline demanded waspishly.
“Yes, especially Mr. Bennet,” her sister answered, staring her down.
With the ease of long practice, Charles ignored his sisters’ bickering and turned an inquiring eye on his closest friend. “What do you think, Darcy?”
Darcy held back a groan; he was not fond of dancing but a ball was an excellent way to earn goodwill from the local community. “Of course, Bingley. That sounds delightful.”
“It will be an enormous amount of work,” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “We would have to arrange for decorations, and white soup, and instruments…”
“I believe you excel at arranging such things, Caroline, do you not? I understand that your finishing school prepared you exceptionally well for such tasks?”
Miss Bingley cast an uneasy look at Darcy and nodded. “Yes, of course, Charles. I am most accomplished at organizing balls. It is more that I do not believe the locals are worthy of so much effort and expense.”
“Miss Bingley,” Georgiana said with spurious timidity, “I confess that I do not feel at all comfortable with arranging a ball in spite of my own education. If you do organize such an event, I would be most privileged to observe the process. I suppose someday I will have to manage such affairs, though I am thankful I am but sixteen and those days are long off. I would not, of course, wish to inconvenience you at all.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam were staring at the girl now in bewilderment, but Caroline’s fractious expression quickly turned to a saccharine smile. “Oh, Miss Darcy, I would be delighted to share my knowledge. I flatter myself that I am an excellent organizer and would be honored to show you my methods.”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Bingley!” Georgiana cried out enthusiastically.
“So it is decided?” Bingley asked hopefully. “We will have a ball?”
“Yes,” Caroline Bingley returned, leaning back in her chair with satisfaction. Not only would she show Mr. Darcy her remarkable organizational abilities, she would have the opportunity to impress the man’s young sister.
/
“You called for me, sir?” Samuel Lucas asked, stepping into his father’s office at Lucas Lodge. To his surprise, Mr. Bennet was also present; the master of Longbourn rarely bothered to visit his neighbors as he preferred reading dull books.
“Yes, Son, come in and sit down,” Sir William ordered, his usually pleasant face grim with concern.
Samuel obeyed, taking a seat across from Mr. Bennet, while his father remained in his favorite wing backed chair. Samuel carefully brushed a piece of lint off of his tan breeches and looked inquiringly at his father. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“There may be. Have you been gambling with the militia officers, Samuel?”
The dismay that flashed across the young man’s face was answer enough, and his father shook his head in disappointment. “My boy, how could you be such a fool as to play with militia officers, many of whom have spent literally hundreds of hours playing cards? How much do you owe?”
Samuel shook his head rapidly. “Please, Father, do not worry about it. I promise you that I will win back what I have lost very soon.”
Sir William’s bushy eyebrows lowered in disapproval. “Why do you imagine you will win when you have been losing?”
“I won the first two times I played,” his son defended himself. “The last two times the cards and dice have been against me, but my luck must turn soon, you know!”
Sir William’s expression grew even more thunderous, and Mr. Bennet interposed quickly, “Samuel, am I correct in thinking you owe the most money to Mr. Wickham, Mr. Williamson, or both men?”
The youth blinked and nodded slowly; “Yes, sir. But as I said, I have merely been unfortunate of late.”
Sir William brought his fist down on the arm of his chair and snapped, “You young fool, that is what they are depending on, that you will continue playing and fall deeper into debt.”
Samuel shook his head angrily. “No sir, I won the first few times, and I will win…”
“They intended that you would,” Bennet interposed. “We have reason to believe that they are cheating at cards.”
The Lucas heir shook his head in disbelief. “That is impossible! They are militia officers, and honorable men!”
“They are not honorable, young man,” Bennet said gently. “They were overheard recently, Wickham and Williamson, discussing their plans to cheat the local men and younger officers of their wealth. Now, are you aware of any other young men nearby who have fallen into their clutches?”
Samuel Lucas looked at his father and asked, “Is this true, sir? Could they truly be cheating?”
Sir William nodded grimly. “They are cheating, Son. You only won because they allowed you to.”
The young man leaned back in his chair, his brain whirling with anger and embarrassment, the latter being the more painful emotion. He thought of himself as a sophisticated man of the world and to be tricked like a yokel was insupportable. At least he was not alone.
“There are several other young men who are indebted to Wickham and Williamson,” he said sullenly, “including the Pierces, and the Sampson heir, and I know several of the young officers are in debt as well. I do not understand how they are cheating; are they marking the cards?”
“Perhaps,” Bennet said, drumming his fingers on his armrest, “or it may be that they are signing to one another to indicate what they hold in their hands. That is particularly successful for games like whist. Of course in faro, the bank will inevitably win eventually.”
“I have lost money on both whist and faro,” Samuel muttered dolefully.
“How much?” his father demanded.
The boy’s head dipped more, and he said towards the carpet, “I owe twenty pounds, sir.”
Both fathers relaxed as one.
“That is not too terrible, Samuel,” Sir William assured his eldest son, “but you must not play again.”
The young man bit his lip and eyed his two elders with uncertainty. He enjoyed gambling and spending time with the militia men. Was it possible his father and Mr. Bennet were lying to convince him to give up his amusements?
“If this is true about Wickham and Williamson, ought they not be confronted and stopped?” he demanded, avoiding an answer to his father’s statement.
“They will be stopped, I promise,” Bennet said icily. He was a casual father, but he would do everything in his power to punish the man who had spoken crudely about his favorite child.