Page 15 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)

Darcy let his eyes rove slowly around the men eating and drinking enthusiastically at the Pig in the Poke , Meryton’s foremost drinking establishment. His gaze fixed on the far corner table and he made his way slowly toward the man who waited for him there.

He sat down silently and gazed across at the redcoat, who, unlike himself, was freshly shaved and tidy.

“The beard suits you,” George Wickham murmured slyly, taking a drink of ale.

Darcy lifted a careful hand to his chin and glowered at his insouciant friend. “I find it rather itchy and uncomfortable, but I suppose it is a small price to pay if it changes my appearance enough, and Georgiana says it does.”

The steward’s son chuckled. “She is correct. How is Miss Darcy?”

“Very well. She specifically asked me to send you her greetings.”

“Is she aware of the situation?”

“Not the details, no. She is aware that you work with Intelligence and that at times, it is best if you not be seen with me.”

“Good. Please give Miss Darcy my greetings in return, as well as my compliments on your appearance. She is extremely skilled in changing you from an imperious aristocrat to a man of the people. She obviously enjoys not only acting, but costuming.”

“She does, but come, we must not take overlong in this meeting. Who am I, by the way?”

“You are a moneylender from London here to pressure me into paying off my debts.”

A serving girl came by and took Darcy’s order for ale. Wickham, with a flirtatious smile at the woman, requested a refill for himself and both men were silent until their orders arrived.

Once no one was in earshot, Wickham leaned forward slightly, his expression grave, “What have you learned, Darcy?”

Darcy frowned and fiddled uneasily with his cup, “It is a small thing, perhaps, but you have taught me that small things are often of import.”

“They are. What is it?”

“Only yesterday,” Darcy explained, “Mr. Bennet told Bingley the source of the Bennets’ wealth, and Bingley told me, though in confidence, of course ...”

“You can depend on me to keep silent so long as the security of the Kingdom is not compromised.”

“I know I can trust you, George. Well, here it is. The Bennets are growing tulips.”

Wickham, who had been clenching his glass rather tightly, raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Tulips? How can that possibly be a great secret?”

“I do not know,” Darcy admitted helplessly. “Bingley proposed to Miss Bennet, you see …”

“Did he indeed? Good for him. She is a charming woman, at least so long as she is not a spy for the French.”

Darcy chuckled at this and shook his head.

“Assuredly she is not. No, Mrs. Bennet is a most gifted horticulturist. The Bennets have a hidden greenhouse a short distance from the manor, and two large fields in Kent, and have been growing a remarkable array of rare tulips for more than two decades. Indeed, Mrs. Bennet worked with her own mother to grow tulips, so she has been developing her skills for close to three decades now. The Bennets have been selling the bulbs, quietly since they do not want it known that they are effectively in trade, for many years, and have significantly augmented the daughters’ dowries, such that Miss Bennet will bring twelve thousand pounds into the marriage. ”

Wickham pursed his lips in a soundless whistle, “That is a remarkable sum indeed. So these tulips are exceptionally valuable, then?”

“It would seem so! I confess to some confusion on the matter. This is not Holland in the 1630s, after all!”

“Now that, Darcy, is one of those remarkably bewildering statements I have come to know and love. What, pray tell, happened in Holland in the 1630s regarding tulips?”

Darcy tapped his artistically soiled fingers on the table and dredged up distant memories.

“I will not promise to be completelycorrect on these facts, but I can provide you with the general outline. There was an immense interest in tulip bulbs in Holland, with great sums of money involved; at the height of the mania, certain single bulbs were being purchased in the market at a price ten times that of an artisan’s annualwage. ”

“Truly?” Wickham inquired. “And then what happened?”

“The mania collapsed, of course, eventually. No tulip bulb, no matter how beautiful, can possibly be worth that much. Investors sold off their holdings to make money quickly, and the prices plummeted. But as I said, that was nearly two hundred years ago.”

Wickham leaned back in his chair, his eyes focused on the ceiling above, and Darcy waited. He was a mere cog in the wheel of British intelligence, whereas Wickham was a genuine master of his trade.

“I do believe you have got it, Darcy,” his friend declared suddenly, shifting his gaze back to Darcy’s face.

Pemberley’s master sat up in surprise. “Truly?”

“Yes. There has been a great deal of discussion about the financial well-being of the families in Meryton – gentle and common – and specific questions about unusual sources of income in the area.”

“Who is asking?”

“For one, Lieutenant Pratt, though it is so subtle that he might be merely be seeking a wealthy wife to marry, as so many men are. It is not yet clear.”

The two men mulled for another minute before Darcy spoke again, “Surely the spies must be new to the district?”

“Why?” Wickham asked.

Darcy struggled to put his thoughts into words, “There cannot be too many French spies living in England, I hope. The Bennets have been growing tulips for decades, so if tulips are indeed the focus, it seems likely that newcomers to the area are more likely to be the miscreants, not long standing families. It seems like too much of a coincidence that an agent of the Enemy could be living, by chance, near a French target.”

Wickham nodded approvingly. “I agree, Darcy. It is most likely a member or members of the militia, but it would be worthwhile to make quiet inquiries about other individuals who have recently moved into the district.”

“But perhaps I need to ask a more basic question. Why tulips?”

“That I do not know, but if the Bennets’ tulips are as rare as you say, they must be worth a substantial amount on the Continent.

Napoleon has had a great deal of difficulty with Holland of late, you must know that; he forced his brother Louis to abdicate only last year and is in the process of annexing Holland into the French Empire.

It may be, and I am merely speculating, that Napoleon is trying to obtain rare items to use as bribes for the native leaders of Holland and other subsidiary nations.

There have been other thefts – art, jewels, costly furniture – which have been smuggled into Paris for bribes. Why not tulips?”

Darcy took another sip of ale, “You may be right, Wickham. You usually are. But does this mean the Bennets are in danger?”

“I hope not. Spies rarely harm anyone since they have no desire to be hunted down for murder or assault. But if one of the women were to get in the way, I would not be certain of her safety. Do horticulturists work on tulips in autumn and winter?”

“I have no idea,” the other man confessed ruefully. “I suppose we cannot warn the Bennets, but the whole affair worries me.”

“If you did warn them, they would no doubt ignore your warnings. You are not one of their favorite people, of course.”

Darcy moaned and ran a dirty hand over his forehead. “I am well aware. Last night at the ball, Miss Elizabeth raked me over the coals quite thoroughly.”

“Did she indeed? Well, I suppose you deserve it for insulting her the day you met her!”

“You know of that?”

“ Everyone knows of that, Darcy. I heard it from the youngest Miss Bennet the day I met the family.”

Darcy moaned again and placed a hand on his brow. “The pathetic truth is that I was focused on memorizing names at the time when I insulted Miss Elizabeth; I was discouraging Bingley from importuning me to dance. I really am quite inept, it seems.”

“You have your own gifts,” Wickham said reassuringly.

“Most men would not know of the tulip mania of Holland from two hundred years ago, after all. But come, we must part as I plan to follow Pratt when he leaves the pub tonight. I daresay he will merely return to the barracks, but he is my only slender lead.”

Darcy straightened his spine and glanced at his watch. “Yes, and I am expected at dinner in a short time, and Percy has to help me get out of this ridiculous outfit.”

“Very well. Go ahead and yell at me.”

Darcy waited a few seconds, slammed his fist down on the table, and roared, “I tell you, Wickham, you had better get that money for me within the week or I will cast you into Marshalsea! Is that entirely clear?”

“All right, all right!” Wickham responded loudly. “I understand! It is no problem, Mr. Simon! I have just had some temporary cash flow problems but I assure you that by next week, I will have the money.”

“With the interest?” Darcy snarled, rising to his full, intimidating height.

“Of course, of course,” Wickham responded, hunching his shoulders slightly.

“You had better,” Darcy returned dangerously, throwing a few coins on the table and stalking out the door.

/

“How is Mr. Wickham?” Georgiana Darcy inquired, carefully tugging at the remnants of the beard which were adhering determinedly to Darcy’s chin.

“He is well, and he sends you his greetings.”

“Dear Mr. Wickham,” Georgiana responded with amusement. “Do you remember when I was a small child, and he would dress up as a pirate to entertain me?”

Darcy smiled as his mind cast back to those halcyon days at Pemberley, when his father still lived and his sole responsibilities were his books, before he shouldered the mantle of master of Pemberley at the tender age of one and twenty, before his cousin Richard returned from war broken in spirit and body.

“Yes, I remember those days very well, Georgiana. They were lovely.”