Page 17 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)
George Wickham swore as the cards were laid on the table, and he shook his head dismally, exclaiming, “Dash it, Pratt! The cards adore you tonight!”
“My luck is in indeed,” Lieutenant Pratt said happily, pulling in the pile of coins and vowels toward him. “But come, there is no need for despair. Another game?”
“Not for me,” Captain Denny said, taking one last gulp of beer and rising with some uncertainty to his feet. “It is time for me to seek my bed, or I will be worth nothing tomorrow.”
Several other officers, eyeing the clock which now showed two hours past midnight, also made their jovial good-byes and departed for their quarters.
Wickham remained at the table and gestured to the comely waitress of the Pig and the Poke for another beer. Pratt was his target tonight, and he would not leave without the man.
“Another game?” Pratt asked, greed gleaming in his eyes. By design, Wickham had lost heavily tonight.
“Not of loo,” Wickham replied, deliberately slurring his words slightly. “Two cannot play loo. Piquet perhaps?”
“By all means, Wickham,” Pratt agreed congenially, reaching for a worn pack of cards discarded by Denny. Wickham took another careful drink of beer and smiled blearily at his companion.
/
Elizabeth Bennet lifted her face up to the morning sky and opened her mouth, allowing a few flakes of snow to drift onto her tongue.
Winter was her least favorite season, because it kept her inside more than she liked, but she still loved the white flakes which danced through the air in the soft breezes.
There was a soft meow at her feet, and she opened her eyes to observe one of the stable cats, a mostly yellow feline with a white and golden striped tail, who looked up at her with adoration in his green eyes.
Elizabeth leaned over to pick up the beast and gave him a quick cuddle, even as she inspected the new scratch on his right ear.
“Dandelion, have you been fighting again?” she asked in a disapproving tone. “It is quite ungenerous behavior, you know, to be picking a fight with every male cat which wanders onto Longbourn lands.”
The cat meowed rather proudly, and she planted a kiss on his pink nose.
“I suppose you think you are doing your duty,” she admitted.
“Most assuredly he is,” a male voice declared.
Elizabeth jumped a little and turned to regard Mr. Darcy, who was standing some ten feet away, regarding her with a strange look of uncertainty.
“Mr. Darcy! How you startled me.”
“My heartfelt apologies, Miss Elizabeth. I accompanied Mr. Bingley here on a morning visit and caught sight of you outside. I thought it an opportune time to apologize.”
Elizabeth tightened her grip on Dandelion, causing him to squeak in disapproval and wriggle loose.
“Apologize?” she repeated in some discomfort.
“Yes, for insulting you at the assembly the first day we met. Not only was I incredibly rude, I demonstrably spoke an untruth. You are entirely handsome enough to dance with. I regret that I was not in the mood to dance at the time, and I spoke hastily and dishonestly to put Bingley off. I do extend my heartfelt regret for my impolite words, and ask your forgiveness.”
Elizabeth gazed at the gentleman in astonishment. As apologies went, it was a remarkable one.
“I forgive you,” she replied.
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy replied softly, staring directly into her eyes.
Elizabeth found herself suddenly short of breath, with her brain entirely incapable of managing a clever or useful response to this suddenly uncomfortable moment. She had thought Mr. Darcy handsome from the first, but with a gentle look on his face, he quite rivaled Mr. Wickham in his looks.
To her relief, Dandelion provided a useful distraction by approaching Darcy, dropping to the gentleman’s feet, and rolling over onto his back to present a yellow belly for rubbing.
Darcy smiled as he bent down to pat the expanse of fur. “It seems your cat is very friendly, Miss Elizabeth.”
“He is,” she concurred, taking a deep breath to recover her equanimity. “To people, at any rate. He tolerates kittens and considers every female in the area a member of his private harem. He is extremely aggressive against all males of his kind; hence, the generally battle scarred appearance.”
To her surprise, Darcy fit one large hand under Dandelion’s body and lifted him to his shoulder, apparently heedless of the effect the yellow fur would have on his dark jacket.
“My sister Georgiana has a favorite something like this fine fellow. He too, begins many a battle, though he does not win them all.”
“Nor does Dandelion,” Elizabeth said. “But come, the wind is chilly, and I have no doubt my mother is serving tea. Will you not enter the house, Mr. Darcy?”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, with pleasure.”
Darcy gestured for her to lead the way, and as the girl walked in front of him, he took a moment to gaze around the side yard of Longbourn.
Some fifty yards away, toward the stables,was a greenhouse and beside it was a wall.
It seemed likely this was the place where Mrs. Bennet and her daughters worked their magic on the tulips.
Once inside, Darcy was surprised to be led into a cozy sitting room instead of the larger drawing room. Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley were seated at a small table playing spillikins and murmuring softly to one another, and Miss Kitty was playing chaperone by solemnly knitting in one corner.
“Kitty, you can go,” Elizabeth said.
The girl smiled gratefully and rose to depart on swift feet.
“Her art master, Mr. Swinton, will be here in a few minutes, and Kitty wishes to prepare for him,” Elizabeth explained to Darcy. “Now, sir, would you care to engage in some meaningless conversation, or do you have the courage to face me in a chess game?”
Darcy gazed down on that lovely, piquant face and bowed slightly, “Prepare for battle, Miss Elizabeth.”
/
“Did you hear about the Miss Bennets?” Captain Denny demanded.
Wickham suppressed a groan as he ran a weary hand over his brow.
He had stayed up very late playing piquet with Pratt, and while he had found it a valid use of his time, he felt thoroughly bleary.
He had risen late and was back in the Pig in a Poke for a hearty meal, but would avoid alcohol until the evening.
He hoped black coffee would clear his head in short order.
“What about the Miss Bennets?” he asked curiously.
“They are heiresses, all of them,” Denny claimed.
Wickham jolted in genuine surprise. Yes, he was aware, since Darcy had told him, that the Bennets were wealthy, but that should not be generally known!
“One thousand pounds is no great dowry,” he said in a cynical tone, taking a bite of bread.
“One thousand pounds? Try twelve thousand pounds each!”
Wickham stared at Denny in dramatic disbelief. “Nonsense! Longbourn is no Pemberley, and there are five daughters! Where did you hear such a thing?”
“Everyone knows it,” Denny claimed, waving a leg of chicken in his excitement. “But Ibelieve the servants at Netherfield heard of it first, and it spread from there. Bingley has offered for Miss Bennet, you see.”
“Lucky man,” Wickham replied, a stir of concern in his soul.
If everyone knew of the Bennets’ wealth, then surely Pratt did as well, and Wickham was now quite certain that the man was the agent for whom he had been searching.
Last night, after plying the man with wine, he had provoked Pratt into uttering more than a few French phrases, most of them oaths, in a perfect accent.
It appeared that after a period of inaction, the hunt was finally on to take down a French spy. George Wickham smiled happily into his cup of coffee.
/
Colonel Forster, leader of the militia company in Meryton, looked up with relief as his office door opened, revealing his secretary.
The colonel had been toiling over a record of expenses for the company and was thoroughly bored with it.
He had never enjoyed cyphering much and the numbers were beginning to swim before his eyes.
His relief quickly shifted into dismay as his secretary, with a quick salute, announced Lieutenant Pratt. Forster pulled himself together and gestured harshly, “Come in, Pratt. I presume you have the report from the stables?”
“Yes, sir,” Pratt said meekly, stepping into the office and waiting for the door to close. As soon as the two men were private, the younger man’s demeanor shifted from submissive to commanding.
“I have discovered who is growing the tulips,” Pratt asserted, “the Bennets of Longbourn.”
Forster jolted in astonishment, his mind shifting to the garrulous Mrs. Bennet, her satirical husband, and five lovely daughters.
“That seems utterly incredible, Pratt. Are you certain?”
“I am,” Pratt insisted. “Word is out from Netherfield that the Miss Bennets each have dowries of twelve thousand pounds. We have both studied the families and their estates in this section of Hertfordshire, and you know that Longbourn cannot possibly be worth enough to provide sixty thousand pounds in dowries. Furthermore, I am aware that Mrs. Bennet has a brother in trade, a Mr. Gardiner. He is no doubt involved.”
Forster reached out for his fountain pen and began fiddling with it uneasily. “What do you believe must be done?”
“We must obtain the bulbs, and quickly, but the first step is to determine exactly where the Bennets are raising their tulips. Many of the officers visit the Bennets frequently thanks to the presence of their attractive daughters, and now that it is known that the ladies are well dowered, we will be but two men in a throng of enthusiasts. I suggest you focus your attention on Miss Lydia or Miss Kitty, Colonel Forster, since you have a penchant for very young ladies.”
Forster winced openly at this and raised his eyes to gaze directly into the lieutenant’s brown ones. “We will not harm the Bennets, is that clear? I will not participate in murder or assault.”
Pratt suppressed a sneer in favor of a tight nod. “We have no desire to harm anyone, of course. The last thing we need is for this mission to attract attention from the locals. Relax, Colonel Forster. We will obtain the tulips for France, and you will be free to go back to your normal life.”
This was certainly not true, as French intelligence would not release its claims on Forster, but for now, it was best to speak sweet lies to keep the Colonel under control.