Alliance and the Artifice of War 1-10
Chapter One — In which a blackmailer is revealed
Darcy
“I beg your pardon!” If Fitzwilliam Darcy had not long before perfected a dispassionate demeanour —his stone face, as his sister called it— his jaw would have dropped.
“You must find an heiress for me to wed and take Caroline for your bride,” Mr Bingley repeated.
“Indeed. Or …”
“I shall reveal the events … the misadventure … your dear sister’s misadventure in Ramsgate.” Charles Bingley looked self-satisfied.
“What misadventure?” Darcy contrived to look innocently puzzled.
“Now, now, Fitzy Witzy, my old friend …”
Old friend! Indeed! thought Darcy. Friends no more, Bingley-boy!
“… your dear sister’s misadventure.” Mr Bingley smirked.
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you. Please elucidate.”
“Ha, ha! I know that I have beaten you when you must resort to words of four syllables!”
“‘Misadventure’ has four syllables and you brought that up. I still do not know of what you speak.”
“Yes, yes, that is true.” Mr Bingley nodded. “I know of your dear sister’s elopement!”
Darcy gasped. “What elopement?”
“Your sister eloped from Ramsgate!”
“My sister is upstairs with her companion.” Darcy frowned in confusion.
“She eloped from Ramsgate.”
“I am confused, Bingley. What makes you think that Georgiana eloped?”
“I have sworn statements from the housekeeper and butler saying that she eloped.” Mr Bingley could barely hide his glee as he flopped into an armchair.
“She did not elope!”
“But I have witnesses to say that she did, old chap!” As if without a care in the world, Mr Bingley brushed invisible dust from the leg of his breeches.
“I know them to be fabrications, as I was with Georgiana for our whole month in Kent. We scarcely spent a moment apart.”
“Ah, but you know what the gossips will say. Poor girl’s reputation and all that.” Mr Bingley shook his head as if there was nothing that he could do to stop it.
Darcy stood up to his full height. Unbidden, his fists clenched.
“Do not think to intimidate me, you great tall fellow. The papers are elsewhere and, once you have done my bidding, you shall have them. But not before!”
“In exchange for these forgeries …”
“Now, now!” A smirking Mr Bingley chided Darcy, waving an admonishing finger.
“… these forgeries, you demand that I find you an heiress for a bride …”
“And that you marry Caroline. Yes.”
Feigning defeat for the moment, Darcy sighed. “I shall help with the former, but not the latter.” After all, he thought, ‘He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.’
“Ah, but it is Caroline’s greatest desire to be Mistress of Pemberley and —as much as you would not care to disappoint your own dear sister, your own dear ruined sister— …”
Darcy regained his dispassionate demeanour; all the better to hide his lie. “I am already betrothed to my cousin; our mothers arranged it while we were in our cradles.”
“Caroline will not be happy with that!”
“There is nothing that I can do. I cannot break this betrothal or I forfeit Pemberley.” Darcy lowered his face hoping that his self-disgust for a second lie would look like shame or despair.
“And Caroline would not be happy with that!”
Mr Bingley stood and turned away to pace, inadvertently giving Darcy the opportunity to regain his composure.
“Very well,” he cried, returning to his victim. “Find her a wealthy man, preferably one with a title. Oh! No! He must have a title. ‘Lady Caroline,’ how well that sounds!”
She would not be ‘Lady Caroline’ unless your father was titled, you fool, thought Darcy.
“Good, good!” announced Mr Bingley. “I shall be off but look forward to you joining me in Hertfordshire for the summer.”
As Darcy heard the front door close behind his erstwhile friend, he heard a second door open behind him.
“Did you hear that, Steven?”
“Yes,” replied the eavesdropper.
“I should like to be able to cut the whole lot of them but I dare not for Georgiana’s sake. Suggestions?”
“Well, his debts are growing.” At Darcy’s nod, Steven continued, “They are a little over twenty thousand now.”
“While it is tempting … no! I refuse to bail him out, even in exchange for those papers. Mm,” Darcy paused. “Is his sister’s dowry intact?”
“I believe so.”
“She will need it to buy a husband.”
“Rumour has it that Mr Bingley’s brother is dipping into his coffers to pay for his own depravities.”
“Indeed?” Darcy shuddered; Mr Hurst’s depravities were well known in certain circles, and tales of them rippled out.
“Do you intend to play along for the moment?”
“Indeed. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.”
“I understand. If we were to find him an heiress and her a title, and then you would be rid of them. Demand that he hands the papers over at the altar or you will set Dicky on him.”
“Indeed. How shall I find an heiress foolish enough to wed him and a titled fool foolish enough to wed to her?”
“Perhaps an opportunity will arise in Hertfordshire.”
“Indeed.”
Chapter Two — In which a codicil is revealed
Elizabeth
“A year and a quarter. It is fifteen months,” whispered Mary.
“I cannot bear another day, let alone all that time,” cried Kitty.
“Shh!” It was Elizabeth’s turn to sleep in the middle of their small bed and she wrapped an arm around each of her sisters to comfort them. Kissing them both on their foreheads, she continued, “You can and you will. We have managed a year of mourning for Pappa …”
Kitty sniffed. “Why did he marry that horrible woman?”
It was a familiar refrain. Elizabeth had no answer.
“Fifteen months, Lizzy! Fifteen months!” Kitty was becoming more distressed.
“Or …” began Elizabeth. She hesitated. Dare she tell her sisters about the codicil to their father’s will?
“Or what?” asked Mary.
Elizabeth decided. “You must get up early tomorrow and come with me on my walk. I shall tell you about the ‘or’ then.”
“Tell us now,” Kitty begged.
“No. Out of earshot.”
Mary and Kitty chanted the rest of their motto, “Out of sight, out of mind.”
Elizabeth kissed them again. “Now, sleep.” Then she said, very quietly, “‘Be extremely subtle even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent’s fate.’”
“‘Out of sight, out of mind’ is easier to remember, Lizzy,” mumbled Kitty.
It was a bit nippy as the Bennet sisters left Longbourn through the kitchen. They would soon warm up; the sun had already escaped the horizon. Their housekeeper, Mrs Hill, had been surprised to see three of them but quickly added more bread rolls and apples to Elizabeth’s satchel before closing the door after them.
Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty hurried through the gap in a hedge and onto their path to Oakham Mount. This was Elizabeth’s favourite walk, and she made the trip almost every morning if she could sneak away. Mary and Kitty were less keen, but, that morning, they trudged along, probably unaware of how much their oldest sister had slowed her pace to accommodate them.
At the top of the small hill, they settled into the gaps between the roots of an old oak tree. Long, long before, an acorn had germinated in a crack in a large rock and the resulting tree had provided welcome shelter to generations of Bennets.
Elizabeth shared out the bread rolls among her younger sisters. They sat together in silence for a while watching the sun rise, then Elizabeth spoke.
“It is so important, so very important, that you do not reveal what I am about to tell you. If you were to do so, you would ruin the plans that our father made for freeing us of his second wife and her daughters.”
“Plans? What plans?” Kitty asked, ever impatient.
“Pappa saw what she was doing and …”
“Why did he not stop her?” Kitty’s distress was bubbling up again.
“He was not well; you know that. He was not well enough.” Elizabeth raised her hand to forestall another interruption. “He was well enough to make a codicil.”
“Tell us, Lizzy,” said Mary.
“I shall tell you as you need to have some hope that this will end, but you must not speak of it.” Elizabeth took her youngest sister’s hands. “Kitty, dear, you must not give the slightest hint of it. Do you understand me?”
Kitty looked down at their clasped hands. Elizabeth and Mary were both very impressed when she answered thus:
“You must not tell me. That ‘darling’ Lydia will get it out of me if she suspects that I know something.” She stood. “Tell Mary but not me. I know not what a cedilla is, so cannot tell her anything.”
Neither of them corrected her, but watched in pride as she got up to find a seat further away, out of earshot, but neither out of sight nor out of mind.
Elizabeth drew breath and explained the main part of Mr Bennet’s will. Mary listened.
“So Longbourn is yours? Is to be yours?”
“Strictly, it is in a trust, overseen by our Uncle Gardiner, as I am underage. That cannot be known for a year come Michaelmas.”
“And you manage Longbourn because it is yours?”
“And because she does not want to work for its benefit.”
“But the will said that it was to go to the oldest daughter on her one-and-twentieth birthday, to ‘darling’ Jane.”
“No; the will said that it was to go to the oldest Bennet. ‘Darling’ Jane is his step-daughter. She was not paying attention.”
“Oh. Oh!” Mary looked delighted, but quickly frowned. “But what about the entailment? Should it not go to some distant cousin?”
“Mm. His name was Mr Collins.”
“‘Was?’”
“Uncle Gardiner’s attorney found out that he died shortly before Pappa.” Elizabeth emphasized the word ‘died.’
Mary’s face fell, shocked. “You mean …?”
“There is no proof; only suspicions.”
“Heavens, Lizzy! Do you mean that that woman, she, is a murderer!”
“No proof.” Elizabeth shook her head.
“This fifteen months that we cling to, does she know about that?”
“I think not, but, if she did, she would probably assume that I would be liberty to take you away once I turn one and twenty. I shall not enlighten her.”
“No, nor I.”
“There is more.”
“More?”
“Yes, the cedilla!”
They both laughed at Kitty’s malapropism.
“Since Uncle Gardiner told me about it on his recent visit, this has been giving me hope, and I hope that it will give you hope too.”
“Let us hope so,” agreed Mary, returning her sister’s smile.
“There are two parts. Pappa bought a second estate many years ago with Mamma’s dowry.”
“Why can we not move there? Now?”
“It is let out —Uncle Gardiner is putting the rent towards dowries for you and Kitty— and I am not willing to abandon Longbourn. Not yet.”
“She would bankrupt it.” Mary nodded. “Where is this estate?”
“Do you remember the name of the small town where Aunt and Uncle Gardiner first met?”
“I do! Lambton in Derbyshire. Is it near there?”
“Indeed; it is called Tenston and makes in the region of three thousand a year. I shall show you on a map when we go home.”
“I look forward to seeing it! Now; what about the second part of the codicil?”
“Oh, you will like this almost as much, I am sure: when both of our step-sisters are wed, they and their mother, all three of them, are to leave Longbourn. She will no longer have a home with us.” Elizabeth made flicking motions with her hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”
Elizabeth paused and looked earnestly at her sister. “I have thought about this a great deal since Uncle Gardiner’s last visit. I am determined that they are gone before ‘darling’ Jane’s birthday. I cannot bear the thought of her malice when she finds that ‘darling’ Jane is not the heiress apparent.”
“Or presumptive.”
“Mmm.”
“Thus, shoo! shoo!”
“What do you think?”
“I have two questions. ‘Darling’ Jane will be one-and-twenty in December, am I correct?”
“Mm,” Elizabeth nodded.
“Six months. Why not aim for yours and Kitty’s birthdays, instead?”
“Michaelmas? That sounds like a tall order, but why not! And your second question?”
Mary’s response was quick. “I am thinking that I like this codicil, but how shall we find two fools foolish enough to wed to those two?”
“Now that Netherfield is let at last. Perhaps an opportunity will arise with the new tenants.”
Chapter Three — In which the attributes of an heiress are defined
Darcy
Darcy had bowed to Mr Bingley’s demands that he journeyed to Hertfordshire. He knew that Steven’s advice, echoing Sun Tzu’s to keep one’s enemies close, was sound thus, until their cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, returned from the Iberian Peninsula, he would play his part. The two former friends rode ahead of the carriage in which travelled Miss Caroline Bingley —humph! ‘Lady Caroline,’ indeed— with the Bingleys’ older sister and her husband. Darcy found Mr and Mrs Hurst to be a coarse couple, deemed gentle in the eyes of society only by dint of the Hurst family’s claim to the tiniest of estates.
He paid little attention to his companion until Mr Bingley started to enumerate his wishes for his heiress bride:
“She must be beautiful, old chap. With blonde hair. Not too fat; not too thin, either. All the right lumps and bumps in all the right places, you know. A man wants a nice rounded bum and nice rounded breasts to grab hold of, as Hurst would put it.”
“Indeed.” How very eloquent he is!
“Are you listening?”
“Beautiful, blonde, breasts and a bum, yes. Anything else?”
“Her own estate, obviously, or is being left one on the death of some dear, ageing relative. Yes, find one with a dear, ageing relative who is about to pop his clogs. Her clogs; I care not.” Mr Bingley shrugged.
Darcy hid his distaste for such crude avarice and asked, “Do you have a preference to the size of her estate?” Oh God, he will turn that into a double entendre!
“Ha, ha, old chap! I never knew that you could be such a wit! Now, you might think me an ignorant fool …”
If you only knew.
“… but I see how much work you put in to get your ten thousand a year and I really do not fancy that.” Mr Bingley shuddered. “So a smaller estate will be fine, especially if the girl is already accustomed to its doings.”
“A beautiful blonde with nice bum and breasts and an estate that she can run without any effort on your part?”
“Add her utter devotion to me — exactly! I do not expect you to have any trouble finding her!” Mr Bingley spurred his horse to a gallop, crying, “Race you!”
Ajax seemed keen, so Darcy allowed his horse the chase.
Chapter Four — In which she is revealed
Elizabeth
She, the second Mrs Bennet, stood behind Elizabeth watching her arrange ‘darling’ Jane’s hair.
“No, no! You are so inept! Use more pins!”
“There are no more,” Elizabeth retorted and grunted as a hand hit her head.
The hand took some pins from her hair. “Use these.”
Elizabeth knew better than to complain, so used her own pins to secure ‘darling’ Jane’s limp blonde locks.
“No, no! Where are your pretty pins?” Mrs Bennet scuttled from Jane’s bedchamber.
Elizabeth heard her rummaging in the smallest bedchamber, the chamber shared by Elizabeth, Mary and Kitty. She would not find the precious pins, the Bennet pins handed down from their grandmother; those pins were well hidden.
Elizabeth watched ‘darling’ Jane as she regarded herself in the dressing-table mirror. She was practising expressions: a demure expression, a delighted demure expression, a flattered demure expression. Elizabeth knew all of them. She knew, too, the spiteful expression, discouraged by Mrs Bennet fearful for the encroachment of creases and wrinkles to mar that beautiful face.
And then there was ‘darling’ Jane’s final expression, the unseen expression: when no-one was watching, gravity took hold and her older step-sister’s expression fell into vapidity. That was the real expression. ‘Darling’ Jane had no thoughts of anyone but herself, of anything but her own wants. When not portraying one of the three demure expressions, her face slumped into slack-mouthed vapidity.
Elizabeth hid her disdain.
‘Darling’ Jane had no accomplishments. Oh, she made a pretty picture holding —but not actually working on— embroidery; but was barely literate and not at all numerate.
Grave vapidity, mused Elizabeth. Vapid gravity. Grave demurity, no, demure gravity. Mm, rapidly demure vapid gravity.
She had shared her hope with Mary of having Longbourn to themselves, but —really— who would want to marry that?
Mrs Bennet re-entered the chamber. “Your room is such a mess, Eliza. I have half a mind …”
No, it is much, much less than half.
“… to leave you at home this evening so that you can tidy it.”
Elizabeth’s younger step-sister threw herself into the room, crying, “But I want Eliza to witness my triumph, Mamma! La, all of the redcoats will beg to dance with me at my first assembly!”
“Oh, I should like to see that! Very much!” exclaimed Elizabeth with false good humour. “You will beat me to the altar, I am sure. Imagine if you, the youngest, are the first to marry!”
“Oh, yes! Mamma! Mamma! I shall be first to marry and all my sisters will have to go lower than I.”
‘Than me’, you ignorant idiot! Object not subject.
“Oh, I knew that you and my darling Jane could not be so beautiful for nothing!” She looked with pleasure at her daughters with their pretty frocks and elaborate hairstyles, then turned a gimlet eye on her oldest step-daughter. “Very well, come to witness my darling Lydia’s triumph. But you are not to put yourself forward or draw attention to yourself this evening. Lady Lucas has told me in the strictest confidence —the very strictest confidence, mind you— that the new tenant of Netherfield Park will be there and he has five thousand a year.”
“I do not care for him unless he has a red coat!” interjected Lydia while leaning over Jane’s shoulder to practise her own expressions before the mirror.
Elizabeth wondered if she would ever be sufficiently bored to catalogue them.
“I shall find a handsome redcoat for you, but darling Jane is to have the five thousand a year.” Mrs Bennet nodded with satisfaction.
Will she have the man as well? mused Elizabeth. We can only hope that she will.
Chapter Five — In which things are noticed
Darcy
The very evening of their arrival at Netherfield, they were to attend an assembly. Usually reluctant to mix with the great unwashed, that evening Darcy would be on the hunt for a suitably foolish heiress. He had reduced Mr Bingley’s list of demands to ‘BBBB and a small estate, four Bs and a small estate,’ and kept the mantra going in his mind.
Far too late —fashionably late, as Miss Bingley called it— he left with the two Bingleys and the two Hursts for the carriage ride to Meryton. They arrived to find the assembly hall in the local small town full to the rafters. It appeared that the local populace had come out in force to inspect the new tenants of Netherfield Park. Remembering his purpose, Darcy cast his eyes about the throng. BBBB and a small estate, four Bs and a small estate. Hmph, concentrate on the four Bs, first.
Sir William Lucas, a portly older man, offered to introduce the Netherfield party to the local notables. Despite Miss Bingley’s sneering reluctance, Mr Bingley accepted the offer and Darcy tagged along. Thus they met the Gouldings of Haye Park – no heiresses, no titles; Mrs Long and her nieces – neither heiresses nor Bs; Mr and Mrs Purvis – no children; and Sir William’s own family – too poor.
“Ah, there is one more family,” said their guide, looking around and jumping as a rotund, middle-aged woman, overdressed in frills and lace, grabbed his arm. Standing either side of the interloper were two young women, a very pretty, demure blonde and a very pretty, forward blonde. Oh, four Bs! Both of them were four Bs! Sickened by his ungentlemanly thoughts, Darcy overlooked the three plainly dressed, darker-haired young women waiting behind the blondes until Sir William introduced them.
The two parties were exchanging bows and curtseys when one of the dark-haired women suddenly fell forward. Darcy spotted that some soldiers had pushed past, shoving her. Time seemed to slow as he watched her hands reach out to clasp something —anything— to break her fall. Her right hand caught Mr Bingley’s forearm; her left missed Miss Bingley as the latter stepped quickly away. Ignoring Miss Bingley’s foot on top of his own, Darcy grabbed the flailing hand.
The younger of the blonde beauties laughed. “La, Eliza, you are so clever to put yourself forward like that! I must try to fall exactly like that with the redcoats. Kitty! Come with me!” She pranced off, three of the four Bs bouncing as she went.
Annoyed at his further impolite thoughts, Darcy had not had the chance to ask if the young woman was well before her mother had scowled, taken her arm and had pulled her away. He watched their progress to the door and, curious, went to find a window. There, outside, were the mother and daughter. He could not hear their words, but could see that the former was scolding the latter. The daughter appeared to be trying to explain something and to placate the mother. The mother was not appeased; Darcy was appalled to see her slap the daughter. As the daughter protested, the mother’s hand swung once more, Darcy thought to strike again, but no. The older snatched something from the younger’s neck and threw it high and away. Darcy watched its arc as it peaked and fell, landing where the horses had been. With a shudder, he hoped that it was not precious.
He returned to observe the warring couple as they re-entered the hall. Worried, as he was, about Georgiana’s reputation and Mr Bingley’s blackmail, he was surprised to realise that he felt compassion. He meandered after the mother and daughter to a darker corner, where the mother pushed the daughter into a chair before turning to face the dancers. Her eyes scanned the room and her face lit in satisfaction. Darcy followed her gaze to see Mr Bingley dancing with a pretty blonde, the older, demure one.
A movement to the side caught his eye. The mother was leaning over the daughter issuing instructions. Then she put a foot on the other’s toes and deliberately turned her back.
What is she up to?
Chapter Six — In which something is lost
Elizabeth
They had arrived at the assembly to find that everyone was there. Elizabeth had not dared do anything other than glance and nod at her friend, Charlotte Lucas. There would be time to talk on the morrow. The Bennet sisters had been ordered to let their step-sisters shine; they were not to speak to any others; they were to ensure that ‘darling’ Jane and ‘darling’ Lydia had successful evenings.
Thus, here we are, drab hand-maidens, had thought Elizabeth.
The second Mrs Bennet, she, had ploughed through their neighbours, shoving them this way and that, and had compelled Charlotte’s father to make her daughters and herself known to the tenants of Netherfield Park. Then, an even worse horror, Elizabeth had been pushed and nearly fell. She had grasped at air but, as if from nowhere, a hand had come with its comforting strength and she had been steadied.
Mrs Bennet had not been pleased. When was she ever? The slap she could bear, but she had torn the garnet cross from her neck and tossed it away. Her mother’s cross — tossed away. Elizabeth knew that she would not find it in the darkness. That was what had caused unshed tears to sting her eyes.
Then she sat, trapped, in the chaperones’ corner and remembered the codicil —huh, Kitty’s cedilla— and smiled. Her foot gently tapped to the beat of the music.
She noticed and bent to admonish her again. Then, of all the pettiness, she stood on Elizabeth’s toes.
Fifteen months. Fifteen months or Kitty’s cedilla.
Mary and Kitty slid into the chairs next to her and, together, they watched as their new neighbour, Mr Bingley and his five thousand a year returned ‘darling’ Jane to her mother.
Mr Bingley turned to Mr Darcy nearby and the sisters heard him entreat his friend to dance. “Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance, old chap. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
“I cannot, Bingley. You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr Darcy, looking at ‘darling’ Jane.
Elizabeth saw the second Mrs Bennet preen and felt her toes released as the older woman stepped closer to listen. The Bennet sisters leaned closer; the older two wondering if —hoping that— both young men might be interested in ‘darling’ Jane.
“Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! An heiress too! But there are some of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who are not so very pretty. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you, perhaps to the red-faced one.”
Elizabeth was determined to remain unruffled as both men looked pointedly in her direction.
“Which do you mean?” the taller man asked. Turning round, he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, catching her eye, then he flicked his gaze to Mrs Bennet and said, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Elizabeth and Mary gasped at such rudeness, but, as Mrs Bennet tittered and fluttered at ‘darling’ Jane, the man looked again at Elizabeth and deliberately —quite deliberately— winked.
Chapter Seven — In which something is found
Darcy
Urgh, thought Darcy. With a stick and some revulsion, he had retrieved the girl’s pendant. It was a cross set with some red gemstones. He dunked and swirled it in the horses’ water-trough then wrapped it in his handkerchief. Unsure of his reasons, he decided that he would return it cleaned and with a new chain.
No, he knew why he had done it. Still eavesdropping on the peculiar family, he had heard one of the dark-haired sisters ask where the other’s jewellery was and her outrage upon receiving the answer.
“You must do something, Lizzy!”
“No, Mary, dear. ‘The wise warrior avoids the battle.’”
She had quoted Sun Tzu! The Art of War! How many women did he know who knew of The Art of War, let alone had read it and could quote from it?
All was not as it appeared, he realised, as he joined the Bingleys and their sister and brother-in-law, the Hursts, by the carriage for the ride back to Netherfield.
“Where have you been, old chap?” cried Bingley.
“Necessities,” replied Darcy truthfully.
They had barely boarded the carriage before Miss Bingley started to criticise the folk of Meryton. She and Mrs Hurst agreed that Miss Bennet was a dear, sweet girl —an heiress too, being the oldest— but her sisters, oh!
“Did you see the small, dark one who was plying her trade?” asked Miss Bingley. It was a rhetorical question as she continued without the need of a reply. “She went outside with a man and came back in with a red face and scratches.”
“Probably asking too much,” tittered Mrs Hurst.
“What is the going rate, Hurst?” asked Mr Bingley.
“Hmph! Depends what you want them to do.” grunted Mr Hurst. “Hmph! Better not to pay at all.”
The two women screeched with laughter.
The darkness hid Darcy’s revulsion. A lie and malice; thus reputations are ruined. I should rather dig up more jewellery than marry into this family.
On their return to Netherfield, Darcy excused himself and returned to his chambers. There, behind locked doors, he told Steven of his evening.
“If you give me the pendant, I shall clean it.”
“That is not necessary…”
“Oh, it is, sir,” Steven replied pointedly.
“Indeed?”
“Just as you suspected, sir, Mr Bingley’s man believes me your valet and has approached me with an offer.”
“Indeed.”
“For a small remuneration, I am to report back to him.”
“And tell him what?”
“Oh, that you are dashing off many letters.” Steven raised his eyebrows in mock innocence.
“Indeed. To find a titled heir in need of a wife.”
“Oh, and your regret that Bingley-boy laid claim to Miss Bennet.”
“Hardly! That bland beauty holds no appeal to me.”
“Ha! Dicky would be proud of your prevarication!”
“Pfft; do not let him hear you calling him that! No, that was no prevarication.” Darcy frowned and continued, “Wait until you meet her. There was a something in her eyes; an emptiness, perhaps.”
“The something in her eyes was emptiness; yes, I can see how that might be so.”
“Any more of your impertinence, Stevens, and you will be dismissed from my service, henceforth, forthwith!”
“I look forward to it, sir. Now, hand me the pendant, I shall make my displeasure for the task of cleaning it known below stairs.”
Steven Darcy had adopted the role of his cousin’s valet for the trip to Hertfordshire, but he was so much more.
Chapter Eight — In which something is returned
Elizabeth
A few days after the assembly, Mrs Bennet and her daughters waited on the ladies of Netherfield. Guessing that they would also call at Lucas Lodge then take tea with Mrs Bennet’s sister-in-law in Meryton, Elizabeth used their prolonged absence to spend time with Mary and Kitty. They sat around the piano, taking turns to play and to indulge in made-up dances and comforting sisterly chatter.
Elizabeth had decided to not share the loss of their mother’s garnet cross with Kitty, sparing her more cause to worry. Thus her thoughts were interrupted by a non sequitur from her youngest sister.
“Lizzy, what is a cedilla?”
Keeping a straight face, Elizabeth answered, “It is a little hook that the French use.”
“But we are at war with France, are we not?”
“Yes, dear, we are.”
Elizabeth knew that Mary shared her discomfort in lying to —teasing?— Kitty, but felt that such prevarication was necessary and forgivable for the moment.
After a fortnight, the ladies from Netherfield at last returned their call. Much to the second Mrs Bennet’s very vocal delight, the two single men came too.
Elizabeth noticed that ‘darling’ Jane had expanded her repertoire to include a becomingly blushing demure expression. Or was it just the warmth from the summer sunshine? She saw it deployed as Mr Bingley eagerly took the space next to her on the sofa.
Miss Bingley was not eager.
In silence, the Bennet sisters watched as Miss Bingley examined the room, its furnishings and decorations. Elizabeth hid a snort as Miss Bingley seemed to approve of the second Mrs Bennet’s ugly ornaments thronging every surface. As Miss Bingley settled back into her seat to whisper with her sister, Elizabeth allowed her own gaze to rest upon their fourth visitor. He, in turn, was studying Mr Bingley and ‘darling’ Jane. Mrs Bennet also saw his object and summoned Darcy to sit closer, all the better to pay attention to her oldest daughter.
Elizabeth watched Mr Darcy demur with regret, looking, for all the world, as if he was in the throes of thwarted love. Or has he eaten something which has disagreed with him? she wondered.
Then she returned to watching the second Mrs Bennet’s face. She could read her thoughts. First, there was avarice: he might do for ‘darling’ Lydia; this was followed swiftly by calculation as she remembered that ‘darling’ Lydia wanted a man in a red coat.
Elizabeth’s idle ruminations on how to discover if any soldier would be sufficiently foolish to attach himself to ‘darling’ Lydia were interrupted by Mrs Bennet’s shrill cry:
“Ring the bell for tea, Kitty!”
Mrs Hill arrived shortly with the tea things and Elizabeth was bidden to pour for their visitors.
“What a lovely frock you have there, Miss —sniff— Eliza,” crowed Miss Bingley, sneering at the drab garment.
“Why, thank you, Miss Bingley. Do you have a cold?”
“A cold, Miss —sniff— Eliza? Why should I have a cold?” Miss Bingley replied as her sister sniggered.
“You are sniffing, Miss Bingley.”
“Me and my sister are curious, Miss —sniff— Eliza. How much do you charge?”
‘I and my sister!’ Subject not object! Elizabeth wondered why she made the effort to mask her disdain; the visitors did not.
“Yes, my husband wishes to know,” added Mrs Hurst, smirking.
“‘Charge?’ Charge for what?” Elizabeth was confused.
A deep voice interrupted them. “I am awaiting my cup of tea, Miss Eliza.”
Still suspicious of the twittering Bingley sisters, Elizabeth returned to the tea tray and poured a cup for Mr Darcy. His eyes caught hers and, as she passed him the cup and saucer, he slid something into her hand. Neither moved for a moment, then, without looking down, she pocketed the something.
For the remainder of the call, Elizabeth and her sisters sat in obedient silence unless directly addressed. Meanwhile, the something seemed to burn a hole in her pocket.
Eventually, it was time for the step-family to change for an evening at Lucas Lodge. The Bennet sisters had been invited too, but she had declined on their behalf. There was the usual flurry of preparations: adulations of ‘darling’ Jane’s beauty; admiration of ‘darling’ Lydia’s liveliness; recognition of the second Mrs Bennet’s good fortune in having such ‘darling’ daughters.
Finally, they were gone and, sitting at her father’s desk, Elizabeth could take out the something. It was a plain handkerchief adorned with a green ribbon. She pulled out the bow and untied the knot, peeled back the cotton to see … her mother’s garnet cross. It was clean —very clean— and on a replacement chain.
What? Why?
Lost in wonder and relief, she nearly missed that there was a note too.
Oh dear. How much more improper can this get?
Reasoning that only she and the sender would know about the note and only she would know whether she had read it, she unfolded the paper and read:
‘The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.’
Interesting, she thought. He must have heard me at the assembly.
She thought more. So who is your enemy and what is your real intent, Mr Darcy?
Glad that she had locked herself in her father’s book-room, she leaned back in his old chair to consider this.
She would not have an answer without asking him.
Chapter Nine — In which some misconceptions are addressed
Darcy
By talking with the servants and the townsfolk, Steven had found out more about the Bennet family. Over brandies and a chessboard, he reported to Darcy.
“A step-family. Indeed.” Darcy’s gazed lost focus as he considered that. “I felt that something was wrong, but not that there are two families.”
“Yes.”
“The blonde family and the brunette family.”
“The current Mrs Bennet is the second wife. Mr Bennet wed Mrs Frances Pigswell, née Phillips, four or five years ago. I cannot think why his step-daughters took his surname,” Steven said sardonically.
“And what about Mr Bennet?”
“Apparently, he died a little over a year ago.”
“‘Died?’ When you say it like that, I feel that there is more to tell.”
“The local gossips say that the current Mrs Bennet ‘hastened his demise.’”
“Indeed.” Darcy had not expected that and frowned. “What else do they say?”
“It is a little bit muddled and quite contradictory, but the general opinion is that Miss Bennet will inherit Longbourn when she turns one and twenty.”
“Who owns it now?”
“It appears to be held in some sort of trust.” Steven shook his head, looking unconvinced.
“Indeed. And when does she come of age?”
“Late autumn, early winter, I believe.”
“Mm. If it is in trust, who runs the estate, looks after the tenants and so forth?”
“Miss Elizabeth.”
“She is ‘Elizabeth’ not ‘Eliza?’” Darcy asked in surprise. That was a much nicer name!
“Mm. She and the next oldest, Miss Mary, see to the tenants, too. It seems as though the current Mrs Bennet has no time for the responsibilities, just wants the money to spend.”
“Indeed.” Darcy was thoughtful. “She’s not alone in that.”
“Why do you take such an interest in the Bennets, William?”
“Hmph! I have been asking myself the same thing, Steven. But she quoted Sun Tzu …”
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Indeed, and I cannot help thinking that there is more to the Bennet families and this Longbourn business …”
Steven turned to fold away Darcy’s clothes before replying, “She walks early every morning.”
“Does she, indeed? I do not suppose that you can tell me where she walks …”
Steven rolled his eyes. “Of course!
Darcy rode in the direction indicated by Steven. His cousin had admitted that he was unsure of just how early Miss Elizabeth walked, but assumed it to be at dawn. “Five o’clock this close to the solstice,” Darcy mumbled to himself. He arrived at the small mound which the locals called a hill, just as the sun crested the horizon. Miss Elizabeth was already there, the rays shone on her face and made the strands of red in her dark hair glow.
She watched him approach. “Good morning, Master Sun.”
He dismounted and allowed Ajax to wander as he pleased. Bowing, he replied, “Zǎoshang hǎo.”
“That is a mouthful! What does it mean?”
He grinned at her. When did I last grin? “I assumed that if you knew that Sun Tzu means ‘Master Sun’, that you would also know the Chinese for ‘Good morning’!”
She laughed in return. “Very good! Unfortunately, my father’s library does not contain many oriental books, certainly there are no books for translating those languages.”
“I should be glad to lend one to you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Ah, you have discovered my real name.”
“Yes, I am sorry for using the abbreviation without your permission.”
“No-one has my permission to use the ghastly ‘Eliza,’ except for the Lucases, who have known me all of my life. My step-mother, she, first shortened it thus and her daughters have adopted it.”
“Indeed.”
“My sisters call me ‘Lizzy.’”
“I think that I heard one of them do so at the assembly.”
“Ah, the assembly. What were you up to? Insulting me then winking, why did you do that?”
“While observing you and your family, …”
“Those women are not my family!” Miss Elizabeth cried.
“… your step-family, I wondered if ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’”
“Huh! ’Tis a big jump from witnessing an internecine squabble to assuming that we are enemies, Mr Darcy.” She folded her arms and looked at him in disbelief.
“May I speak frankly?”
“Very well.”
“But first, may I sit with you?”
She looked wary but consented.
“While observing the Netherfield and Longbourn parties at the assembly, several things came to my mind.”
“Go on.”
“The, how did my valet put it? The current Mrs Bennet and her two daughters – the blonde family, if you will …”
“You have set your valet to snooping and gossiping about us?” Miss Elizabeth cried in outrage.
“Snooping, yes; gossiping, no. Would you allow me to continue?”
Her expression hardened, but she nodded.
“I watched the interactions between the blonde family and the brunette family, and the interactions between Mr Bingley and the oldest blonde daughter.”
“Why? Why did you do that? Is Jane not worthy of your friend?”
He shook his head, gathering his thoughts. “Mr Bingley is not my friend; no, no longer.”
“What? That raises even more questions: what are you doing here in Meryton, then?”
He sighed and decided to trust her, after all, she had quoted Sun Tzu. “He is blackmailing me.”
“Blackmail? Huh! What in heaven’s name for?”
“He claims to have proof of an indiscretion.”
She started to edge away from him.
“Not mine! Not mine! He has forged some documents that claim that my sister eloped this summer.”
“Forged? Did she?”
“Yes, they are forgeries, and no, she did not elope, she was with me the whole time. We went to Ramsgate for a month; we were never apart. He has got some statements supposedly from the butler and housekeeper there saying that my sister eloped.”
“But if it is not true …!”
“Gossip and slander will follow her if he does as he threatens and takes those statements to the newspapers.”
“What nonsense! You know of its lies; she knows of its lies; the servants where you stayed know of its lies! You make it seem that anyone could blackmail someone by inventing and threatening to reveal a lie.”
“But a lie is halfway round the world before the truth has got is boots on.”
“That is not from Sun Tzu!”
“I can quote others! But you are correct, almost correct. There is the smallest sliver of truth to his claims and my sister, a shy, retiring girl of fifteen, would not be able to deal with the knowing accusations.”
“Oh yes, and what is this sliver?”
“An old acquaintance from our childhood flirted with her there and, while I was out riding each morning, called on her and tried to convince her to elope.”
“Your tale —your yarn— twists and turns, Mr Darcy! You say that you were never apart, yet you left her to ride out. You say that there was no elopement, only the urging of one.”
“There is more.” Darcy hung his head.
“More? Go on.” Miss Elizabeth shook her head and sighed in disbelief.
“One night I was awoken by running footsteps. The bounder had crept into the house and was attempting to take my sister.”
“This is better than any of Mrs Radcliffe’s novels! Please, please, do go on.”
“She was caught between the excitement of it and reluctance. I stepped out and punched him …”
“Better and better.”
“… and he eventually admitted to wanting her only for her dowry.”
“Mm. You will not be able to publish this with any degree of acclaim unless the villain, Mr …”
“Wickham, George Wickham.”
“… gets his just desserts, whatever they are. So, was it pistols at dawn?”
“No. No. He ran as he always does.”
“And your sister? How is she?”
“Better than I had feared, but not as well as I had hoped. She remains in London with her companion.”
Chapter Ten — In which a thread is drawn
Elizabeth
“I see,” said Elizabeth. “While I am sorry for her, I still do not understand your purpose.”
“I am hoping for an ally.”
“An ‘ally?’ First explain your wink; what was your purpose there?”
“It was driven by Mr Bingley’s blackmail.”
“Go on,” she said with another sigh, wondering if he would ever get to the point of his tale.
“He says that he will give me the forged statements if I achieve two tasks for him.”
“Go on, Mr Darcy, go on!”
“Mr Bingley wishes to wed an heiress and his sister wishes to wed me!”
“So, find him an heiress! Marry Miss Bingley! It has nothing to do with me!” She jumped to her feet. “Enough! I must beg to be allowed to return to the house.” No, wait a minute, an heiress, she thought. This Mr Bingley believes Jane to be an heiress, a few more demure expressions …
She returned to stand before Mr Darcy.
“He likes Jane?”
“Indeed. An ‘angel’, he calls her.”
An ‘angel!’ If you only knew!
“So you plan to marry him off to my step-sister?”
“Rumoured to be the heiress of Longbourn.”
“’Tis true.” She nodded. ’Tis true that those are the rumours.
“You would promote the match?”
She waved dismissively at him. “No need. She will do that for you.”
“Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth hid a wince hearing ‘darling’ Jane referred so, by her own title. “Her mother: she.” Yes, yes, that would work. “Um, were you trying to behave as the thwarted suitor yesterday?”
“Yes. Not very adeptly, I suppose.”
“She was convinced and, having seen your friend monopolise Jane’s attention, considered you for her ‘darling’ Lydia, but her youngest wants a redcoat.”
“A soldier?”
“Mm. Very well, you marry off Mr Bingley to Jane, marry Miss Bingley —she of the childish innuendoes— and get the statements, thus saving your sister. Write it down and send it to the printers; your tale is complete!”
“Not quite, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, I dread to think. Go on.”
“I shall not —will not— marry Miss Bingley and have told her brother so.”
“Go on! Stop these undramatic pauses and go on!”
“I am not accustomed to sharing my thoughts and problems, and am battling my ineloquence.”
“I am battling an empty stomach! We all have trials to bear.”
Elizabeth had little sympathy as Mr Darcy started to gabble. What does the man want?
“My family, that is, my mother’s sister expects me to marry her daughter, my cousin. I have no such intentions but have used the excuse of that supposed cradle betrothal to escape a union with Miss Bingley —she of the childish innuendoes. So Bingley has bid me to find a titled husband so that she of the childish innuendoes can be called ‘Lady Caroline.’”
“But she could not be ‘Lady Caroline’ unless their father is titled. Is he?”
“No, he made the family’s fortune in trade.”
“So, despite the attendance at that exclusive seminary of which she boasts, she believes that she will be ‘Lady Caroline’ not ‘Lady So-and-so.’”
“Indeed.”
“So you have a titled fool ready for her?”
“No, I am waiting for my cousin, a colonel in the regulars and a son of the Earl of Matlock, to return to England in order …”
“… to marry her. I see,” she nodded.
“No, no, I should not wish that on him. No, to help me to find someone appropriate.”
“Mmm. You have the beginnings of a plan. Why did you quote Sun Tzu to me? ‘The enemy of my enemy?’”
“From my observations, it occurred to me that you would to be happier without your step-mother and her daughters. I suspect that you have long been desiring their absence.”
“You have been gossiping with your snooping valet, me thinks.”
“Indeed. Am I correct?”
Her stomach growled. “I shall not deny it, but do wonder what it has to do with you.” She looked up and around at the sky. “It is time that I returned, but we have more to discuss. I think that it will rain later —just look at those clouds— so I shall meet you in Longbourn’s stables if it is still wet tomorrow. I am sure that your snooping valet can tell you the way. Zàijiàn, Mr Darcy.”
She heard his startled farewells as she ran off down the path.
© 2022
