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Chapter 19

Posted on Friday, 13 May 2005

Mr. Jones still had business in town, and so had stayed behind, with Darcy’s leave, at the estate in Scotland. His wife, his daughters, and poor broken armed Hinton, however, traveled quickly, trailing the dusty path left by the Darcy’s fleeing coach. Mr. Richards rode alongside the Jones’ own carriage on one of Mr. Darcy’s finest horses, and Mr. Bennet sat dutifully inside, offering a suitable escort for the three women and the small precocious boy.

A broken arm was nothing to Hinton now that he was out of bed. He could still run and jump, and if Momma happened to yell at him more to sit still and be careful, that was something he could endure. What he could not endure was the special attention his oldest sister had suddenly started giving Mr. Darcy’s helper, Mr. Richards. Where she once would have told him wild stories of dragons and knights to pass the slow moving time while they rode along, now the leaned out of the window, chatting with this tall male intruder. Hinton scowled, a facial contortion that went unnoticed by everyone in the carriage. Mrs. Jones was busy talking with Mr. Bennet, Rene slept peacefully, leaning against her sister’s back, and Elaina spoke with Jonathan.

Jonathan. When had he ever heard his sister refer to any male other than himself and his father by their Christian name? Never! It simply was not done! Yet this man, to Elaina, was Jonathan.

Hinton’s scowl deepened.

“Hinton? Hinton?”

The little boy started and turned his face to the carriage window where the smiling countenance of the very object of his meditations was framed. “Yes Mr. Richards,” replied Hinton as coldly as a six-year-old boy knows how, which unfortunately for Hinton, is not that cold.

“I was just wondering,” spoke Mr. Richards genially, “if you would like to ride with me for a bit. Adonis here is a very fine horse, and I myself know how hard it is to stay indoors for long periods of time.” The man’s charming smile and tempting offer was hard to resist, but six year olds are especially stubborn.

“No. But Elaina would,” Hinton pouted, folding (or rather attempting to) fold his arms across his chest.

Elaina’s eyes widened and a gasp escaped her lips, but Mr. Richards, turning crimson nonetheless, managed to construct a coherent reply. “Yes…well… Elaina, I understand has no affection for riding. And besides,” he forged on, the words coming easily now, “what I need right now is the company of a good man.” He smiled at his craftiness.

“Mr. Bennet might ride with you.”

Richard’s mouth dropped an inch or two for a moment before he promptly shut it with a clack of his teeth. Elaina covered her eyes disparagingly with one hand and leaned her head against the seat cushion. She would abandon her betrothed to this, he had asked for it. It took Mr. Richards longer to regain his senses this time.

“Umm… Mr. Bennet is talking to your mother. I do not wish to deny them of whatever conversation has so enraptured them both (it was an impassioned discussion of boats, oddly enough). Come Hinton, let us get to know one another better! We are to be brothers after all!”

Hinton scowled as Richards brought the coach to a halt. Elaina opened the door and helped her betrothed to seat her brother upon the horse.

“Do be careful with him Mr. Richards,” spoke Mrs. Jones, “I do not wish for both his arms to be broke.” Mr. Richard’s smiled down into Mrs. Jones’ worried, upturned face.

“I shall take good care of him, I promise.”

Elaina grinned mischievously as she watched the horse pull in front of the carriage. She had glimpsed the small frown on her brother’s face, and knew exactly the amount of trouble her poor fiancé was in for.

“William, don’t you think this a little silly? Surely you are not that frightened of Caroline Bingley and Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth spoke with exasperation as the carriage flew wildly around a corner, almost tossing her into her husband’s lap.

“No, of course I am not frightened of those two… it is their seeming alliance with my aunt that has me running off in all due haste.” Darcy spoke with a slight hesitation, he nose shoved high in the air, as if to alleviate some of the cowardice of running away. To give him credit, the combination of Caroline, Lady Catherine, and Mr. Collins was something of an unholy triumvirate, and Mr. Darcy did in fact have every right to run off in all due haste.

Elizabeth snickered, and Darcy cut his wife a sharp look. “Don’t look at me that way Mr. Darcy! It is simply that I cannot imagine the Dread Pirate Darcy, abductor of brides, running away from anything… it seems that I am the more formidable force after all!” She said this as the carriage took another sharp corner and bounced terrifyingly in the air, propelled by a large rock sticking out of the side of the road. Mrs. Darcy was launched upward, landing, however, quite safely in Mr. Darcy’s very welcoming lap. She smiled at him, and would have thanked him for his very nice catch of her person had he not spoken first.

“It seems, my wife, that you certainly are the more formidably force; Dread Pirate Darcy would never have even came into being had you not been there to tease and dazzle him with your very fine eyes.” She blushed; he continued: “and though I did manage to kidnap you my dear, in the end, it was you that forced me into marriage.”

“Yes, and do remember William, you are put an ordinary dreaded pirate; I am the Pirate Queen!” She smiled playfully and tweaked his nose, an indignity that Darcy had never dreamed before of suffering, nor now dreamed of ever giving up.

“Yes you are my heart,” the Dread Pirate Darcy whispered before he lowered his lips to those of his very happy Pirate Queen.

Since Mr. Darcy considered his familial problems solved by his abrupt return to his beloved home Pemberley, his trip was a pleasant one to say the least The very fact that he had in his possession a beautiful new wife in the beguiling form of the lovely Elizabeth Bennet quite amazed him, and kept his thoughts securely out of matters of lesser importance. He did not for one moment wonder, as their current coach grew ever nearer their final destination, if his aunt and her accomplices had left his estate in Scotland, or, worse yet, if they had followed him. Mr. Collins’ claim to Elizabeth was as absurd as Caroline’s claim to himself, and Darcy reserved no time to ponder these eccentric claims.

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy however was quite aware of the grave situations that still hounded them as the coach made its way carefully toward the rising prominence of Pemberley. (Let it be known that this coach traveled much slower than the one that flew them away from Darcy’s Scottish estate, and that the couple, on this particular occasion, did not occupy the same seat.) These questions were foremost in her thoughts, and cluttered by so many other fears that she was quite pale.

“Darcy, you cannot think that everything has been solved by our coming home.”

Darcy was almost so caught up in the fact that she had called his home her own, that he almost did not realize the manner in which she had addressed him. However, after a long, small smile of satisfaction, reality set in. She had called him Darcy. He was beginning to realize that she very rarely did this, and most usually when she was upset at him. He thought it extremely unfair, as he could not call her Bennet, and indeed had no desire to do so. Revert back to the name she held before she was his!?

He shook his head with a silent laugh before answering his wife silkily, hoping to appease or smooth over her anger. “What could happen Lizzy? We are safe at Pemberley.” He smiled brightly at her as he crossed over to sit next to her. The carriage pulled to a halt and Darcy took his wife’s hand to lead her from the carriage into her new home. He halted their progress as she exited the carriage, giving her time to take in the grandeur of Pemberley. But only for a second, for in the next, she was swept into his arms (regardless of on looking servants) with her back pressed against his chest. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You are home now dearest Lizzy, and I shall keep you safe, if you cannot do the task for yourself.” He smiled teasingly as she looked up at him, over her shoulder. If her fears had not been quelled by the look she found smoldering in her husband’s eyes, it soon would be by the barrage of names and faces that were thrown at her; all were smiling and curtsying servants, eager to meet their new mistress.

“I shall never remember everyone,” she revealed to her husband when they were finally alone in their bedchamber an hour later.

“Well certainly you won’t be able to remember them all Elizabeth, but do not worry. You won’t even see or converse with most of them daily. Ms. Reynolds is the most important of them all anyway. But… must we talk of servants now? I’ve other things on my mind.” He pulled a loose curl at the nape of her neck and she quite forgot, well… everything.

“I’ve never seen such a romantic house in all my life!” Elaina stood mystified in the front hall of Pemberley, her mouth as agape as her sister’s.

“I’ve never seen as luxurious and as rich a house in all my life!” exclaimed Rene.

“It’s not the richness that is so impressive Rene,” replied the elder sister with a roll of her eyes, “It’s the history behind it all! It’s the romance of its owner!” She sighed dreamily as Mr. Richards, who was standing to the other side of Elaina, narrowed his eyes and turned his head to look at her suspiciously.

“It’s a nice house… I suppose,” added he out of pure jealousy. Rene caught the look in his eye and the tone in voice and laughed loudly.

“Believe me brother, nothing could steal her love for you. Apparently not even four years of silence from yourself! Do not worry.” Rene smiled in approval of her sister and future brother in law’s rising blushes as Mr. Darcy marched elegantly down stairs.

“Mrs. Jones,” he said, taking the older woman’s hand in his own. I’m glad to see that you decided to stay with me until your husband could join you. I’m sure he feels better knowing that you are under the roof of a trusted friend. And,” he said, turning to Richards, “it is good to have my secretary back.” The clasped hands and Mr. Richards smiled, forgetting his earlier jealousy in the face of the actual man.

“How long, Mr. Darcy, have you been home?” You did not leave much before us, but you traveled so swiftly!” exclaimed Mrs. Jones.

“A day only. And yes, we did indeed travel quite quickly. There was a grave necessity for haste.”

“I’ll say!” smirked Rene. “I’d have taken that orange plumed giraffe down had Jonathan not stopped me!”

“A good thing he did too! Can you imagine what might have happened had you hit that unfortunate lady?” asked Elaina.

“Yes, yes I can. And it is a wonderful image I must say. And you cannot talk sister; you were about to throw the old one out the window! Do not deny it, I saw it in your eyes!”

Elaina’s eyes glittered mischievously as the corners of her mouth lifted slightly upwards. Mr. Darcy repressed a smile as the sister’s stepmother asked the whereabouts of Mrs. Darcy.

“Mrs. Darcy is in the library writing to her family. If you stay long enough you will have the… pleasure of meeting with them. I’m sure she would love to speak with all of you. However, I have business on the estate to attend to… Richards, would you mind following me?” Mr. Richards followed Mr. Darcy back outside and a waiting servant showed the girls into the library where Elizabeth sat at a large mahogany desk, her head bent over parchment, a pen in hand.

“Mrs. Darcy,” said both younger girls, dropping into low curtsies. Elizabeth looked up, a laugh on her lips, and left the desk to greet her new friends.

While the group of girls conversed in friendly tones, a much different conversation was taking place at a nearby inn.

“I am certainly above resorting to underhanded means. The lad will come around eventually. My nephew is not a moron.” Lady Catherine sniffed indignantly and crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

“Underhanded means are not “under” us Lady Catherine,” retorted Miss. Caroline Bingley. “I am afraid they are exactly what we must use to achieve our own ends. I wish to marry your nephew and Mr. Collins wishes to marry that Bennet chit, and yet they have ran off and married each other! Do you not think that their strategy was a bit underhanded itself?”

“Actually,” mumbled Mr. Collins, “I am beginning to believe that Elizabeth and I would not suit at all.”

“Quite Mr. Collins,” admonished Lady Catherine, “And who said you were to marry Mr. Darcy? My nephew is to marry my daughter, Anne.” Once again, Lady Catherine pushed her nose into the air, daring the impertinent Caroline Bingley to defy her.

“I believe that I was the one who told you where they were at was I not? If it were not for me, you would never have found them! And did you not, in exchange for that specific information offer me the hand of your nephew in marriage once we had his current one annulled?”

Lady Catherine grumbled as Caroline smiled defiantly. She would not be denied the marriage she had cultivated so carefully for so long.

Mr. Collins remained silent. He had learned to do so in the presence of both these women. He was at a loss. It seemed as if his lady no longer cared for his carefully planned compliments! He knew of nothing else to say that they would listen to.

“Then what devious device do you propose we use?” asked Lady Catherine.

“It is simple. We shall kidnap the couple, hire a preacher of dubious merit, and contrive a forced wedding. If we can but find a preacher willing to perform a ceremony in which one of each of the couples is being held captive, then we will be successful!”

“My dear, you will certainly be able to find such a person, however, I do not think you are taking into account the fact that they are already married! They cannot be married to two different people! Society would never stand for it… not to mention the law.”

“Oh that can easily be remedied to dear Aunt,” replied Caroline, warming to the plan with such certainty that she felt sure her co conspirator would soon be her close relation. “If we obtain a document of annulment, we simply hold a gun to dear Elizabeth’s head and force my dear future husband to sign. We shall do the same for the current Mrs. Darcy too. Neither will let the marriage stand if the life of their love is in jeopardy.”

“Guns… I do not know if I approve of bringing such tactics into play Miss. Bingley. However, you are right in that desperate times cause for desperate measures. I have a nice set of antique Remingtons at Rosings. I think I’ll send word to have them sent immediately.”

“My dear Aunt, though I would love to have this done with all the style and class your antique weaponry would afford us, I am afraid we are on a certain deadline. We do not want the Mr. Collin’s rightful wife to get with child before her wedding night do we?”

Mr. Collins, who had not thought of such a thing, slumped in his seat, his face ashen. He remained remarkably quite for a man faced with the thought that his wife might be with another man’s child.

Within two weeks the entire Bennet clan had descended on the previously silent and austere halls of Pemberley. Mrs. Bennet, who had almost died away when her second eldest daughter had been stolen from the alter, was now overjoyed at her acquisition of a son in law worth ten thousand pounds a year. She was now sure that her other daughters would be quite taken care of, and that Jane especially would soon be married to Mr. Darcy’s dearest friend.

Mr. Bingley and his eldest sister Mr. Hurst had also traveled to Pemberley to bombard the new couple with exclamations and questions. What had possessed them? Darcy especially. Where had they gone? Why had they done such a thing? And the most important question of all: Did they not care what society would have to say of all this? The answer to this last question was a most resounding no, surprisingly. Bingley had many things to discuss with his friend, and quickly secluded Mr. Darcy into the study. Mr. Richards had escorted his fiancée, her sister, and the younger Bennet girls into a nearby town and the married women, along with Jane occupied a sunlit sitting room on the corner of Pemberley that entered into the gardens. Mrs. Bennet was busy quizzing Mrs. Jones on the peculiarities of her stepdaughters (who she perceived as a definite threat to her own Lydia, Kitty, and Mary in the avenue of marriage and beau acquisition. Needless to say, she was quite relieved to learn of Elaina’s betrothal to Mr. Richards, and quite disturbed to learn of Mr. Richard’s betrothal to Elaina.

In the Library, Bingley was chastising his close friend.

“How could you insinuate that marrying dear Jane would not be at all proper when you abscond with her sister the very next day? I’ll have you know that I’ve proposed to my dearest Jane, whether you like it or not!”

“You have! Good for you Bingley. I assume Mrs. Bennet does not yet know.” She had shown a decisive lack of enthusiasm in the topic of matrimony; one that could only have come from the seemingly lengthy amount of time it was taking Mr. Bingley to propose to her eldest daughter.

“You have changed Darce. For one thing, I do not believe you’ve ever exclaimed anything in your life.”

“I do feel different. Freer, more…” he paused before continuing. “Playful.” Bingley burst into laughter.

“That, my friend, is not a word I thought to ever identify you with!”

“Kitty!? Is not that Mr. Wickham?” squealed Lydia, grabbing her sister’s upper arm.

“Yes, yes I believe it is!” agreed Kitty.

“Who is Mr. Wickham?” Rene and Elaina both asked Mary.

“He has a rather devious sounding name, don’t you think?” Elaina added in an aside to Mr. Richards. The man nodded his agreement, and the whole party turned to regard the rather handsome man strolling the streets.

“Wickham! Wickham!” yelled Lydia, running toward him, skirts lifted most embarrassingly to her knees in her effort to run.

“What is she doing?” asked Mr. Richards, aghast.

“She,” answered Mary, “is being Lydia.” Mary rolled her eyes as Kitty ran off after her younger sister. Mr. Richards and the Jones sisters stopped still in the street and looked on as Lydia threw herself physically at the young gentleman. He smiled broadly as she pulled him towards the rest of the company.

“Dear Wickham! What a surprise to see you here! Though I suppose it shouldn’t be; this is where you spent your tragic youth is it not? Come, you must meet our new friends. They are close friends of my sisters and her new husbands! Oh! Her new husband is Mr. Darcy! I am so sorry Wickham, so dreadfully sorry. And to think that Elizabeth knew of your misfortunes at his hands! I just cannot believe you have been so ill-treated first by Mr. Darcy and then by my horrid sister!”

Mr. Richards cleared his throat and Rene and Elaina scowled.

“Oh yes, Wickham, this is Mr. Richards, Mr. Darcy’s secretary.”

“And who are these two young ladies?” asked Wickham, his eyes lingering favorably on the young girls who clung strongly to each of Mr. Richard’s arms (Richards might have yelped and begged them to leave off squeezing him senseless had another man not been about).

“Oh yes, them,” replied Lydia coldly, recognizing competition in the Jones sisters. “They are the daughters of a Mr. Jones. This,” she gestured towards Elaina, “is the eldest Miss. Jones. She is engaged to be married to Mr. Richards. And this,” she tossed Rene a scathing look, “is the younger Miss. Jones.”

“And she is engaged to be married to?” Wickham’s question hung in the air, and Elaina’s scowl deepened at so forward a remark.

“No one, sir,” replied Rene for herself with a devilishly charming smile, and a beguiling twinkle to her eye.

“Ah, it is nice to make your acquaintance,” muttered Wickham, bowing low over her hand. He straightened and looked into the scowling countenances of Elaina and Mr. Richards. “And you too Mr. Richards, Miss. Jones. When is the happy day, if I may be so forward?”

“You have already been quite forward enough!” Elaina snapped to the surprise of the entire group, most especially Mr. Wickham. Wickham’s charming façade dropped momentarily to be replaced by a look of utter confusion and bewilderment. He stepped back a pace and regained his composure.

“It has been lovely meeting you all, but I’m afraid Miss. Bennet,” he said, turning to face Lydia, “that I do have things that are needing my utmost attention.” He smiled down on her.

“Oh pooh Wickham! You can’t leave me now! Especially not with so boring a group as this one is!” Kitty humphed and put her fists on her hips in indignation.

“Oh, do not be so hard on them, they seem perfectly amiable. Now I must be along. I hope to meet you all again in the future,” said Wickham, turning and locking eyes with the youngest Jones girl, who, atrociously, flirted right back at him: batting her eyelashes and smiling prettily.

Mr. Wickham walked away from the little group, both pleased and unnerved by the tempting yet dangerous Jones sisters.

“I do not think that Mr. Wickham is an… honorable man.” Spoke Mr. Richards quite confidently. He was lounging in the small sitting room that the two sisters shared on the forth floor of Pemberley. Mr. Darcy did not know that they shared this sitting room; he did not even know it was being used. They had gone exploring immediately, and been charmed by the little rose colored room connected to one of the bigger bedrooms. Elaine sat curled in the window seat, a book in her hand that she was not paying attention to. Rene was slung across a couch her, head hanging off the side, her hair dangling to the floor.

“I agree,” spoke Rene from her upside down position, “He is most assuredly a genuine cad!”

“Don’t sound so excited about it Rene, it is nothing wonderful to be a cad,” spoke Elaina grumpily. “Did you see the way he looked at us? I still feel sick from it.”

“Yes indeed, I did see the way in which he looked at you,” answered Richards just as grumpily.

“Oh, do not be worried Jon my dear,” spoke Rene amusedly, “he was most taken with me. Did not you see the look he gave me before I left? That wickedly charming smile could knock any girl flat on her rump!”

“Rene!”

“Oh do not admonish me Elaina, it is only Jonathan and you here. No one else can hear.”

“I think you should stay away from him,” warned Richards.

“And why is that dear brother?”

“Well… besides the fact that he is a most obviously a cad, I do not believe Mr. Darcy approves of him.”

“Does Mr. Darcy know him then?” asked Elaina

“Yes,” replied her fiancée hesitantly. “But he would not talk much of him. I was going over some figures for him in past expense account ledgers when I saw the name Wickham with a large sum out beside it. There were no other personal names in the ledger, the rest being businesses and workers. I asked him about the name, in case there was something special that was supposed to be done with it. I tell you, his entire countenance changed! He went from being simply the stoic, somber responsible man to a rather terrifying fury.”

“You mean he yelled at you? Did he throw anything?” asked Rene, all curiosity. She now sat upright and on her stomach, her legs swinging above her head, dropping her long skirts to past her knees. Her chin was propped in her hands and she stared astonished at her future brother in law.

“No, he did not yell, and he did not throw anything. Actually, there was no show of temper at all, just this…this tightening of features.”

“I know exactly what you mean Jon,” spoke Elaina. “I’ve seen father get that way many times. It is actually worse than if he does throw things and yells.”

Rene nodded her head in agreement, throwing a look over her shoulder at her sister.

“Yes, well that is what happened to the esteemed and always self contained Mr. Darcy.” A contemplative hush fell over the cozy little room as all three minds pondered this information curiously.

“Well, whatever it was that happened between the two, I’m quite sure that it was the Wickham character that was… is the villain. And if Mr. Darcy disapproves of him, then you should be wary of him Rene.” Elaina spoke in all seriousness before turning her gaze decidedly towards her unread book, announcing that that was the end of the discussion for her. Secretly, she wished that Richards and her sister would go on discussing it, she did so like a bit of intrigue. It was the storyteller in her. However, no further discussion ensued. Rene bent towards a small table to pick up a deck of cards, a twinkle in her dark eyes, and daring thoughts in her troublesome, pretty head. Mr. Richards stood and kissed his fiancée on the top of her head before exiting the room, promising to see them both for diner.

Chapter 20

Posted on Tuesday, 17 May 2005

Hinton had never seen a lady like that in his life. She was round and to his knowledge, should have been jolly. However, she showed a severe distaste for him and his frogs and was always complaining of headaches and fainting spells. He just did not understand this. His pretty little momma never had headaches and never ever fainted and his sister was more likely to give others headaches and cause others to faint.

The little boy sat in the doorway of Mrs. Bennet’s open bedroom in Indian style, elbows on knees, chin in fists, scowl firmly in place. The clock had not yet struck seven in the morning and Hinton had snuck from his room in search of an adventure. Adventures, apparently, were scarce lately. He had been passing through an obscure hallway on the second floor when he heard a loud scratchy noise. He recognized it as snoring; his father snored. Creeping closer to the sound, he discovered that the door from which it was coming from was wide open. Two people Hinton recognized as Miss. Elizabeth’s parents occupied the bed inside the open room. The snoring was coming from, not her father, but her mother who was laying flat on her back, graying curls poking out from under a starched white sleeping cap. Perplexed, Hinton plopped himself down on the floor of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s doorway, thinking that perhaps, if he watched closely, he’d be able to figure the odd woman out.

George Wickham looked gloomily into a his thick cup of ale. Throwing back his head, he downed the rest of the dark beverage and eyed the busty serving girl who was wiping down the bar but a few feet from his own place sitting precariously atop a dangerously small stool. It was a testimony to his current state of mind that he didn’t reach for the unwitting girl and pull her into his lap. Instead, he called for another glass and stared gloomily into that one as well. He had come back to the place of his childhood to find a way to force new funds from Darcy. Wickham had left the welcoming arms of the country as soon as he heard of Darcy’s bold and insane move. He was forced to give the usual uptight man a bit of respect, however grudgingly.

Wickham was not happy that his long time rival had snagged the lovely Elizabeth out from underneath his own greasy grasp. Of course, he had had no serious intentions toward the lady. She was not, after all, well off, and could not supply him with the funds he would need to pay off his ever-increasing debts. No, he was rather glad when ole ‘stick in the arse Darce’ kidnapped the girl and made off into the seedy depths of Scotland with her. It gave him time to plan his next move. Surely, with Darcy so involved elsewhere, he’d be able to perhaps steal something from Pemberley, or maybe blackmail the old boy with some deep dark secret that he would find when he broke into the vast estate to snoop around Darcy’s personal belongings. Their search had, Wickham remembered with another frown, tossing down a swig of liquor, proven unfruitful. Darcy was as big a bore as ever… except for this latest development.

Elizabeth, he ruminated, was quite well off now that she had married Darcy. And so it appeared was Darcy. Of course this was nothing new, the stuck up arrogant snob, thought Wickham, had always been extremely rich. He was now, it would seem, rich in other areas as well; specifically, he was in possession of a very fine, very lovely lady.

The Lord’s commandments had never seemed overly important to the charming Wickham; he never let them stand in his way. And coveting his neighbor’s wife was certainly not beyond him. Unfortunately, neither was kidnapping his neighbor’s wife and holding her for ransom.

Wickham rose from his chair, tossed back the last of his drink, and strode purposefully from the tavern.

It is fortunate to remember here, that neither Mr. Collins, Lady Catherine, nor Miss. Bingley are any of them remotely bright. Instead, it is reassuring to note, that they are all rather dim witted. For where their plan was devious and horrible in its intent, it was so poorly executed as to make a debacle of the entire event.

“Perhaps we should have hired someone to do the kidnapping,” whispered Caroline a bit peevishly. “I am beginning to believe that we went about this all wrong.”

“Of course we haven’t!” exclaimed Lady Catherine as she clung to the arm of a rather strange, rather tall and gangly man in a white robe. “Father Laine, you assure me that the couples’ consent is not absolutely necessary for you to perform the ceremony?”

“Ceremonies,” hissed Caroline.

Lady Catherine glared at her. “What?” she snapped.

“Ceremonies. Two. Collins and Bennet and Darcy and I.”

Lady Catherine glared even harder and murmured temperamentally, “Fine. Ceremonies. It is not absolutely necessary for you to have complete consent to perform the ceremonies?”

“No, my lady,” replied Father Laine, “it is not necessary at all. I pride myself in the knowledge that love comes most often after vows have been said, and that marriages in which one partner is initially unwilling, often end up the happiest.” His words were soft and serious, and his long face drooped with the weight of his words.

Lady Catherine smiled. “Good.”

With an oomph, Mr. Collins finally freed himself from the hedge they had climbed through, and righted his clothes. He scurried to catch up with the swiftly retreating group and, tripping, almost fell to the soft grass.

“Perhaps we should have done this in daylight…” he suggested with a wheeze as he caught up to them, pacing his steps to those of Lady Catherine.

“Kidnap in the daylight?! Ha! You truly are a fool,” exclaimed Collins.

“But,” he argued, “we really aren’t kidnapping them. We’re simply breaking into the house and forcing them to marry us on the spot. I do not see why such a thing could not be done during the day.”

“Of course you could not,” murmured Caroline under her breath.

“Quiet!” ordered Lady Catherine as she came to a halt, bringing the entire group to a skidding stop. Mr. Collins bumped into the preacher and mumbled an incoherent apology. “Mr. Collins, lift the window.”

“But the window is already open Lady Catherine,” Collins answered, unsure of his own observation.

Lady Catherine walked to the window and threw her hand through where glass should have been. “So it is, Mr. Collins, so it is. Help me through. Mr. Collins and Father Laine handed Lady Catherine and Caroline through the window, then stepped through themselves.

“What a beautiful room!” Caroline observed, staring at the indistinguishable dark shapes of furniture. “Although,” she said, thought in her voice as she strode across the room a large bureau, “This chest is quite too big for this room, I believe it shall have to go once I’m mistress of Pemberley.”

Lady Catherine winced at the thought of Caroline painting the whole of the prestigious Pemberley orange as Caroline let out a quickly stopped scream.

“Well I say… you’re not Miss. Bennet.” The voice that spoke stepped out from the shadow of the bureau and was as sleek as it was stumbling. “But… It appears to be… it can’t be. I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

Lady Catherine could not abide incoherent rambling, and charged forward toward the dark shadow that was holding captive her partner in crime. “Just who do you think you are!” she exclaimed. “What do you think you are doing in this house!”

“I’ve broken in. Just as you have,” replied the shadow.

Caroline broke the man’s gripe and turned in his arms to face him. “Mr. Wickham!” she raised one eyebrow and pursed her thin lips into a frown. “I assume you have some good reason for breaking into my house!” She stepped quickly from the circle of his arms and placed her hands on her hips.

“Your house! This place belongs to me more than it does you! I’d say you have no right or say to it at all!”

“Indeed she does not!” agreed Lady Catherine, warming to the man she now knew as Mr. Wickham. “However, young man, I most certainly do.” Pulling all the authority up her short height to reside in her very high placed chin, Lady Catherine introduced herself. “I am Lady Catherine De Bourgh, aunt and future mother in law to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

Caroline gasped. “Future mother in law! I think not! We had a deal, and I will see that you do not go back on it!”

Lady Catherine grumbled. Wickham merely smiled.

“I, Lady Catherine, have heard much of you. I am the son of the late Mr. Darcy’s steward. George Wickham at your service m’ lady” he said with a slur. Wickham knew Darcy would not have told his aunt about the affair concerning Georgiana. It would not do for the young shy girl to be ousted by her own, and very influential aunt. “Now,” spoke Wickham, getting straight down to business, “we’ve both broke into Darcy’s hum-hum- humbumble abode. The question is… why? I believe that- hiccup- we may have common motives, and just might be able to help each other achieve our own ends.”

“Indeed…” surmised Lady Catherine, attempting to ignore the fact that she could smell the alcohol on his breath from ten feet away. “I do believe you might have a point Mr. Wickham.” The thought of partnering with someone so obviously lower than her made her pause, but the idea that Mr. Wickham might possibly have some qualities her two other partners certainly did not was too tempting for the lady. “Let us first hear your reasons for being here sir.”

“L-Elizabeth,” he managed to get out, his tongue getting in the way.

“Miss. Bennet?” questioned the great lady.

“Yes!” exclaimed Caroline, seizing the opportunity. “She is a terrible flirt! I’m afraid that not only has she seduced Mr. Darcy and Mr. Collins, but Mr. Wickham as well!”

Lady Catherine humphed disapprovingly. “Three men is certainly over the limit of the decent amount of suitors for someone of her low station in life.

“Certainly,” agreed Caroline. Father Laine agreed with a slow nod of his head, and Mr. Collins, who had long given up on voicing his or anyone else’s opinions, stood sulkily near the window.

Mr. Wickham also nodded his agreement. “I’ve come to get her back,” he said, attempting to regain proficient use of speech. “You see,” he murmured, his voice low, his head hanging to his chest, “I’m in love with her and I mean to get her back.”

Mr. Collins seized his own opportunity. “Indeed Mr. Wickham! You are in love with the lovely Elizabeth? I then would not dream of standing in true love’s way. Not just the other day I was telling-“

“Miss. Bennet is rightfully engaged to marry Mr. Collins Mr. Wickham.”

“But I do not want her!” wailed a now panicked Mr. Collins. “She would not make a fit wife for me at all! Not in the least bit!”

“Oh do stop your crying Mr. Collins, it is not becoming. Perhaps… perhaps something can be worked out,” she replied, gazing thoughtfully at Mr. Wickham. “It does not matter who she marries, just as long as it is not my nephew.”

Both Wickham and Collins grinned.

“You will come with us Mr. Wickham, and you shall have your Miss. Bennet tonight.” Lady Catherine turned to walk from the room, the preacher following close behind her.

“One more thing,” she said, turning to face Mr. Wickham. “What were you doing in that bureau boy?”

Wickham’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I… I don’t know.”

Darcy kicked off his boots and lay back on his huge four-poster bed. The deep green curtains were tied to the posts and he leaned against the mahogany headboard. He closed his eyes, remembering the way moonlight had played upon his Lizzy’s face in the garden earlier. He opened his eyes when he heard the soft humming coming from behind the door that connected his room to his wife’s.

He frowned. That blasted door. He did not see why they had to occupy separate rooms. It was a waste, according to Darcy, since they always slept in the same bed. Eyeing the wall that separated him from his wife, Darcy considered having it knocked down. One big room, perhaps with an even bigger bed, would be much more preferable.

He was shaken from his reverie by what was unmistakably the sound of a gunshot, followed by a scream from Elizabeth’s room. He jumped from his relined position just as three figures burst through the door.

“Aunt Catherine! Miss. Bingley!” he exclaimed as he looked from one lady to the other and then towards the man in the white robe. “What is this?” he demanded. The sound of glass breaking in the other room swept his gaze immediately toward the closed door. Muffled yelling raised the hair on the back of his neck.

“Elizabeth!” he yelled loudly, hoping she’d hear him and know that he would save her.

“There’s no use yelling dear nephew,” said Lady Catherine coolly. Darcy turned to look at her, and found himself staring into the dangerously near and steady barrel of a gun. “Sit,” she said, pointing towards a chair near the fireplace. “I’m sure Collins and Wickham have things in hand next door. More thuds and curses from the deep voices of men passed through the closed door from the adjoining room. Though the thought of Wickham and that odious Collins in his wife’s room enraged him beyond belief, he found himself hiding a smile. Apparently, they were having a rougher time of it than his aunt had. It sounded as if Elizabeth was using every projectile within reach to do harm to the two men who had invaded her room.

Lady Catherine sat in the chair opposite Darcy, never once moving him out of range of her pistol. Did Wickham have a gun next door? Do as they wish Elizabeth, Darcy pleaded in his mind, do as they wish.

“Now,” began Lady Catherine, ever to the point, “I asked you nicely once to do as I wished Fitzwilliam, and you foolishly disregarded my commands. But you see, I am not without my own resources. Have you forgotten dear nephew, I always get my way.”

Darcy had only half way been listening to his aunt, therefore, the pause she had given him for reply in her monologue went unused. Most of his attention had been on Elizabeth’s room. The noises had stopped; Darcy grew more worried. His dark brows knit tightly together and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You will, nephew, annul Miss. Bennet right now. And then you will marry Miss. Bingley here. After the proper papers have been signed, and the ceremony concluded, Father Laine will perform the same in the next room, and your Miss. Bennet will quickly become Mrs. Wickham.” Lady Catherine’s face was unreadable and Miss. Bingley smirked smugly.

“Mrs. Wickham!” exclaimed Darcy. He had never thought of this possibility. It had never occurred to him that Mr. Collins would not be the one wishing to marry the woman who had been stolen from his own wedding. He had simply assumed that Wickham was…well… he hadn’t a clue why Wickham was there. It was just natural for the devilish fiend to be at the heart of any scheme against Darcy. “What makes you think I’ll agree to any of this? Annul a marriage that has made me happier than I’ve ever been, to connect my life and fortune with this overly plumed, dimwitted fortune hunter?” Darcy would have laughed had Lady Catherine not moved the gun inches closer to his face.

“I believe I can coerce you my dear,” said the lady confidently.

He would not do this. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley, the Dread Pirate Darcy, would not be forced in so cowardly a manner! But how could he escape? Surely it was impossible with a gun pointed at his head. And wouldn’t he simply want Elizabeth to give into the same demands in order to save her own life? But the thought of her married to his enemy angered him even more.

“I’ll do it,” he said simply, his face an unreadable mask.

Lady Catherine blinked and Caroline’s jaw dropped open ever slightly. “You will,” they said in unison.

“Yes.”

Caroline who had to control herself from jumping up and down and clapping her hands, allowed herself a huge smile, her eyes glowing greedily.

“Father Laine, produce the documents.” The long faced man pulled a piece of paper from his voluminous white robes and handed them to Lady Catherine. “Darcy, go to that desk and bring a pen.” Darcy stood from the chair, attempting to ignore the way the barrel of the gun followed him steadily as he made his way toward the desk by the door.

The door. Elizabeth’s door. He schooled his ears to hear whatever muffled conversation was coming from the other room. Nothing. Cursing under his breath, he retrieved the pen and went back to his aunt.

“Now,” she said, handing him the document, “sign it.”

Taking the cursed paper into his hand, he withdrew to a low dresser. Caroline, Lady Catherine and Father Laine made a semi circle behind him, closing him in, trapping him.

Darcy signed the annulment papers.

Chapter 21

Posted on Friday, 20 May 2005

“Now what?” Hinton asked the gaggle of people surrounding him, looking down at him with wonder.

“You wonderful boy!” exclaimed Elaina, picking him up and spinning him around. Mrs. Jones took him from her stepdaughter’s arms and wrapped the little boy in her own.

“You are such a brave, courageous, intelligent little dear!” his mother sobbed, pulling his head to her bosom and ruffling his already disheveled hair.

“Mo-om,” complained Hinton, pushing away, a crimson blush revealing his embarrassment. “We still have to deal with the… the… what’s the word Elaina? The one you used the other day to describe that Wiggy man? Cad!” delighted Hinton, as the word popped into his little head. “That was it! We still have to deal with these cads.”

“Hinton… were you eavesdropping on us?” asked Rene, kneeling down to look him squarely in his twinkling eyes. He ignored her and walked up to one of the villains who were currently tied tightly with bed sheets and glaring at the strangely cheerful assembly. Hinton peered intently into Wickham’s scowl, the glanced curiously at the distraught Mr. Collins.

“Rene… I do not see that either of these men’s smiles could knock you on your rump. They seems rather ugly to me.” Elaina snickered and Rene blushed slightly; nothing ever made Rene blush. Mrs. Jones eyed her youngest stepdaughter cautiously and reminded herself to watch the girl more closely.

“What should we do with him, Elizabeth,” spoke Rene, attempting to change the subject.

But Elizabeth did not answer. Looking up from the two captives that they had managed to truss up like knotted confused brides in pure white sheets, and about the room, Mrs. Jones and her stepdaughters realized that the window was open.

“Where’s Jonathan?” asked Elaina, realizing that he no longer stood near her.

“Elizabeth?” questioned Mrs. Jones, warily approaching the now open window. All three women pushed little Hinton aside, his heroics quite forgotten for the moment, and stuck their heads out the window.

Elizabeth perched precariously on the thin ledge under her window, and Mr. Richards stood on the other. She silenced the three heads, two dark, one blonde, with a single finger to her lips. The questions they had died on their lips as fear entered their hearts and froze their movements. The three knew she went for her husband, who was assuredly held captive in the next room.

Elizabeth herself had thought her plan through. When her door had been shot open and Wickham and Collins had appeared, all logical thought had flown from her head, and a surprised, alarmed scream came unbidden from her throat. In desperation born of shock and bewilderment, she had picked up her heavy brushes and hand mirrors and thrown them at the intruder’s heads. Collins quickly suffered a blow to the right shoulder and small wooden box glanced the left side of Wickham’s ear. Darcy’s muffled scream of “Elizabeth!” had awakened her to her senses and made her realize just whom she was dealing with. Mr. Collins of all people, possibly the stupidest man alive, and Mr. Wickham, who at the moment was thoroughly foxed.

She had realized that though they brandished a single firearm, it would not be loaded. They had used their only shot to force entry into her room. Poor Mr. Collins would never be able to reload the gun, and Elizabeth doubted that even a military man such as Wickham would be able to under the circumstances. He looked about ready to collapse on the spot, and only the amiable arm thrown round Collins’ shoulders held him upright.

Elizabeth almost laughed at the sight of the two men, but knew not what frame of mind the drunken Wickham was in. Was he a violent drunk? She cared not to find out.

It was then, as she was assessing the situation and attempting to formulate a plan that Hinton had burst into the room, Mr. Richards right behind him, closely followed by Mrs. Jones, and Rene. Hinton threw himself at the intruder’s legs, heedless of his broken arm, and catching them completely unawares, was able to pull them to the floor. Rene and Mrs. Jones, who both wore white robes over their night rails, pulled the covering clothing from their bodies and tied villains’ hands behind their backs. Mr. Richards waved a shiny pistol at their heads as he pulled the unused sheets from Elizabeth’s bed and tied the two men together. At one point, Hinton sat on their backs as they lay prone on the bedroom floor, his backside sitting bonily on Collins’ pudgy back and her legs extended over Wickham’s sides. He kicked merrily.

And thus, mused Elizabeth, were the unwanted intruders captured. Elaina had entered the room silently some time after this, and shortly afterwards, Elizabeth, who remained silent throughout, trained her attention on the bedroom window. When she had pulled open the shutter and lifted one leg up to the sill, she found Mr. Richards beside her, helping her out.

“I believe the window is the best way to Mr. Darcy,” he said softly as he followed her onto the ledge outside. “I was in his room today. As I’m sure you know, rather voluminous and heavy velvet curtains cover his windows. If you enter through you door, or through the one that the other intruders broke through, you will be caught immediately. However, if you climb carefully through the window…” he left the rest of his statement unfinished for he knew that his words had been her thoughts for some time now. “Let me open the window for you,” he said, inching closer to the matching window that led to Darcy’s room. “It will not be as easy to open from the outside. They, of course, are not made to do so.”

Elizabeth nodded her consent and watched as he placed his palms warily on the glass pane. As he started pushing upward, Mrs. Jones and her stepdaughters poked their heads into the night air, curiosity evident in their eyes. They understood her silent plea for silence and watched as Mr. Richards successfully opened the window and inched further down the ledge to allow Elizabeth room to enter her husband’s chambers.

Carefully, praying that her movements did not much disturb the stillness of the curtains, Elizabeth lowered herself to the soft carpet inside the room.

“I’m glad to see you came around so easily nephew,” she heard from behind the covering curtains. That voice was unmistakable; it could belong to non other than the imperious Lady Catherine De Bourg.

“Now the marriage Father, and quickly,” spoke another voice, younger. This one sent shivers of heated rage up and down Elizabeth’s spine. Caroline Bingley. Elizabeth risked a peek from behind the curtain. Squeezing her fists into her palms, she managed to keep from jumping from her hiding spot and strangling the gangly, presumptuous…

“Lady Catherine,” spoke a voice Elizabeth did not recognize, a male voice. She looked to the man who spoke. He was older, his face long and worn, his robes dingy in the dim light of fire that roared in Darcy’s hearth.

“Yes,” said the Lady sharply, as if his mere breathing wasted her time and money.

“I cannot marry your nephew to Miss. Bingley.”

“Why of course you can! Is that not why I brought you here? You specialize in forced marriages! Darcy’s marriage is now annulled, by his own forced hand no less! There are surely no impediments now. And if there are, then it is nothing that cannot be repaired instantaneously.”

“No, no,” spoke the male voice, “It is not that I won’t marry the two, it is just that I cannot! At least, I do not think I can.”

“Explain yourself Father Laine,” roared Lady Catherine quietly, “and quickly too. I’ve no patience for your riddles.” Caroline agreed with an agitated growl.

“Unless your nephew was christened Dread Pirate Darcy, my Lady, I’m afraid his marriage is not annulled.”

Lady Catherine snatched the papers that she had given to the Father without a single glance from his shaking hand. She pulled the papers close to her nose and squinted her eyes at the bottom line that sported Darcy’s signature. Caroline peeked over the older lady’s shoulder then raised her gaze, shocked, to Darcy, who was wearing quite a cocky grin.

Darcy grinned victoriously at the three conspirators before him. “I will never annul my marriage to my wife. The devil himself couldn’t make me. What makes you think you can Lady Catherine?”

The fact that he had not addressed her as Aunt irked her already tempered ire.

She raised her gun level with her smirking nephew’s nose.

“You have not reloaded that pistol aunt, and by the time you do, I could have it from you.” He knew he spoke the truth, and it buoyed his courage.

Lady Catherine sighed and dropped her chin to her chest, and then pulled a second gun from a hidden pocket in her skirt. “I never come unprepared nephew. Surely you would realize that. This pistol she cocked and raised to his heart, dropping the other useless weapon to the floor. “Now,” she said coolly, “You will sign these papers correctly, or you will cease to exist dear nephew.”

“Nooo!” yelled Elizabeth as she rushed from behind the curtains. Darcy stood shocked, eyes wide, mouth gaping.

“Elizabeth!?” he exclaimed in return. “Elizabeth stop!” he yelled, “Do not come any closer.” His voice was now icy with fear and the purpose it created. She stopped but two feet from his back. She could reach out and touch him if it were within the capabilities of her muscles to do it, but the fact that Lady Catherine’s loaded gun was now pointed wholly at her own bosom froze her to the spot.

“I do not know how you escaped, you country harlot,” growled Lady Catherine. “But I do know that if you are not careful you will not leave this room tonight. However,” she said her voice changing tone, becoming lighter, “If you are lucky, you will simply switch husbands. I’m sure you will be delighted to serve as wife to either Mr. Collins or Mr. Wickham. Although I’m not sure if Collins will have you, and Mr. Wickham might reconsider his heated regard after tonight’s affairs.

“Darcy, sign the papers, or I shoot you.” She once again trained the gun on her nephew.

“I will not!” His fists balled at his sides and his posture froze. His eyes gleamed fire and his words carried warnings.

“Miss Bennet.” Lady Catherine turned her attention back to Elizabeth. “Do you wish to see your husband die simply because he does not wish to be unfaithful to you?” Lady Catherine could see the thoughts behind Elizabeth’s eyes and gloated over her own brilliance. If she could but get the country tramp to convince Darcy to annul their marriage, victory would be even sweeter. Betrayal by his own wife; Darcy would be crushed. And that was just the sort of nephew she needed and husband Caroline desired.

Elizabeth studied the back of her husband’s head, her eyes pooling with tears. She pushed the tears back and reminded herself that she could not give up so easily. Not to the likes of Lady Catherine and Caroline. Surely there was a way out of this. Perhaps a sign to her friends in the next room? No, if she made any move at all, Lady Catherine might fire the blasted weapon. But she could not let Darcy, her Dread Pirate! marry Caroline Bingley of all people. That above all could not happen. But… perhaps… “I will not have you give your life for me William,” she spoke softly, slowly lifting a hand to the back of his shoulder.” Darcy turned to look at his wife, his eyes darting across her face, confused. “Sign the papers Darcy,” she said calmly, attempting to relate her thoughts to him with her eyes and tone of voice. Darcy’s brow furrowed together, and it was clear he did not understand. His eyes searched her face quicker now, darting here and there across its planes. He struggled with the meaning of her words. Did she have a plan? Or was she just being self-sacrificing? And to think nothing of the sacrifice she was making of him to the matrimonial alter with Caroline Bingley! He frowned as he recognized, finally, the tone in which she had ordered him to sign the annulment papers. She used it when she was irritated, just as she did his last name. Darcy.

He decided to trust his wife. Grabbing the papers from his aunt’s hand, he took them once again to the desk where he grudgingly signed his own name, the one given to him at birth.

“Very good!” exclaimed lady Catherine as she carefully inspected the papers before her. She handed them to Father Laine, and smiled when he shook his head in approval.

“Now I can marry the partially unhappy couple,” he said with a smile. Such quips were ways in which he lightened up the oftentimes-tense atmosphere that presided over his weddings. They never seemed to amuse anyone but him though.

“Oh Darcy,” Caroline oozed, flinging her arms around the thoroughly horrified man’s shoulders, “I shall be so happy as mistress of Pemberley! You will soon find that marrying her was a mistake. You will thank me one day!”

Darcy stared on, thoroughly disgusted and attempted to extricate himself from Caroline’s arms. He certainly hoped his wi… no, not any longer. His own hand had destroyed that. He prayed Elizabeth knew exactly what she was doing.

Elizabeth didn’t know exactly what she was doing. She had hoped that once Darcy had signed the papers, Lady Catherine would drop her guard, and hopefully the gun, on the assumption that she had one, that victory was hers. However, the gun still waved unceremoniously in the air in the general direction of either her or her husband.

Her mind did not trip over the word husband as his had wife. She had ever intention of remaining his wife whether he had signed his name to some silly piece of paper or not. An annulment could be taken care of. They would simply marry again! She frowned as she realized that some action was needed immediately. The blasted priest was already getting into place between the sole couple of the wedding party. She was too far away from the scene, and most particularly from Lady Catherine. She watched as the priest asked Caroline if she took Darcy to be her husband.

Elizabeth promptly rolled her eyes into her head and fainted dead away, falling into a heap near the foot of Darcy’s bed.

“Stay where you are!” Lady Catherine ordered the three in the wedding tableau. “Continue!” She walked wearily up to where Elizabeth lay unconscious on the floor and quite indecorously squatted beside the fallen figure. One hand moved to Elizabeth’s forehead as the one holding the gun rested against the floor, pinning the pistol to the carpet.

“AHHHH!” Yelled Lady Catherine as the seemingly unmoving body threw itself towards her, toppling her to the floor. The gun was lost from her finger tips and she flailed at her attacker.

“Richards! Rachel!” screamed Elizabeth as she tried her best to pin the screeching and thrashing Lady Catherine to the floor. “Elaina! Rene!”

The four barged into the room from her door just as Darcy stood from where he had retrieved Lady Catherine’s gun off the floor. Elizabeth rolled off the older lady, not caring too much if she had hurt her, as Darcy placed the gun in the band of his britches and motioned for Mr. Richards to do the same.

Lady Catherine did not move from her prone position on the floor.

“I’ve killed her!” exclaimed Elizabeth. Darcy knelt down and felt at his aunts neck, right below her jaw line.

“No Elizabeth, she is not dead, merely fainted,” he assured her. Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed and she covered her face with her hands. Darcy rushed over to lift her from her sitting position and pull her into the strong circle of his arms. She willingly melted into them, letting him support her weight. Darcy turned to where Mr. Richards had his gun out once more from the band of his pants and trained now on the stricken preacher. Elaina and Rene had Caroline captive, one on each side, holding her still though she struggled to escape their grasp. He almost chuckled at the scene, but did not have the time as the room was quickly overcome by even more people. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet came hurtling into the room followed quickly by their four other daughters and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bennet supported his wife who was frantically waving at her face, her eyes half closed, and was muttering unintelligible declarations of excitation. Mr. Bingley demanded to know exactly what was transpiring at this hour.

“This is the second time tonight that this household has been disturbed! What type of establishment do you run here Darcy?” he demanded to know. Darcy noted how close and protectively he stood next to Elizabeth’s older sister Jane.

“Yes indeed,” spoke Mr. Bennet. “Earlier we led to believe that all the ruckus was to be attributed to a small boy’s sleep walking. However, I have begun to believe that that assertion,” he eyed Elaina warily, “was a lie.” Elaina blushed but held her chin high in defiance of her reasons for falsehood.

“When you all appeared outside of Elizabeth’s door earlier, I knew that as many people as we numbered could be dangerous in an emergency situation. I also did not wish to harm either you or your daughters.”

“If you were awakened by the same crashes and screams that we were, then how did you know the situation young lady,” said Mr. Bennet appraisingly.

“I was not wakened by them sir,” replied Elaina. “My brother pulled me from my bed and made me aware of the fact that intruders had entered the house. He then went to wake our mother and Mr. Richards, who we knew would be able to successfully wield a firearm. Again sir, I remind you that we did not wish to endanger your family anymore than it was already endangered in the form of your daughter Elizabeth.”

“This, I think, is neither the time nor the place for such discussions,” asserted Darcy loudly, attempting to drown out the competing voices of Mr. Bennet and Miss. Jones. “We must first do something with our captives. Lady Catherine must be dealt with firstly I believe, and the others must be locked in the guest rooms on the third floor for now. Richards, Bingley, Mr. Bennet, we will need to gather the men first I think. The good father can be sent home, swiftly, and on foot, but the other two villains should be taken to separate chambers and locked in. Richards, Bingley, would you please attend to Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickham? Mr. Bennet, it seems as if the Miss. Joneses have Miss. Bingley under control, but would you please escort the three to an appropriate room on the third floor? A maid, I’m sure is hovering right out the door. I’m sure the whole household is, with all the noise that we’ve had tonight. She will take you to Mrs. Reynolds who will have the keys to all the rooms. Oh… and do not let those sisters hurt Miss. Bingley. I feel quite certain they’re fully capable of it.”

Elaina and Rene smiled broadly and mischievously as they pulled Caroline, protesting still, through Darcy’s bedroom door and into the hallway. As Mr. Darcy had guessed, it contained possibly every servant that resided at Pemberley, from the lowest stable boy to the ruling Mrs. Reynolds, who merely ushered them upstairs and pressed a tiny gold key into Mr. Bennet’s palm.

Chapter 22

Posted on Monday, 20 June 2005

Elizabeth straightened her dress and pushed stray curls behind her ears. Everyone had scrambled quickly to obey Darcy’s commands regarding their hostages, and Darcy himself had marched off to question the prisoners. Mrs. Jones had ushered Mrs. Bennet and the younger Bennet girls from the room and Elizabeth stood in its center alone. The silence after the storm was disconcerting and she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Darcy had given her no orders to obey. He seemed to have forgotten her actually. Working to keep her hands moving and her mind busy, she tidied the room and once that was done, stood once more in its center, looking around. Calmly, she walked to the edge of Darcy’s bed and sat down, her back stiff and straight, her hands folded primly in her lap. She couldn’t quite settle her mind after everything that had happened. She supposed that shock had settled in. And just where was Darcy!?

But she couldn’t bring herself to go and find him, she couldn’t bring herself to move or even call his name. So she just sat there. She wouldn’t have been able to say when Darcy finally made his way back to his room and to her side. Vaguely, and from far away, she heard her name spoken softly in her husband’s deep tones, and still she could not move. Then he was in front of her, holding her shoulders, asking wildly if she was okay, cursing himself for leaving her alone. He mumbled over and over as he pulled her dress from over her head and lay her upon his pillows: “Shock, she’s in shock and I just left her. She’s absolutely drained. Elizabeth, dear Lizzy please speak, please tell me you’re alright.”

She could not find the energy to tell him how tired she was, and she remained still in his arms, letting her head fall to his strong chest. The erratic rhythm of his heart calmed her and lulled her into a soothing blackness. Right before the darkness swept over her completely, she gathered just enough breath and life to mutter into Darcy’s chest. “I love you.”

Mr. And Mrs. Bennet’s night was a long one. It took a considerable amount of coaxing on the parts of Mr. Bennet, his eldest daughter, and Mrs. Jones to relax the flustered and fainting Mrs. Bennet.

“Indeed! Can you not believe it Mr. Bennet! Can it be believed Mrs. Jones? Jane? Can you believe that Mr. Collins thought he had the right to marry our Lizzie! Why, Mr. Darcy has ten thousand pounds a year!"

Mr. Bennet refrained from pointing out that he had given his permission to marry Elizabeth to Mr. Collins and not to Mr. Darcy in the first place. He also refrained from remarking that the two young people, because of their quite foolish actions in regards to Elizabeth and Mr. Collins’ wedding had perhaps put themselves into such a sticky situation. He knew better than to say such things to his wife.

She insisted on knowing the particulars of the questioning, and Mr. Bennet, hoping to appease and calm his wife, had told her everything.

“Forced Mr. Darcy to sign annulment papers! But he did not did he Mr. Bennet!? He could not have!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice was strong and shrill and her husband winced and forced himself not to cover his ears.

“Why… I don’t know Mrs. Bennet. I guess that in all the fuss, everyone quite forgot about the annulment papers.”

“So, Mr. Darcy and our Lizzy are no longer married?” she shrieked, her voice rising with every word.

“I… had not thought of it my dear. I… I suppose not.”

Whereupon Mrs. Bennet fainted dead away.

Elizabeth awoke the next morning with the noon sun peeking from slight slits created by the pulled curtains, and a very worried Darcy peering at her intently. His dark, heavy brows were drawn together and his eyes were heavy with concern. After seeing all this in a single instant, Elizabeth became quite occupied by the way his hair curled playfully around his ears and dropped languidly across his furrowed brow. Darcy, it seemed, could not train his hair to appear as worried as he felt. She laughed.

Darcy’s scowl deepened and he fell from his shoulder onto his back where he thereupon glared fiercely at the canopy overhead. “I take it that you are feeling better this morning.” A laugh had not been what he was expecting after the state he had found her last night.

Elizabeth of course could not stay the shocked invalid forever. It was not within her nature at all, and more laughter escaped from her lips, though she bid it to mock Darcy no longer. “Yes dear William, I am feeling much better this morning.” She rolled over onto her elbows and smiled down at him until the corners of his lips twitched. Then she lowered her head until she could kiss softly each twitching corner, teasing him into a genuine smile that lead logically into a very genuine kiss.

If they had not been so engaged, they might have heard the arguing voices storming down the hall, growing louder and louder as the footsteps grew heavier and heavier in the direction of Darcy’s door. As it was, they were completely surprised when Mrs. Bennet burst through the door, Mr. Bennet close on her heels.

Mrs. Bennet had fallen into a restless sleep after the tragic events of the night before. Something, it seemed, vexed her to the extreme. She could not quite put her finger on it until she awoke startled and frantic the next morning. “Mr. Bennet!” she shrieked, sitting straight up in bed and searching for her husband. “Mr. Bennet!”

Mr. Bennet walked calmly in from the adjoining dressing room, his cravat dangling loosely from his neck. “What my dear?” he asked. He was beginning to think that he just might develop the same nerves his wife was always talking about.

“It is Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy! They are not married!” She clutched the bed covers tightly in her fists as her eyes grew wide in horror.

“I assure you madam, they are. I saw it for myself.”

“No Mr. Bennet, no. Either you do not comprehend at all or you are teasing me. And I assure you sir that if you are teasing me, I will never speak to you again! This is nothing to tease about Mr. Bennet! Where are the annulment papers Mr. Bennet, where are the annulment papers? From last night!”

Mr. Bennet reached behind him for a chair her knew to be in the vicinity and plopped down on its cushioned seat, his face screwing together in a frown.

“Oh Mr. Bennet! What if Mr. Darcy decides that he will not marry Elizabeth again? What then? Ohhhhh, ohhh, we are ruined Mr. Bennet, ruined.”

“No, you are wrong. I assure you, Mr. Darcy will remarry Elizabeth. Why would he not? He fought for her last night did he not?”

Mrs. Bennet contemplated this momentarily, but the thought of losing such an illustrious son in law as Mr. Darcy was simply too terrifying. There was only one thing to be done.

Let me repeat, if Elizabeth and Darcy had not been so delightfully engaged, they might have heard the arguing voices storming down the hall, growing louder and louder as the footsteps grew heavier and heavier in the direction of Darcy’s door. As it was, they were completely surprised when Mrs. Bennet burst through the door, Mr. Bennet close on her heels.

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth remove yourself from that man’s bed this very instant! And you sir! You! Taking advantage of a young lady! You will marry her sir! You have been caught and Mr. Bennet will not leave you alive if you do not marry our daughter!”

Elizabeth and Darcy sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the covers to their bodies; though Elizabeth wore her undergarments, Darcy was bare to the waist. Both were shocked past speaking to see a frazzled Mrs. Bennet yelling at them from the doorway, looking as scandalized as she should have looked when Mr. Darcy stole Elizabeth from the alter (She had been quite pleasantly surprised that day, and had deemed Elizabeth her favorite daughter from then on. For truly, a man of Mr. Darcy’s stature was so much more highly preferred to a mere parson like Mr. Collins).

“Mrs. Bennet, my dear, do leave the children be. This is neither the time nor the place. I assure you, Mr. Darcy will marry Elizabeth again if need be,” her husband pleaded with her, pulling on her arm in his attempt to remove her from his son in law’s bedroom.

“He had better Mr. Bennet!? Oh, my nerves! HE is lying in bed with our daughter! And they’re not married!” She tore her arm from his grasp and fled across the room towards the bed just as a be-robed Jane entered the room, a look of astonishment on her face.

“Mother,” she exclaimed, running forward with her father to get a firm grip on the lady. “Mother, you must leave this room at once!” she threw an apologetic look at her sister. “I was just rising when I heard mother storming down the hall. I got here as fast as I could.”

“Oh Jane, oh Jane, she is ruined if they do not marry once again. Ruined!” Mrs. Bennet exploded into a fit of tears and limply let her husband and daughter (who both threw apologetic looks at the astounded couple in the bed) drag her from the room.

As the door shut soundly, Darcy jumped from the bed and pushed the lock into place. Elizabeth groaned loudly and pulled the covers over her head, sinking heavily into the feather mattress. The creak of the bed that announced Darcy’s return to her side was not nearly enough to bring her out of hiding.

“I am so terribly sorry,” came Elizabeth’s muffled and shaky voice from under the blankets. She was afraid to peek at him, afraid to see his long legs stretched out with his ankles crossed, much as she knew his arms must be crossed over his chest. She was afraid to face the disappointed frown that she knew graced his lips and eyes and brow. He had just been reminded of the family he had married into, and she knew that her embarrassment couldn’t come close to his.

That’s why she was surprised to hear him laughing. He laughed so loud and so long that she eventually peeked at him from over the blanket. His arms were crossed, but around his waist, and his knees were pulled up into his chest as he lay on his side convulsing with laughter. She sat up and, taking her pillow firmly in hand, smacked him across the back of the head. “What is so funny about this?!”

His answer was to keep laughing. And because laughter, as we all know, is contagious, she began to laugh to. And before she knew, the bed was shaking so hard with their combined laughter that she was sure it would collapse around them.

When finally their laughter subsided, Darcy pulled his Lizzy to him and toyed with her curls as she followed the lines of his palm with her fingers, each content to simply be near the other.

“William, what did happen to those annulment papers?” Elizabeth looked up at the man who just last night was her husband with a small scowl on her lips.

“I… I don’t guess I know what happened to them Elizabeth.” He returned her gaze, pulling softly on a curl near her ear.

“Then… then we’re not married are we?”

Darcy pulled her closer than both thought possible and tightened his arms around her even more. Resting his chin on the top on her head he answered in a low emotionless tone, “No, Elizabeth, I don’t suppose we are.”

Darcy’s mud splattered boots made prints on the usually pristine floor of Pemberley's hall. He did not even think to order a servant to clean it up, but rather scowled ominously at some maddening point in the distance. His steps were heavy two dusting maids scattered as he flew past them. The two stable boys who had been set as temporary guards outside the room in which the two women villains were being held, pushed their bodies as much against the wall as possible and stood up as straight as their tired backs would let them at the sight of their scowling master. Darcy did not ask the boys for entrance, but steely turned the knob himself and flung the door open wide.

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him with a gust of air and two visible cringes from the makeshift guards.

Caroline Bingley jumped from the stiff backed chair she had been sitting huffily in and ran towards Mr. Darcy, throwing her arms around his neck in an entirely inappropriate manner.

“Oh Mr. Darcy! I am so glad to see you! I knew you would come to your senses. You’re such a reasonable and intelligent man, and I knew you would see that you were in the wrong last night; a lunacy no doubt brought on by a lack of sleep and the pressures of an unsuitable and unattractive wife.” She pouted her lips at him and shook her head as if to say, I understand, and fussed with his lapels, bringing her gaze to his chest and away from his fiercely burning eyes. She attributed it to passion.

Darcy did not step back from her. Putting his hands on her shoulders and straightening his arms, he pushed Caroline backward until she again rested in the chair she’d vacated at his abrupt appearance. He did not speak to her, but swung his gaze to the elder woman standing stiffly by the window. Lady Catherine’s hands were folded neatly in front of her and her face was void of any emotion.

“Aunt Catherine,” said Darcy, refusing to bow to the woman who had so fiendishly plotted against his happiness. “I presume you are ready to leave for Rosings.”

“Cut off Fitzwilliam. Both you and Georgiana. No inheritance, no properties, no social ties. You are not my nephew; you are not worthy of the Darcy name.” Her voice was low and emotionless, as if she were informing her lawyer or accountant of some small and unimportant piece of information.

“I do not want your money, your property, or your social ties. I want the annulment papers.” Darcy’s voice had the edge that his aunt’s did not.

Lady Catherine raised one eyebrow. “Annulment papers? I’m sure I have no idea what happened to them.” Caroline’s face lit up for an instant before Darcy’s words once again pulled a dark shadow across her features.

“No matter. I will simply marry her again.” His voice was thoughtful, his gaze had grown distant, unreachable. He turned sharp on his heel towards Miss. Bingley. “Unfortunately, we will have reason to come in contact with one another after this, as I am sure your brother will very soon be my brother in law. However, I fully expect nothing but polite civility from you towards my wife Miss Bingley.”

“She is not your wife, you were annulled last night,” she shot at him coldly, her eyes sharp with conniving malice.

“Elizabeth is and always will be my wife Miss Bingley. A piece of paper makes no difference. Your carriage is waiting.” Miss Bingley did not rise from her chair, did not appear to wish to ever move from the spot at all. Darcy cocked a brow and strode towards the door. Opening it, he turned to address the young guards. “Geoffry, Samuel, you will escort Lady DeBourgh and Miss Bingley to their carriage.”

“Yes Mr. Darcy” they answered in unison to their master’s swiftly retreating back.

Elizabeth was quickly growing weary of her family’s presence in her home. The Jones family seemed to keep to themselves, seeking the outdoors as refuge from sun up to sun down. However, Kitty and Lydia constantly complained about the lack of gentlemen in the area and Mary sat, stiff as a board, reading all day long. Her father had taken to shutting himself in a small sitting room and, well, doing whatever it was he did when he shut himself up in his library at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet had at least been bearable before the annulment. However, it had not even been twenty-four hours since that horrid night and Mrs. Bennet had not let up on her wailings. She had kept to bed, moaning and bewailing the fate of her daughter and family. Elizabeth’s only consolation in all this was that Mr. Bingley and Jane seemed to be closer than ever. Whether they were rambling through the gardens or talking amiably by the fire at night, they never left each other’s side.

Elizabeth was glad that the villains of the night had been sent away. She had not felt comfortable with them in her home. She had had to convince Darcy not to accuse the lot of them of breaking and entering. In the end, he had simply sent the all away with a warning. Elizabeth had not heard him issue the warning, but she had seen the sad procession of villains leaving the house. Lady DeBourgh’s chin was high but her face pale, Caroline stared dejectedly at her skirts, Collins looked absolutely terrified, and Wickham looked as if he were an overgrown five year old sulking. She did not buy Wickham’s appearance however. She was starting to assume that the man might perhaps be far more dangerous than he let on.

Elizabeth sighed and said to no one in particular, “When will you be home Darcy?” Darcy had left her quite soon after the fiasco in the bedroom that morning. Elizabeth had been horrified at her mother’s unannounced entranced and at the words she had flung from her lips. Surely Darcy had been able to find a minister by now. Surely he would ride up at any minute assuring her that a preacher was just behind him in a carriage.

For it appeared that the annulment papers had disappeared, or rather, the man in possession of the papers had disappeared. Darcy had spent all day searching for the man, only to send word around noon that he was nowhere to be found. Darcy’s next objective, in such a case, was to find a preacher willing to marry them without delay. It should not have taken so long, she assumed. Darcy’s wealth should have been able to buy any amount of special licenses.

“I just don’t understand Richards. I should have been able to procure several special licenses by now, and hire a minister.”

“It is strange sir, that all the ministers seem to have pressing engagements at the moment. You don’t think that your aunt could have paid them all to ignore you do you?”

“By God you’re right Richards! I let her pass through town alone in the carriage when I sent her and Caroline away this morning. She would have came through here a good deal of time before we arrived this morning.” Darcy scowled as he contemplated this new theory. Had his aunt really been so resilient as to bribe all the pastors, preachers, and ministers to keep their distance from the master of Pemberley this day?

“What do we do next Mr. Darcy,” said Richards, interrupting his employer’s thoughts. Darcy turned his horse towards Pemberley and Richards followed suit, waiting for an answer. Mr. Darcy pondered quietly and broodingly while they slowly made their way back home. He was no stranger to a challenge. A wedding and a parson had initially stood in the way of being with Elizabeth, and now the lack of a parson stood in the way of a marriage to Elizabeth. Nothing had gone smoothly in this affair since the start, and the bumpy road was beginning to irritate Fitzwilliam Darcy more than a little. If everything were as simple as piracy, he thought. If I were really a pirate, I would just lie, cheat, or steal to obtain my means. But the words “lie, cheat, and steal” made Darcy cringe; they were not words of honor. However, he thought, I stole Elizabeth, and lied to steal her away to Scotland. The only thing he hadn’t done yet was cheat. He ruminated these musings for some time, his thoughts taking a decidedly wicked turn; the old Dread Pirate Darcy gleam once again entering his eyes as he cocked his glance toward his companion.

“Mr. Richards…”

“Yes sir?”

“In your perusal of the higher arts, have you ever worked in a legal setting? Perhaps drawing up documents?” Darcy had Mr. Richards’ full attention now, and the younger man turned his head to grace his boss with a curious stare.

“Why, yes I have in fact. Why do you ask?”

“It occurs to me Richards, that there are perhaps five people who have seen the actual annulment papers, and probably no more than three who have actually read them. Four of those five people are gone and, if they know what is good for them, will never return.”

Richards smiled and Darcy continued.

“That leaves me Richards. I seem to be the only one left at Pemberley who knows what those papers looked like, what they said.”

“Mr. Darcy, I’m afraid you are quite mystifying me. Perhaps you could elaborate. Where does my experience as a law clerk come into all of this?”

“It’s clear Richards! You shall draw up annulment papers that I shall sign!”

“What!” Richards was sure that his employer’s wits had been permanently damaged by the affair last night. “Sir, I’m afraid that a second set of annulment papers will not in the least make your marriage to Elizabeth legal.”

“Of course not! You see, we shall destroy the papers you write up in front of her family so that they believe our marriage to stand once more. Then, Mrs. Bennet will cease insisting that I marry her daughter.” Darcy said this last bit with more irritation in his voice than he had planned on, but Richards seemed to be as indignant at Mrs. Bennet’s insinuations as Darcy was.

“To think that she actually believes you will not remarry Elizabeth! How absurd!”

“Thank you Richards.”

“But sir, is Elizabeth to know that the papers aren’t real?”

“She will have to. We will have to be remarried again as soon as I can find one of those blasted preachers that my bloody aunt hired to ignore me. I merely wish to destroy the second set of papers that you will make-“

“To get rid of your in-laws?” Richards smiled as he finished Darcy’s sentence.

Darcy smiled too at the abrupt interruption. “You understand precisely.”

Chapter 23

Posted on Wednesday, 6 July 2005

Elizabeth ran from the house as soon as she saw Darcy stalking across the lawn. She skidded to a halt in front of him, stopping her considerable forward motion by throwing herself into her former husband. He caught her and wrapped an arm around her, his scowl lightening.

“Oh William! Say you found the papers!”

“Well, to have found the papers, I first must find the preacher… which I did not do.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped and her lips drooped. “Oh William,” she whispered, leaning harder into his arm. Darcy stopped walking, holding Elizabeth in place. He leaned his head in close to hers and locked eyes before speaking. The look in Darcy’s eyes alerted Elizabeth to the idea that some mischief was about to be played. She vaguely remembered that very same look from when he abducted her from the alter, and then again when he had used his friend Mr. Jones to hire her as a governess to bring her into his house, and then again when he had whisked her off to Pemberley after the disastrous arrival of Collins, Lady DeBourgh, and Caroline in Scotland.

It was his pirate look, and it made him look utterly dashing. Elizabeth shivered and smiled in spite of herself. “Whatever scandalous thing you are about to propose sir, I am utterly against it!”

“Your smile says that you are not, dearest Elizabeth.” His voice was sure, confidant. “I do indeed have an idea to fix our present unhappy state. It is perfect Lizzy. But… I need your help to carry it out.” He leaned in close enough to kiss her, but did not, instead he moved his hands to encircle her head and gently grazed his thumb over her neck. He was doing his best to convince her… or to make her quite forget her objections.

But Elizabeth could not be so manipulated. Leaning in the rest of the way, she kissed Darcy quiet efficiently before stepping from the small circle of his arms.

“Now Mr. Darcy, I believe you must tell me what your plan is before you tell me how it is that I must help you in it. You need not use such underhanded methods to… seduce me into complying with your plot. Simple logic will suffice.”

Darcy would have laughed long and heartily had he been alone with Elizabeth. He would have picked her up and swung her around, delighting in feel of her waist in his hands and the sparkling merriment in her fine eyes. However, since they were talking quite in the public venue of Pemberley courtyard, he was not at liberty to take liberties… as it were.

He took her arm through his and pulled her toward the gardens. “Richards is writing up annulment papers as we speak.”

“Annulment papers! But Darcy, why would we want another set of…” she quit talking and glared at him, hoping she looked as forbidding as he usually did. “I realize I trapped you into marrying me, but I thought you were quite satisfied with the outcome.”

Darcy was shocked that her thoughts had taken such a turn. “No! No! You must let me finish, love. No one saw those bloody annulment papers but the preacher, Lady Catherine, and I. Therefore, no one knows what they look like. The solution is simple. Richards will draw up a set of annulment papers, which I will sign, but which will not be legal, and everyone will believe we’ve found the originals.”

Elizabeth looked doubtful. “But where do I come into all of this?”

“You, dearest Elizabeth, must find the fake papers; swept into some corner or under some piece of furniture in my room, forgotten in all the excitement and mayhem that ensued last night.”

Unbeknownst to either Darcy or Elizabeth, their conversation was not as privately discussed as they had thought. For as Darcy pulled his pirate queen into the relative seclusion of the garden, another couple’s intimate chat was interrupted.

Jane and Mr. Bingley jumped from the bench they had been sitting on, quiet more closely than propriety allowed, and ran to hide behind the tall shrubbery that circled around the flowerbeds. When the voices of her sister and ex brother in law grew faint in the distance, Jane pulled Bingley from their hiding place and looked up at him, wide eyed.

“Oh Mr. Bingley! Would they really do such a thing?! Elizabeth has always been… impulsive, but always so cautious at the same time. She’d never do anything to hurt her reputation.”

“Yes, but I cannot say the same for Mr. Darcy,” was Bingley’s cold reply.

“But what do you mean? He has always seemed the very picture of control, propriety, and nobility.”

“Oh yes, Darce is all that, but… I believe he’s sometimes too reserved. I think that meeting your sister has… opened some sort of dam that he’d built up years ago. He’s hidden his impulsive, passionate nature behind years and years of walls of responsibility.

“Oh,” said Jane, as she let her suitor’s word’s sink in. “I suppose you know best though. You are Mr. Darcy’s oldest friend. But do you think they will really lie to our parents? They are not legally married after all! And they intend to… to…” she blushed, not able to finish her sentence.

Share the same bed until the marriage is once again legal, thought Bingley, though he did not say it. It is what I would do. This thought brought him back to the events that had taken place before Darcy and Elizabeth had interrupted him. “Jane, I believe I asked you a question before we were so unexpectedly interrupted. Is it possible that you have an answer for me?” He took both of her hands in his and held them tightly, as if she would run if he loosened his hold.

Jane blushed prettily and smiled shyly up at the man she loved. “There could be no other answer than yes Mr. Bingley.”

“Charles, call me Charles,” he said as he lowered his mouth to place a properly chaste kiss lightly on her lips.

Bingley paced back in forth in Darcy’s study, thinking ahead of how he was going to propose such a scheme to his friend. No, he would not propose it, he would demand it. He had information to hold over Darcy’s head, and for once, he wasn’t too afraid or too nice to use it.

“Bingley!” said Mr. Darcy, shocked to find his study already occupied. Mr. Richards ran into his employer as he came to an abrupt halt.

“What!” he said, as he righted himself and excused his clumsiness to Darcy. “Mr. Bingley… I um… I should go.” He made a quick bow to leave, but Darcy quickly grabbed the younger man’s lapels and pulled him into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“No, Richards, you have work to do.”

Mr. Richards glanced warily at Darcy before sitting down at the desk, then glanced warily at Bingley before opening a drawer and pulling a set of documents forth. He placed them on the table before him, dipped a pen in the ink well, and shifted his gaze hesitantly from Darcy to Bingley and back again before sighing deeply and setting the pen to paper.

“I know what you’re doing!” exclaimed Bingley rather energetically. Darcy eyed his friend coolly and Richards’ head flew up, eyes wide. Neither man spoke, however, willing in their silence, Bingley to explain his revelation, which he did. “I was in the garden when you were talking with Elizabeth, Darce. I… I know about the annulment papers.”

“And he disapprove I’m sure,” was Darcy’s only reply.

“No! In fact, I’m afraid I quite whole-heartedly agree with your motives and actions! But as it stands… I’m afraid I’m going to have to blackmail you.”

Darcy walked to a nearby chair and sat down, leaning his elbow on the armrest, and placing his chin in his palm. He was amused and intrigued and this fact sent a shiver of relief through Bingley.

Richards had thrown his pen down and was now slumped in his chair, one arm crossed over his chest, the other raking fingers through his now messy hair. “The game is up Mr. Darcy, we’ve been found out.”

“Apparently not, Mr. Richards, if we are able to pay Bingley a reasonable price,” said Darcy.

“Yes… well…” mumbled Richards, giving up.

Bingley continued, “I assume you plan to present these papers tonight, and be rid of the Bennets by week’s end.”

“If not sooner Bingley. By the end of the week, I’ll have gone mad!”

“Do you intend to marry Miss. Bennet… Elizabeth…Mrs…” Bingley stopped, at a loss as to what she now was called.

“I intend to remarry Mrs. Darcy,” said Darcy, emphasizing what he saw as her true name, as soon as possible, whether her family is here or not. The thing is, neither of us want the fuss that will inevitably come with this whole bloody affair, which is why are attempting to deceive everyone Bingley. Now name your price or stop teasing me!”

“I’m not teasing Darce. I… I wish to be married when you remarry. To Jane. I’ve asked for her hand, and she’s accepted.”

“I would have no problem with a double secret wedding Bingley, however, how would the lovely Jane feel about such deception?”

Bingley’s effusion of thanks to Darcy stopped abruptly in his throat as Darcy’s words sunk in. He had not asked Jane’s opinion in the matter, and now that he thought about it, was quite sure that Jane would not wish to disappoint her mother by being married in a small secretive affair. “You’re right Darcy,” said the ever sensible Bingley. “I guess I’ll go ask he father, and then we’ll tell Mrs. Bennet.” This last was said with a visible wince, and Darcy felt for his friend.

“Before you go,” said Darcy as he stood and walked to a small table near the desk that held a crystal decanter of dark liquid and small tumblers of the same design. Darcy poured the liquid into three tumblers and handed one to Bingley, then another to Richards. Bringing his own cup to his lips, he paused before drinking. “I believe you might need a bit of fortification, Bingley my friend.” He thought before continuing, “To deserving women… and the trouble we go through for them.” Sharing a knowing look, all three men tossed back their heads and threw back their glasses as the warm drink disappeared into the backs of their throats.

Only half of Darcy’s houseguests sat together in the drawing room that looked out onto Pemberley gardens. Mrs. Jones sat on a low couch speaking to Mr. Bennet, while Mary sat complacently on a chair, wishing this particular room was occupied by a bookshelf, a pianoforte, or simply anything to keep her busy. Mr. Bingley was talking intimately with his betrothed, perfectly framed by a window. The couple’s blonde hair shone in the setting sun, and Elizabeth, who was sitting idly by Mary, smiled contentedly at the perfect picture they made. Darcy, as was his want when in a sober mood, leaned against the fireplace mantle, deep in thought. Hinton sat in a straight backed chair, swinging his legs, looking for some escape from the tedious boredom of the indoors.

“I hope that your wife is well, sir,” said Mrs. Jones to Mr. Bennet.

“I’m sure she is Mrs. Jones. She is merely upset that the annulment papers are still missing. I’ve no doubt that she will be wonderfully well as soon as they are found once more.”

“I do hope so.”

“Trust in it madam. Also… I believe that my dear Jane may have some news for her that just might set everything to rights once more.” He smiled at his eldest daughter who blushed fiercely and left Mr. Bingley’s side to quit the room.

“You are right father. I should not delay any longer.”

Elizabeth smiled at first her sister, then Bingley, knowing full well what it was that Jane had need to discuss with their mother. She also knew that Jane’s revelation would delay her own.

Darcy stood somberly by the unlit fireplace. He was staring at Elizabeth and his stare was not very pleasant at all. He was, in fact, annoyed that she had not yet revealed the fake papers to her family. She should have done so by now. He waited for her to make an excuse to leave the room, but she stubbornly stayed put, conversing with Mary. Eventually, Elizabeth could no longer ignore the irritated eyes glaring intently at her, and excused herself from Mary to converse with her… husband?

“Are you doing your best to convince my family that you do not really wish to be married to me sir?”

“Elizabeth, when do you suppose Richards and the girls will be back from town?” said Darcy rather shiftily.

“I suppose when Mr. Jones arrives. They did go specifically to meet with him,” said Elizabeth, much confused by Darcy’s choice of topic. Actually, Mr. Richards and the Jones sisters had gone into town for their father, Lydia and Kitty went with them simply to be in a surrounding where they might be exposed to eligible gentlemen.

“Yes, well… Mr. Richards finished writing up those papers for me this afternoon, so I gave him the evening off.” Darcy tapped his fingertips on the mantle and glanced at Elizabeth from the corner of his eyes.

Elizabeth knew exactly what Mr. Darcy was referring to. He wished her to leave the room and make her wonderful discovery. She almost laughed at his attempts to secretly convey his message to her, but sobered her features and instead attempted, more successfully, to convey her own reasons to him.

“My mother will be so happy to hear of Jane’s good fortune, don’t you think William? Jane deserves to be praised over all for at least one night. She is the best of us Bennet girls after all.” Elizabeth defied convention and placed her hand lovingly on Darcy’s arm, beseeching him with her eyes to understand.

Darcy understood completely. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Jane’s marriage to a man of five thousand a year would be completely eclipsed, in Mrs. Bennet’s opinion, by Elizabeth’s finding the fake annulment papers. Darcy withheld a grumble. Elizabeth’s tender love for her sister was one of the characteristics that made him fall in love with her in the first place. Her careful nursing at Netherfield had displayed a side of her to Darcy that he had found quite endearing. If only she would worry after me like that, he had thought at the time.

Now he was quite sure she would. And, shockingly, was tempted to fall sick simply to test this theory. The thought brought a genuine smile to his lips that he directed straight toward the woman he loved, but it was not to be returned, for at that moment, the sitting room doors were thrown open by none other than Mrs. Bennet herself.

Startled, Hinton jumped from his chair and bolted through the doors Mrs. Bennet had just flung wide. In her ecstasy over Jane’s impending engagement, Mrs. Bennet never noticed the small speeding child that rustled her skirts as he ran by.

“I really cannot believe that Mr. Wickham would be such a scoundrel!” exclaimed Lydia to Josephine as they strolled amiably towards the inn where Mr. Jones’ carriage would be arriving.

“He was delicious to look at was he not? However, Jonathan said that Mr. Darcy did not trust him, and really, that is enough for me.” Josephine stopped in front of a window on the pretense of looking at some bonnets that were displayed, but looked slightly over her shoulder at the pair that walked slowly behind her, Kitty, and Lydia. Jonathan held Elaina’s hand, and though her skirt hid their intertwined fingers, a discerning viewer would have spotted Jonathan’s fingers running back and forth over Elaina’s writs. Josephine was a very discerning viewer.

Turning her attention back to the rather tacky bonnets in the window, Josephine smiled slightly.

“Oooh!” exclaimed Kitty, “What lovely bonnets!” Josephine rolled her eyes as Lydia chastised Kitty.

“Kitty, those bonnets are absolutely hideous. You know absolutely nothing about fashion.”

Josephine walked away from the window as the two youngest Bennet girls fought, their voices becoming ever louder and shriller. “Actually girls,” said Josephine, in an attempt to stop the escalating scene, “Fashion is completely a matter of attitude.”

Kitty and Lydia, who had started to think of Josephine as something of a mature expert on all things womanly and fashionable, immediately stopped bickering and picked up their skirts to fly after the departing Jones girl.

“Attitude, what do you mean?” inquired Lydia.

“Yes, what do you mean?” added Kitty.

“Simply that it is the lady inside the clothes that matter.” Josephine stopped walking and turned to face the two Bennet girls, her eyes focused on them quite seriously. “And I emphasize the word lady. My sister,” she said as she looked over Lydia’s shoulder and focused her gaze on the strolling couple in the distance before continuing her lecture, “is the very picture of propriety. She tries her best to polite, kind, and trustworthy. She is, in other words quiet a boring person. However, her perusal of the literary arts gives some… spice to her personality. It adds a hint of curiosity to her. Now, imagine that her clothes were on a mannequin. What would you think of them?”

Lydia and Kitty turned to study Elaina’s attire. “Well, I wouldn’t give them a second glance in a shop,” replied Lydia.

“Yes, they are so plain, and that red is so… so red,” supplied Kitty.

“Exactly,” said Josephine. “That is what I like to call a very brave color, on a very timid dress. But, when you first saw Elaine this morning, how would you have described her look?”

The girls thought hard once more. It was considerably more thinking than either of them had done in some time. “I don’t know why know,” said Kitty hesitantly, “but I was positively envious of her ensemble.” Lydia nodded her head slowly in agreement.

“Do you want to know why that strange dress looks so fashionable on my sister?” asked Josephine with a slight smile. Lydia and Kitty nodded their heads energetically. “Well, it is because she is sure of herself and who she is. She knows what she likes, and doesn’t look to society to define her. She acts the perfect gentlewoman, but there is that touch of mystery about her because of her astonishing career choice. Thus her clothing. Do you understand?”

“Do they understand what?” asked Elaina, coming up behind the Bennet sisters. Lydia and Kitty jumped at her seemingly abrupt approach, but Josephine acted as if she wasn’t there, keeping her dark gaze boring into the two slightly younger girls.

“In essence, what I am trying to say girls, is that the most fashionable clothes cannot hide irredeemably bad manners. You can trump yourself up in furs and silks as much as you like, and people will still see what featherbrained strumpets you are. I suggest you think just a little bit more today… about that.”

“Josephine!” admonished Elaina and Jonathan together. Josephine lifted her gaze and to her sister and future brother in law and lightened it with a sparkling smile before turning her back and confidently striding toward the large carriage that was just now pulling to a stop in front of the Lambton Inn.

“Papa!” she yelled, raising an arm in greeting to Mr. Jones who was just now descending the carriage.

Elaina turned to apologize for her sister to the two offended girls, only to find them with blank looks upon their faces. They both shrugged their shoulders and started off after their new idol.

Elaina was not particularly fond of shopping, which was why it came as such a surprise when she announced those very intentions shortly after the dinner Mr. Jones had bought for the young people. Quickly rising from her seat and kissing her father on the cheek, she pulled her sister and the Miss. Bennets from their seats and out of the inn.

“Explain yourself,” demanded Josephine.

“I saw Mr. Wickham on the street when I looked out the window. He’s still in Lambton.”

Suitably, there was a collective gasp.

“So then he hasn’t ran, tail between his legs, back to whatever rock he climbed out from under… It’s obvious isn’t it,” said Josephine.

“What?” asked the Bennets as Elaina said, “Yes.”

“Excuse me,” pleaded Kitty, “but I do not see at all what is so obvious.”

“Only that it is up to us to exact revenge on that dastardly knave,” asserted Josephine.

“My thoughts exactly sister. But how to go about it…” she slipped into deep thought Josephine seemed to be pondering some invisible string on her skirt.

“Is everyone from America like that?” Kitty asked Lydia under her breath.

“Like what?” asked Josephine indignantly.

Elaina laughed. “If you mean headstrong, fierce, and willing to fight for what they see as right and just, then no. Simply a large majority of us.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of foolhardy, presumptuous, and interfering,” said Lydia, who did not like Elaina near as much as she liked Josephine.

“That doesn’t matter right now!” said Josephine. “Right now, we need to find Wickham. You two know him best, where would he be?”

Lydia tried to concentrate, but was often distracted by the image of a handsome countenance and a red uniform that fit quite nicely on a well cut form. She tried to shake the image from her mind’s eye but it remained, minus the conspicuous red coat. “There he is!” she exclaimed. “Across the street!”

Four heads turned sharply in the direction she pointed to see Wickham walking from a tavern across the way from the inn. The collar of his coat was turned up, shielding his face somewhat from prying eyes.

“Keep your eyes on him girls, don’t loose sight, but do not let him see you either.” Elaine took charge of the situation, leading the girls to walk casually and at some distance behind him. “Now, how to exact our revenge for Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth… any ideas Jo?”

“Well, assuming your well of plots does not run dry, then I suppose I might be able to come up with something suitable.”

The girls walked in silence for quite some time before Elaina finally spoke.

“Did you see the way he looked at you the other day Jo?”

“How could I have missed it? It would have been lewd if it had not been so charming.”

Elaina snorted. “Would you mind playing the part of bait?”

Josephine smiled. “Of course not dear sister, of course not.”

Lydia and Kitty had no idea what to do, but to share equally dumbfounded and confused looks.

Chapter24

Posted on Tuesday, 26 July 2005,

The pretty, younger, unattached Jones girl was walking towards him, a brazenly daring look quirking her full lips upward. Wickham had known that this girl was different. She would not be adverse to a little bit of fun. Conveniently, she seemed to be without her disapproving older sister and the rather Darcy like young man she was engaged to.

Wickham pondered, only momentarily, the reasons why he should ignore her. He was, after all and once again, on a mission. Unbeknownst to Darcy, Wickham still had friends in Lambton. Not everyone, as is usually the case, was on the side of the handsome, brooding Master of Pemberley. Relying on the charity of his rather shady friend, Wickham was able to stay in town for a bit, recuperating and plotting, soberly this time, his next strategy of revenge. Wickham knew he would succeed this time, for the news of Darcy’s desperation to find a preacher was soon quite a valuable piece of information in his hands. Was it possible that the annulment papers had somehow been lost in the disastrous fray? He somehow knew that Lady Catherine had had something to do with it all. Why else would all of the available ministers in town be conveniently (or inconveniently depending on whose side was taken) out of town for a disclosed amount of time.

Wickham chuckled; his luck was changing it appeared. The girl was walking ever closer. She was not as silly as Lydia, he mused. This pleased him as much as it scared him. Would he be able to persuade her to his will as easily as he could other women? Perhaps there was no need. She looked as if she were the huntress and he the prey. It was this thought that made Wickham decide to turn around and confront the approaching girl head on.

“Miss. Jones, I believe,” he said, extending his hand towards her as she smiled brilliantly at him. He gave her his most charming look, dimples popping from the corners of his mouth.

“Yes. But please, call me Rene. I feel we should be on more… intimate terms, don’t you?”

Wickham’s insides flipped up and over. “Yes, I do. You will call me George?”

Her only answer was a smile. Brazenly, she placed her hand on his arm, and let him walk her down the street in the direction they had just come from. “Tell me… George, has Mr. Darcy always treated you so abominably? And you do not mean to seriously tell me that Miss. Bennet is truly the object of your affections? Surely you prefer women of a… younger vintage and more exotic taste.”

Wickham, for once, was at a loss. He did not know how to respond to this openly scandalous talk. His flirting had always been within the bounds of propriety until he knew for sure the lady was his for the taking; charming and polite until she was ready for the plucking was his strategy.

Obviously, the young girl was quite ready for him to abandon all charm and propriety. Obviously, she was a step or two ahead of him even. So occupied was he with this wonderfully welcome anomaly, that he never even realized that she was leading him back down the road towards Pemberley.

“Jonathan, surely you can make up more papers. And surely a marriage certificate is easier to forge than annulment papers.” Elaina whined and pleaded with her fiancé, tugging on his arm and looking pleadingly into his downcast gaze. She had cornered him at the Inn as he was helping her father take his leave towards Pemberley. She kept him there, reminding him that the girls needed him to escort them back. Lydia and Kitty had not wished to stay, and instead, shared the carriage ride back to the estate with Mr. Jones. Richards and Elaina stood in the same room her father and Richards had just enjoyed a good whiskey in. It was a sign of trust that Mr. Jones had left the couple alone together.

“It will never work! It does not matter how many fake marriage certificates we get Wickham to sign, it still will not be legal. His name might be willfully signed, but we must not forget the bride, and the document itself will not be real. And not to mention that I’ve never even laid eyes on an official marriage document! I’d have no idea how to make one up!”

“Wickham won’t notice! I doubt he’s ever seen a marriage certificate either Jonathan. Come on! It’s just for fun… and for revenge. Besides, you obviously have never heard of the Winslow case.” Elaina distanced herself from Mr. Richards and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him superiorly.

Richards sighed. “No, no I have not. Please enlighten me as to what the Winslow case is.”

“It 1672, or somewhere thereabouts, a couple was duped by a traveling minister into thinking they were married. Well, somehow they found out that they weren’t, but it was too late. The young lady was very pregnant by that time, and it had all become quite a scandal. Her father, in an attempt to save his daughter’s good name, wrote up a marriage certificate, had both his daughter and her would be husband sign the document, which he then sent to a church in London to have made official.” Elaine smiled triumphantly.

Richards, however, was quite dumbfounded and confused. “And what does this have to do with Wickham!?”

“Oh you are dull aren’t you!”

Richards glared and sat huffily in a chair. Elaina realized she was losing him and threw herself across the couch closest to his chair, smiling at him lovingly. “I’m sorry. I realize that men have no imagination when it comes to matchmaking and marriage. It’s quite forgiven.” Putting her weight on her arms against the arm of the couch, she reached her torso across the small space between her chair and his and kissed his cheek. “You draw up papers, quickly I might add, we get Wickham to sign it, then send it to a church in London with some similar type of story. The marriage becomes legal, and… oh Jonathan! Do you not see how brilliantly hilarious it will be?”

Richards chuckled. “I suppose. Yes, yes, I do see how funny it will be. And it is not beyond our capabilities.”

“Not at all! We are, after all, literary artists of the first degree.”

Richards nodded his head in firm agreement. “How much time do I have?”
“Not much, not much. I told her we would give her an hour of rambling.” Elaina looked thoughtful for a second. “I think she needs more time. She said she didn’t even need an hour though. She can’t do it in an hour! I realize that it is perhaps not the most… realistic plan, but… Rene has always wanted to see how quickly she could get a man to agree to marriage. She simply insisted Jonathan!”

Had she… had she really just… just. Had she really grabbed his backside just then! Wickham was shocked, elated, scared. “Rene… Rene, I must have you. Right now.” The girl didn’t even blush, just smiled seductively. It was too much for him. Wickham pulled Rene around and crushed his lips against hers, his hands starting to rove as it became apparent that she was quite a willing participant.

Rene pulled herself away and allowed herself one more sultry smile. “I cannot,” she said.

Wickham’s mouth dropped, dismay clouding his eyes. “But! But!”

“Oh, I want to George. I want to. But I won’t.”

“You won’t! What exactly do you mean by that?!”

“It is quite simple,” she began. “I know how much I’m worth dear George. I am worth quite a lot actually.”

“And I do not have the money to buy you then?” complained Wickham. “What was your meaning then? What games do you play with me?”

“No games, dear Wickham,” said Rene, slinking her arms around her neck and pulling him close. “There is nothing I desire more than you.” She played with the word desire, rolling it off her tongue. “But I cannot give myself to you freely. Any man who has me must prove that he truly wants me.” Her eyes glittered towards him as she said these words, beckoning him to become lost in them.

And he was lost. He had never known anyone as startling as this girl. He would do anything to take her, and he told her so.

“Marry me.”

The two words knocked him from his haze, but as she continued to speak, he could not help but fall back under.

“I’ll be yours completely. No man will ever be able to claim me as his own, but you dear Wickham. Am I not a prize worthy enough? Do you not wish to claim such riches?

Somehow, her words were so tempting. She was! He did! “How soon?”

“Now.”

The fact that there were no preachers left in town never once entered Wickham’s clouded mind.

“You look perfect!” Elaina clapped her hands together and smiled triumphantly at a disguised Mr. Richards. They had temporarily borrowed a small chapel that had been left unlocked by a quickly retreating, bribed minister. Candles were lit in the windows, illuminating them in the darkening street. It was the signal Rene and Elaina had agreed on.

“Yes, and we still have ten minutes,” said Richards

“If she succeeds at her goal of an hour. Which I do not think she will.”

“I don’t know Ella. I think there is certainly a good chance of success on her part.”

“Oh, really?” She glared at him fiercely. “And why is that?”

But Richards was not able to answer, for Wickham came bursting through the doors, practically dragging Rene behind him.

Elaina quickly ducked behind a pew, hiding herself from Wickham’s vision. Richards, who wore an overly large preacher’s robe with a pillow stuffed inside, screwed his face up as if he were squinting. Though it could have been the fake mustache placed precariously on his upper lip. The glue Elaina had used to secure it stank horribly and its bristly hairs tickled his nose. “My children,” he droned in deep, aged tones, “Why have you come here in such a frantic fashion?” Elaina thought he was being quite overly dramatic, and had to stifle a groan.

“We’ve come to be…” Wickham seemed to be at a loss for words. “We’ve come to be- to be-“ The last word was proving difficult for him to choke out.

“To be what, dear boy?” teased Preacher Richards successfully keeping a grin from his lips.

“To be-“ Still Wickham could not seem to finish his sentence.

“We’ve come to be married,” spoke Rene without hesitation, uttering the word Wickham could not force himself to say. She had been momentarily stunned by the appearance of her future brother in law looking like a stuffed goose. She had also been so appalled by his horrid acting skills that it had taken much concentration not to burst out into laughter.

“Indeed?” groaned Richards.

Rene stifled a giggle and Elaina, safely hidden behind her pew clamped both hands over her mouth. “Yes indeed Reverend. We realize that it is quite unorthodox, but we are in a tight predicament. You see, I am somewhat… oh how to say this… in a certain delicate situation.” She blushed on cue and placed a hand protectively over her flat stomach.

Wickham, who had started to rethink this hasty decision, completely changed his mind with the false words that fell from Rene’s lips. She was perfect! She was as much of a thief and liar as he was a cad and a coward! How could he not wish to marry a woman as deceitful as himself?

“Yes, Reverend, m-m-mar-ry us.” He tripped over the word, but finally managed to speak it in its entirety.

“I cannot condone such situations!” condemned Richards in lofty tone’s. What is he doing, thought Elaina and Rene at once. He continued. “I will not sanctify a holy an institution as marriage with your tainted relationship. It would be sin to do so!” Richards looked down on them disapprovingly. Wickham squirmed in his boots and Rene glared openly at her future, now former she hoped, brother in law. For she would kill him when this was all over…

“No, I will not marry you in the traditional way,” finished Richards. Rene narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “However, as you are in a,” he coughed and looked uncomfortable, shifting on the spot where he stood, “delicate situation, then I believe there is something I can do.”

No one spoke as Richards paused for dramatic effect.

Wickham however, was never good at waiting. “Well!?” he demanded.

“You may sign a legal marriage certificate. I will witness the signing, and then send the document to London to have it legalized. No ceremony will take place for such a desecration of the sanctity of marriage.” Richards looked down his upturned nose and hairy mustache at the roguish couple.

The Jones girls once again suppressed laughter.

Within minutes, the papers were signed, and Richards had then safely stowed away in the inside pocket of his coat. He watched as Wickham drew his future sister in law from the church and asked, “When do we go after them?”

“As soon as possible,” answered Elaina, rising from her cramped position behind the pew. “Now, I would say. Let’s take the back exit from here and walk down the street as if coming to search for Rene from the direction of Pemberly. If she is proceeding as planned she has stopped out front on some premise or another to stall their imminent departure to some disreputable place or other.” A disapproving sneer hovered momentarily on her face before Richards took her arm and hauled her towards the back room and back exit of the small church. She pulled her cloak up tight around her head and shoulders and clung to Richards’ arm as they stepped out into the quiet darkness of early evening. Around the corner of the church, they spied Rene squatted on the ground, digging in her boot.

“A pebble, George, nothing more. Let me remove it and then I promise you we shall be on our way.”

Wickham was obviously not a very patient man, and strode back and forth in front of her, mumbling incoherently.

Elaina stared at her sister, wondering at the power the young girl held. She had made this singly obsessed man momentarily forget his desperate search for revenge on the Darcy family in favor of, well, herself. It was quite amazing, and Elaina was more than a little impressed. She wondered if her sister would use her powers for good or… she laughed at her thoughts and urged Richards forward. Excitement was about to ensue.

“Rene!” exclaimed Richards, running toward the squatted figure digging in her boot. “Rene, we’ve been looking all over for you! Where have you been?”

Rene popped up as Richards skid to a halt in front of her. “Jonathan dear, I’ve been right here in Lambton the entire time,” she stated as if she had been two feet from him all day long. “Where is your dear fiancé? Oh, there you are Elaina. I knew you could not be far. It’s getting dreadfully late. Don’t you believe Rachel and Papa will be worried sick over us by now? You inconsiderate children, I do believe it is time we headed home.” Rene took Richards’ and Elaina’s arms in her own and headed down the path toward Pemberley, and away from Wickham.

Wickham, who had been completely befuddled by this exchange from the start, finally found his voice in the mess of confused thoughts his brain had become, and called out after her. “Wait! You are my wife! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?!!” He took several large steps towards her as he spoke, his fists balling at his sides and his eyes passing wildly over the three figures on the street in front of him.

Richards stepped forward to defend Rene, but she pushed him back.

“Wickham, dear George, you were fun to play with for a while, but it is quite time for me to go to bed.” She said all this as if she were a five year old dismissing her friend for the evening.

“MY WIFE!” he sputtered.

Rene laughed, a tinkling, light laugh that carried through the night and settled like lead in Wickham’s stomach. “Will you do anything about it? Richards is excellent at hand to hand fighting don’t you know. And I’m sure you are quite aware of Mr. Darcy’s proficiency with a rapier. And please do not forget the short job my little brother made of you last night. Trounced by a five year old! Imagine! You are a laugh Georgie. But,” she sighed, “You are also a coward. I have the distinct feeling that all your evil machinations are underhanded and carried out from quite a safe range. You wouldn’t even dare attempt to fight the many people who would claw you to death over me. Notice the protective gleam in my sister’s eyes. I should think she is writing you up as we speak, as some cowardly villain in her next novel. Richards too most likely.” She laughed again. “I would leave town tonight Wickham. For I feel quite sure that within the next hour or two, Mr. Richards here, Mr. Darcy, my father, and my little brother will be scouring the town for the man you attempted to sabotage the master of Pemberley's marriage, and who forced Rene Jones to marry him when he didn’t succeed.”

“You… you can’t do this,” stammered Wickham, his face turning quite pale in the darkness.

“Oh, she can,” assured Elaina. “She’s used her fake tears on father too many times to count. He’s such a softy, falls for it every time.”

“She is a master,” stated Richards softly, though his voice held an edge. “I believe it would be best for you to leave, and never make your face, nor even your name known here again.” And he turned his back on the pale, astounded man, whose jaw would simply not close. As he started to walk away, Rene and Elaina mimicked him, catching up to him and each taking an arm. They walked silently away from Wickham, away from Lambton, and towards the soft lights and sounds of laughter emanating from the hall of Pemberley.

The Bennets had been gone from their second eldest daughter’s home for two weeks when a London newspaper made its way into Elizabeth’s hands through a letter she had received from Elaina Jones. The Jones clan had departed two days after Mr. Bennet himself had dragged the Bennet clan from Pemberley’s hallowed halls. “The annulment papers have been found and destroyed my dear,” he told him wife. “It is time we left the children alone. Mrs. Bennet, of course, was not quite in peaceful conjecture with her husband, but found that she could not curtail his desire in this. Therefore, two days after the “annulment papers” were found conveniently under Mr. Darcy’s bed, the Bennets took their leave. Along with them, left Bingley, who sped to London to begin legal wedding preparations. He, at least, would do things right!

The Joneses could not be persuaded to stay longer, though the Darcys did try. Mr. Jones had secured quite a nice residence in London and was anxious to have his own family under his own roof. Mr. Richards, unfortunately for Darcy who had become quite used to the young man’s quite convenient services, also took his leave. He said that he did not wish to be indebted to the Darcys for his entire lively hood. He would try to make it on his own. Elizabeth (who had read his early novels, figured that his once romantic and sorrowful themes would turn domestically tame and therefore uninteresting now that he had captured the desire of his heart and inspiration of his writing) secretly thought that he would be back working for her husband in less than six months.

Elaina’s letter only proved her theory. Apparently he was having troubles securing a job. Whenever he mentioned Darcy as a reference, his interviewers shoved him from their offices. Elizabeth noted a rather smug look on Darcy’s face when she read this part of the letter to him. She dropped the paper into her lap and looked amazed at her husband (For they had been married. Three days ago, by a minister who had come back early from his unexpectedly paid vacation).

“William, did you have anything to do with this?”

Darcy buried his nose in a book about the flight patterns of ducks.

“William, what did you do!?”

Throwing the book down on the table, he stood abruptly from his chair. “It’s deuced annoying to lose a good secretary Elizabeth!”

“But William!” she exclaimed laughing, “You’d never had one before Mr. Richards!”

“I never knew I’d needed one before,” he grumbled.

Elaina’s letter and the newspaper clipping fell from Elizabeth’s lap and floated onto the floor as Elizabeth threw her arms around her husband’s neck, laughing all the while. Elizabeth’s laughter eased some of Darcy’s annoyance at having lost a good secretary and prompted him to engage in activities involving his wife that caused the fallen letter and paper clipping to be quite forgotten for the time being. In fact, as Darcy picked Elizabeth off her feet, kidnapping her for the bedroom, the epistle would lay quite alone on the floor until the next afternoon, the small headline Secret Marriage Scandalizes London peeking out from under the gold table cloth that discretely swept the sitting room floor.

Secret Marriage Scandalizes London

The editor of this esteemed paper was shocked to find a marriage certificate stuffed in amongst his daily mail yesterday morning. Upon further examination, the certificate, which is dated a week ago today, quite shockingly contained the name of a very well known and respected lady of the ton. Suprisingly, Miss. Caroline Bingley, sister to a one Mr. Charles Bingley, has finally tied the knot. However, it is to no one this newspaper or its employees would ever have guessed. Matter of fact, it is no one we have ever even heard of. If anyone in polite society knows of a one Mr. George Wickham, we would certainly like to know who he is.

Rumors have indicated that he is a soldier who was recently stationed in the small country village next to Miss. Bingley’s brother’s country residence (which is rumored to be sprawling and tasteful). And while Miss. Bingley is certainly not from old money, and while she does not hail from a title of any sort, this writer had always assumed, as had everyone else, that she was seeking a gentleman to marry who could alleviate those obvious flaws in her circumstances.

However, what makes this situation so remarkably scandalous is that the bridegroom seems to be missing, and Miss. Bingley herself completely denies the marriage…

The End