Donwell Abbey is Let at Last?

    By CK

    Prologue

    "John, thank God you have arrived!"

    My brother looked irritated as he climbed down from his horse. "George what is this sending me an express post telling me to ride to Hartfield at once? Your whole life depending on my arrival? What can you mean?"

    "John, I am in serious trouble. I fear a lynch mob is forming to kill me. Please, walk with me out in the garden, the shrubs will afford some cover, but keep one eye towards the road. I have horses hidden just beyond the grove in case I need to flee. John, I must tell you a story of the past months. I need your advyce." John looked all alarm as I took a swipe at a neighboring daisy with my walking cane. "Little did I know the trouble I was entering into that morning. I curse that day. Since that day, I've ruined a man's life, Emma may never forgive me, and half the population of Highbury wants to kill me. When I think back and remember how innocently it all began..."

    John's countenance reflected his grave concern. "Brother, start from the beginning. Tell me everything. Do not leave out one thought, one detail..."

    "I will John. I will tell you everything..."

    Chapter 1

    That fateful morning, I stood in front of the looking glass in my bedchamber straightening my cravat. I let out a very self satisfied sigh and smiled at my reflection. I am a man of nine and thirty, recently wed to the woman of my dreams, and the world was at my feet. Yet I do not desire the world. My greatest happiness lay within the four walls of the very home in which I occupy. Who would not have cause for joy? But there was one black cloud hanging on the horizon... Donwell Abbey. My home is a drain on my economies without any real use. As Emma and I will be living here at Hartfield for an indeterminable length, Donwell must lay vacant. Yet leaving it vacant for an undetermined period of time seemed illogical. -- I now know that it is the most logical thing in the world. Age and experience have taught me... But I digress -- Donwell Abbey must maintain some servants to keep the home in tolerable order even though no one lived there. And although my fortunes were increased upon marriage, I saw no need to waste money. As I consider myself a sensible man, it seemed to be without sense to leave Donwell Abbey vacant. I thought that I should perhaps get a tenant for Donwell Abbey. A short term lease to a respectable tenant would serve to lighten the financial burden. I gathered my resolve as I looked in the mirror. I decided to speak to Emma that morning.

    I exited my bedchamber and proceeded downstairs to the breakfast room. As I had taken slightly longer than usual to arrive, Emma was sitting alone at the table waiting. Upon entering the room, I kissed my wife on the forehead. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting darling."

    "I was beginning to fret about you. You are never late to breakfast," she replied sweetly.

    I sat down next to my bride. "You are a vision..." I raved while looking deeply into her eyes. I figured that I should butter her up first before telling her about my plans. I glanced at the head of the table, and noticed Mr. Woodhouse was absent. "Where is your father this morning?"

    "He seems to think himself ill. He had gruel and warm milk sent to his room and is resting comfortably. I'm sure he will feel better once this cold weather warms."

    "I see you have been hard at work making your father comfortable. Well, since we are not waiting for him, perhaps we should start eating. I am quite ravenous this morning."

    Emma shot me a sly look. "Yes, you were," she whispered.

    I felt my face grow warm and began straighten my coat. I don't really like such forward signs of affection in front of the servants. I mean, after all, what will they think? Once we had been served our food, I immediately dismissed the servants, rose, walked over to the door and insured that it had been closed behind them. I didn't want them to think that we where in desperate need of money.

    I turned to face Emma. "Emma." For a moment, she looked bewildered. Then a very mischievous look crossed her face. Obviously, she got the wrong idea. Lord, isn't the woman ever satisfied? And in the breakfast room as well?

    "Yes, my dearest love?" she cooed sweetly while fluttering her eyelashes.

    "I want to inform you of a business decision that I have made."

    That seemed to stop her cold. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

    Quickly, I sat beside her again. I drew her hand within mine, and pressed it against my heart. I began saying, in a tone of great sensibility and speaking low, "I want to find a tenant for Donwell Abbey."

    Emma sighed. "I guess the honeymoon really is over." She looked a bit put out, but really... In the breakfast room?

    Chapter 2

    "So that's the problem? You have an overeager wife?" John glared at me. He looked vexed. "Get over your squeamishness and do your husbandly duties. God, what I wouldn't do for Isabella to treat me like that... "

    "No, John. That's just the beginning. It gets worse..."

    I wrote to my lawyer that morning to have inquiries sent out. Within a fortnight, I received the following letter.

    Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent.
    1st April.

    Dear Sir,

    I have received word through my patroness, that your humble abode is available for a short lease. As I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, I do have the financial means to secure such a lease. Her Ladyship's bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where I endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship and am ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England. However, her Ladyship recently advised me that I should look for another home in which my wife and I should have my next olive branch. If you should have no objection to receive me so that I may peruse your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your bride, Monday, April 27th, by four o'clock. I am,

    William Collins.

    An olive branch? I mean, does this man plan to plant an olive grove at Donwell Abbey? -- At the time, I thought it only sensible to receive the man at Donwell Abbey to discover what he meant and to decide for myself whether he would be a good tenant. It seemed logical at the time. --

    On Monday, April 27th, I awaited Mr. Collins arrival at Donwell Abbey. I looked outside the window just in time to see a chaise and four driving up the driveway. I noticed a family crest on the door. Since I thought that isn't the type of carriage a vicar would own, I assumed it was lost. As I quickly walked outside to assist the driver with directions, the carriage came to a halt and out popped a tall, heavy looking young man in his thirties, dressed head to toe in spruce black. "Mr. Collins, I presume?"

    "Yes sir, I am he," replied Mr. Collins, thence giving a low, formal bow.

    I bowed to Mr. Collins, then began to assess the man. His air was grave and stately, and his manners were very formal, almost to the point of being comical.

    "Please sir, allow me to show you Donwell Abbey."

    Instead of moving indoors, Mr. Collins stood his ground. "Do you have any sisters, Mr. Knightley?" he asked with trepidation.

    "No, Mr. Collins. I have only one brother."

    "And is Donwell Abbey a home passed down through the Knightley line?"

    "Yes."

    "And your father, did he have any sisters?"

    "No, he was an only child. Actually, there hasn't been a woman born into the Knightley family in several generations."

    "So there hasn't been a woman born within these walls in at least a hundred years?"

    "Yes, Mr. Collins. However, I would guess there hasn't been a woman born within these walls in at least one hundred and fifty years."

    "Good. Very good," Mr. Collins muttered while nodding at the house. "This will do very nicely."

    I was baffled. Why would a man ask such personal, improper, and trivial questions about Donwell Abbey? Surely family history can mean nothing when considering whether to lease Donwell.

    Mr. Collins gave a self satisfied smile and proceeded indoors. Once inside, Mr. Collins smiled and nodded at everything he saw. He began to wander aimlessly through the house. I followed in mute astonishment, listening to Mr. Collins's critique. "Ah, I see you have a staircase. Indeed it is not a staircase as grand as the staircases found in Rosings Park. I say staircases, because there are several. But this staircase seems serviceable for a man in my position... This seems to be a pretty sort of fireplace, but not as pretty as the fireplaces found in Rosings Park. The fireplace in the second drawing room alone cost eight hundred pounds... You have many windows here at Donwell Abbey I notice, but not as many as at Rosings Park. There are sixty four... Your lawn is quite neat, but with a touch of wildness. It should be groomed to be more similar to Rosings Park... This closet must be changed. The closets in the parsonage have shelves in them. Lady Catherine is most kind in her condescension and advyce. The shelves were installed exactly according to her orders..."

    I saw the opportunity to interrupt and save myself the torture of hearing more about Rosings Park. "Mr. Collins, as I understand it, you live at the parsonage, correct? Why would you want to leave the proximity of such a great patroness as Lady Catherine de Bourgh to move to Surrey?"

    Mr. Collins turned towards me and gave me a look of great regard. "I can tell that you are a very sensible man. It will be a great personal loss to separate from Lady Catherine however it is at her suggestion..."

    "No doubt," I mumbled.

    "Excuse me?"

    "No doubt your patroness has a very sensible reason for your removal from Kent."

    Mr. Collins smiled at the perceived compliment of Lady Catherine. "Yes, Lady Catherine thinks it best that Charlotte, my wife, and I move away from Kent to have our next olive branch."

    "Olive branch?"

    "Yes Mr. Knightley. We want a son."

    "Oh, so you have no children yet."

    I quickly surmised that Mr. Collins began to grow weary of my questions. "Yes, of course we have children. Four daughters," he spat with much indignation.

    "Forgive me Mr. Collins, I don't understand..."

    Mr. Collins suddenly turned beet red. "Don't you see man?! Cousin Elizabeth already has an heir and a spare! Fitzwilliam and Thayer Darcy! And Cousin Jane is with child too! We were spared at the birth of her last child because it was a girl, but my luck will not hold out forever. If my wife does not produce an heir, a SON, Mr. Knightley, then Longbourn will revert back to those Bennets and will end up in the hands of a Bingley or worse, A DARCY!!!"

    I was stunned. This man should be living at Bedlam, not Donwell Abbey. I thought that the best course of action with a man out of his wits was to diffuse his anger with a question, "And Mr. Collins, you believe living at Donwell Abbey will help produce a male olive branch?"

    He took a deep breath to compose himself. "Yes, Mr. Knightley. Lady Catherine said that if the shades of Donwell Abbey weren't polluted by too many women, I will have a male heir here. As it is her wish for the Collins line and not the Bennet line to possess Longbourn, she is willing to bear the financial expense of my family settling here for a year or two."

    "Oh." I couldn't think of a better reply as it seemed to me that both Mr. Collins and his patroness are equally ridiculous.

    "Yes, I like Donwell Abbey very much. I will be happy to reside here for as long as it takes to produce a son... However, I have one last question Mr. Knightley. You unfamiliar with Colonel Fitzwilliam in these parts, correct?" he asked with more than a little curiosity.

    "No. Why? Is he a man not to be trusted?"

    "No... No, sir. I don't mean to imply that," Mr. Collins stuttered. "He is an honorable, well-bred man. He is very easy in company and talks very comfortably with all. He is also the nephew of Lady Catherine."

    "Well, should I meet him, I should be very pleased to meet his acquaintance."

    He hesitated, "I wouldn't go that far, Mr. Knightley. You see the Colonel has an amazing power over women. Only my dear Charlotte seems immune. Even my baby daughters are all smiles and giggles when he is near. The ladies in Kent call him 'Colonel Stud Muffin.'"

    "Stud Muffin?"

    He looked at me with great irritation. "Yes, Mr. Knightley. STUD MUFFIN... My dear Charlotte tries to shield the Colonel from these unwanted attacks by often walking with him alone at Rosings Park. Indeed, my wife takes prodigious care of him and never leaves his side. Lately, he has been in a terrible state and she has taken it upon herself to personally nurse him back to health."

    "Oh. I see." At the time, I thought the man should be in Bedlam, but at least he would keep Highbury well amused with stories of Colonel Stud Muffin. "Mr. Collins, now that you have seen Donwell Abbey, perhaps we should go to Hartfield for dinner. It is but a mile and my wife is expecting us. Of course, you are also welcome to stay with us whilst you prepare for moving in to Donwell Abbey."

    "Hartfield is just a mile off? And you and your wife live there? Her brother does not mind you living in his house?"

    "You are mistaken, my wife, the mistress of Donwell Abbey, has no brothers, only sisters."

    "Girls, only girls?!" Mr. Collins suddenly looked all alarm. "Pray tell me, did your wife's family visit Donwell Abbey frequently?"

    "Why yes. In earlier years, Mr. or Mrs. Woodhouse called on Donwell Abbey almost every day."

    The color drained from Mr. Collins face. "Please excuse me Mr. Knightley. I cannot stay in this house! Indeed I cannot stay another moment." With that he ran out of the house and leaped into the carriage, shutting the door behind him.

    Sticking his head out the window, he screamed, "Go man, go!"

    "But sir..." started the driver.

    "Anywhere but this village! I could have been polluted already! Go!"

    I stood frozen. I had never seen a display more ridiculous in my life. Finally after a minute or two, I managed to mutter, "Bedlam, definitely."

    Chapter 3

    John grew angry as he walked beside me. "Really George to get me here all the way from London to play a practical joke is not like you."

    "That isn't the whole story... It gets worse..."

    A fortnight went by after Mr. Collins visit before I received another letter. Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby would visit Surrey within a week and would like to see Donwell Abbey. As their plans were not settled, they could not state exactly when they would be in Surrey or for how long, but they would call on us at Hartfield immediately upon arriving in the area. I thought it odd that a couple move about without making plans of where they are going or when they will travel. I decided to write my lawyer to find out what he knew of the couple. The next day, I received the following note.

    Highbury, Surrey.
    5th May.

    Dear Sir,

    I am afraid that I have a limited knowledge of Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby. I know they possess two great estates, Combe Magna and Allenham. She had a great dowry and he just received a large inheritance, so they should be financially sound enough to afford Donwell Abbey's rates. The rest of my knowledge of the couple is confined to gossip. Several years ago, there were rumours in London that Mr. Willoughby was involved in a duel with a Colonel Brandon of Delaford, however given that both are well and Delaford and Allenham are situated near one another, I would not give credit to an idol report. More recently, there was a rumour that circulated Mr. Willoughby tried to kidnap Mrs. Brandon, a former love. But once again, I would consider this another idol report meant to slander Mr. Willoughby's good and honorable name. However, in considering their backgrounds, I did notice a peculiar pattern. Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby do not stay in one area for long. Usually they live in a home for six months, then suddenly move. However, I would attribute this to the wanderlust of the idle rich whose inclinations might serve well in this case.

    Your humble servant,
    William Coxe.

    --At the time, I thought it only sensible to receive them here at Hartfield to discover what the true nature of their character was and to decide for myself whether they would be a good tenants. It seemed logical at the time.--

    A scarce two days later, a barouche drove up the lane. Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby were shown into the drawing room where Emma and I received them. After the initial pleasantries were passed, we all sat down. Immediately, I noticed that Mr. Willoughby was seated on the sofa next to Emma, and not without some difficulty. But then I thought I was being silly and was letting the false reports color my opinion of the man.

    Emma glanced at me. Realizing that I was busy sizing him up, she began. "Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby, do you have any children?"

    "No, WE don't have any children," Mrs. Willoughby hissed while glaring at her husband. He responded by cocking his head to the side and shooting a very sly smile at Emma.

    Emma gave me a look of great surprise. Obviously, she unwittingly stumbled upon a topic of some discordancy. I thought a change of subject might calm the situation. "Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby, is there anything you would like to know about the area before we leave to see Donwell Abbey?"

    "I noticed that you have many lovely and beautiful women living in the neighborhood," Mr. Willoughby said while looking at Emma. "Most especially you, Mrs. Knightley. Do you like poetry? I happen to be very fond of Shakespeare's Sonnets and carry..."

    I coughed, trying to get Willoughby's attention. I mean after all, the man was hustling my wife right in front of me!

    Mr. Willoughby suddenly became conscious of my glare. He shifted uneasily in his seat and turned his gaze away from Emma before responding. "Do you have any problems with fighting or crime in the area?"

    This question struck me as quite odd. "What type of fights or crimes concern you?"

    "Oh, the usual. Have there been many duels in Surrey?" Mr. Willoughby asked with strained ease.

    "No, Mr. Willoughby. No dueling here." I narrowed my eyes as I glared at Willoughby. Obviously, there is some basis to the rumours.

    "So you have no cause to keep many pistols about your house?"

    "I have one somewhere... but it hasn't been fired in many years. I am not a good shot with a pistol..."

    "Good, good," Willoughby responded with a smile.

    "I do practice with a bow and arrow on a regular basis and prefer to use those tools for my hunting. Actually, my darling wife is a fine shot as well."

    Willoughby's smile faded. "Oh. Well... Yes.... Um, pray tell me, are there many retired military men in the area?"

    "No..."

    "Good, good!" Willoughby's smile returned. He tilted his head towards Emma and grinned. He then whispered in her ear, "You know, I have been told that I look very handsome in a gaping, white nightshirt..."

    My darling Emma shifted uncomfortably from his attentions. She did not seem to receive his attentions with pleasure. She entered into the conversation by reminding me, "Mr. Weston is a retired captain I believe, but that was many, many years ago."

    "Well, that is interesting," Willoughby said smilingly. "At least there aren't any Colonels running about the neighborhood..."

    "Colonel? Funny you should mention that Mr. Willoughby. A man was just here asking about a Colonel..."

    He whirled back around to face me, his face drained of color. "You don't mean Brandon? Brandon hasn't tracked me here has he?"

    "No, I don't think Brandon was the name... I can't recall the name exactly, except he had the funniest nickname... I believe Colonel Stud Muffin was the name..."

    I laughed at the name, until Mrs. Willoughby began acting strangely. "Colonel Stud Muffin? Colonel Stud Muffin is coming here to visit?" she gasped, struggling not to hyperventilate.

    I could not help but glance nervously at Emma. I could not decide what this couple was about. First, the husband is flirting with my wife, now his wife is drooling over another man? At any rate, I was puzzling over my observations when suddenly Mrs. Willoughby rose, lunged at me, and grabbed me by the jacket collar. "Well speak man! Is he coming or not?!"

    Shocked, I tried to pry her hands off of my coat. She dug her nails in deep and was about to choke me by my cravat. Try as I might, I could not extricate myself from her grip until I blurted, "No, madam. Colonel Stud Muffin is NOT COMING!"

    The words struck her like she had been doused with ice water. Mrs. Willoughby seemed to suddenly become conscious of her actions. She blushed, calmly returned to her seat, and began to straighten her dress.

    For Emma's part, she was frozen in wonder at the outburst. After straightening my jacket and loosening my cravat, I couldn't help but ask, "Do you know Colonel Stud Muffin?"

    "No," Mrs. Willoughby's voice trembled. "I do not know the Colonel. But I hear he is a great favorite of the women of Kent and Derbyshire."

    "Oh Sophia..." Mr. Willoughby started.

    "DON'T YOU 'OH SOPHIA' ME YOU LIBERTINE!!! HOW MANY BASTARDS DO YOU HAVE RUNNING AROUND BY HOW MANY DIFFERENT WOMEN???" Mrs. Willoughby screeched. She rose and continued screaming as she stormed out of the room. "IF YOU'D KEEP YOUR BRITCHES ON AND YOUR MIND OFF OF MARIANNE, WE WOULDN'T HAVE TO MOVE EVERY SIX MONTHS!!!"

    "Oh Sophia, only once..." Mr. Willoughby called as he rose and followed her.

    Emma and I looked at each other in utter disbelief. We both rose listened to Mrs. Willoughby's tirade as she marched outside to their carriage.

    "DON'T YOU 'OH SOPHIA' ME!!!! I DESERVE TO HAVE FUN TOO YOU KNOW!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK I DO ALL DAY WHILST YOU ARE OUT TRYING TO KIDNAP MARIANNE OR TRYING TO SEDUCE SOME YOUNG WARD OF BRANDON'S? AND REALLY WILLOUGHBY, EVERYTIME MARIANNE TURNS AROUND SHE HAS ANOTHER CHILD!!! SHE MUST HAVE STRETCH MARKS THAT REACH ALL THE WAY TO AMERICA!!! GET IN WILLOUGHBY!!! I WANT TO MOVE CLOSER TO KENT!!! THIS PLACE IS TOO DULL!!!"

    Emma was trembling, so I rushed over and put my arm around her waist and held her tight. I could think of only one thing to say to comfort her, "Bedlam, definitely."

    As I stopped to take a breath, I noticed John still remained unconvinced of the trouble I was in. "George, I've never known you to be so skittish. Here, I was nervous because you had never confided in me before. Excited even, that your younger brother can advyse you on an important matter. But this..."

    "Do not judge me yet... It gets worse..."

    Chapter 4

    Within a week after the Willoughbys' visit, I received a letter from a Mr. Elliot of Sidmouth. He proposed that we meet at Donwell Abbey the following month. Unlike the previous visitors to Surrey, I found nothing unusual in his letter. -- At the time, I thought it only sensible to receive the man at Donwell Abbey to discover whether he would be a good tenant. It seemed logical at the time. -- On the appointed day, I awaited Mr. Elliot's arrival. He had written me that he was, upon a relative's death, to become a Baronet. Until the unfortunate event, he needed somewhere to live. Naturally, when I saw a very fine curricle arrive, I was not surprised to learn that it was Mr. Elliot. He looked like quite the gentleman, very fashionably attired, and I was well pleased. Perhaps he seemed a tad vain and too wrapped up in the latest London fashions, but since Frank Churchill's visit Highbury, I have learned that vanity and a weak mind are faults not uncommon amongst young men. Initially, I thought I had finally found a suitable tenant for my home. As I showed him the various rooms of the Donwell Abbey, he seemed satisfied.

    "You have a very admirable house, Mr. Knightley. Very gracious and elegant. This sitting room is quite grand, almost regal. Yes, anyone would be proud to call this his home. Indeed, it is too fine for a lowly man, such as myself. After all, I am only going to be a Baronet. This estate is more fit for a Duke. And your grounds are spectacular! They are second only to the grounds at Windsor..." He continued gushing empty phrases and flattering Donwell for quite sometime. It was really quite annoying. His praise was too profuse to have any meaning. But as I thought his flattery was harmless, I let him ramble on unchecked.

    After listening to him drone on for nearly a half an hour, the discussion took a very strange turn. He began to ask me about my finances. As it seems to be a very ungentlemanly topic, I was as evasive as possible without being blatantly rude. Finally, he drew his own conclusions. "Well, I suppose if you had extra money, you would not be forced to retrench. Yes, I know what it is like to be in a tight situation..."

    I was affronted that he would assume that I could not manage my finances, however, as his assumptions stopped his incessant questions, I didn't correct him. "So, do you wish to rent Donwell Abbey?"

    "It may serve my purposes," he began thoughtfully. Suddenly, he said in a low voice, "Do you know a 'Mr. Woodhouse of Hartfield'?"

    His tone of question made me uneasy, so I decided not to divulge the extent of our intimacy. "Yes, we've met."

    Mr. Elliot gave me a sly look. "Is the man as old and slow as they say?"

    "Well. He isn't a young man..."

    "Good." Mr. Elliot smiled.

    "May I ask why the inquiry?" Mr. Elliot looked as if he didn't mean to answer the question truthfully. I put my arm about his shoulder, winked, and whispered, "Perhaps I can get you information that will of use in your endeavours." I hoped I could fool him into believing I could be a fellow conspirator if drawn into his confidence.

    As Mr. Elliot's mind was weak, the trick worked. He chuckled, "Maybe I can trust you. Well, it doesn't matter. I mean to ask Mr. Woodhouse for a loan."

    I became immediately alarmed. "Is this a short term loan or a long term loan?" I asked with forced calm.

    "Short term, long term, it doesn't matter. I will never repay it," Mr. Elliot laughed. "People are always willing to loan a future Baronet money. They think that my family honour will force me to repay the loan. Little do they know that men like us don't care about honour, eh Knightley?" He elbowed me in the side and continued. "But don't worry, I'll pay you your rent and give you a healthy commission for any help you are to me. I mean to separate the old toad from as much money as possible. We have to be sly though. I hear he has a son-in-law who is a great barrister in London."

    Curiosity got the better of me. "I believe you are correct sir. And what have you heard of the older brother, George?"

    "He's a dumb, do gooder. Always helping the neighbours and tenants. You know the type. He'll never amount to anything more than a simple country gentleman barely scraping by. But mark my words Knightley, a barrister is not to be trifled with. They are wilier than you or I."

    "Is that so?"

    "Yes, 'tis a shame that Mr. Woodhouse has such relations. What I wouldn't give for a young, dumb Earl who is fond of gambling, women, and drink. Oh, if I could tell you the stories of how I swindled money from Lord Buckley... Those were the good old days..." His countenance took a gloomy turn as he continued, "But now life is much harder now and I must earn my keep. By the bye Knightley, are there any single heiresses in the area that I could marry?"

    "No, I'm afraid not."

    "That's too bad. I heard this area is Stud Muffin free, so I might have a shot at some women... Military men always have all of the luck." Mr. Elliot let out an exasperated sigh. "If only Wentworth had not taken Anne from me, I would not have to worry about the competition..."

    By now, I was confused. "You mean a man stole your wife?"

    Mr. Elliot rolled his eyes. "No man, pay attention. Anne is Sir Walter Elliot's middle daughter. The eldest one is quite a hag, so she'll never get married. I wanted to marry Anne to get control of Sir Walter's property and exert influence over the family..."

    "And this Wentworth married Anne for her money or influence?"

    "No." He said with great irritation. "Captain Wentworth is quite rich. Lots of prize money during the war... The Captain actually loves that mousey cousin of mine... Hmm... Maybe if I seduce her, he'll pay me a fat bribe to keep away from her and keep my mouth shut..." Mr. Elliot paused and sighed again, "but I suppose she would never have me after my plan to drug her and drag her to Gretna Greene failed..."

    I was horrified. I couldn't stand it any longer. The shades of Donwell Abbey were becoming polluted by this blackguard! I grabbed the villain by his collar, and threw him out an open window...

    John blanched and gasped. "Is that the problem, you killed a man by throwing him out of a second floor window?"

    Chapter 5

    "No John, I didn't kill Mr. Elliot. We were on the first floor when I tossed him out the window. He landed in some hedges. Whilst he was climbing out of the shrubbery, I told at him to stay away from my father and my family. As he scurried away, I shouted to him that I was Mr. Woodhouse's 'dumb son-in-law' and that with his maniacal focus on money, he belonged at Bedlam..."

    "Definitely," John muttered. The color slowly returned to his face. The look of relief was soon followed by a question. "Is that all? You fear some swindler will come and take revenge?"

    "No John... It gets worse..."

    A fortnight went by and I didn't receive any requests to see Donwell. I was beginning to worry that I would never find a tenant. Early one morning, I was reading in the library when a gentleman arrived unannounced. Once he was shown into the library, he began.

    "Mr. Knightley, permit me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant George Wickham from Newcastle. I heard of the opportunity surrounding Donwell Abbey whilst staying at the Crown Inn. Forgive me for not contacting you first and for calling on you so early, but as my stay in Surrey is brief, I had not time to use the proper channels."

    "That is quite all right Lieutenant Wickham, I am happy to receive you. I see by your uniform, you are part of the regulars, are you not?"

    "Yes, Mr. Knightley. My family and I live in Newcastle, but I desire a quiet home here, near London."

    I relaxed. Here was a nice, young military man who wanted to settle down with his family. Or so I thought... -- At the time, I thought it only sensible to chat with him awhile and decide for myself whether he would be a good tenant. It seemed logical at the time.-- After describing Donwell and Highbury, I finally asked, "So Lieutenant, when do you wish your family move from Newcastle?"

    Lieutenant Wickham gave me a wicked grin. "May I help myself to some Port?"

    "Yes, of course." I motioned for him to help himself to the Port and to a seat nearby. It seemed rather early to be indulging in Port, but I thought it best not to criticize and just to observe. So I sat in a nearby chair and watched.

    After sitting down and drinking most of the Port in the decanter, he began to rant and rave like a mad man. I began to learn of his true character, and it wasn't pretty. "Darcy," he began in a drunken tirade. "That proud, insufferable man! He wouldn't give me my living! I should be a vicar like that odious Mr. Collins! Instead, he buys me a stupid wife and a position in the regulars! And that stupid wife of mine won't stop pumping out children! Every time I turn around, out pops another! Sometimes twins! I can't keep all of their names straight. No man should be expected to. How many are there now? Nine, ten, eleven, I don't know..." He looked down at his hands and began to count on his fingers. I was horrified listening to his rantings. How a man could have all of the appearance of goodness, yet be so wanting in decency is baffling. Suddenly, I heard a stir behind me. It was Beacus, one of my dogs. Beacus sat down beside me and I began to pat his head. At first, he wagged his tail, happy to receive the attention. But then, the oddest thing occurred. It was almost as if Beacus was sizing up Lieutenant Wickham's character as well. Beacus began a low, guttural growl. As I stroked his head to calm him, Lieutenant Wickham began shouting, "Curse you DARCY!!! He just wants me in the regulars so I'll be killed! If he didn't show up at Ramsgate and ruin everything, I would have had my revenge. A young, firm, innocent, RICH wife... Instead, I'm stuck with a dumb, poor one who is preggers all of the time! And he gets LIZZY! That Lizzy! Quite a sassy one there. I would have liked to have had my chance at her too. Her bright eyes and heaving bosom... Well, perhaps she's a bit old for me. But I'll bet she's a fury in between the sheets! More than HE deserves! I'll bet he will never be able to please her like I could. I can get any woman I want as long as the Colonel isn't around..."

    "The Colonel?" I asked.

    Lieutenant Wickham bolted out of his chair, "What? Colonel Stud Muffin is here? You keep him away from all of the fifteen year olds. They are all mine! Do you hear me? Mine! I can't wait to turn Donwell Abbey into my pleasure palace of sin. All of that young flesh!"

    Beacus jumped up and began barking fervently. Being a well behaved dog, Beacus stood by my side as he voiced his displeasure in between showing his sharp teeth. I leaned back in my chair, clasped my hands together, and gave the Lieutenant a very wry smile. I stated calmly, "Lieutenant Wickham, it appears that my dog and I have the same opinion of you. You will not be moving to Donwell Abbey, nor will you be settling in Donwell or Highbury. I suggest that you try and find accommodations elsewhere. Preferably far away from Surrey."

    "Oh really?!" Lieutenant Wickham spat indignantly. "You proud men are all alike! Do you really believe you can order me around?"

    "Yes."

    "What makes you think that?!" he screamed whilst waving the decanter menacingly.

    "Well, this makes me think that I can order you from my neighborhood," I said calmly. "Beacus.... Kill." With that, Beacus gladly bounded forward towards the Lieutenant. Wickham let out a scream and ran, with Beacus nipping at his heels.

    Just as he flew out the door with Beacus hot on his heels, Emma came downstairs for breakfast. As Emma witnessed the drunken man try to run away, she came to my side and searched my eyes for an explanation. I could think of only two words to say to her. "Bedlam, definitely."

    "Let me see if I understand you, George. You dragged me down from London because you fear a drunk Lieutenant is going to hang you for setting your dog on him? George! He'll have such a hang over, he won't even remember he was in Surrey. If calling me here wasn't the most fool hardy thing you've ever done..."

    "Wait... It gets worse..."

    Chapter 6

    After Mr. Wickham's morning visit, I decided to walk into Highbury. Mr. Woodhouse loves his Port and would have been distressed to find it missing. As I judged it easiest to allow Lieutenant Wickham to take the decanter with him, I went to directly to Ford's to purchase another. I also wanted to purchase a treat for Beacus. He had returned to Hartfield while Emma and I were eating breakfast. He trotted into the breakfast room and dropped at my feet what appeared to be the seat of Lieutenant Wickham's pants. He looked up at me and I believe I saw a faint smile on the dog's lips.

    I walked to Highbury just after breakfast. I reached Ford's in good time. I stepped in the door and barely said "Good morning" to the Fords when old Mr. Ford told me that a young couple had just inquired about Donwell Abbey. He described the couple and I left immediately to find them. From Mr. Ford's excellent description, I was able to find Mr. and Mrs. Henry Tilney easily. After we uttered the initial pleasantries which must be passed, they expressed interest in viewing Donwell Abbey. -- At the time, I thought it only sensible to show them Donwell and decide for myself whether they would be a good tenants. It seemed logical at the time.-- The Tilneys were a newly wed couple seeking a home. I rode in their carriage from Highbury to Donwell Abbey, pointing out the various landmarks of the area.

    They appeared to be a pleasant couple, though Mrs. Tilney seemed a bit off balance. When I asked her about her family, her only reply was, "Unfortunately, they are alive and well." Good God. What could she have meant by that? In addition, she kept inquiring about the number of murders and missing people in the area. Her husband chided her for her overactive imagination, but she continued to ask the most ghastly questions. "Mr. Knightley, do you have any hidden passageways at Donwell?"

    "No, Mrs. Tilney. No hidden passageways."

    "You mean, none that you know of or none that you are willing to tell us about." She looked at me as if to try and gauge my reaction. "Have you had any relatives suddenly die of an unknown illness?"

    "No, not to my recollection."

    "You mean, no mysterious deaths in your family that are publicly known."

    As you know, the ride between Highbury and Donwell is short, so it was not long before we arrived at Donwell Abbey. I was relieved to exit the carriage and escape Mrs. Tilney's bizarre questions. I hoped that upon viewing the house, Mrs. Tilney would engage in normal behaviour. My hopes, however, were not fulfilled. Mrs. Tilney entered the house and immediately began walking into all of the rooms pressing on the paneling cautiously, then jumping back. She seemed to expect that the wall would suddenly give way. I must admit, I was a bit taken back, but after her questions in the carriage, I thought she was out of her wits. Once she walked through Donwell and pressed on all of the walls, she went back to her starting point. "Clever..." she mumbled and began to press on the furniture. It was as if she was looking for a lever or a secret compartment.

    I continued to watch her in mute astonishment, when Mr. Tilney pulled me aside. "May I speak to you in private? Preferably in another room," he whispered. "I need to take you into my confidence, and I don't want my wife to overhear."

    "Certainly. Right this way." I replied and ushered him into the library. As his wife was clearly not well, I assumed he wanted to speak of his wife's failing mental health. As we were walking to the library, I began to pity the young man. Such a young and sensible man saddled with a woman who was so short on reason...

    Once we were settled in the library, he began to speak low. "Mr. Knightley, there isn't a Colonel Stud Muffin in the area, is there?"

    His question stunned me. I had expected Mr. Tilney to explain his wife's odd behaviour. Instead, her actions did not seem to phase him and he asked a question totally unrelated to the events leading up to this discussion. "No, Mr. Tilney. We have not had the pleasure of meeting the Colonel in Surrey." I chuckled, "I have heard a few unbelievable reports of the Colonel, but nothing of any consequence."

    Mr. Tilney's eyes widened. "Do, do believe the reports, Mr. Knightley. Take heed, protect your wife from this man. NEVER let him meet her."

    My curiosity was peaked, so I had to ask, "Why, is he a villain?"

    Mr. Tilney looked very agitated. "He was once an honourable man, but no longer. Over the past year, he has developed an animal magnetism that no woman can escape. Since his dissent a year ago, he has been with his cousin, his cousin's wife, his cousin's wife's sisters, a parson's wife... The list grows longer by the day. Rich, poor, beautiful, plain, married, unmarried, it does not matter... No woman is immune to his charms... Although his general name is 'Stud Muffin,' some women also call him 'Fitzie-Pie' or 'Colonel Hot Pants.'" Mr. Tilney paused and looked at me with great earnest. "Women more than just fall in love with him. They are entranced and hypnotised by him. He becomes their obsession in life. Their sole reason for breathing! As you can guess, my wife has never met the Colonel, but I have witnessed his treachery first hand! He is the Pied Piper of women. I dare not even discuss his name around Catherine. I love my wife and I do not want her to fall under his spell and be lured away too... I believe he is possessed by the devil. There is no other explanation for the hold of his charms." Mr. Tilney hesitated, as if to let the gravity of his news sink in before he continued. "There are new reports from Derbyshire that his behaviour has taken another odd twist. Some say that he calls himself 'FitzRambo' and paces the halls with his pistol and a red cravat tied around his head. Others say that he paces the halls saying 'Fitzwilliam, Richard Fitzwilliam' and drinks excessive amounts of Bollinger Champagne. It is further rumoured that he killed a man recently and his cousin has taken to drinking vast amounts of brandy as a result of the Colonel's odd behaviour."

    Try as I might, I couldn't keep my countenance. I began to snicker. This man is as loony as his wife! The pair needed to be locked up and the key thrown away. Mr. Tilney looked affronted at my display but continued gravely, "You may laugh now, but if you do not heed my warning, there will come a day when you will not laugh... Indeed, you will rue the day you heard the name 'Colonel Hot Pants.'"

    At his last warning, I could not contain my laughter. I know it was ungentlemanly, but such tales! One would have to be a statue not to react. I laughed so long and hard, my sides began to ache. Mr. Tilney looked angry, but I could not stop myself. Just as I was finally gaining control, the door opened and Mrs. Tilney entered. "I heard laughter, so I wanted to join you. Besides, this is the only room I haven't thoroughly searched. Mr. Knightley, why are you laughing?"

    As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I tried to speak. "Mrs. Tilney, forgive me, I was laughing at your husband's tale of Colonel Stu..."

    Mr. Tilney kicked me in the shin. "Colonel Stubens dear. That's what I was telling Mr. Knightley. Tales about the hapless Colonel Stubens who serves under my father."

    "Oh," Mrs. Tilney responded. She obviously had little interest in our discussion. Instead, she was studying the bookshelves. After several minutes of looking intently at each of the shelves, she spoke as if in a trance, "You have a fine library Mr. Knightley, though not to my taste. I do not see Udolpho on your shelves..." Finally, she walked over to a bookshelf, grabbed a book and pulled it out as she screamed, "Ah ha!" Quickly, she jumped back, clearly expecting something to happen. Slowly, she stepped back to the shelf, grabbed another book and screamed, "Ah ha!" After repeating her motions several times, she turned to me. With deep regret in her voice she said, "There are no hiding places in this house."

    "I believe I told you as much during our ride over, Mrs. Tilney. I have nothing to hide."

    She then turned to Mr. Tilney and mumbled, "I don't like this house Henry. I want to go."

    "Yes dear, I quite agree. This house is not for us." Mr. Tilney looked directly at me before continuing, "Besides, I fear that some misfortune may befall the future tenant of Donwell Abbey."

    Suddenly, she perked up. "Misfortune?" she asked with great hope.

    "Yes dear," he said, recovering himself. "They will be cursed with the misfortune of living in a perfectly ordinary house."

    "Oh," she muttered as her countenance fell once again.

    "Do take care Mr. Knightley," Mr. Tilney said with great solemnity. He then took his wife's arm and they left.

    I waved to them as they entered their carriage and drove away. I could utter only one phrase as I watched them drive away. "Bedlam, definitely."

    John yawned. "I am growing weary of your tall tales."

    I sighed. "If that was the worst of my troubles, I would not have summoned you here. It gets worse..."

    Chapter 7

    A little over a fortnight passed after the Tilneys' visit. I was going over some papers in the study at Hartfield when I looked up from the desk and out the window. It was warm and bright, the birds were singing, the flowers were in full bloom. It was a perfect day. I could not resist such a beautiful sight, so I rose from the desk and decided to go outside for a walk. As I was in the hallway, I heard a carriage arrive outside. Just as I reached the door, I heard a knock. I opened the door and found a young couple standing in front of me. They were too busy kissing, giggling, and teasing one another to notice I had opened the door.

    The young man was about to give a knock to my head when I said, "Hello, may I help you?"

    They both gave a start, suddenly turned to me, and blushed. Finally, he recovered from his embarrassment enough to say, "I am here to see Mr. Knightley."

    "I am the one you seek."

    "Ahem," he said while straightening his jacket. "I am Henry Crawford and this is Maria. I understand that you have a home available and we would like to lease it."

    "We are to be married," she blurted.

    Mr. Crawford turned to his companion and said, "Yes, I was just getting to that dear." Turning back to me, he continued, "We are to be married," he beamed. "Well, we are to be married once her husband finishes divorcing her. That is, if he does divorce her and if I can't win my Fanny back then I will marry Maria. However, if I win Fanny back, then Fanny and I can live in Surrey. So you see, you have nothing to worry about..."

    "What if Rushworth divorces me but Fanny will take you back?" Mrs. Rushworth said with great alarm.

    "Highly unlikely, my dear," Mr. Crawford comforted as he patted her on the stomach. "After all, you are carrying his child. And just think, if he doesn't divorce you, then you'll have all of his money at your disposal. If he does divorce you and Fanny will have me back, maybe I can find you a quaint cottage nearby." He winked to his companion. "But until this is all sorted out, we can live here together, can we not Mr. Knightley?"

    John gasped. "Adultery? Divorce? Eloping with a pregnant woman if another will not marry him? A mistress? What did you say George?"

    "I did what any sensible man would do. I slammed the door in their face and began to beat my head on the door while chanting 'Bedlam, Bedlam, Bedlam.'" I pointed to my forehead. "See the scar?"

    John looked carefully at my head. "Oh, I see... How long did you bang your head?"

    "I don't know. I blacked out after awhile. When I woke up, I was lying in my bed and Emma, Mr. Woodhouse, and Mr. Perry were peering down at me. My darling Emma was holding a cold compress to my head. Mr. Perry wanted to let some more of my blood out, while Mr. Woodhouse thought my problems would be solved by a big bowl of gruel."

    John groaned. "Don't tell me about gruel. That is all Isabella will feed me. Gruel, gruel, gruel. I hate the sight of it... George, is that why you had me ride thirteen miles? To complain about gruel?"

    "No, it gets worse..."

    Chapter 8

    Another month went by. Quite frankly, I forgot all about trying to find a tenant for Donwell Abbey. Actually, I forgot about a good many things during that time. -- By the bye, Mr. Perry assures me that the blows to my head will not cause permanent memory loss. At least I think that is what Mr. Perry said. But I digress -- A courier came to Hartfield. The man had bloodshot eyes and wrinkles despite his obvious young age. His clothes reflected his long travel. He was required by his master to deliver a letter personally into my hands. When he came to deliver the note, the courier looked deep into my eyes and said only, "Please..." After I took the note, he quickly turned to leave. I took pity on him and urged him to take some refreshment first. He refused saying only, "It is imperative that I return to Pemberley. I cannot waste one minute." Needless to say, I felt the gravity of the letter before I opened it. Clearly, it was of monumental importance. I immediately broke the seal and upon unfolding it, received quite a shock. It was a short note quickly scrawled on the stationery of the Earl of Matlock. It read,

    Pemberley, Derbyshire.
    30th July.

    Dear Sir,

    I write to you on behalf of my youngest son, the Hon. Colonel Fitzwilliam. He desires to see your home, Donwell Abbey, to determine if it is suitable for his needs. He requests that you meet him at Donwell Abbey on the 29th of August at eleven o'clock at night. It is the evening of the new moon and the darkness will afford my son some protection. Please, tell no one of this meeting. Do not trust a soul. I entreat you to burn this letter as soon as you finish reading it. I took great risks in having this note smuggled out to you. The situation is becoming tense in Derbyshire and I fear more rioting like there was in Kent. Please Mr. Knightley, you are our only hope.

    Sincerely,
    Philip, Earl of Matlock

    I read the letter twice before burning it. I would have thought the note a joke, but the manner in which it was delivered suggested otherwise.

    During the month before the meeting, I tried to remember where I had heard the name "The Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam." There was something familiar about the name, yet I couldn't remember exactly what. As I was still recovering from my head injury, my memory was not the best. As the date for the meeting approached, I had an impending sense of doom, without being able to understand why. It was as if fate was surrounding me like an oppressive thick fog. I could not see what lay ahead, but I marched dutifully forward to my appointment with destiny...

    Chapter 9

    On the evening of the meeting, I told Emma that I had a headache and should retire alone to my bedchamber. After I went upstairs to my bedchamber and locked the door, I jumped out the window. -- By the bye, if you are ever required to jump out of a window, I don't recommend landing in thorny bushes, but I digress. -- I ran quickly to Donwell Abbey, taking care that no one observed me along the way. Upon arriving, I lit a fire in the library fireplace, poured myself a glass of Madeira, sat down in my favourite chair, and waited for the Colonel's arrival. I passed the time by reading John Donne's poems. Colonel Fitzwilliam was late and the Madeira began to take effect. I put my glass down on the table next to my chair and tried to concentrate on the poems, but the damage had already been done. I drifted off to sleep. Some time passed -- I know not how long -- before I was awakened by a tall man dressed in regimentals shaking me. "Mr. Knightley?" he asked.

    After putting my book on the table and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I rose to greet him, "Yes, I am he. Colonel Fitzwilliam, I presume."

    "You guess correctly," he bowed. "I am sorry I am late. Leaving Derbyshire was more difficult than anticipated. I hope I have not inconvenienced you too much."

    "Not at all." I looked at the Colonel. He was a young man in his early thirties, but weariness and fatigue made his face look drawn and sunken. He also seemed very nervous and jumpy. "You look exhausted from your travel. Please have a seat."

    "No thank you. I have no wish to detain you longer than need be. I would like to conclude our business as quickly as possible. Does anyone know of my arrival?" He studied my face carefully.

    I noticed he had a few nervous twitches. "No, no one. I complied with your father's wishes and burned the note."

    "You didn't tell your wife or any servants?"

    "I give you my word as a gentleman, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I did not tell a soul about your arrival and took great care to insure that no one saw me come here."

    He gave a sigh of relief. His shoulders visibly relaxed and his twitches subsided. "Perhaps you are right. I will have a seat." He sat down in the chair across from mine. He leaned back into the chair and sighed again.

    "Colonel, would you like a glass of... anything?"

    "What are you having?"

    "A very fine Madeira."

    "That sounds marvelous. I would like the same."

    I crossed the room to pour the glass of Madeira. I returned and handed him his glass after a couple of minutes. In that short span of time, his features visibly changed. He seemed less tense and more agreeable. His blue-grey eyes gleamed when he saw his drink. Upon reaching for the glass, a satisfied smile crossed his lips. I gave him his drink, then sat down in my chair and picked up my glass. I sipped my drink while closely studying the Colonel. In person and address, he seemed to be most truly the gentleman, yet he was obviously trying to escape from some people who were searching for him. My guess was that the authorities were looking for him, but I decided to keep my conjectures to myself. I thought it most prudent to engage in conversation off of the subject of his recent distress to gain his confidence. I hoped that the Madeira would have the same effect on the Colonel as the Port did on Lieutenant Wickham... It's a pity I didn't bring Beacus along... The Colonel noticed me staring at him, so I thought I should start a conversation.

    "I am surprised you drink Madeira. It isn't often that I see military officers drinking it."

    The Colonel smiled, "I suppose some would think it disloyal to the Crown since Madeira was the favoured drink of some of our former colonists. But we shouldn't allow the 'Americans,' as they call themselves, to monopolize all of this lovely drink."

    I smiled back, "I see we share that opinion..." As I looked at him, I noticed he had long scratch marks around his neck. As he had noticed me studying his neck, I asked, "I see you have scratch marks on your neck, were you injured by a tree branch while riding here?"

    His eye began to twitch again. The Colonel rubbed his neck thoughtfully before answering. "No, I was scratched by a Kitty. She attached herself to my neck and refused to let go."

    I shuddered. Being an admirer of dogs, I never understood why people owned cats. "Sometimes cats can be rather stubborn."

    He agreed quietly, "Yes, Kitty was quite unpersuadable."

    Hmm... I'm not getting very far... Time for a different approach, "Do you drink often? The number of spirits kept here at Donwell is limited. Perhaps I should order more?"

    "No, that's quite all right. My cousin and I sometimes drink brandy while we are together or occasionally I will have a glass of Champagne on my own, but that is usually the extent of it."

    A cousin of the Colonel's drinking brandy... Champagne... For some reason, I knew his statement had significance, but for the life of me I could not think of why it was important... I rubbed the scar on my forehead as I tried to remember...

    Chapter 10

    "Mr. Knightley," the Colonel said, jarring me out of my reverie. "I'll get right to the point. You seem to have a lovely home. I would like to rent it immediately."

    I was taken aback by the Colonel's haste. He wanted to rent Donwell Abbey without touring the house or the grounds or without asking any of the terms. His haste was disquieting. It seemed most imprudent for a sensible man. "Colonel, you haven't seen the rooms or toured the grounds..."

    "I have seen enough."

    I tried to dissuade him. "By the light of day, you might not be as pleased as you are now."

    The Colonel looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, as if sizing up an opponent in battle. "Mr. Knightley, you seem less than pleased that I wish to rent your house. May I inquire into the reason for your distress?"

    I contemplated my answer for a moment. He certainly wasn't stupid or foolish like earlier visitors. Directness was probably my best course of action with this man. "Certainly Colonel. My misgivings are based on two things. Your haste and your obvious need to flee Kent and Derbyshire. You seem to possess a sensible, logical mind, yet you haven't inquired into any facts regarding this house. You haven't even asked the rate. Secondly, you are obviously fleeing Derbyshire after fleeing Kent. I have not a clue as to your troubles, but I don't want you to bring your troubles to Surrey."

    The Colonel looked at his drink as he swirled it. His brow furrowed as he considered his response. After a minute, he began, "As far as a home, I require little. I only desire a quiet, solitary place in the countryside. Your home more than exceeds my requirements in that regard. As for the expense of the lease, if my salary cannot meet its demands, which I believe it should, my father will pledge that he will make up the difference... As to my fleeing Derbyshire..."

    The Colonel got up from his chair and walked a few steps to the fireplace. He stared into the fire as if expecting that the answer would leap out of the flames. "I fled Derbyshire due to... personal difficulties... which are beyond my control... My father and cousin are working to correct the situation in Kent and Derbyshire and restore my good name. Until that is accomplished, I would like to live a quiet life away from those two counties." He turned to me and began in earnest. "Mr. Knightley, I am an honourable man whose good reputation has gone through a metamorphosis within the past year."

    "You have been slandered?"

    "I wouldn't call it 'slander.' Let's just say that there are many so stories being told of me that I don't know if I'm coming or going."

    "Oh... I see..." Of course I didn't understand his predicament, but clearly he didn't want to promote his reputation by repeating what was being said of him. He seemed to be in great distress.

    I decided to take pity on him and let him rent Donwell Abbey. First, however, I wanted to reach a clear understanding with the Colonel of the merits and detriments of my home as well as the conduct I expected from my tenant. "Before I rent Donwell Abbey to you, I must make a few things clear..."

    He looked overjoyed that I was going to allow him to rent my home. He eagerly sat back down in his chair and listened carefully.

    For a moment I was speechless. I had lived at Donwell most of my life and couldn't think of what a stranger would wish to know. I thought back to what the previous visitors felt was important information... "I am the eldest of two sons. My father was an only child. There hasn't been a female born within these walls in at least one hundred and fifty years..."

    "Congratulations."

    "But my wife's family visited often. Her parents had two girls and girls are quite prevalent in the Woodhouse line."

    The Colonel smiled pleasantly. "That's nice."

    "I don't tolerate kidnappers living here and if you kidnap a woman, I would send word to the authorities and do everything in my power to rescue her and return her safely to her husband."

    "I would hope so, Mr. Knightley."

    "I am not retrenching, not stupid, and I will not allow my father-in-law to be swindled out of money."

    His smile faded. "All right."

    "I will not allow Donwell Abbey to be turned into a pleasure palace of sin where you can seduce young girls."

    The Colonel's eyes narrowed. "I would think not."

    "Donwell Abbey has no hidden passageways and the furniture have no hidden compartments. I have nothing to hide."

    He frowned. "Wonderful."

    "Furthermore, I do not want Donwell Abbey turned into a love commune for adulterers."

    "I should hope not..." The Colonel hesitated a moment. "Mr. Knightley, you seem a bit exhausted, as if you are in need of a rest... Perhaps a trip to Bedlam is in order. There is an excellent doctor there by the name of Dr. Fr--d. I could send word to him and he would see you right away."

    I laughed. "Colonel, I am in perfect health. I do not need to see a doctor at Bedlam."

    His frown lengthened. "No, of course not."

    I knew I forgot to mention something to the Colonel, but I could not think of what. I rubbed my scar again before it suddenly struck me. "One last thing... We have never met Colonel Stud Muffin in Surrey." There. That was it. Colonel Stud Muffin. What else did they call him? Hmm...

    The Colonel turned white and began to shake. "Have there been many reports of the Colonel here?" he asked in a quivering voice.

    "No, not any. Until I began to interview people from outside the region, I had never heard of Colonel Stud Muffin. The people of Surrey are a quiet set of people. I doubt most have heard the tall tales."

    The Colonel grabbed his Madeira again and took a large gulp. Slowly, his color began to return as he struggled to get himself under control. "Good, most people don't know," he mumbled.

    I began to chuckle, "You should have heard the tales though. Such fantastical stories like you have never heard before... They say women are helpless under his spell... He is not only known as 'Stud Muffin,' but also as 'Hot Pants.' Can you believe such tales?"

    The Colonel mumbled just before taking another large swig of his drink, "Yes, I can very well believe it."

    After chuckling to myself for a few more moments, I asked, "Are you still agreeable to renting Donwell Abbey?"

    "Yes, very much so."

    "Then it is yours Colonel. I hope you will be very happy here."

    "Thank you very much."

    "I have one little formality though. My lawyer, William Coxe, is very cautious when dealing with strangers. He is requiring me to have the future tenant sign a lease agreement. I would rather our agreement be sealed with a handshake, but my lawyer is most adamant. Do you mind?"

    "No, not at all. It sounds very prudent. I would be most happy to sign it."

    I showed the Colonel into my study where the agreement lay on my desk, ready for his signature. He grimaced when he saw the line for his signature. Once he signed, I understood his difficulty. "Richard Edward James Fitzwilliam Fitzwilliam. That's quite a long name. I'm sorry, I should have told you. You needn't have indicated your middle names, just your first and last."

    The Colonel blushed. "I did. My first name is 'Richard Edward James Fitzwilliam.' When they were naming me, they couldn't decide on just one."

    "Fitzwilliam Fitzwilliam?" I asked.

    He chuckled. "Yes, it was my aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh's doing. She wanted to make sure that I never forgot I was a Fitzwilliam."

    "I see. You are fortunate to have such a caring aunt."

    He smirked, "Fortunate? I suppose that is one way to put it."

    Suddenly, I yawned. It was the middle of the night still and I needed to get some rest. "Colonel Fitzwilliam, why don't you accompany me to Hartfield, it is but a mile from here. My wife and I would be happy if you would stay as our guest until your things are brought from Derbyshire. That will also give the servants time to properly prepare Donwell Abbey."

    The Colonel gave a start. "NO!" He quickly recovered himself. "Excuse me, I mean, no thank you. That won't be necessary. I will stay here. In addition, I have my own servants that will be coming from Pemberley when they can. Until then, I can manage very well on my own. Thank you."

    The Colonel's mood swings where baffling to me, but after some discussion, I found that he was unpersuadable.

    "Donwell Abbey is let at last," I muttered to myself as I returned to Hartfield alone.

    John looked vexed as we continued our walk. "George, I still don't understand your purpose in calling me here. If the Colonel hasn't paid his rent, William Coxe can deal with the matter. I've never thought William was the brightest of fellows, but certainly he can handle this. I am a highly respected and busy barrister. I have better things to do with my time than run to Surrey every time you have a trifling problem."

    I sighed. "John, it gets worse. MUCH worse..."

    Chapter 11

    Nearly two months went by and I never saw the Colonel. His servants would come into Highbury to purchase goods from Fords or would deliver the rent money to me. Colonel Fitzwilliam never attended church, though all of his servants did. While at church, I noticed something odd, all of his servants were male. I sent inquiries to Donwell Abbey to see how the Colonel was managing. He responded to each of my inquiries with a very civil, ceremonious note explaining that all was well. Many of the town's people tried to call on him to welcome him to Surrey, but he refused to see any of them, yet each of their visits was followed by a note of apology and a basket of apples. He was an odd man and I couldn't explain his behaviour.

    Emma and I were out taking a turn in the garden on a warm, sunny autumn day when she raised the subject of our tenant again. "My dear Mr. Knightley, I cannot understand the Colonel's behaviour. From your meeting with him, he sounded like a very amiable, pleasant man. Yet he stubbornly refuses to be seen in society."

    "Yes dearest, I have been contemplating that as well. Perhaps he is more shy than I gave him credit for."

    Emma stopped, turned suddenly to me, and smiled, "My dear! You are brilliant! That must be it. He is shy and has not been introduced to the people of the neighbourhood. Why don't we host a small party for him? If we host it, surely he will not feel as uneasy. His acquaintance with you will give him some comfort. And if we invite the Westons, surely Mr. Weston will be able to help put him at ease."

    I stopped and thought a moment. "Yes darling, that sounds like a very sensible plan." I gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I'm glad you thought of it. Who do you wish to invite?"

    "We must invite the Westons."

    "I agree. But then we must also invite the Churchills and Miss Bates."

    Emma scowled.

    "Emmmmaaa. You know the Churchills have been staying with the Westons since Mrs. Bates died. They have been very concerned about Miss Bates. Besides, it will be good for Miss Bates to enter back into society. The poor woman is quite changed since her mother's death."

    "Unfortunately, not changed enough..."

    I shot a look of disapproval at Emma. She suddenly turned and began to walk on. "Well, that will make a nice party."

    I walked quickly to stop Emma from storming away. As I drew even with her, I grabbed her arm, spun her around, and gave her a long, passionate kiss.

    "Mr. Knightley," she murmured as out lips parted.

    "We must also invite the Eltons," I said gently.

    "The Eltons!" she cried.

    "Emma. I know how much you dislike the Eltons and I am not fond of them either, but they must be invited. They have been very kind to the Churchills and Miss Bates. Besides, this party is for Colonel Fitzwilliam's benefit. As distasteful as they can sometimes be, he should be acquainted with them."

    "Very well," she grumbled.

    I smiled and gave her another kiss and a snog as a reward. -- Little did I know that the dark cloud of fate was looming overhead.

    Chapter 12

    I went to Donwell Abbey the next morning to talk to Colonel Fitzwilliam. I found him pacing around the ballroom. He looked bored to tears. I thought he would welcome our invitation, however convincing him to attend our dinner party was not as easy as I thought. At first he was quite unpersuadable.

    "I thank you for your kind offer," Colonel Fitzwilliam began, "but I would not dream of leaving Donwell Abbey..."

    "Colonel!" I protested. "You have not left the Abbey in two months. Surely you are in need of some change of scenery."

    "My relations with persons of the fairer sex are sometimes... well... awkward... I could not take the risk."

    His stubbornness puzzled me greatly. "I have no idea of your troubles, but I assure you, there will be but few couples. I am sure you will manage."

    He hesitated and looked about him, "Though Donwell Abbey is lovely, I am growing tired of being confined here..." Then he looked directly into my eyes as if to study my expression, "Pray tell me, are all of the ladies married?"

    His question startled me, but I answered him directly, "All but one, Miss Bates is an elderly spinster. Her father was once vicar of the church and her mother recently died. My wife and I thought it best if we invite her..."

    "Yes, of course," the Colonel interrupted while obviously lost in thought. "And are all of the marriages happy?"

    "Well, I can only speak for myself, but yes, my marriage is exceedingly happy. I can only presume the others are as well. None of the marriages are more than three years old and by all appearances, all is well... Please Colonel, it would be a great honour for my wife and I to hold this party for you and introduce you into Highbury society."

    He finally relented. "Very well. If you insist. There have been no incidents since I've moved here, so I suppose it is safe... I hope everything will turn out well."

    I smiled and shook the Colonel's hand while assuring him, "I promise you, the party will be a marvelous success."

    The week of the party, Emma was quite busy with the dinner preparations. Wisely, she also decided to invite the Martins to join us after dinner. Since Abbey Mill Farm is close to Donwell Abbey, she judged it would be best if Colonel Fitzwilliam met Robert Martin.

    On the evening of the dinner, the Westons were the first to arrive. After being shown into the parlour and the initial greetings were passed, Mr. Weston began to voice his concerns about the Colonel. "I don't mean to be prejudiced against the man, but it is quite odd that he has never been seen Highbury nor will he see people who call on him."

    Mr. Woodhouse shook his head. "I disagree with you Mr. Weston. The young Colonel sounds very prudent. Other people, especially children, carry disease and may make him ill. No indeed. He is very prudent not to meet strangers."

    Emma and I passed a knowing look between ourselves. Emma was about to defend Mr. Weston when the Eltons arrived. As usual, Mrs. Elton made a great bustle while entering room. "Mr. Knightley, Mr. Woodhouse, Mr. Weston, Mrs. Weston, and Mrs. Knightley," she sneered at Emma as she addressed her, "We are so excited about the party. It has been ages since we have been invited to one." Emma shot me a quick grin. It did not take a genius to understand why the Eltons have not been invited to many parties... Mrs. Elton kept rambling on, "Although I must protest Mr. Knightley! Holding a dinner for Colonel Fitzwilliam who has so ungraciously snubbed my caro sposo. You know, Mr. E went to Donwell Abbey three times to call on him, and each time the Colonel refused to see him. You know he has never been to church! What an ill mannered man! No gentleman would behave in that fashion..."

    We were spared the rest of Mrs. Elton's tirade by the arrival of the Churchills and Miss Bates. As usual, every other conversation was lost in the barrage of words flowing forth from Miss Bates. Though I detected some sadness in her look and manner, she seemed to want to appear as cheerful as ever. "Mr. Knightley, Mrs. Knightley, and Mr. Woodhouse. I am overpowered, quite overpowered. You have been most kind. Your sympathy during my time of distress has been greatly appreciated. Thank you for inviting me to your party. Now that mother is not here, I find myself quite alone. Your attentions have been very welcome. Oh Mrs. Knightley, you look so lovely, just like an angel. But then, I always say you look like an angel..."

    Mrs. Elton was about to interrupt, when the guest of honour arrived. In he slowly walked, fully dressed in his regimentals, with his hand resting on his sword. I was quite shocked at Colonel Fitzwilliam's appearance. Gone were the haggard and sullen looks of two months ago. He looked very cheerful, yet cautious. As he entered the room, all conversations ceased and all eyes were riveted to him.

    I stepped forward and bowed. "Colonel Fitzwilliam! Welcome! I am glad that you could come to our little party."

    Tentatively, he stepped toward the group. "I thank you for the invitation." He bowed.

    "Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Knightley. Emma, the Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam."

    Emma immediately stepped forward offered her hand to his lips. "I am charmed Colonel," she cooed.

    The Colonel awkwardly took her hand and kissed it. He had a look of great discomfort and I was puzzled why Emma would be so forward with such a shy man...

    As I considered Emma's actions, she continued the introductions, "Colonel, this is my father, Mr. Woodhouse. Father, may I present Colonel Fitzwilliam." Both men bowed.

    Just then Mrs. Elton stepped forward towards the Colonel. She nudged Emma out of the way and began to speak to the Colonel, "My dear Colonel, I am Mrs. Elton, but you may call me Augusta." She then smacked his hand, "You have been a very, very naughty boy and must be punished. You haven't been to church in months. I should take you over my knee and spank your bottom!"

    Shocked, the Colonel took a step back, out of the reach of Mrs. Elton. "I am pleased to meet you Mrs. Elton."

    "Augusta!" Mr. Elton cried. Quickly Mr. Elton stepped forward and put an arm around his wife, restraining her. "You must not joke with the Colonel in that fashion. He may not understand your sense of humour."

    I decided to intervene and attempt to rescue the poor man. "Colonel, I would like for you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weston."

    Mrs. Weston walked to the Colonel and wrapped her arm around his. "You know, I've always adored men in the military."

    "Is that so?" the Colonel asked while extricating himself from Mrs. Weston's hold. "I believe Mr. Weston was in the military?"

    Mrs. Weston rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me," she grumbled.

    I nervously looked at Mr. Weston. He stepped in between Mrs. Weston and Colonel Fitzwilliam as I steered the Colonel towards Miss Bates. Surely she would be safe... "Colonel, this is Miss Bates."

    "I am not married," Miss Bates began, "though I think it a perfectly lovely institution. Indeed, I am probably the only unmarried woman in all of Surrey." She then began to lick her lips.

    "Oh," was the Colonel's only reply. He looked frightened and I puzzled over her response as well. She knew she wasn't the only unmarried woman in the county, but perhaps the stress of her mother's death affected her mental state...

    "Last, but not least, this is Mr. and Mrs. Churchill," I said while directing the Colonel's attention towards the Churchills.

    Frank smiled, stepped forward, and shook the Colonel's hand. "I am very pleased to meet you." Frank gave the Colonel a wink and pursed his lips.

    Colonel Fitzwilliam jumped back. He looked panicked, like a trapped animal. His eyes were wildly searching for a way to escape. I decided we should go into dinner before the situation became worse. "Why don't we head into dinner?"

    All of the ladies leapt at the Colonel, but Emma grabbed him first. "I am the mistress of Highbury, it is my office to show Colonel Fitzwilliam the way." The rest of the ladies groaned and went back to their partners.

    As we went into the dining room, the Colonel asked Emma, "Would you mind if I sat at the foot of the table?"

    "Anything you want my dearest Colonel," she whispered, "A-ny-thing..."

    Chapter 13

    As dinner commenced, I noticed the Colonel, once seated, looked down at the table and never looked up. He took great pains not to be involved in any conversation, nor answer any questions, though the rest of the dinner party, particularly the ladies and Frank Churchill, tried heartily to engage him in conversation.

    Seated on each side of Colonel Fitzwilliam was Mrs. Weston and Jane. It seemed as if they were trying to caress his legs under the table, but as he was at the foot of the table, he merely moved his chair back a little so they could not reach him.

    Emma saw Mrs. Weston and Jane's behaviour and looked vexed. She tried to engage the Colonel in conversation to distract him from their foolishness. "My darling Colonel, have you been involved in many dangerous battles?" Emma asked.

    "Yes," the Colonel mumbled.

    "Dear sweet Colonel," Mrs. Weston interrupted, "will you tell us of your battles."

    "No," he mumbled.

    "Gorgeous one, you are unmarried. Correct?" asked Jane.

    "Yes," he mumbled.

    With his answer, a wave of pleasure swept over the ladies and they began to giggle. Finally, Mrs. Elton chimed in, "Dearest Colonel Fitzwilliam... That sounds rather formal... Have you ever been called something else?"

    "Yes," he mumbled.

    Miss Bates gasped, "Sweetheart, will you tell us what others call you?"

    "No," he mumbled.

    "Then we must name you ourselves!" declared Frank.

    "How about 'dimples?'" cooed Jane.

    "No, how about 'doll face' instead?" asked Mrs. Elton.

    "I've got it! Colonel Stud Muffin!" Emma exclaimed.

    Suddenly, it struck me like a bolt of lightening. Colonel Fitzwilliam was Colonel Stud Muffin. I panicked. Suddenly all of Mr. Tilney's warnings came flooding back. His warning rang in my ears, You may laugh now, but if you do not heed my warning, there will come a day when you will not laugh... Indeed, you will rue the day you heard the name "Colonel Hot Pants". God, I wished I had heeded the man's warnings! I looked around the table in disbelief as an argument ensued.

    "No, Fitzie-pie!" Mrs. Weston insisted.

    "No, Colonel Hot Pants!" shouted Frank.

    "No, Colonel Hot Buns!" screeched Miss Bates.

    "No, Colonel Love Machine!" joined Emma.

    Suddenly the Colonel jumped up and the whole table became still. He finally looked up and said, "This has been a lovely dinner, but I am quite full. Do you have a pianoforte here? I would love to hear someone play."

    Simultaneously all of the ladies leapt up. "I am finished as well. I will show you the way Colonel!" they all declared.

    I rose and cleared my throat. "I will show the Colonel the way." All of the ladies looked disappointed, but then they ran to the drawing room to claim the instrument.

    "Women can be so silly sometimes, don't you agree Colonel?" Frank asked. "Don't you prefer the company of men?" he asked while blowing the Colonel a kiss.

    Suddenly, the Colonel's eye began to twitch. "No," he said. "I prefer to be alone."

    Frank would not be dissuaded. "That's rather singular. Wouldn't you like some company in that big, lonely house of yours..."

    I shot Mr. Weston a look to get his son under control. Unfortunately, the whole episode between his wife, his son, and his son's wife seemed to completely dislodge any sense Mr. Weston had. He looked utterly lost. He started to babble incoherently. I looked at Mr. Elton and Mr. Woodhouse. As I looked at their bewildered expressions, I knew that no one could save the Colonel, but me.

    "Colonel," I interrupted, "follow me." He looked grateful for my interruption and followed me into the drawing room.

    When we entered the drawing room, I was amazed. Jane was seated at the pianoforte and Emma and Mrs. Elton were seated on the two sofas. Mrs. Weston and Miss Bates stood, as if unsure where to sit even though there were plenty of seats.

    "Why don't you sit here Colonel," said Mrs. Elton while patting the seat next to her.

    "No! I need the Colonel to turn the pages for me," insisted Jane.

    "Darling," Emma said in her most seductive voice, "why don't you sit near me?" I started to walk over to her, but Emma hissed, "Not you! I want the Colonel to sit here. Come here Fitzie-pie."

    The Colonel shot me a look of apology and regret, turned and sat down in a single chair far away from everyone.

    Both Mrs. Weston and Miss Bates ran over and each sat on an arm of the chair. The Colonel looked up at the two women uncomfortably while Mrs. Weston began to run her fingers through his hair and Miss Bates put her arms around him. Just then, the Martins arrived and Colonel Fitzwilliam immediately jumped up and walked towards them. He looked eager to escape.

    I greeted the Martins, then "Colonel, may I present..."

    "We are the Martins of Abbey Mill Farm," Harriet interrupted. "We are tenants of Mr. Knightley and neighbours of Donwell Abbey. So you see, we have much in common." Harriet walked up to the Colonel and began to run her hands down his uniform. "I do love a red coat. My bedchamber is the room on the far northwest corner..." Harriet then pinched Colonel Fitzwilliam's bum.

    "Harriet!" Robert exclaimed. He quickly grabbed his wife by her shoulders and pulled her back. "Please excuse my wife..." he stuttered.

    Blushing and flustered, Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed to Robert, "Of course."

    I looked at the Colonel a moment. His twitching had returned with a vengeance. The poor man also looked quite pale. Perhaps music would take his mind off of his troubles... "Why don't we all be seated and we will listen to Mrs. Churchill play?" I offered.

    As soon as I uttered the words, I realized the mistake I made. Each of the ladies again began to try to lure the Colonel to sit near them. After a few tense moments, he quieted the crowd by saying, "I think I will stand, thank you."

    No sooner had Jane began to play, when Emma rose and said, "I feel quite faint. Colonel, will you help me to my bedchamber?" She gave him a wink and a smile.

    "Mrs. Knightley!" Mrs. Elton gasped. "It is most improper for you to ask the Colonel to help you. You should request the assistance of your husband."

    Emma looked vexed. She spoke pointedly, "Mrs. Elton, my husband is busy entertaining our guests and I would not want to deprive YOU of his company." Then she suddenly turned towards the Colonel and cooed, "The Colonel is a big, strong man. I'm sure if I faint, he can carry me to my bed."

    Mrs. Elton jumped up. "If you are that ill, I will help you upstairs." She rushed across the room, grabbed Emma's arm and began to drag her away. Suddenly, they stopped and the two women looked at each other. Mrs. Elton then turned to the Colonel and said, "Colonel, I seem to feel faint as well. Will you help us both to Mrs. Knightley's bedchamber."

    "Yes, please Colonel?" Emma added.

    This was too much for me to bear and sank into a nearby chair and buried my face in my hands. Mr. Elton fainted dead away, but no one seemed to care.

    The Colonel looked all alarm at the proposition. "I think it is time for me to go."

    "I will show the way home," offered Harriet while leaning forward and showing more of her cleavage than she ought.

    "NO!!! I can find my way ALONE!" screamed Colonel Fitzwilliam drawing his sword. He waved it around so no one could get near him and away he ran.

    Chapter 14

    As soon as he left, I began to understand the full impact of the blunder I had made. Renting out Donwell Abbey was the worst misjudgment of my life. --- I still don't know how far the repercussions will run. -- Mr. Elton was still passed out on the floor, Mr. Weston and Mr. Woodhouse were still bewildered and wandered around aimlessly. The Martins were arguing bitterly in the corner, while the rest of the party discussed our visitor.

    "Wasn't he dreamy?" Miss Bates sighed.

    Frank agreed, "Yes! He intoxicates my soul with his eyes..."

    "He is the finest man I ever saw," agreed Mrs. Weston.

    "His blue-grey eyes are hypnotic. Anyone can clearly see how capable he of making any woman fall in love with him," continued Jane.

    "I must have him," stated Emma in a determined voice.

    "No, I want him!" screamed Mrs. Weston.

    "Ladies, ladies," comforted Frank. "We can all share him..."

    "But what if he will not agree?" asked Jane.

    "Then we must kidnap him!" declared Miss Bates.

    After hearing this exchange, I was jarred back to reality. The Colonel was in danger and I must tell him. I quietly slipped out of the room and ran outside. I flew to the stables and readied my fastest horse. I rode to Donwell Abbey as quickly as possible. I knew that I must reach the Colonel fast, or we were all doomed.

    Chapter 15

    I arrived at Donwell Abbey quickly and broke down the front door. I ran in shouting for the Colonel.

    "Hey!" screamed one of the servants, "You can't barge in here like that. Get out!"

    I was about to dash upstairs to check the bedchambers when the servant lunged at me. Just as he reached me I grabbed his collar, turned, and slammed him against the nearest wall. "Where is the Colonel?!" I demanded.

    "I won't let you see him," the servant responded fearfully.

    "You idiot! I'm here to help!" I spat back. Just then, I realized where he must be. I dropped the servant and dashed into the library.

    I found Colonel Fitzwilliam hiding, curled up in the corner of the room. In one hand he clutched a decanter of brandy, in the other, a Champagne bottle. Rocking back and forth, he muttered, "Jane, why didn't you just kill me?" The poor man was nothing but a series of nervous ticks and twitches and was clearly out of his wits.

    Slowly, I approached the Colonel and helped him up. He was not well. I set him down on a nearby chair. Just then, four of his servants burst into the room. "Get away from him!" one warned.

    "The Colonel is out of his wits," I growled. "He must see a doctor, but he is not safe here. Ready your fastest horses on his carriage. You must get him out of here now! Use my horse, he's the fastest stallion in the county."

    "But where will we go?"

    I looked into the Colonel's bloodshot eyes. I knew there was only one place he could be safe and recover. "Bedlam, definitely," I replied softly.

    Then the Colonel began rocking back and forth in his chair chanting, "Bedlam... Bedlam... Bedlam..."

    "There, there my friend. You'll be safe soon," I comforted. Turning to the servants I pleaded, "Hurry!"

    "Yes sir," one replied as they all scurried away.

    The servants moved fast and readied his barouche. As it was about to leave, I gave final instructions to the driver. "Go directly to Bedlam. Do not stop along the way under any circumstances. If someone jumps in the road to stop you, run him down. Take the Colonel directly to Dr. Fr--d and be sure you register the Colonel under a fictitious name."

    Bewildered, the driver asked, "A what sir?"

    "A false name! You must hide him under a false name!" I thought for a moment, "Rufus Fletcher... Register him under the name of Doctor Rufus Fletcher," I demanded. There, that was a wholesome English name. No one would suspect a Doctor Rufus Fletcher of being a seducer of women...

    The driver nodded and I motioned for him to leave. As the carriage left Donwell Abbey, I saw the Colonel rocking back and forth inside. "Poor man," I mumbled.

    Just as I was about to walk home, the Colonel's butler, Mr. Trent, pulled me aside. "I thank you. You have done the Colonel a great service. I must write his father and cousin at Pemberley and tell them of the latest turn of events. We, the Colonel's servants, have been through this before. We will be ready for the mobs and will hide his destination. The Fitzwilliam family will be greatly in your debt if you would keep his location a secret."

    I nodded in agreement, "You have my word."

    Mr. Trent shook his head, "The poor Colonel. He has this effect on women wherever he goes. If only he had died in battle, he would be a hero. But now..." he shook his head, "Now the women have driven him quite mad."

    I nodded, "If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it."

    Mr. Trent suddenly looked at me with a look of great seriousness. "You could be in great danger. If the ladies discover the part YOU have played in his escape, they may turn on you. Be on your guard."

    Before tonight's events, I would have thought the butler's warnings foolish. But Colonel Fitzwilliam was able to create such a stir that I knew passions would be running high. Anything was possible. "Please keep me informed at Hartfield if I need to be wary."

    Mr. Trent nodded and I left.

    Chapter 16

    When I returned to Hartfield, the situation was not better. Indeed, it was much worse. Mr. Weston apparently had lost all command of his faculties. He wandered the house babbling nonsense and bumping into walls. Mr. Woodhouse was still bewildered and talking to Emma as if she were an infant. Mr. Elton was in hysterics, crying and wailing, mostly about his standing in the community. Robert Martin was almost beside himself with grief. "Who will milk the cows in the morning?" he asked me. The ladies and Frank had, in the time that I was away, sent for reinforcements. They thought that if they must storm Donwell Abbey, force in numbers might be helpful. Women from all over the county were arriving in carriages, on horse back, and on foot. It was all too much for me to take. I went to the library, grabbed the decanter of brandy, then went upstairs and locked myself in my bedchamber. After consuming all of the decanter's contents, I collapsed on my bed and tried to block out the evening's images.

    At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was that light was starting to stream in through the window. At first I thought I had dreamed the whole nightmare, until I looked down at my clothes and realized it was not a dream. I quietly went downstairs to evaluate the damage and to look for a remedy for my pounding head. Peter Mann, the underbutler, was waiting to apprise me of how the evening ended. Mr. Woodhouse drank so much Port that he passed out in the library. Mr. Elton and Robert Martin were sent home after Peter made sure there were no knives, pistols, muskets, or sharp instruments left in their homes. Always the resourceful man, Peter tied Mr. Weston to a chair to prevent him from banging into more walls. Unfortunately, he had not been able to stop Mr. Weston from babbling nonsense. The ladies and Frank had managed to gather all of the women of Surrey (and a few of the men) and left to go find Colonel Fitzwilliam.

    Just after eight o'clock while I was eating breakfast and nursing my headache, one of the Colonel's servants arrived at Hartfield demanding to see me. Peter showed him into the breakfast room. "Are you Mr. Knightley?"

    "I am."

    "Mr. Trent told me to give you this," he said handing me a piece of paper. On it was scrawled,

    "We are under siege. We will not hold out much longer. Take all necessary precaution. -- H. Trent"

    I looked up at the messenger. "How did you get out?" I asked.

    He chuckled, "We are experts, Mr. Knightley. We learn from our mistakes. We started digging a tunnel out of Donwell Abbey the day we moved in."

    "If you are such experts, why can't you stop a group of ladies?"

    He laughed, "A group of ladies in a frenzy over the Colonel? It would take at least one regiment to stop them and we have not that much man power. Donwell Abbey will fall within two hours. Once it does and they discover the Colonel is missing, the mob will come looking for whoever tipped him off..."

    The warning was well taken. I immediately scrawled out a note to you and dispatched it to London. Since the first note, I have received one other note,

    "Donwell Abbey has fallen. Beware of the Ides of March. -- Hugo Trent."

    John looked very angry. "And this is your story?!" he demanded.

    "Yes," I sighed. "I have told you everything."

    John's voice dripped with sarcasm as he replied, "Really George, you are so comical you ought to perform in the town square."

    "I have told you the truth!" I protested. "Once Emma and the others find out the truth, I am a doomed man!"

    "Really George! I have never in my life..."

    Just then I heard it... The sound of an angry mob in the distance... The sound was coming closer... I clamped my hand over John's mouth and forced him to listen. On the crest of the hill, I could see a swarm of people marching towards Hartfield. Frank was in the lead, holding a noose and Emma was not far behind carrying a pistol. John's eyes became wide with wonder.

    "Run!" I whispered into John's ear.

    As we turned to run, I heard Miss Bates shout, "There he is! Let's get him!"

    Chapter 17

    Pemberley, Derbyshire.
    15th June.

    Dear John,

    Much is the same as when I wrote you last. We, the "Stud Muffin Widowers" as we call ourselves, are still living here at Pemberley. Though Mr. Darcy continues to be kind to all of us, it is obvious that the strain of living without his wife is beginning to wear on him. -- He spends the whole day swimming in his pond, staring at his maze, or wandering the groves of Pemberley with a note for his wife. -- Circumstances demanded that he send his wife away to live with her sister, Mrs. Bingley, nearly a year ago... Colonel Fitzwilliam, being driven from Kent in June of last year, went to Pemberley to seek refuge with his cousin. The morning following the Colonel's arrival, Mrs. Darcy rose very early. Darcy thought her behaviour had been odd the day before, so when he awoke and found himself alone in his bedchamber, he went to look for her. Unfortunately, he found his wife on the roof of Pemberley trying to scale down to Colonel Fitzwilliam's window. Darcy feared for his wife's physical, as well as mental health so he sent for his brother-in-law, Mr. Bingley, to come take her and their sons away. Once Bingley arrived at his home with Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Bingley kicked her husband out because she wanted to see the Colonel as well. Bingley has lived here ever since. The Colonel stayed in Derbyshire until moving to Donwell Abbey in August. Darcy and Bingley hoped that a reconciliation with their wives would occur once the Colonel left, but there has been no such cause for joy as of yet. Of course, when I arrived two days after being chased out of Surrey in November, Darcy and Bingley were more than sympathetic. Here, the three of us have tried to keep each other's spirits up and hope for brighter days. Since last month, we have a new member to our club, though for me, not as welcome a companion as the other two. Mr. Collins, the vicar of Darcy's aunt, moved in after Lady Catherine finally wearied of him and forced him to move from Rosings Park. -- As you may recall, I first met Mr. Collins last April when he wanted to rent Donwell Abbey to have male children. After his visit to Donwell Abbey, Mrs. Collins discovered his plans. Mrs. Collins became so incensed that he wanted to move away from Colonel Fitzwilliam, she threw him out of the parsonage. By the bye, I am glad Pemberley is so large. It affords me many places to hide from Mr. Collins's effusive praise.

    Recently, a report of a most alarming nature reached me. I was told that Mr. Willoughby, Mr. Elliot, and Lieutenant Wickham are sharing a flat in London. Apparently Mrs. Willoughby threw her husband over for a chance at the Colonel and Mrs. Wickham will not live with her husband anymore either (not that I could blame her). I don't know the particulars of how Mr. Elliot became involved, but mark my words, he is with them because he thinks he can swindle money off of one of them. Too bad Mr. Elliot doesn't realize that both men are practically penniless. Without Mrs. Willoughby's money, Mr. Willoughby is likely to lose both of his estates to his debtors. Lieutenant Wickham used his wife to scam money off of her sisters, Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley. Now that Mrs. Wickham threw him out, the Lieutenant doesn't have a sixpence to his name. Having met all three men, I shudder to think of what occurs in their home. I doubt that there is anyplace more sinful in the whole of England...

    Darcy continues to receive encouraging reports from Bedlam on his cousin's mental condition. A revolutionary type of treatment has been employed on Colonel Fitzwilliam with amazing results. "Shock Therapy" as they call it, has all but cured the problem with his twitches and ticks. Unfortunately, the therapy has had an unfortunate side effect on his memory, but perhaps that is for the best. It is Dr. Fr--d's learned opinion that the Colonel's problem stems from his relationship with his mother. What impact his relationship with his mother has on his influence over women is beyond me, but Dr. Fr--d is a leader in his field, so I am sure he understands these things better than I.

    Since Bedlam has not cured the Colonel's problem with women, Darcy has sent to the four corners of the world in search of any means to cure his cousin of his unusual appeal. First, a priest, Father Hindley, was called in to perform an exorcism. Unfortunately, it didn't help the Colonel, though a patient in the neighbouring cell has been cured of his tendency to bark and growl. A fortnight after the priest's exorcism, a seance was performed. Through the seance, we discovered that the Colonel's maternal grandfather, Sir Anthony Jordan, was quite a favourite of the ladies as well, but not to the extent of his grandson. Sir Anthony's only advice to his grandson was to enjoy his popularity while he possessed it and to stay away from his older brother's wife. The Colonel tried to explain the desperate situation to his grandfather, but spirits can be quite unpersuadable sometimes. A week after the seance, a warlock, aptly named Jack Devlin, was called. The Colonel coughed up feathers for a fortnight after his visit. Unfortunately, the feathers only begat more sympathy from women and made him more endearing... Ever since he stopped spewing forth feathers, Colonel Fitzwilliam refuses to submit to any more of his cousin's unusual remedies. I suppose we will never know if the voodoo priest would have been able to help...

    When Darcy inquires about his cousin, I take the opportunity to ask about another patient at Bedlam. Unfortunately, the reports of Mr. Weston's mental health are not as glowing as Colonel Fitzwilliam's. Poor Mr. Weston has been a babbling mess ever since the night of the party and has never recovered. Dr. Fr--d tried shock therapy on Mr. Weston as well. Unfortunately, the only thing he discovered is that Mr. Weston likes pain. The treatments have had no effect on his mental health.

    Be not alarmed, but have a bit of bad news to report. I assure you all precautions are being taken... Colonel Fitzwilliam's mother passed away. Unfortunately, the plight of her son and Dr. Fr--d's belief that she was at the heart of it was too much for the poor lady. She suddenly fell ill and left this world in her sleep. Naturally, Colonel Fitzwilliam wishes to attend his mother's funeral. The King has pledged that the Colonel will be guarded by at least two regiments. I am sure he will be quite safe.

    I will also be attending the funeral with Darcy. Bingley and I have promised to attend with Darcy to help aid him (or protect him), should he need our assistance. It is the least that I can do for him. Mr. Collins offered to go as well, but Darcy convinced him that Pemberley's gardens need tending. (Bingley and I worked fast, hacking away at the plants to make them look as if they were damaged in a wind storm.)

    I will write you as soon as I return to Pemberley, which should be within the month. Take care, and do your best to watch over the residents of Hartfield.

    Your grateful brother,
    George

    Chapter 18

    23rd June.

    John-

    Forgive the sloppiness of this note. I am scribbling it to you while being so happy that I can hardly sit still! I want to shout for joy off of the roof tops! -- But I am ahead of myself. I will explain.

    As you know, Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived here this morning under heavy security to attend his mother's funeral. Everyone was fearful, especially the Earl of Matlock and Darcy. They had both witnessed the rioting first hand in Kent and Derbyshire and were fearing more violence. -- But I digress. -- The King's men smuggled the Colonel out of Bedlam late the previous evening in a laundry bag. As you know, some women discovered that the Colonel is a patient at Bedlam. Since this revelation, there has been a vigil outside of Bedlam waiting for him. As a result, the authorities wanted to disguise his departure. Despite the precautions taken, word spread that the Colonel had left Bedlam and was on his way here. Women flocked from far and wide to see a glimpse of him at his mother's funeral. Militias from all over the land were brought in to keep the mobs under control. This morning, the Earl of Matlock, Darcy, Bingley, and myself waited outside of the Earl's home for Colonel Fitzwilliam to arrive. The militia units were having a difficult time keeping the mobs at a safe distance from us. It was a very tense situation and I was fearing the worst, when suddenly, his carriage appeared, surrounded by a whole regiment. The carriage came to a halt before us and the crowds surged forward. It was a mad scene... But then, a miracle occurred... The Colonel stepped out of his carriage... Legions of women ready to tear him apart... Except they didn't tear him apart... They took one look at him, turned, and left. I heard a few complain as they were leaving that he wasn't even handsome. The crowds soon dispersed and left their former object of desire behind. We were all astounded and speechless. Then Dr. Fr--d hopped out of the carriage with a wide smile. Once I was able to speak, I asked him why the mob had departed. He replied that the Colonel had proven his theory true. Colonel Fitzwilliam's strong appeal stemmed from his relationship with his mother. Now that his mother was dead, the spell was broken. He was now no more appealing than the average man.

    As Dr. Fr--d gave his explanation, I looked over at Darcy, who, wide-eyed, was looking back at me. -- I suppose my expression of shock matched his. -- It dawned on me as suddenly as it did Darcy and we raced inside to fight over the stationery and pen. Quickly, we wrote to our wives begging for them to come and sent out the messages by express courier. We expect our wives within two days.

    Unfortunately, the poor Colonel has not taken the news as well as we would have been hoped. After being the sexiest man alive for a year, it is difficult to be judged as just average or not even handsome. He collapsed shortly after Dr. Fr--d gave his explanation. Bingley, still unsure of what effect the change in circumstances had on him, carried Colonel Fitzwilliam into the house and placed him on the Colonel's bed. -- After a few weeks rest, I am sure the Colonel will begin to come around...

    I just heard a cheer go up in the other room. When I started this note, Darcy was speaking to Bingley in private, attempting to explain the change in circumstances. From the celebration I hear, I can only assume that Bingley finally understands.

    I must take my leave to go join the others. We will celebrate heavily tonight, then tomorrow prepare for our wives' arrivals. I, for one, am overjoyed that I will soon be in my dearest Emma's arms. (Well, I'm sure she will be back in my arms after she meets "her beloved Colonel" again.) I doubt I have ever looked forward to seeing Hartfield as much as I do now. Now I know I will be home within a se'night. (I must also confess that I would be happy never to see another decanter of brandy for as long as I live. I shall have brandy banished from Hartfield and Donwell Abbey as soon as I return.)

    Believe me, I have learned my lesson. I will never again attempt to let out Donwell Abbey. Leaving it vacant is the most logical thing in the world.

    Your devoted and joyous brother,
    George

    Epilogue

    Donwell Abbey, Surrey.
    21st April.

    Dear Darcy,

    Emma and I want to thank you and Elizabeth. The bassinet is wonderful and I am sure George Fitzwilliam Charles Knightley will enjoy it immensely. I also wanted to congratulate you both on the birth of your third son, George Charles Darcy. Both Emma and I are delighted that your wife and son are both happy and healthy.

    We were also pleasantly surprised that the arrival of your son was so closely followed with the arrival of Charles Fitzwilliam George Bingley. Having Charles born just a few hours after George was quite a feat, but Bingley always did like to imitate you.

    A year ago, who would have thought you, Bingley, and I would be so happy and blessed? Sometimes I find it difficult to believe that we were living at Pemberley without a hope in the world just ten months ago. Those doleful days are so far removed from my thoughts that I feel as if it happened to someone else.

    I am gratified to learn of the return of Colonel Fitzwilliam's mental health. I always thought him a sensible man, though I am surprised at his choice of a new profession. I never thought he would take up orders in a monastery, but perhaps it is for the best.

    By the bye, I have sent a note expressing our joy to Mrs. Collins, though I doubt there is much joy in that household. The arrival of twin girls would, under normal circumstances, be a cause of great cheer, but I suspect Mr. Collins was too concerned with bringing the heir to Longbourn into the world to see the cause for celebration. It is a pity that the occasion of the birth of his fifth and sixth daughters would cause Mr. Collins to lose his wits, but as Bingley wrote me, the man never was very stable. Perhaps a long rest at Bedlam and some shock therapy administered by Dr. Fr--d will serve him well.

    I thank you for the inquiry after Mr. Weston's health. He is still convalescing at Randalls under the watchful eye of his wife. We hope for a full recovery.

    As you know, the only cause for sadness in recent months was the loss of Emma's father four months ago. He never fully recovered after "the incident." Of course the loss of Mr. Woodhouse prompted us to move into Donwell Abbey, thereby leaving Hartfield vacant. Any suggestions?

    Best Wishes,
    G. Knightley

    Finis

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