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He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned back to her. Her expression was completely unreadable due to the myriad of emotions it betrayed; his eyes could barely track their speed. Finally, her gaze concentrated solely upon him. Her eyes commanded him to sit again. He smugly did so.

“I see that I have underestimated you, my Lord. Your research is to be commended. Do you also know what I ate for dinner last night?” Despite the humour in her words, her tone was grave.

“You have always underestimated me, Miss Bennet. But, no, I do not know what you had for your repast yesterday.”

She regarded him again; a deep frown creased her forehead. “Do you not realise in trying to force my hand you will cause me to rebel against you?”

“I do not wish to dominate you; I mean to demonstrate to you.”

“Demonstrate, Sir?”

“Yes, Miss Bennet, I am desperately trying to make a point to you, which you steadfastly choose to ignore.”

“And that is?”

“You need me.”

“I need no one, least of all you.”

“But there you are wrong. You have tried on your own and failed, Miss Bennet. I do not wish to cause you distress, but that is the truth of the matter. You need an ally to help you and I am that person.”

“Your lack of compassion hardly stirs me to capitulate.”

“But you mistake me; I do have compassion for you, along with my passion. I would not have investigated so thoroughly just what you might wish to acquire, if I did not have compassion for you. I empathise with your wretched position, I truly do.” He whispered now, caressing her with his rich deep voice.

“Stop!” she cried. “You suggest starting one life of depravity to save another? What difference would it make to society which Bennet was a mistress? We both would ruin our family’s reputation. Nothing would be restored. Lydia would come home disgraced, probably with child, and Wickham might be punished, but in the meanwhile, yet another Bennet daughter would go on to fill Lydia’s shoes, only with you! This is no solution, this is ridiculous!” She leapt up, determined to leave his offensive presence.

“Lydia does not have to return home disgraced,” he said, stopping her. “She can be restored, Miss Bennet, she can be respectable. I can do this.” She stared unbelieving. “You can make it one of the points of negotiation, request I stipulate it legally if you like. Demand that I procure proof that Lydia and Wickham were married the night they left Brighton. Then your family’s reputation would be unstained.” He saw the inner workings of her mind; she was trying to fathom how it all could happen as he said while she stood watching him. “I could do this.”

“You still have not explained how becoming your mistress will fail to throw my family right back into despair, loathing, and disgrace. How can living immorally with you help my family? How can you defend that wish, my Lord?”

“Easily, my Dear; they need never know - you would simply disappear from your current life. If you wish it, you may come to me as anyone you would like to be. Pick your name, your history, your country if you like. Then live quietly with me at my estate in Surrey. I have no desire for the Season anymore. Any entertaining I might do would be on such a small scale, and you could have complete authority over the guest list. No one need ever know who you were. Our social circles could hardly have ever crossed, therefore few people you might know…”

“No!” She cut him off, truly agitated now. “Stop speaking as if this arrangement were set! Your nonchalant manners insult me, Sir. I have given you no reason to make such assumptions. I do not believe you and your arrogant boasts. I will not give you leave to pursue searching for my sister, Wickham or that Sally woman.” She held her head high, as if she was convincing herself of her bravery as she defied him. “Nor will I give you approval through my silence. Your actions are your own, as they always were. Do not seek my opinions or approbations for they do not concern you.” And with that, she fled.

“Was I just dismissed again?” he thought as he stared after her quickly retreating form. He was about to get angry when new thoughts entered his mind.

“But, she did not tell me to go to the devil, and she did not tell me no.”

“‘I do not believe you,’ she had said. What she had meant was ‘I do not think you capable.’ She has thrown down the gauntlet! It is a challenge. She simply does not think it possible.”

What she did not know was that he was already searching for Sally. Higgins had spent everyday that week combing London with her portrait. With or without her permission, he was continuing his pursuit of Lydia and Wickham.

“Very well Elizabeth. When we next meet, you will have proof that I can do this, and then, we both shall have what we want, and you will agree to come to me.”

He closed his eyes, daydreaming of the board, studying the pieces in his mind, when suddenly it hit him; the black bishops are not in play! She had not told her aunt and uncle about him. His grin was visible from 100 paces.

Posted on Sunday, 20 November 2005

Chapter Ten

Her mind kept telling her: “Say it - tell him to stop.” But no words came out. She seemed to be watching the entire scene from far away and had no control over what she was doing. His smug request that she had to say something or it would mean her tacit approval of his actions disturbed her mind greatly. Finally, seeing he was leaving while believing she had somehow agreed snapped her out of her hellish reverie so that she could answer. But the conversation gave her no peace. Quite the opposite in fact, and as a result, she had done the only thing that made sense at the time; she had run away.

When Elizabeth had poisoned Lord Caldhart, she thought that he would take her hint. But it was to no avail. She knew he would only be slightly sick from the lilies. Her own personal history had taught her that hard lesson; when she was six years old she had eaten one of the delicate little flowers and spent the next two days over a bucket. She had cut a tiny sliver of a petal and put it into the end of his sample cigar, knowing full well he would have to take at least two or three inhalations to get to it. It had been most satisfying to see his reaction. If he had been indisposed it obviously did not last long, considering how quickly she had seen him again. She did not think his persistence was a desire for revenge upon her for her wilful actions.

When he next returned to her establishment and revealed the extent of his knowledge of her situation and, more importantly, her leisure activities, she was stunned. She had not known that he had been observing Wickham and Sally, nor realised their import to her. Then the scallywag had left abruptly once again, quashing her chances to get more information.

She had tried to put him in his place and show him in no uncertain terms that he should leave her alone. Instead, he rose to every occasion, every insult she threw at him. He thrived on it, and she had unknowingly fed him. She cursed herself for being so outspoken. She was full young to have such decided opinions and her loose tongue had cost her. Her liveliness and impertinence had drawn the attention of an expert rake, which she now could not shake off.

She should never have kept his flowers, nor eaten the gifts. Her kindness to Toby had inadvertently encouraged Caldhart’s suit. Why had she not thrown them out from the start and told Toby to refuse the future offerings? Did part of her instinctively know that Lord Caldhart might give her the first true reason to hope?

Even more upsetting to her was an occasion she had experienced at her uncle’s house not long after Lord Robert had told her he knew she was looking for Wickham. Her Aunt Gardiner asked Elizabeth if Lord Caldhart had ever returned to her shop, or come to lay claim to their good fortune. Elizabeth had calmly answered that he had come back to replenish his cigar supply, but had never mentioned that he was the person responsible for the increase in their business. She had also added that he had never harassed Mrs. Johnson. She was appalled at herself for misleading her aunt. She chose not to dwell upon the reasons why she did.

His craftiness and intelligence were clearly evident in everything he did. She felt overwhelmed at his onslaught, and almost helpless against it. However, as much as she might like to think of herself as a helpless female who could not fight such a man, she knew it was not completely true. There were few women in her current position. She was a single lady working on her own, who was on her way to being independent. A few years of successful trade at her shop might earn her enough to purchase a small cottage in the country somewhere and live off her earnings.

Sometimes guilt would creep into her thoughts when she contemplated her future. Mary and Kitty sat at Longbourn, suffering with her parents, while she was making a life for herself. Her talents had allowed her the opportunity to be a success, but what future did her sisters have? Would Jane be happy to continue as a governess for the rest of her life? It seemed grossly unfair that a woman as beautiful as Jane should not have the opportunity to be a wife and mother. Elizabeth truly would have loved teaching Jane’s ten children. And there were two more Bennet sisters without the means of supporting themselves yet. How many more years would her father still live? When Mr. Collins came to claim his estate, where would her mother and sisters go? Would they live at Gracechurch Street, or with her Aunt Phillips? Her success was bittersweet in the light of her sisters’ not having a similar source of satisfaction, and the thought kept gnawing away inside her.

It was only more recently that Elizabeth also had given more consideration to the fact that Wickham had been without Lydia, and instead with this Sally woman. She felt a tightening in her middle; a feeling of unease came over her: dread. Her uncle had tried to rationalize where his youngest niece might be, that she might have moved on to another lodging house, and Wickham was merely stepping out. But Elizabeth was not in the least convinced. She knew it did not bode well. She had come to fear that even were she to find Lydia, it would not mean the restoration of her family. She fully expected Lydia to be shamed; that Wickham had never married her.

Now Caldhart was dangling the carrot of restored respectability in front of her. He offered her remaining sisters a life they could never have otherwise. The constant reminder of her own inability to restore her family honour preyed upon her. She felt herself falling down the long dark tunnel into which she had descended last winter as, once again, her hatred of Wickham ate away at her very soul. She wanted this torture to end. She wanted to fall asleep at night and not wake up sweating, with her heart pounding and the nightmares of a suffering Lydia tormenting her mind. She wanted the control he had over her happiness, or the lack thereof, to finally end. She cursed George Wickham; he was the bane of her existence.

She feared that, given the lack of any true progress towards reaching her goal, there would be a threat to the standards by which she had previously lived. She might well compromise many of the things she knew to be right, in order to finish what was now an obsession from which she could never turn back.

Finally it had happened: the thing she hoped for and also dreaded. He was the first person with a clue to finding Wickham. He had a skill, he had an ace, there in his head and no one else’s. He had the ability to find them. She had not thought it possible. She had been unwilling to tell him no, if he wished to try to find them, but she did not think he would. Part of her confidence, was based on her unalterable belief that he simply would not succeed. And then today, staring her in the face was a solution.

She thought long and hard, trying to reason out any faults in his logic. Could it really be so easy as to simply walk out of her house one day, and into his? She wondered what the effect would be on her family. Too quickly she realised she knew full well what would happen; she had already experienced it. However, this time, the absent daughter would not be known to have eloped with the man she fancied, she would merely go missing. Would they believe her dead? She knew it would hurt her father and Jane the most, but would the benefits outweigh the suffering they were now, and always would be going through?

She wished he would find them and be persuaded to tell Elizabeth without compromising her. But he was a master at a game she had never played before. She was no match against a man who had so many advantages over her. He had the cunning, he had the money to search, and he had the power and charm to bend all the rules by which she was forced to live. A man, the worst kind of man, and he was right; she did need him. Her only consolation at present was he had not yet found them. She would not agree to help him, but she simply could not close the door on the possibility. She would wait patiently, allow him to succeed or not. Without success, she would not have to contemplate any future with him. She only wished this news gave her more peace, but she knew why it did not.

Her speechlessness had not been from fear. From the moment she had seen his drawing of Wickham and Sally, she was no longer bothered by the man, this seducer, who sat next to her. Though her heart had beaten wildly, and her face had clearly shown Caldhart her mortification, she had not been afraid of him. Something else had disturbed her, rapidly building inside her, until later, when he began to demonstrate how easily she could fall from grace, she knew she had to get away from him, or she would surrender to him then and there.

She had wanted it. Wanted it so very badly, she had to restrain her hand from snatching the paper away. It was only when it had registered the drawing did not show Wickham and Sally’s faces, that she was able to control herself. What had disturbed her, what had panicked her out of her wits was that, like an obsessed pirate finally spying the long lost treasure map, she had been blindingly thrilled at having seen, at last, the key to getting to Wickham.

Chapter Eleven

When Lord Caldhart spoke with Higgins, he had been very specific with regards to the portrait of Miss Sally. He should not mention George Wickham; merely try to find Sally by herself. Higgins understood the need to make sure that, if they should find her, Wickham must not be alerted to someone looking for him as well. He had spent over a week travelling from one neighbourhood to another, when he began searching in Peckham. He approached the local boys who gathered around the corners, looking to earn the odd coin or two, and someone in the very first group recognised the face.

“That’s Pru, that is. Pru Murdock,” a slight waif exclaimed to Higgins.

After so many weeks of never having met with success, Higgins had to re-adjust his demeanour before he could calmly speak to the youth. “Pru?” he said. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” said the lad. “She’s barmaid at the Fox and Badger, just over the bridge and on the left.”

“And her name is Pru?”

“Well, I heard it’s really Prunella, as she come out all purple when she was born.” The boys snickered at this juicy tidbit. “But now she goes by Pru most the time, though some calls her Sally. She likes it when they calls her that.”

Higgins smiled appreciatively, and tossed the boy a coin as he left. His next stop was the Fox and Badger, where he settled himself in for a long day.

Late that night, a very proud Higgins was able to report to his master that he had finally met Sally, or Miss Prunella Murdock as she was also known. After sharing a well earned brandy with his master, they agreed to visit the tavern again the next night. Lord Caldhart borrowed suitable clothes from one of his staff, to blend in with the locals more easily, and left his jewels, silk handkerchief, and other finery at home. It was agreed that Higgins would do all the talking.

They arrived close to eleven o‘clock, when more of the patrons would be full of their wine, and more likely to let their tongues wag. Higgins pointed out Sally to his master and the two settled into a corner where they could observe and speak occasionally, without being overheard.

Eventually Sally spotted Higgins, recognising him from the night before as he had left her a thruppenny bit and made her way directly to him. “Hello, rich lad,” she flirted with Higgins. “I sees you brought a friend tonight. Is he as nice as you?” Caldhart winced at hearing that awful voice once again. How Wickham put up with it, he had no idea.

“Aye, Lass, and happy to make your acquaintance, I dare say. What say you bring us two glasses and buy one for yourself as well?”

“Ooooh now that I’d be happy to oblige you in, my pretty.” Caldhart nodded his approval to Higgins as Sally headed to the bar to get their drinks.

After several hours, and many more rounds bought, Sally finally had time to sit with the men and talk a bit. Higgins had tried repeatedly to get her to sit on his lap, but she had refused, though with a bit of regret. “I can’t, Love; I’ve got a man who wouldn’t like it. Though I dare say I might have,” she sighed.

“Well, I don’t see him here, and he wasn’t here yesterday! I say if he can’t bother to be around for you, what’s keeping you true to him?”

“Oh, but he can’t help it!” she exclaimed. “He’s working right now, else he’d be here, I know it.”

Higgins snorted, “Working, yeah, I’ve used that one with my old girl. Every time I stepped out on her, I told her I was working.” He started laughing.

“No, not mine. He’s no saint, but at least he only has one girl at a time. I wouldn’t go with him ‘til he got rid of his old one. She hung on him like a leech. But he’s smart and tricked her in the end and finally got rid of her. Since then it’s just been him and me.”

“I’d like to know how to trick a girl and get rid of her, my last three girls would never take the hint. I had to wait until they found someone they liked better ‘n me before I could move on.”

Sally snorted. “Yer not half as quick as my man then,” she proudly boasted. “He has wits to spare, along with being so handsome!”

Higgins and Caldhart stayed silent. Sally had been waxing for a while and every time she turned from one of them, they would pour their drinks into her cup, keeping it relatively full for most of the evening. “I may well believe that, Love, but there is nothing so wily as a woman not willing to shove off,” Higgins challenged. “She probably just found a better beau.”

He and Caldhart laughed together, sending Sally into an indignant snit. “She did not! He was ever so clever. He won passages to America one night, you see. Had the papers and all, and showed it to her when he got home. Told her they were going to start a new life in the colonies, where they could live cheaply like kings. She was so taken in. He told her to sell her jewellery so they could take the post to Portsmouth, and she did! Then at the last minute, he told her he had the chance to make some extra money here in town and that she should go ahead of him and they would meet the next day at the ship when he had his pockets filled. Stupid daft cow! She went of course, and he sold the passages that very day. So she was stuck in Portsmouth and he and I started up here. That were almost six months ago, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Except when he isn’t here,” Higgins interjected.

Sally swatted his shoulder. “That’s enough from you, Rogue! You want another round?” She then turned to Lord Robert. “How ‘bout you Granddad?” she asked.

Caldhart had to lower his head to keep her from seeing the outrage on his face as he shook it. Higgins had wisely invented a large object to be caught in his throat and took several minutes to dislodge it.

When he finally stopped coughing Sally asked her new favourite customers, “Will I see you gents tomorrow then?”

Higgins looked to his master, who gave him an almost imperceptible shrug. “Don’t know if we can make it again this week, but we will be back. Will you be here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Here, just the same as the last four years, Love. Be seein’ you.”

Higgins tried to pat her backside as she rounded the table, and just missed as she spotted him and dodged his hand, laughingly calling him “cheeky” as she headed for the bar.

As they drove home Caldhart made his plans. Lydia had to be their first concern. If she was still in Portsmouth, they had to find her. Wickham could wait, as it did no good to the Bennets to go after him, without the daughter. He could easily arrange to have a watch over Prunella/Sally while they searched Portsmouth.

Higgins asked as he was handing his Lordship out of the carriage,

“Will I be heading to Portsmouth tomorrow then, my Lord?”

“Us both, Higgins,” he replied.

Before they left for the coast, Caldhart had Higgins install a man at the Fox and Badger to keep an eye on Sally and be on the lookout for Wickham, should he finally show up. Higgins then packed for another long haul, and brought the carriage round for his master to travel the seventy miles to Portsmouth.

They quickly found out which ships had been bound for America in October and November. There were only six that had set sail, and two were currently back in port. Lord Caldhart chose to speak to the captains himself, while Higgins began searching the inns, to see if Lydia was currently in residence, or at least had been at one time. After all the places he had searched in the past, Portsmouth was easily covered in a few days. Unfortunately, none of the innkeepers, taverns or even boarding houses had heard of Lydia Bennet or Lydia Wickham.

Lord Robert had better success. He could not find evidence that Lydia had sailed on or even attempted to board one of the ships. However, he did strike a bit of gold with one; Captain Gregory, of the sailing vessel Adventure, remembered George Wickham. It seemed that he had received a letter from Mr. Wickham, stating his intention of sailing with his wife Lydia, on the Adventure late last autumn. Captain Gregory had added their names to the list of passengers, but, when sailing day arrived, two men from London had shown up with the documents and a letter from Wickham stating he had legally sold his passage to the two. So the young men went in their staid. Lord Robert studied the manifest, his mind calculating. Before disembarking he was well pleased, if not a little bit lighter in his purse.

Higgins’ disappointing results, however, effectively barred his Lordship’s ability for a complete triumph. After spending nearly a week in Portsmouth, with no further results, Lord Caldhart decided to return to London, to work upon Miss Sally. He also instructed Higgins to continue to try to find clues as to whether Lydia was there in Portsmouth.

About half way to London his coach stopped to give his horses a much needed rest, and refresh himself. He looked about him, observing all the travellers thankful to be out of the stuffy confines of the post coach, when he was suddenly struck with an inspirational idea. Before he left the posting inn he had sent an express back to Higgins, instructing him to spend three more days in Portsmouth, but if he did not have any success, he was to ride slowly back to London, stopping at every town, and especially every posting inn along the way and inquire if possibly a Miss Bennet, or a Mrs. Wickham had got off. He had no concept how fortuitous his inspiration would be.

After settling back in town, Lord Robert headed once again to the Fox and Badger. Sally was there and served him his ale. He spent most of the evening quietly observing her, tipping her well and smiling sweetly whenever she brought him his drinks. Later that night, when the crowd had thinned considerably, she came and sat next to him, inquiring after his rich friend. He told her his friend was visiting family for a few days, and would return soon, which seemed to please her. Caldhart then inquired after her once again absent lover.

“He’s not running away from me, he’s driving the post to Carlisle! He won’t be back till Wednesday, seeing as he can’t fly, you dolt!”

Caldhart laughed again. “A post driver! Seems your man ain’t so clever as you say, if he can only drive a carriage.”

“It’s honest work. What do you do?” she retorted. Caldhart answered in his best humble stable hand accent.

“Not working right now. But I still got money for my drinks, don’t be worried about that.” Sally smiled at him. As long as the old man had money for drinks and her, she would never be worried.

Caldhart had a difficult time keeping his jubilation in check. He tipped her once again, and headed home. His mind was calculating wildly as the coach headed through London.

“A post driver. Well, that answered the question as to why no one could find him. He was only in Town one day every fortnight at most. The rest of the time he was moving target.”

Wednesday was only four days away, yet that was more than enough time to set his spies up in the tavern, and, later, arrange for one of his men to travel the post line with Wickham. He needed to get the High Road Tables tomorrow and see if he could post a man along the route to ride back into London with Wickham that week. There would be enough time for a single rider and fast horse to meet the coach along the way. Then they could track Wickham when he arrived in London, and they would know his future whereabouts at every moment. He would set up a web that any spider would be proud of.

He spent the next three nights at the tavern, sometimes bringing his new men along, though he did not have them sit with him. By the time Wednesday came around, Sally and her co-workers were used to the three, and thought nothing of them hanging around for hours on end.

Lord Robert had prepared carefully for the evening. He had made extra drawings for his men, to acquaint them as well as possible with Wickham’s face. He did not want to have to point out the man if he finally showed himself at the tavern. Everything must look calm, and ordinary on the outside. Unfortunately, he was anything but on the inside. It was like waiting for the king to make an appearance. He worried that people around him would be able to perceive his nervousness. He drank slowly, often spilling out his mug by small bits on the floor. He wanted to keep a clear head tonight.

His men were equally nervous, he noticed; often glancing to him, as much as to the others in the room. There was little he could do but return a stern scowl to try to bring them in line.

The man he had sent ahead on the post line had not reported back to him, though he had not expected him to. His job was to stick to Wickham, and until he could pass on the responsibility, or get into town to forward a note to Lord Robert by messenger, he would not be communicating with his Lordship.

The evening wore on, the hours ticking by slowly. Luckily Sally was in a good mood, bringing hope to him. She let it slip that she expected her man tonight, and he felt confident that she was not to be disappointed. After midnight, while the patrons were well on their way to inebriation or sleep, Caldhart was still watching the door like a hawk, when he spied a familiar face under a pulled down hat walk in. It was Taylor, the man he had sent to meet the coach. Taylor passed by his table and, catching Lord Robert’s eye, indicated the back of the room, near the kitchen, with a swift tilt of his head. He needn’t have bothered. The next moment, a loud squeal, one Lord Robert could not have forgotten from before, could be heard as he turned in time to see Sally throw herself into the arms of George Wickham.

The spider was very happy.

The next night, after Lord Caldhart had finished his dinner, and his men had reported on Wickham’s whereabouts and activities for the day, his butler interrupted his quiet time at his chessboard. An express from Lophook, a small town on the post circuit to Portsmouth, had just arrived. It was from Higgins. An unusual thing for him to spend extravagantly for an express, Lord Robert tore into it expectantly with greed. He read it through twice, in disbelief. Higgins had found Lydia Bennet.

He picked up the black pawn, rolling it slowly between his smooth fingers.

“Curses, what am I to do now?”

Higgins stood outside the inn, his head bowed before his master, who was pacing furiously to and fro.

“Have you made any promises on my behalf, which I do not know of already?”

“I told them that as she was part of your household, and a good sort of girl, you would want to pay for a headstone. She hasn’t got anything over her right now, you see.”

“Yes, yes, I will see to that. What of her personal effects? Did she leave behind anything? I may need to prove what we know.”

“Yes, my Lord. They still had her bag, and most of her clothing; I took the liberty of offering to pay for it on your behalf. Told them her Mum would want her last things. They were very helpful.”

“You have no reason to suspect foul play on their behalf?”

“No, your Lordship. Not at all.”

“And the child? Was it not viable?” Higgins frowned, clearly confused. “Could the baby have lived?” he asked.

“Oh, no, there wasn’t a baby, that is, she was just barely along, Sir. Not more than a month or two. They said she didn’t even know she had it to lose. Just that afterwards, well, the bleeding never stopped. She soon fell asleep and died before morning when the midwife could get here.”

Caldhart stood looking towards the little church, and past it at the graveyard. He shuddered involuntarily. Of all the possible outcomes, including ones quite unsavoury, this was one contingency on which he had not counted. He had a great deal of thinking to do.

They spent the night in the little inn at Lophook. The owners showed themselves to be good respectable people. His Lordship, like his driver, was convinced that their story of Lydia Bennet’s death was true. The next morning Higgins prepared the team to drive back to London. His Lordship came out later than expected, his countenance grave. It was obvious he had had very little sleep.

“Back to London, Sir?”

“No, Higgins, we are for Portsmouth,” he told his astonished driver.

He was not a master at chess for nothing. The matter of bribing a sea captain to falsify a marriage record for a woman already deceased, and a man of whom Caldhart at least had told the dear captain was deceased, was child’s play. Play with fifty pounds in notes attached to it, but successful play in the end. He now held in his one pocket the key to restoring the Bennet’s reputation. Captain Gregory would swear to anyone who asked that he had indeed performed the ceremony uniting Lydia Bennet and George Wickham in holy wedlock. Even in July, four full months before he had ever heard their names.

In the other he held the proof for Elizabeth that he had found her sister. All he needed to do now was carefully word everything he would tell her about her sister. If she learned of Lydia’s demise, he was sure that she would not give in. He had committed far too much of his time and himself, financially and emotionally, to give her up now. She was already his as far as he was concerned; he merely needed her approving signature on the documents to confirm it.

When he returned to London, Lord Robert did not immediately run to Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s side. One would think that he would present the marriage certificate and the small personal effect of Miss Lydia Bennet’s to his amorata, and demand his rights to her. But, where many an amateur rake would have done just that, this consummate seducer knew he had to perfect one final cog in his machinations. After reading through his correspondence, his next order of business was to visit a certain tavern.

Unlike the times past when Lord Caldhart had given the Fox and Badger his custom, this visit was hallmarked by his lack of hiding his gentry accent or manners. When Miss Sally brought him his ale, she almost fainted when her sweet old granddad of a customer revealed himself to be significantly more.

“I should’ve known,” she later admonished, “I said yer hands was much to pretty to be common. You never did a hard days work in yer life, have you then?”

“Indeed not, Madam,” he answered.

“So, Master high and mighty, what do your want with the likes of me?” she asked, her suspicion clear.

“I have an offer to make to you, Miss Murdock.”

“Ha, know that too, do you? I see you’re a clever one, you are.”

“Perhaps clever, but so are you, and when you hear a good deal, I do not think you will be foolish enough to turn it down.”

She regarded him for a few moments. “Well?” she finally demanded, with a questioning shrug of her shoulders.

“I want Wickham,” he stated simply.

Her mouth dropped, as she shook her head. “Oh, no! You won’t talk me into that! Your rich friend already tried! What makes you think I would give in to the likes of you?”

“Have you ever heard of a girl by the name Henrietta Scroggins?” he calmly asked.

Her face instantly betrayed the sting his barb had inflicted. “No, Henrietta is gone! There ain’t nothing between them, he told me so himself.”

“You are correct Miss Pru, Henrietta is gone from London, but what your faithful lover failed to inform you, is that she is now living, and keeping house with George, in Carlisle. A girl on each end of the line, very convenient for him, I must say.”

She slammed her tankard of ale onto the tabletop, a slew of curse words spewing from her, in a most unladylike manner. When she had finally stopped and her breathing began to return to some semblance of order, she spoke directly to him again.

“What do you want me to do?”

Chapter Twelve

Today was too important to be flustered, he chastised himself. Today he would attempt to finalize all the things he had set in motion so long ago. He gazed again at his image in the full length mirror. His valet had done an admirable job, yet still he was nervous.

Arrangements with Pru Murdock had gone completely to plan. His spies sent letters daily, detailing Wickham’s moves. His victim had no idea he was being monitored at all times, and luckily, was sticking to his regular routine. All the pieces were lined up. The final assault was to begin.

He had Mrs. Johnson followed earlier that day and, after she had her midday meal with the Gardiners, he arranged to come upon her several blocks from their home on a street where there were fewer pedestrians to overhear them.

He approached her, followed by the maid and footman he had brought along with him. “Mrs. Johnson, please forgive this intrusion upon you, but I would ask if you could spare me some of your time?” She stood immobile, but nodded slightly to allow him to continue. “I have some important news to convey to you, and feel that it would be best if we discuss this at my home.”

“You wish for me to accompany you to your house, alone, Sir?” she asked incredulously.

“Please Mrs. Johnson; I have brought my footman and maid to accompany you. We can take my carriage and, after it has dropped me at the front of my house, the three of you can continue to the stables and enter in the rear. No one need ever know you came to my house. Please, I have news of the utmost importance of which I must speak with you, and swear upon my honour you will be safe.”

He spoke sincerely, and well he knew it. He had no intentions of trying to seduce her against her will. Her acquiescence was everything to him. Winning it was his real interest. He gestured to a plain, though fine, carriage further down the street. She thought for a few moments. It was torture to him; without a chance to speak at length to her, he would have serious problems reaching an agreement with her.

Finally she pursed her lips tightly together and answered. “Your servants had better attend to their master’s promises as well, Sir. Or I promise them, I will not be merciful if you deceive me.”

The two stood astonished at the lady’s bold statement, but Lord Robert immediately stepped in. “You heard the lady; do you understand your responsibility to her and to her safety, then?”

“Yes Madam!” they both answered. And the group was off.

Elizabeth refused to look out her window, lest someone look in and see who rode in the coach with his Lordship. She, along with the maid and footman, sat opposite him, closely studying their laps. Lord Robert was deposited, and the coach brought around, before she dared to look up and see the house he had. It was a very large house for town, quite richly adorned outside, and the gardens were well kept and elegant. After being handed out and guided toward the doors in the rear, however, she no longer had a mind to pay attention to her surroundings. She was directly shown to the drawing room, thought it took some time due to the size of the house.

Lord Robert already awaited her. He dismissed the servant and locked the door behind him. Then, in an extraordinary show of gentlemanly behaviour, and before she could protest about the door, he walked directly to her, bowed, and handed her the key. “Miss Bennet, we have started a course in the recent past of perfect frankness. I would like, with your permission, to continue in that vein. I find it extremely inconvenient, not to mention tedious, to have to speak in innuendo or metaphors, so I ask your permission to be plain.”

She nodded slowly, while turning the key over and over in her hand.

“Good, excellent. Miss Bennet, please understand that, no matter what you may be thinking, I have never, and will never, force a woman against her will. I will not force you to do anything you do not wish, and you are completely safe from my person while you are here. Do you understand?” She nodded again, her fine eyes never leaving his face.

“However, I will use everything in my power to make you want to follow my wishes.” She coughed slightly as this bold statement caught her off guard. “Make no mistake Madam; I will not give in to tears, empty promises or foolish notions of marriage vows. My terms are simple; I want you with me, as my mistress. The length of time can be negotiated later, but certainly not less than five years.”

Her face was once again incredulous, twice in less than an hour. She spoke softly. “Why not offer marriage? You are a single gentleman, I am a single lady, you could offer for me.”

He burst out laughing. “What possible inducement could make me want to marry again?”

“You could do it, if for nothing less than making the object of your affections more willing to come to you.”

“My sons would have my head! Besides, my offer is good enough without the inducement of matrimony.”

She shrugged her shoulders. They stopped once again, assessing one another.

“Well?” she finally demanded. “You did say you had news of utmost importance my Lord, do you not think it is time to share it?”

He reached into his breast pocket and carefully removed his prize. Unfolding the plain linen handkerchief, he revealed a finer lace trimmed one. He carefully handed it to Elizabeth, who reached for it with trembling hands. The initials in the corner were clear.

She stroked it tenderly over and over again. No tear fell, no sigh, no flood of emotions came forth from her, which puzzled Lord Robert exceedingly. “Have you seen her then?” she asked.

“No, one of my men found her.”

“And what has happened to her? Is she here in London? May I see her?”

“I cannot tell you where she is or let you see her yet, now can I?”

Elizabeth looked up to him frowning.

“Come now Miss Bennet, this is no time to forget where you are, and to whom you are speaking. If I merely told you that I could restore your sister’s reputation and would make everything right, would you believe me? Of course not! You hold in your hand the proof that I have found your sister and the evidence that I indeed can do what I promise. A very necessary part of our negotiations, is it not?”

“You back me into a corner and leave me with no other choice.”

“You always have the ability to say no.”

“But you hold all the cards!” she said exasperated.

“Yes, my dear, such is the way of a good player, isn’t it?”

“How do you propose to restore Lydia?”

“I will procure proof that your sister and Wickham were married the night they left Brighton.”

“Is that true?”

“No. But I can make it the truth.”

“What is the truth?”

He hesitated as he decided what to tell her. “Wickham abandoned her several months ago.”

Her face dropped and the weight of that statement showed heavily in her eyes. She sat for a long while pondering over all he had said so far. Several more minutes passed until she finally spoke. “Why would Wickham agree to such a thing? She has no money to tempt him, even to lie to a false marriage. Our family would advertise it to the entire world, and he would never be able to marry the rich heiress he wants to.”

“I do not believe Wickham would object were he no longer in England to hear the rumours about his marriage.”

“You would send him away? How would you get Lydia to agree? Would she go with him?”

“I think it could be managed for both of them to no longer be here,” he answered carefully. He was very hopeful; she had gone from unwilling to bargain, to starting to argue the details.

Elizabeth stared once again at him. He could tell she knew he was hiding more information than he was divulging, but she knew he also would not play all his cards at once. He was a superior player, after all.

“I am still not convinced that becoming your mistress will not affect my family’s respectability. How can living with you, possibly bearing your children out of wedlock, fail to hurt my family?”

“As far as children, I feel that would not be an issue; none of my last three mistresses ever conceived, so I would think it hardly likely” She looked startled at such a frank admission, and then relieved, too relieved for his ego as he answered rather forcefully, “Make no mistake, Madam, you would share my bed and I would be your lover. However such pleasures never guarantee offspring.” She blushed furiously, but chose to ignore his last remark. “And I have already told you, you can come to me as Mrs. Johnson if you like, or any name that you like, your family would never know.”

“Leave my family?”

“You cannot live both lives, you would have to choose.”

She stopped, and looked into the blazing embers in the fireplace before her. Several minutes passed. “What would I tell them? They would surely try to look for me.”

“You could leave a note saying that you are well, that you chose to leave, and that you do not wish for them to find you. However, I do not recommend it. I would advise you simply walk out one day. They cannot be tainted by your actions, if they, along with the rest of the world, do not know what you do. They would eventually give up their search for you; they gave up on Lydia, did they not?” Elizabeth winced at his words.

He saw the surrender in her face, the lack of defiance in her stature and, like a predator sensing the final victory, he moved next to her, speaking intimately to her, caressing her insecurities and coaxing her. “There is so little a woman can do in this world, is there, my Dear? You have so few freedoms - choices that are not given to you -even the choice of pursuing an injustice against your family. Your hands are tied by the men in your family, the authorities that make the laws, and the men who walk the streets at night and might cause you harm should you venture out. All these things men do against you, yes?

“Yet without the aid of a man, you will not succeed in that which you most desire. You won’t find Lydia, and Wickham will go on to the next unsuspecting victim; another girl to ruin, a shopkeeper to cheat, a debt to dishonour.” She choked back a sob. “No one will stop him, without a man to intervene. Only one man, Miss Bennet: me. Only I can undo all the evil the man has wrought. Only I can see your desires to fruition.”

Her body leaned ever so slight towards him as she quietly said, “Never to see them again? Never to see Jane?” Her face now turned up to him.

He knew she had no idea what a submissive picture she presented. He was very close now. “Yes, it is the only way.”

She suddenly caught herself again, her shoulders straightening back up and the defiance once again gleamed in her eyes as she spoke more loudly. “No, my Lord, it is the only way, if I agree to come to you.”

He was no longer worried; he had the final card here, and was now ready to play it. His voice rose to her level. “Yes, it is the price I ask. You must live with me and everything you suspect that encompasses. And in return, I will wipe away Lydia’s shame, give your sisters their chance at a future, give your mother and father their respectability back, and I will give you the satisfaction of having what you want the most”

“What I want?”

“Yes Miss Bennet, what you most desire.”

Her brow arched, as if to challenge him. “What I desire? And what would that be?”

“The one thing you have yet to voice, the one thing you pretend to ignore but dream about most waking moments. The one thing that only a rich, powerful man without morals or standards, who is willing to bargain with you, can provide. The one thing only I can provide. It is time to lay out all your cards; name your price, Madam.”

Silence.

“Say it, Elizabeth! Make the request!” Their eyes locked.

At last she spoke without the least hint of emotion. “I want George Wickham dead.”

“Yes, you do.”

Posted on Sunday, 27 November 2005

Chapter Thirteen

Elizabeth stood staring once again into the small flames that helped to keep the spring coolness at bay in the lovely drawing room. This visit had finally afforded her the chance to take in her surroundings in more detail. The room had lofty ceilings, beautifully painted with brilliant frescos. The furnishings, while not new, were of the highest quality; elegant instead of ornate. She had to admire the man at least for his excellent taste; it reflected in his person, as well as his home. She wondered if his Surrey estate would prove as handsome. She could hear Lord Robert and the two men conferring quietly across the room. Finally he crossed to her, and directed her to sit, while the attorneys kept their counsel out of hearing range.

“Miss Bennet, there are some points in the document I wish for you to be clear about before we proceed,” he said hesitantly. “If you do not agree to any of these, you must tell me now, so we may change anything needed before finishing.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“It cannot be stated legally that you request for me to lie or forge a document for you.” She started, but he stayed her words with a raise of his hand. “The law however, like most things, is easy enough to manipulate to work to both our advantages. We simply will state I must provide you with proof of the marriage between your sister and Mr. Wickham last July. I only wanted you to realise how it must be worded.”

“I thank you.”

“There is also a small settlement of two thousand pounds, which I have made upon you, should I expire while we are still living together. You are, of course, free to keep any jewels, gowns and gifts I give you during that time. In addition, you will have an income of twelve hundred pounds per annum while you live with me, excluding your living expenses and, most especially, your wardrobe.”

“That is very generous, Sir. However, I hardly need twelve hundred pounds if I am living in your home, and you are providing for my clothing.”

“Then consider me overly generous, as the issue of your wardrobe is not negotiable. I have very specific standards, and I know from experience a woman will try to economize for the sake of pocket change, or to increase the number of gowns she owns. Therefore, I insist on footing your dress bill.”

“As you wish, your Lordship. I thank you.”

“You are most welcome. There is another point, more precarious I fear.” He pursed his lips.

“Wickham.” She answered for him.

He lowered his voice, “Yes. You must know having a written document detailing any harm to him would guarantee a bleak future for us both. I must ask you to trust me on this point; for, though my intentions towards you may not have been honourable, they have always been honest. I ask you now to trust that I will deliver him to you, but it cannot be in this document.”

She had not been worried he might renege on any of his promises, but his last words, rather than comforting, began to worry her, indeed.

He sought to assuage her anxiety. “Miss Bennet, understand me; think of my history. I do not desire a reluctant woman, I want you with me of your own volition, and satisfied with the arrangements. How could we spend the next years together if we started out on such an unhappy footing? I will do this, I promise you.”

She did not have to think long. He was right. She dare not ask for such a clause. The attorneys might feel obligated to reveal the document, should anything happen to Wickham. She wanted no one else involved now that she was so close to seeing her hunger for revenge satiated. She no longer cared if she had to take a leap of faith with Caldhart. He had fulfilled everything he had promised so far, and her desire for revenge was now so great, she allowed herself to fall deeper into the abyss. It was remarkably simple.

“Yes, I believe you, Lord Caldhart.” She took a last resolved breath, and plunged. “I am ready.”

Half an hour later her fate was sealed; the document signed, witnessed, and copied for all interested parties to file wherever they may. He locked the door behind the departing men, and returned to her at the sofa.

“May I make a request?”

“I believe you have every right now, Sir.”

He frowned and sighed. “No Elizabeth, you have agreed to my terms, but I have yet to fulfill them. You are still your own mistress. Now, may I make a request?”

“Very well.”

“Will you remove your cap and glasses until it is time for you to return?” She shook her head in mock disapproval, then stood and removed the offending objects in front of the mantle mirror. Her hair was swept up into a functional knot, not fashionable, but preferable to her matron’s cap. She caught his gaze in the mirror and he nodded his approval before she returned to the sofa.

“We have much to discuss. I must tell you the manner in which your sister’s marriage is to have taken place, as well as how I will effect the consequent discovery of it.” She had not expected things to move quite this rapidly.

“Mr. Brooks will be receiving an anonymous tip that Captain Gregory, of the sailing ship Adventure, currently docked in Portsmouth, married your sister and George Wickham late last July while sailing for the American colonies.” He looked apprehensively at her, yet she did not flinch. “As you already know, this did not actually occur.”

“Yes, and the Gardiners and Jane will want to know what Wickham was doing back in London last January,” she calmly added.

“Who else knew Wickham was then in London?”

“I do not know if anyone informed my father. I, that is, we no longer communicate. I suspect not, for I would have heard of it from my uncle. Do you have an alibi for Wickham’s presence?”

“Actually, I do not believe we should try to excuse it.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I think we should let your relatives think Wickham sailed with Lydia to America, and then several months later returned without her. Whether he abandoned her completely or not, is not for us to determine, and I dare say the Gardiners would not want to pursue it further. As it stands, he will be Lydia’s husband; what quantity of a husband is not important in the grander scheme. Your sister and your family will be restored. As long as Lydia does not care about her present circumstances with her reputed husband, the rest of the world will not be concerned.

“The pressing point is when the marriage becomes known, you must arrange for anyone who knew Wickham was here in January to swear not to tell anyone else in your family. If news of a possible rift between them leaks out, the validity of the marriage might be questioned.”

Elizabeth thought of her mother’s propensity to tell any of their neighbours her joys as well as her vexations. She knew there was little chance her mama would keep her daughter’s troubled marriage to her self. She could see the wisdom in keeping Wickham’s winter sojourn to London from everyone at Longbourn.

“Lydia has agreed to this?”

He swallowed hard, and looking her directly into her eyes, lied. “Yes, she has agreed to the false marriage. And ….I have convinced her to take the trip to America. I will set her up with a sufficient income to live on. Perhaps one day she might even marry.”

“America!” said Elizabeth, astonished. “Will I be able to see her before she leaves?”

“Are you sure you wish to, my dear?”

“I may never see her again!”

“True, but do you think you can lie to her? Do you think you deflect any questions she would ask about where her Wickham was, why he was not sailing with her? Can you speak to her, and not betray your hatred of the man you are bent upon for revenge?”

His concerns were fair enough. Her emotions were difficult to conceal. Part of her was still furious at Lydia for all she had forced Elizabeth to endure. However, a larger part of her was concerned for Lydia, and felt someone in the family should see her one last time, make sure she was well, before she travelled so very far away.

“Yes, my Lord, I believe I am capable, and I do wish to see her.”

“Will you not call me Robert?” He asked unexpectedly. She turned away, too shy to look at him.

“I am sorry, Lord Caldhart. Perhaps someday, but you ask too much at present.”

“It is no matter, a trifle. You will be able to see her, but it will have to be done after the marriage has been revealed, and before we two see Wickham.”

“But what of Wickham? Will he not object after hearing of his own marriage?”

“Perhaps he would, but I do not think he will ever hear. Do you, my Dear?” The implications of his statement and his manner chilled something inside her. Someone who could seem so cold and calculating over such important issues made her shiver.

“Yes, I see.” She stared into the flames once more. “The timing must be very precise.”

“We have but a few days between your family discovering the marriage, and our, ‘meeting’ shall we say, with Wickham.”

“You have seen him then? You know where he is?”

“Yes, to both.” A small smile crept upon her face; it was tiny, yet disturbing. Her eyes were unfocused, deep in another place. When she spoke, her eyes did not look at him; they looked through him.

“When?”

“Very soon; next week if the weather holds.”

“The weather?”

“For travelling, there are many miles to traverse.”

“For me?”

“No you shall remain here, and continue to work at your shop. You must still be there when the news of the marriage arrives. I want you to see that deed done by me. I can arrange for you to see Lydia afterwards, but you must also stay in town until we meet with Wickham. Your whereabouts must be accounted for, Elizabeth.” She slowly nodded again. “In the meanwhile, I suggest you reflect about what you will wish to do with your business.”

“The cigar shop?”

“Yes, your Toby and the Gardiners have an investment in the place. I believe you would be distressed if they went into debt over losing the artist who creates their products, or if Toby was left without a position, would you not?”

“I have given it great deal of thought of late. Two months ago I began compiling more detailed notes of my customer’s preferences, along with explanations, similar to recipes, of the blends I have made. When finished, I shall have a comprehensive manual of my techniques and practices at the shop. I think Mr. Gardiner and Toby could manage admirably with it. There is only one concern I have; the choosing of the leaves. My uncle has no talent for it.”

“What of Toby?”

“Yes, Toby’s senses have been having quite an education of late,” she said with a pointed look at Lord Robert. “I believe if I took him with me, and focused on training his nose to what is quality and not, he could become a good substitute for Mrs. Johnson in a short time.”

“Is your business busy enough to justify hiring another employee? If you had someone to take over your position at the desk, it would leave you more time to train Toby in the ways of your artistic talents, and leave a functioning business behind when you left.”

“Yes, my Lord, I may be able to do it all.”

“Excellent! You have eleven days.”

“Eleven days!”

“Within a day or two, yes.” He mentally calculated again. “Best to use eleven. When your family learns of the marriage, your uncle may well suggest you give up the shop. So it is of little consequence.”

This man amazed her. All of these transactions, as if they were selling ribbons and cheese. If he had not been born to his wealth and his title, she thought he would have been a clerk somewhere, in an austere office, pushing his pen up and down columns, moving numbers on a page as easily as he was now moving people’s lives around. Had she ever have a chance against him? It mattered not now, but saddened her all the same. Another involuntary shudder claimed her.

“My dear, you are cold,” he said as he slid close to her. Her automatic reaction was to back away from him; the result of years of proper lady-like training. He chuckled.

“I am sorry, Sir. I cannot undo the years of my mama’s training in one afternoon.” His eyes betrayed his obvious ardour, but he made no move again towards her person. She calmed a bit, and decided to forge ahead to the point she was most curious about.

“And when shall we…“ She struggled for the correct term. “When shall I come to you?”

“I believe it will be Saturday the fifteenth, if I have fulfilled all your terms by then. Have you decided on how we shall address you? Do you wish to be known by your rightful name, or Mrs. Johnson?”

“No Sir, I do not wish my name to be known to any here. I have chosen a new identity.”

His brows lifted in anticipation.

“I will be Chantal Moreau, a refugee from France. I have no family left after the Terror and Bonaparte’s conscription of my last living relative, my oldest brother Jean, who died two years ago. My family was of little consequence in society, but wealthy enough to provide for their children’s education, and allowed me to be raised as a lady, such as I am. Do you approve?”

“Hmmm ‘Dark Songstress’ Chantal Moreau.” He allowed the name to roll over his tongue like a fine vintage. “Yes, I like it very well, indeed. And do you sing, Miss Moreau?”

“Please, you must not address me as such now. I am here as Mrs. Johnson, and I do not wish the servants to be confused or hear my new name, until I enter here without my disguise. But to answer your question, yes, my Lord, I sing and play, though very ill I’m afraid; I would not wish to excite your anticipation.”

“Would you play for me now?’

“I think not, Sir. My repertoire is not so vast, and I do not wish to play something the staff would recognise again later. Please forgive me.”

“Of course.“ He leaned forward, slowly taking in her hair and the features of her face in detail. She was nervous at finding herself so scrutinized.

“Have you ever been kissed?” he whispered.

Her mouth gaped open. “You are very forward!” she admonished.

“On the contrary, if I was very forward I would have asked if I could kiss you. I merely wish to know if you have been kissed.”

She looked at him, all astonishment. “Yes,” she finally said.

He frowned. “By a man?”

“Yes.”

“And you were grown, not a girl?”

“Yes.”

He pouted. “What was his name?”

“Thomas.”

Now he looked perturbed. “And his last name?”

“Bennet.”

He rolled his eyes. “I should have known better.” He sat for a few moments then finally asked, “Elizabeth, have you ever been kissed by a fully grown man, who was not related to you in anyway, after you were the age of say, sixteen?”

She thought a moment and began to answer when he quickly intervened. “And not on the hand!”

This made her stop, and she shyly bent her head away again, and shook it.

“Excellent.”

Warning! The following chapters contain scenes of violence and intense situations equivalent to a PG-13 rating. They are not suitable for younger readers.

Chapter Fourteen

The reflection that returned Elizabeth’s gaze from the confines of the battered mirror in the old inn was enough to make any young woman startle. She had never worn a pair of breeches before, and was surprised to see her figure so blatantly displayed. Grateful to have bound her breasts that morning when setting out as Mrs. Johnson, she decided some extra padding around her stomach would be necessary to properly proportion her hips to her waist. She simply looked too womanly without it. Finally satisfied with the shape of her figure under her coarse shirt, she buttoned everything up and then took up the small cravat. Luckily, she had taken an interest when she was a young girl in her father’s cravats and now, with nary a trouble, she tied a simple configuration under her chin. A knock at the door warned her to be expedient. She had a trying time with her hair; there was a great deal and it was very difficult to tuck it all under the cap but, in the end, she succeeded. Looking over herself one last time, she determined that, just as when dressed as Mrs. Johnson, too much of her obviously feminine face was visible and she reached once again for her glasses before she left her room.

Lord Caldhart’s eyes betrayed his wonder and amusement as he inspected her when she finally opened her door. He nodded his approval of her newest disguise and they headed down the hallway to begin the journey in his coach. Elizabeth thought back on the last days as his driver slowly made his way into the roughest parts of London.

She had stealthily been giving Higgins small packages containing the few precious articles she insisted upon having with her in her new home. There was not much, mostly nostalgic items and a few personal effects she did not wish to part with or replace. She had also sent two day dresses and a few personal undergarments to tide her over until her new wardrobe could be purchased. Her letters she would bring with her on Saturday, as she did not trust anyone with those most treasured possessions.

The instructions she had started to compile in March were now completed. Mr. Whitaker, her co-worker from Mr. Gardiner’s clock shop, was working out splendidly as the newest addition to Johnson‘s. He was trustworthy and experienced and Elizabeth now felt confident, albeit still guilty, her uncle could keep Johnson’s going strong if he wished to do so after she disappeared, although it would not be easy.

The last two days had been quite tumultuous. Mr. Brooks had returned from Portsmouth with the news of the marriage, and of Lydia and Wickham’s travels to America. Elizabeth had been quick to suggest the Gardiners host a conference with Mr. Brooks and have Jane included. It was far easier than she would have thought to suggest that, although the Wickham’s were now married, the status of their questionable happiness need not be told to the rest of the Bennets. The men questioned Elizabeth once again on what she had witnessed between Sally and Wickham. Had she thought he had abandoned his wife, or was he merely back in London enjoying himself, though not respectably?

She owned either was possible, but as it was, they were not able to prove any conjecture, therefore, what good would come of telling her father and mother? All agreed to spare her parents and other sisters’ feelings and, more importantly, not risk the reputation which was about to be repaired.

As Lord Robert had predicted, her aunt and uncle had brought up the futures of Elizabeth and Jane. Elizabeth stated emphatically she did not wish to give up her employment, nor return to Longbourn, while Jane said she would want to think on it. Jane knew the Parkers should not be completely abandoned until a replacement for her could be found, and she was dearly attached to her two little wards. For the time being, she wanted to remain where she was. Therefore, the discussion of the futures of the sisters was postponed.

Mrs. Johnson had not gone to her cigar shop today; the first time since its opening. It was a strange feeling spending the entire day at Gracechurch Street, never once searching the lanes. She had claimed fatigue to her aunt in the late afternoon, while the sun was still low in the sky. With a basket packed full of her dinner, she set off for home. Soon after she arrived and had eaten her meal, she headed back out for the long walk to the rendezvous point with Higgins. She was very surprised to see Lord Caldhart waiting for her inside the plainest of coaches. She was even more surprised to see him dressed no better than Toby.

“Are you for disguises then, my Lord?”

“Tonight we are both, my Dear. We shall have to stop and have you change as well.”

“I am already in disguise, Sir.”

“True, but it would be better for you if you dress as you will soon see.”

She was shocked after being told she would be dressing as a boy of no more than fourteen. He had explained the area they were going to was not safe for most women, not even the dowdy Mrs. Johnson, and he wished to take no risks with her. They were to go to an inn first, where she could make the change, and then continue on to their final destination. As they were only accompanied by Higgins, and had no other protection, she had no choice but to trust him. She wondered in what squalor Lydia must be living for his Lordship to be this worried. Having not seen Lydia, he perhaps had only his men’s word as to her conditions.

Now thoroughly disguised, they at last stopped on a dark street. The noises and smells spoke worlds to her of the quality of the neighbourhood. They walked for several minutes before they came to a large tavern at the end of the street.

They entered through the back of the establishment, but not before Lord Caldhart had also donned a large hat, pulling it well down over his face and raising his collar up, sufficiently hiding most of his features. A rough man nodded to Higgins, and then led them to a small room, little more than a storage closet, in the rear. Caldhart motioned to Higgins to stand guard outside the closed door while he sat Elizabeth upon one of the low-lying casks. He took her hand; a deep frown crossed his face. Several moments went by, until Elizabeth began feeling a very strong premonition; he was trying to impart some very bad news to her. She finally could not stand the tension he was creating. “Tell me.”

He looked into her face, startled at her perceptiveness, and nodded. “We have not come here tonight to see your sister. I have received word today,” he hesitated again, closed his eyes and all at once said, “Elizabeth, Lydia suffered a miscarriage and has died.”

She blinked at him as though not understanding. The last words, “a miscarriage and has died” played over and over in her head. She could feel a rush of energy fill her body, making her heart pound at what seemed like a thousand beats per minute, yet her face remained stoic. She did not know it, but her hand was gripping his almost painfully. She finally released it, standing quickly then taking a deep breath she turned to him, and demanded, “Why are we here?”

He moved to the door and opened it wide, then nodded to Higgins and indicated the door across the hall. Higgins opened it and revealed a larger, more spacious room. There in the centre, tied heavily to a chair, gagged and blindfolded, was George Wickham.

The room was dank and stark at best. There was no fire, or windows, and surprisingly little noise could be heard from the main room of the tavern below. A large wooden table, cut and scraped over the years, bore several bottles of wine, mugs, old plates with crumbs and a lamp. On the far end, lying upon a large opened sailcloth were a dagger, a foil, a length of rope and a small, pearl handled pistol.

Elizabeth slowly entered the room, her eyes never wavering from Wickham. Finally, she looked down and noticed the table and its contents. She looked over each one, in between raising her head at Wickham, as though he might somehow be gone if she did not keep a close eye on him. After perusing the entire room, her hand reached for one of the wine bottles while she grabbed a mug with the other and filled it to the top with the heavy red liquid. She hesitated but an instant, before allowing the stinging substance to drain down her throat with one very long drink. She coughed slightly when the empty mug was once again set down, causing Wickham’s head to cock, trying to ascertain whom he was hearing.

“Shall I see about getting you some food?” Caldhart asked her, with a rough accent. She shook her head, still staring at Wickham. Neither Higgins nor his master had moved an inch since she walked into Wickham’s ‘jail cell’. Both men regarded her curiously, if not a bit warily. She moved about the room like a predator; they both recognized it.

She soon noticed her audience as well and, perturbed at being considered a performance, spoke, “Leave us, now.”

Caldhart was taken slightly aback, but agreed. “If you need anything, we shall be standing guard directly outside the door.” She nodded again, turning back to Wickham whose head was once again straining to hear his captor’s voices, no doubt try to guess their identities.

She found another wooden chair in the corner and pulled it up in front of him, inspecting him closely. His hands were tied behind his back, his legs spread open and each tied down a leg of the chair with many coils. His chest had many rings of rope around it, and the high back of the chair kept his head in place as well, completely incapacitating him. Whoever bound him knew what he was doing; he could not move a muscle. They sat in silence for many minutes until she finally spoke.

“Wickham. How I have dreamt of this very moment.” She suddenly stood up and walked quickly to him. Sticking out a single pointed finger, she touched his collarbone where it was exposed thru his shirt. She could hear his sharp breath as his torso stiffened with her touch and realised he had no way of knowing if she was brandishing a weapon, or not. She looked back to the table, and moved to examine the instruments laid out for her.

The dagger called to her. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand. She had used many knives before, both in her shop and in the stillroom, but this dagger was heavier, it’s purpose only too obvious. She strode back over to Wickham and placed the edge of the knife into his hair. She could feel him tense up, and it made her smile. Then with a quick flick of the blade, she lopped off a chunk of his hair, and the blindfold that bound his eyes. Like a dog yelping at seeing his master’s hand raised, Wickham had yelped as well.

“Coward,” she hissed.

She was standing behind him, giving his eyes a chance to accustom themselves to the light of the lamp. She slowly walked back and faced her adversary. He had no recognition on his face.

“You do not know, do you? You still have not discovered who you are dealing with, nor why, have you? Such a pity, we were always friends were we not? You told me so. But you do not recognise me, because I did not want you to. Let me help you now, and we will have a lovely chat before I fill you with holes.” She wrenched off the cap, her long dark hair spilling to her waist, as she removed the thick spectacles which hid the last bits of her. She bowed in front of him.

“Good Evening, Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth Bennet, here to serve you.”

And she smiled a smile he had never witnessed before; a dazzling smile full of energy, power and malevolence. He had to close his eyes from it.

Caldhart and Higgins stood outside, straining to hear the one sided conversation taking place on the other side of the door. They heard the occasional muffled cries of the captive and Elizabeth speaking for some time. Eventually an eerie silence pervaded, announcing a pending doom to both men as they stared wide eyed at one another. They waited, yet no shot rang out, no scream came forth. Both men exhaled loudly. Suddenly, as clear as day, they heard Elizabeth’s strong voice.

“This is for Lydia, and to ensure no other woman can ever suffer the same fate.”

The sound of muffled screams and breaking glass resounded together and then a deadly silence once again reigned.

Chapter Fifteen

Elizabeth carefully tucked her hair up into the cap, feeling cautiously for any stray hairs that would give away her sex. Taking one last large sip of wine, she replaced her spectacles upon her nose and opened the door to the rest of the tavern. The two men jumped at her sudden appearance, but did not hesitate to look into the room. They saw Wickham unconscious; blood and wine stained his clothing. Elizabeth’s breeches were splattered, too. Both men looked at one another and swallowed hard.

Higgins quickly traversed the room, put his hand to the man’s neck and verified, “He’s still alive.”

Elizabeth looked agitated. “Yes he’s alive!” she hissed. “If I had wanted him otherwise, he would not be!” She turned on Caldhart. “May we leave, please?”

He directed her this time through the main room and out the front door. Elizabeth kept her head down, but could not help but be strangely distracted by the men in the tavern. They looked out of place. Most had their ale mugs, but their dress was wrong: too good, actually. And she distinguished many different accents across the room. She could not account for it. However, and as there was no time to stop and investigate, she put it out of her mind.

Half an hour later, George Wickham awoke. He was surprised to find he was no longer bound to the chair in any way, though his hands were still tied behind his back and the gag was in place. A large burly man and a smaller round man were now sitting at the table, drinking some of the wine.

“Ah, finally woke up, did ya, pet?” said the larger of the two. “Lovely, lovely, got some people who’ve been asking after you, they have. Come out ’n’ meet ‘em.” He grabbed Wickham roughly by the neck and lifted him up. Wickham groaned in pain as the cut across his middle stung and the remembrance of where the bottled had landed announced itself to him with each agonizing step.

“Oh, try to be a man now.” They headed towards the main room in the tavern. As they passed out of the small hallway and into the large room, a hush fell over the crowd. Wickham hesitated for a moment, confused. He was certain he did not look very well, but surely not so bad as to make an entire room silent.

The gruff man spoke from behind him, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You might be having some trouble thinking straight right now, seeing as yer bleeding out some new holes.” Several snickers floated around. “But ya needn’t worry, Wickham, everyone here knows you, and they can’t wait to re-acquaint themselves. Now you go right out and enjoy this reunion. I knows several people have been waiting years to see you again. Each and every one will want to have a moment of your time.”

Wickham concentrated hard on the faces in front of him. Slowly he began to see straight and started to discern that the men who stood in front of him could only be described as a history, his history. His mouth opened wide as he screamed and attempted to run back through the hallway, only to be blocked by the burly man and his companion. He turned back, panicked to see the menacing crowd closing in upon him.

Behind him a man spoke quietly into his ear, “Hello, Wickham. You won’t remember me, since I was just a boy when you took my sister Jenny down to the old mill in Lambton for your romps, but I remember you.”

She had not spoken since leaving the tavern. She changed quickly at the old inn and they returned for the trip to her home.

“You could not do it?” he finally asked, as the rickety coach ambled slowly thru the streets.

“No.”

“Do you wish it still?”

“You mistake me. I meant no, I could do it. I merely chose not to do it.”

“You wish for him to live?” he asked, surprised.

“I did not wish to take his life.” She stared out the dark window. “He begged me, he begged for his life through that gag. I heard it as plain as our speech now. I realised that, in becoming his executioner, I would be guilty of greater crimes than he himself had committed. I chose to be a better person than that. I hope I am.” He nodded sympathetically.

They drove on for some time in silence, when something inside Elizabeth’s calm demeanour finally gave way. She looked over to him, tears glazing her eyes. A deep primordial wail escaped her throat, like the sound of a mother mourning her babe, and the torrent of tears came while her hands flew to bury her face.

“It is over, I have failed! There is nothing left I can do and my poor little sister, poor Lydia is dead! It was all for naught!” she sobbed.

He moved beside her and quickly took her in his arms, while she poured out the emotions pent up all these months into his shoulder. The coach had somehow stopped while she continued.

When at last he could bear it no more, he removed her head, cradling it in his hands, and spoke with great feeling, “I cannot agree with you. You have done everything that could be done. Your family has been restored and your sisters have a chance to find happiness. You have done this. If you had not been searching for them, we would never have met and I could never have helped you. Lydia still would have died, and your family would be more wretched than ever. You have given so many a future, Elizabeth. Will you not admit to yourself that you have done them good?”

Her sniffles jerked her body in his arms; a deep frown creased her forehead. “But Lydia?”

“Could not have been helped by anyone. Once she chose to leave with Wickham last summer, her fate was decided. Had you found her earlier, you would not have had the means to falsify a marriage, and she still would not have lived because of the child; you know this to be true.” He could see her testing the reason of his statements. She started to calm, as her acceptance took hold.

“Her death was of her and Wickham’s making, Elizabeth; you are not responsible.”

She nodded slowly, her lower lip quaking sweetly, as her tears quietly rolled down her cheeks. She accepted it. She could mourn the loss of Lydia, but she would not blame herself. She lay her head back down upon his arm while she wept silently for her sister. They sat for hours while he patiently comforted her, and she gave her emotions free reign.

“How do you feel?”

“Extraordinarily tired, but relieved. I think I may finally sleep tonight.”

“You do not sleep?”

“Not since coming to London have I enjoyed a restful night’s sleep,” she answered flatly.

“In what manner are you relieved?”

“Because I am finally done. There is nothing more I can do for my family, and the burden I have felt this past year no longer enslaves me. The outcome has not been a happy one, but it is an ending.”

“And are you satisfied?”

“Sir?”

“Do you believe the terms of our arrangement have been satisfactorily carried out? Is there any part I have not fulfilled?”

“No, my Lord, I… I thank you for all you have done. As you have often stated, I could not have done this without you.”

“You are very welcome. I have another request, please forgive me if it seems inconsiderate given the turn of events this evening, but I think you would find it a sound idea once I have explained myself.”

He hesitated, deciding how to broach the subject. “Elizabeth, you will have to conceal your sister’s death from your family.”

Her eyes once again brimmed with tears. “I know, I have been thinking the same. Unfortunately, I cannot fathom a way to reveal her passing without undoing all that we have done.”

“My Dear, I am truly sorry that you must bear this terrible knowledge by yourself. I cannot disagree with you. There is no story we could concoct to justify Lydia being in England, with her husband and with child, and not contacting your family; nor of Wickham’s failure to write to your mother and father of their daughter’s passing.

“I propose a slight alteration to our plans. Would you be willing to dine early with me tomorrow? I know our agreement starts on Saturday, which would mean that one minute after midnight tomorrow would be the start of our new life, but I should like to have the pleasure of your company during the evening. I think the opportunity to distance yourself from your family during this difficult time might prove easier for you in the end. I know it will not be easy for you to leave them, but now, with this wretched situation, I think it would be torturous to spend an extended time in their presence having to act cheerful. If I am mistaken, please do not feel obligated to rush yourself.”

Her shoulders drooped, sadness written plainly upon her face. “No, my Lord, you speak sense.”

She considered his proposal. It did not escape her that he would benefit from an earlier rendezvous, but he was correct. It was going to be difficult tomorrow while in her aunt and uncle’s presence. Seeing Jane however, and knowing that she must keep Lydia’s death from her dearest sister, would be torture.

“I will come to you tomorrow evening. Will you make the arrangements with Higgins to visit an inn before I come to your door? It will be time for Chantal Moreau to make her appearance in your home at last.”

He raised her hand to his lips, bestowing upon it a gentle, though prolonged kiss.

“It will be my pleasure, my Dear.”

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Friday, 2 December 2005

London, May 14th, 1813

Her final day as a free and independent woman was spent with those Elizabeth treasured most in the world; her loved ones. She arranged to meet with Jane and the Parker girls in the morning at the park, then stayed with her aunt and uncle for the rest of the day and played with her little cousins till she had exhausted them.

The Gardiners had commented on her strained face; the remnants of the tears that had fallen the night before, and her sad parting with Jane earlier. She reassured them she had simply been so overwhelmed by their great good fortune, she gave into her pent up emotions and had herself a good cry. Unfortunately, it was just before she fell asleep the night before and thus the swollen red eyes this afternoon. They humoured her good naturedly, and did not question her further after seeing her complexion improve throughout the day. She bid them farewell in the late afternoon, trying hard not to allow her embrace to linger too long, nor allow her eyes to betray her emotions at this painful adieu, just as she had with Jane earlier in the day.

She perused her room; satisfied the place looked well. Gone were the maps, notes, and scribbles she had pored over the past six months. They had all been burned along with any trace of the obsession she had given into. Her clothes were clean and neatly stored in her chiffarobe. The bed was made, the furniture dusted, the entire room was neat and tidy. She gathered her bag, in which she had placed her letters, combs, brush and the gown she meant to change into for this evening’s dinner and, with one last look, left her room for the final time to begin her new life.

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