Chapter 1 -- Intimation

"William," Elizabeth called out as she walked briskly down Pemberley's great hall with James in tow. "William, it is useless to hide - we are determined to find you!"

James giggled, ever so appreciative of his mother's playful banter.

"I am here in the study, my dear. Is anything the matter?"

"No, nothing at all. I merely wished to inquire whether we should have the good fortune of your company as we take a turn about the grounds."

James broke away from his mother's grip and ran toward the sound of his father's voice. The loud patter of leather shoes on oak flooring gave Darcy ample warning to set aside pen and paper, and catch the young lad flying onto his lap.

"Papa, you promised that we should all promenade when the weather turned fair, and it is ever so agreeable now."

"That I did, James, and so I shall; but I must first complete some correspondence that I have postponed as long as I could. Have no care; I am nearly finished, and I shall overtake you and your beautiful mother within the half-hour." Darcy smiled as he brushed aside his son's hair and kissed his forehead. "Run along now, your mother is waiting by the door."

James was more surprised than disappointed, so accustomed had he become to his father's ready attention. Indeed much to the surprise of the Darcy intimates, it was the father who had evolved into the more indulgent parent, always eager to amuse, praise and forgive; whereas the lad's chief source of disciplined instruction was his mother's cajoling voice augmented only rarely by application of a firm hand.

Lizzy collected the six-year-old and they waived in unison before closing the door to the study. A bright afternoon sun finally dissipated weeks of cold and dreary wet skies, thus signifying the first truly pleasant day of spring. Elizabeth could by no means decline such an invitation to delight, but first she had to obtain assurances of her other child. She popped into the nursery where Jenny, her lovely dark haired two-year-old, lay napping under Marion's watchful care. Elizabeth smiled and softly backed into the hall. Mrs. Reynolds helped outfit mother and son with light coats, and off they set off in high spirits toward the shed in search of food for waterfowl.

As they leisurely approached the pond, James looked thoughtfully into his mother's face. She smiled at his innocent intensity.

"What is it that you wish to ask me, James? We know each other well enough by now that I can practically read the question on your brow."

"I'm sure you cannot guess what I am thinking."

"Can I not? Oh, I am certain that you are marveling how in the world I could have been so fortunate as to have been blessed with someone so delightful as you!" Elizabeth teased.

"No, Mama, you have it all wrong," James scoffed. "I was just wondering who is older - you or papa? That is all."

Elizabeth grinned. "Why, James, do I suddenly look so old to you that you cannot tell? Ha! Your father must be wearing his years very happily indeed, for he is seven full years older than I. That is hardly the sort of question to ask of a woman when you wish to make a favorable impression! But what prompts your question, my dear?"

The boy's face brightened with relief. "Oh, I was just worried that you were older than papa and so you would be the first to die. I am so happy that you will be with Jenny and me for seven more years after papa dies."

"Die, James? What makes you think of such a thing? Was it because Caesar died last winter?" She brushed his cheek with her hand and added softly. "Yes, I miss him very much too -- he was such a good dog and such good friend."

"Yes, mama, I have been thinking a lot about Caesar and how Papa kept telling Caesar to heal, but Caesar didn't know how to make himself better, did he?"

Elizabeth smiled and hugged James. "No, I'm afraid Caesar was too old for that. He was our ever-faithful companion and we shall always have fond memories of our playtimes with him, won't we?"

After walking a little farther she added. "Life is such a sweet mystery, James. Perhaps someday, when you grow to be much older, you will understand why beautiful creatures such as Caesar live and die, and you must promise that when you do, you will explain it all to me. But until then you must not worry about your father and me, for we shall stay with you and your sister for a very, very long time." She touched his nose playfully for emphasis as James hugged her waist.

As they approached the bench by the water's edge, they were welcomed by cacophonous quacks and honks as ducks and geese swam furiously toward them from the far side of the pond. James began flinging chunks of stale bread toward the ducks to prevent the geese from devouring more than their share. Soon he knelt down and let the ducks eat directly out of his hand; their furious nibbles tickling his palm so much that he giggled uncontrollably. James was careful though to hold his head away, having learned his lesson well the previous autumn when a drake mistook his lower lip for a worm and nipped it hard enough to draw tears.

Elizabeth leaned back on the bench thoroughly enjoying the tranquil scene. After half an hour James had exhausted the supply of bread and tried to hold the attention of the ducks and geese by throwing twigs and stones into the water. They quickly caught onto the deception, however, and swam away. Soon James found a supply of flat skipping stones and a new preoccupation.

Elizabeth relaxed in the warm sunshine and closed her eyes for a few moments. The past seven years had been nearly ideal. Life at Pemberley was grand, to be sure, and although she did enjoy all its advantages: the balls, the music, the solitude of the library, the walks in the magnificent garden; such pleasures had no lasting hold on Elizabeth's heart. Darcy had claimed that for himself long ago. Yes, Darcy was a good man, a faithful and loving husband and father; but Elizabeth was relieved to have proven wrong the prior assertion of his being without fault. She would have found it nearly as impossible to live with an unblemished man as to live with a Mr. Collins! On sporadic occasions Darcy had proven himself human enough to suffer irregular temperament and misunderstanding, certainly human enough to complement her own failings. So their life together, while not always smooth, was at least rich with the laughter of recognized absurdity and with the pleasures of increased intimacy that naturally accompany reconciliation.

Lizzy was lost in the smiles of recollection when a sudden shade broke the warm reverie. She opened her eyes expecting to see that a cloud had intercepted the sunlight, only to be startled by a man's shadow slowly approaching from her back.

"Darcy, how naughty of you to give me such a fright. Whatever possessed you to sneak up on me so?" But as Elizabeth rose and turned, the shock of recognition made her smile quickly vanish.

Chapter 2 - Intrusion

The intruder was all meekness. "Mrs. Darcy, please forgive my sudden appearance. It was not my intention to cause surprise or unease ..."

However much the sudden appearance of the interloper perturbed Elizabeth, she quickly regained her composure.

"Mr. Wickham!" she sharply interjected. "You are perhaps the last person I should have expected to encounter here! Whatever could have prompted you to appear unannounced?"

Wickham was taken aback more by her pointed delivery than by the justice of her sentiment. His hesitation to respond suggested to Elizabeth the possibility that some tragic event may have prompted his visit. Her tone softened immediately.

"Is all well with Lydia and the little ones? Is it on their account that you have come?"

Wickham felt relieved that the conversation had taken a more conciliatory turn. "No, that is not the case; Lydia and the children are very well, I thank you. Mildred, Agnes and Humphrey are growing up in quite a lively way, inventing fresh challenges daily for their mother's patience, it seems. Lydia is unaware of my stopping at Pemberley, or else she would have sent her love; but I shall be delighted to pass along your kind greeting."

Wickham, wanting more time for Elizabeth's temper to abate, bent down to address his nephew, who had walked over to investigate the disturbance. "And this must be James. You have changed much since you last visited us three years ago; too long a time for you to remember me, I'll wager. But you are quite the young man now, are you not, James, so fancily attired in your handsome coat and boots!"

James retreated behind his mother's dress. "Is that the man that papa dislikes so fiercely, mama?"

Elizabeth could only smile at the child's forthrightness. "James, perhaps it would be best if you were to go to the house now as I need to talk to your uncle for a bit. I shall return to collect you soon; then we shall continue with our walk."

Resenting the interruption of his pleasure, James scowled as he picked up his cap, slapped it against his leg to shake off the dirt, and began trudging back toward the house. After he had walked out of earshot, Elizabeth's attention returned to the visitor.

"Mr. Wickham, I am having great difficulty in accounting for your coming to see me without my sister's knowledge. What is the urgency of the matter that prompted such a spontaneous action? What is so important that you could not give notice of your desire to call at Pemberley? And why did you seek me here by the pond rather than call for me at the entrance of my home?"

"I must ask your forgiveness once again. The matter that motivates me is of some delicacy. For that reason I have not shared my concerns with Lydia, who, good woman though she is, has not been blessed with a large measure of discretion. I did not formally request a visit for fear of certain rejection. The importance of the matter demanded my best effort, and I determined that the most likely chance of success lay with an unannounced call. I did arrive just now with the intention of knocking at your door and requesting a quick word with you alone, so as not to antagonize Mr. Darcy needlessly. Naturally, seeing you here on the grounds facilitated my purpose."

"Mr. Wickham, after a ragged beginning we have learned to be frank with each other; at the very least you can have no doubt about my ability to be frank with you. If you have come to request additional financial assistance, I can give every assurance that Mr. Darcy will remain deaf to all such entreaties. Given the state of relations between you and my husband, that must surely come as no great shock. As you are doubtless aware, I have endeavored to help Lydia periodically by setting aside accumulated economies from my household budget; but I cannot increase such assistance at this time."

"Sister, you are quite right about my past dealings with your husband, but you mistake the reason for my visit. Both Lydia and I are most grateful for your kind assistance, but I do not come with an extended hand. I come rather to solicit your aid in presenting to Mr. Darcy a matter of importance to him, but one that he might be tempted to dismiss, given our strained relations."

Wickham produced an envelope from his coat pocket. "If you would perform the kindness to give this letter to Mr. Darcy and impress upon him the earnest manner in which I delivered it, and entreat his prompt response, I shall be much obliged."

"How very mysterious you are, Mr. Wickham!" exclaimed Elizabeth, refusing to accept the letter. "In the current circumstance I find it impossible to honor your request. I cannot in good conscience promote something that I know so little about. First divulge the contents of the letter and then I shall decide whether or not to abet your cause."

Elizabeth paused, then added acutely, "You know me well enough to respect my discretion; surely I have proved that to you more than once prior to our becoming related. You must also certainly understand that Mr. Darcy and I never allow secrets to divide us. Your secret is safe with me."

"I wholeheartedly believe that to be true, and you must understand that I intend no disrespect to you. I can only say that the matter I wish to bring to your husband's attention involves the late Mr. Darcy, and I have determined that for the sake of courtesy it is absolutely necessary to discuss the matter with your husband first."

"A secret concerning the late Mr. Darcy? Whatever can you mean? That is too vaporous an implication to provoke me; I am afraid that you must be more forthcoming."

"I am sorry that it is impossible for me to be substantive at this time, but you have my assurance that my information will be of the greatest interest to Mr. Darcy as it directly concerns not only him but also his sister Georgiana. I am staying at the Lambton Inn for the next few days -- please emphasize to Mr. Darcy the importance of meeting me there this evening or the next."

"Involving both Darcy and Georgiana? Very well, Mr. Wickham. You have succeeded in sufficiently rousing my curiosity and I shall deliver your letter, but I must give fair warning that Mr. Darcy is not likely to grant the meeting you so desperately seek."

Wickham smiled with perverse confidence as he bowed to her, gave her the letter, and kissed her hand. Elizabeth tolerated his pseudo-gallantry indifferently and returned only a weak smile. Before she began walking back toward the house, she watched him retreat to fetch his horse, jump onto the saddle in one fluid motion and trot off toward Lambton.

Chapter 3 - Wickham's Letter

Elizabeth could well believe that Wickham would rather not meet her husband at Pemberley. At the neutral setting of the Lambton Inn, Wickham's inferior rank and character would not appear at such stark disadvantage. He must have carefully premeditated the chances and consequences of his scheme.

She entered her home and found an agitated Darcy preparing to leave in search of her. James and Jenny were running after him in the hall.

"Oh, there you are, Lizzy," said her husband. "James told me of the stranger. Did Wickham really dare show his face here?"

"Yes, it was rather a shock to meet him. He has just departed for Lambton. Excuse me for a moment."

Elizabeth brought the children over to the housekeeper. "Mrs. Reynolds, I understand that Mrs. Pearce is making marzipan in the kitchen. I'm sure James would like to shape some animal figures, and maybe he can teach Jenny how do to it too. Does that sound agreeable, children?"

"Oh yes, mama," cried James. "I want to make another hog's face, only better than last week's." He grabbed Jenny's arm and dragged her down the hall. The parents then moved to the privacy of the study.

Darcy looked worried. "What the devil did that scoundrel come round here for? It can only be to our detriment."

"I share the same fears and expressed them plainly to Wickham," replied Elizabeth. "He put me off, however, requesting only that I give you this letter and strongly urge you to accept it."

Darcy carefully inspected the envelope. "I suspect that such poison ought not to be self-administered. I have a mind to toss it into the fire unopened. Said he anything about its contents?"

"Only that it pertained to some hidden dealings of your late father, but his demeanor clearly implied some unsavory business."

"So Wickham is attempting to use my father's good name in his design? It is beyond belief that any human being could seek to malign a man who has been the life-long source of his prosperity and happiness! My father attended to his every need, excessively so, and this is how he honors my father's memory?"

Lizzy agreed but added, "You should also be aware that Wickham made particular mention that the letter had equal import for Georgiana. At first I refused to accept the letter, but upon reconsideration, I felt you might want to ascertain whether Georgina may require protection in this matter."

Darcy acknowledged the implications of the situation and was grateful for his wife's concern for Georgiana. He reluctantly broke the seal and began reading aloud.

Mr. Darcy,

My regard for family duty compels me to address you in this letter. As I grow older and increasingly domesticated I have come to value good family relations above all. Although I have much to regret about our mutual past, I realize that simple apology, no matter how sincere, would be woefully inadequate to redress the wrongs I have committed. It is my sincere hope, however, that you share my belief that it is never too late for family to replace discord with harmony.

Your excellent father, in the fair and generous manner that he treated his entire household staff, made all who depended upon him feel very much like family. That he would deign to become godfather to me speaks very highly of the close relationship that existed between our late fathers. For that I shall be forever grateful.

I have come to realize that the same qualities of fairness and generosity of the late Mr. Darcy now grace his son. But it is not generosity toward myself that I now seek; rather, it is for an unknown member of your family. Let me state the matter plainly. I have in my possession strong evidence that your late father sired another son outside the marriage bond. While such surprising news will most likely precipitate disbelief and distress, I must assure you that my source of information is completely trustworthy. My sole reason for bringing this information to your attention is this: were circumstances reversed and had I a lost half-brother, I certainly would want to know. I expect that you share my sentiments.

I have spoken to no other living soul about this as I most strongly feel that such disclosure be your rightful prerogative alone. I hope that you can now appreciate the pains I have taken to convey this information to you confidentially.

If you would consent to meet with me this evening or the next at the Inn at Lambton, I will gladly show you the documentation that I possess.

Respectfully,
George Wickham

"How perfectly outrageous!" cried Elizabeth. "I did not think him this cold and calculating, to hide behind praise of family and your father's good name while simultaneously threatening his memory."

"Eternal hell is too cold a residence for a bastard like that," Darcy muttered bitterly as he began to re-read the letter carefully.

When he finished he spoke somberly. "I am certain that Wickham intends to share this discovery with the rest of society, but he will do so first with Georgiana, driven as he seems to be by strong familial considerations. That is, of course, unless I intercede with sufficient incentive to convince him to forget the matter."

"Blackmail, Darcy? Wickham has proved himself to be reckless and dishonest, but never did I imagine him capable of such malice and ingratitude as this!"

"It appears that I too have underestimated him."

"You give no credence though, to his tale about your father having an illegitimate son?"

"It sounds quite improbable," replied Darcy thoughtfully. "By all appearances my parents were devoted solely to each other. Yet, if there had been such a child, he certainly could have had reasons for wanting to maintain secrecy."

"What sort of document could Wickham possess?"

"Some sort of birth certificate would be my guess."

"It must be an extremely good forgery then, for he seems extraordinarily confident of his scheme. Wickham is no fool; surely he must know the consequences of trifling with you, Darcy."

"Yes, that is what concerns me most. Why would Wickham put himself at such great risk, why would he confront his estranged brother-in-law if indeed his allegations were unfounded? No, he must be quite certain of the authenticity of his claims, and he plans to enrich himself accordingly."

Lizzy pondered the consequences. "Why should we have to make any response to Wickham at all, Darcy? We both know him too well; this must be some sort of trick. Surely we are under no obligation to investigate his wild claims; surely we can in good conscience renounce them as false. Even if he were to make the matter public, you could censure him in disgrace. Society knows what sort of fellow he is; and Georgiana certainly would give him no credence."

Darcy pondered the matter for a few moments, finally speaking in resignation. "Wickham knows me too well. He is right. If there were the slightest chance that I have a half-brother, I would want to know."

"You are determined to meet Wickham?"

"I see no other resolution. I shall procure the documentation and have it validated. If it is true, I shall find our new brother; if false, I shall have the scoundrel cast in chains."

"Will you go this evening, then?"

"Yes, directly after supper " answered Darcy. "It is best not to permit boils such as this to fester."

Chapter 4 - The Meeting

Darcy rode his horse to Lambton at a deliberate pace, for he was by no means eager to meet the man who had proven to be such a constant thorn. Darcy recited the tableau of troubles: Wickham's dissipation at school, his attempted seduction of Georgiana when she was still so very young, his lies to Elizabeth during his Meryton encampment, and his scandalous desertion and elopement with Lydia.

The constant swirl of rumors concerning Wickham's gambling had also reached Darcy's ear. Unhappily Wickham's professed regard for family, so lately acquired, had little practical application as far as his wife and children were concerned. Having long ago grown tired of playing benefactor, Darcy briefly entertained the small hope that Wickham's skill and luck with cards had somehow improved sufficiently to prevent his family's ruin; but he knew such a wish to be hollow. His brother-in-law had evidently sunk to such a desperate state that slander and blackmail were no longer beneath him. Darcy, agitated by anger and despair, nearly abandoned his mission, but his duty to family gave him the strength to press onward. He resolved to maintain his composure and conclude the sordid little business as quickly as possible.

When Darcy arrived at the inn the transition from brilliant evening sky to dim candlelight momentarily blinded him. Eventually he discerned Wickham in the corner, befriending a nearly empty bottle of wine. On the vacant side of the small table stood a second glass of ruby port that he had confidently poured for Darcy hours ago. Darcy calmly walked to the table and stood before him without greeting. Wickham rose quickly and extended his hand but his guest ignored it, so he simply reemployed it in gesture, motioning for Darcy to be seated and enjoy the glass of wine.

"I am glad that you have come, Mr. Darcy. It has been too long since our paths have crossed."

"A few more decades of separation could have been easily tolerated on my side, I assure you" responded Darcy sarcastically. "Despite your dreams of family unity, this is not a social call, is it?"

Wickham was at a loss for an adequate response. Darcy continued, "Your letter mentioned that my father had two sons; I have come to inspect your proof for such an incredible assertion."

"Always directly to the point, aye Mr. Darcy? No time for inquiries of health and happiness? Well, I trust there will be plenty of time for that after you accept the truth of my information."

Wickham reached into his waistcoat and produced a single sheet of paper. Darcy read the brief document aloud:

Sylvester Glennie
Baptized October 20, 1784
St. James parish, Clerkenwell, London
Mother: Ellen Glennie
Father: a gentleman
Robert Jegon, curate

"What?" shouted Darcy. "You consider this proof? This proves nothing!"

The outburst immediately attracted the attention of the entire room. The pair remained silent until the ambient noise resumed. Darcy then spoke moderately but not less forcefully. "Wickham, you utterly astonish me. I had expected a much more artful attempt than this! This is merely the transcription of a baptismal record; and the name of boy's father is completely absent. How can you maintain any hope of laying this at my father's door?"

Wickham, not intimidated in the least, waited in silence for Darcy's storm of emotion to dissipate. Darcy began to suspect that the surprising weakness of the document might perversely be a point in favor of Wickham's case.

Wickham began, "I can understand that superficial appearance condemns this document as insufficient, but there is much more to the story. Would you like to hear it?"

"By all means. I have not been entertained by a good fairy tale since early childhood."

"Well," continued Wickham, "you will notice that this document contains some rather unusual features. In the first place, the lack of the father's name clearly indicates that the child is illegitimate. As a rule, the names of such children are not often recorded in the parish register."

"Too obvious for words; you must improvise better than that."

"Secondly, the mother's full name is listed in place of the father's name. You must know that the parish custom is to list the father's full name, whereas only the first name of the mother is normally stated, and then only below the father's name."

"Yes," conceded Darcy, "that is unusual. What else?"

"Consider next the character of the gentleman. Most gentlemen who sire children out of wedlock would take great pains to separate themselves from the scandal. They would banish the child to an orphanage and pay handsomely to make the mother disappear rather than come forward and do right by mother and child. According to the document before us, this gentleman is worthy of the name. Evidently, he wished the world to know that the child entered the world with some advantage and protection; as the son of a gentleman. So concerned was he for the child's soul that he did not abandon mother and child but persuaded the priest to administer the sacrament of baptism. It would seem highly probable that such a gentleman would provide financial assistance for the care of both mother and child. Your father was a gentleman of such caliber."

"Yes, such actions would not be out of character for my father, but conjectures are a far cry from proof! You invent an interesting story, Mr. Wickham, but important additional links are required. Who is the mother, for instance? What do you know of Ellen Glennie?"

"I know a little about her, but not where she is, or even if she is still living. She is of Scottish descent, of course, but Glennie was not her common name. She was a popular dancer on the London stage several decades ago, and she assumed the name, Holly Doolittle. Have you never heard your father mention that name?"

"No, I have not. So you would have me believe that my father's love of theater gave him the incentive and his frequent solo trips to London gave him the opportunity to woo dancers and sire children while his devoted wife waited at home? This tale grows more fanciful by the minute. Pray continue!"

"That is precisely what I am intimating, and it would remain mere speculation had I not more information." Wickham reached once more into his waistcoat pocket and handed over a card.

"What's this?" asked Darcy. He read the card:

Hugh Slithy and Henry Bandersnatch, Solicitors
Charring Cross Road at Oxford Street

Darcy grew concerned. "Should these names have some meaning for me?"

"They will," promised Wickham. "Shortly after the birth of Sylvester Glennie your father transacted business with Slithy and Bandersnatch that involved the parents and child. You may wish to search the legal records of your late father to confirm that such a transaction took place shortly after the child was born."

"May I inquire how all this intelligence happened to come your way?" snapped Darcy.

"In due time I shall be happy to comply with your request, but it is simply impossible for me to do so now."

"Impossible? Why would you think that? Do you fear I will believe you any less than I do now?"

"No, but to trust me further, I think it necessary for you to first convince yourself of the truth of what I have just laid before you."

Darcy frowned. "Am I correct in assuming that you have met this Sylvester Glennie and know his character and whereabouts?"

"Yes."

"It is a great sadness then, that you did not bring him here. I should very much like to meet my imaginary half-brother."

"As you have indicated, Mr. Darcy, to have done so would have been pointless. You would have dismissed and humiliated him. No, it is best that you first convince yourself of the facts."

"Very well, assuming again the truth of the matter, what sort of man is my half-brother? Does he in any way resemble my father?"

"It is indeed regrettable that I must defer all such questions. You have the name of the parish and the solicitors. From those sources you should have no difficulty obtaining answers to all your questions and doubts."

"We finally come to the sticking point, Mr. Wickham. I do not understand the motive for your role in this whole business. What do you seek to gain for all your troubles?"

Wickham smiled insouciantly. "I thought my letter gave sufficient reason for my coming forward. You would have done no less in similar circumstances."

"You would have no objection to my refusing to offer compensation of any kind?"

"I expect nothing, sir. But if you were to reimburse my expenses for collecting this information, no one could think that unfair."

"Expenses only? And how much would that total be?"

"A mere fifty pounds."

"Only fifty? That is surprising! Should I expect this to be an installment for additional expenses down the road?"

"That hardly appears likely, Mr. Darcy, as I have given you all the information I have. It is you who will be performing the investigation from this point forward."

"No, Mr. Wickham, I do not believe you have given me all the information you possess. You have disclosed neither your sources nor the location of the elusive Sylvester Glennie. Presumably that would entail considerable inconvenience and expense at some later date? How large a reimbursable item would that be, do you reckon?"

"I have included everything in the fifty pounds, Mr. Darcy. I will make no additional claims." "What? Not a shilling more? Am I guaranteed that such an amount will result in your eternal contentment?"

"I can understand your reluctance to take my word at face value, Mr. Darcy, but that is all I shall ever ask. Naturally, when the happy day arrives and you are finally reunited with your half-brother, should you in your generosity wish to offer further reward, I would not be so ungracious as to decline."

Darcy rose angrily. "At last we come to a complete understanding, Mr. Wickham. Perhaps you mean to extract some sort of revenge by making sport of me, setting me off on this idle chase. But I warn you most earnestly: if there is no basis to what you have told me, I swear on the sacred graves of my parents that I shall have you yanked before the magistrate on charges of malicious slander, and you shall languish in prison until you rot."

Without waiting for reply, Darcy withdrew five ten-pound notes and slammed them on the table.

"You can expect a letter as soon as I have completed my investigation," promised Darcy emphatically. He then turned and walked briskly out the door.

Chapter 5 - Revelation

By the time Darcy returned to Pemberley, the sun had already marched over the distant hills, dragging behind it a blanket of darkness that covered the sleepy countryside. Little of nature's tranquility reached inside Pemberley -- Wickham's sudden appearance and puzzling behavior had made Elizabeth uncharacteristically restless. After the children were put to bed she sought escape by replaying chess games from last year's tournament.

She looked up at the sound of Darcy's footsteps. Elizabeth could sense from his tense demeanor that the meeting had not gone well. She went to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy.

"Here, William. You must be in need of some warmth and relaxant." They sipped the brandy and seated themselves in front of the fire. "Am I to understand that the meeting with Wickham was as unpleasant as we had feared?"

Darcy drank a second generous portion of brandy and stared at the dancing flames. "You have it right" he replied at length. "The meeting was one continuous vexation. Wickham was a study in evasiveness."

There followed a retelling of the evening's conversation and the nature of Wickham's proofs: the vague baptismal transcription and solicitor's card.

"He produced a baptismal record that did not even list the name of the father? Is this the intricate trap he has prepared for us? What bald gibberish! You surely cannot believe a word of what he said?"

"During our meeting I certainly did not. His ingratiating manner and insinuations kept me in a state of perpetual agitation and resentment; but as I traveled homeward I was able to calm myself and ponder the matter disinterestedly. Wickham knows far more about this affair than he lets on. I believe that he speaks some component of the truth, and I am determined to discover precisely what it is."

"The solicitors that Wickham mentioned, Slithy and Bandersnatch, they were not your father's usual counsel?" asked Elizabeth.

"No they were not, which at least should make it simple to validate that part of his story. Wickham hinted that I might find among my father's papers some record of transaction with that firm. But the hour is late and I am much too exhausted to begin now. I shall begin my search promptly in the morning."

The Darcys took respite in another round of brandy before retiring for the evening. After fitful starts, sound sleep finally overtook both.

Just after dawn Elizabeth was awakened as her daughter ran laughing into the room and jumped into bed beside her. Jenny's nurse, hobbled by gout and unable to keep up with the two-year-old, soon limped into the room apologizing profusely for the disturbance; but the mother gave gentle assurances that nothing could be more pleasant than to be left alone with her daughter. Elizabeth and Jenny snuggled deep into the bed and pulled the covers over them.

"So my little piggy, you think it quite dandy to come squealing into the room and awaken your mother? How am I ever to remain beautiful if you always interrupt my sleep?" Elizabeth laughed and tickled her gently on her sides.

Jenny only squealed louder. "Oh, mama. I had such a goody dream I have to tell you right away."

"A goody dream?" Lizzy smiled at the verbal invention. "Then it can only be about your parents."

"No, not you at all" pouted Jenny. "It was about me and James. I dreamed that we were in a boat on the pond, and then a big dragon swimmed to the boat, and then she tipped it over and we got all wet."

"That sounds more like a scary dream. Did you like getting all your clothes wet?"

"Oh, I was only wearing my nightshirt so it was not so bad, and the dragon was a real friendly dragon, and when she licked my face it tickled so funny. Then she put us on her back and took us to shore. Then she dived back into the water and brought back some fish for papa. But papa thought James and I caught the fish and we didn't tell him about Mimsy. That's what I call my pet dragon!"

Elizabeth hugged Jenny and kissed her forehead.

"I love playing tricks on papa," Jenny giggled in delight.

"I know just how you feel, Jenny! I love to play tricks on him too. Come, let us get out of bed and find what awaits us at the breakfast table."

While Elizabeth dressed she remembered Darcy's search for Wickham's document. She gave Jenny back to the nurse, and promised to join them at breakfast in a few moments. Elizabeth then stopped by the study to see how her husband's search was progressing. She found the strongbox opened and documents scattered all over the desk. Darcy was leaning back in his chair and reading a document.

"Come in, Lizzy. I have found the very invoice I have been searching for." Darcy handed it to her and she read aloud:

November 17, 1784
Received from Mr. Edward Darcy
Transference fee: £ 5
Signed: Henry Bandersnatch
Slithy and Bandersnatch, Solicitors

"Transference fee? Whatever can that mean?" she asked.

Darcy shared her wonder. "I have not the slightest idea, which doubtless was the intent of writing the invoice in such a vague manner. But Wickham has scored a hit; my father did transact business with the solicitors precisely as he predicted, and in the relevant time period too. I marvel that Wickham knows of the existence of this invoice. Regardless, it is evident that my next course of action is to travel to London and learn the particulars."

"When do you expect to leave, William?"

"I would go now but for our engagement today with Bingley and Jane; so I shall postpone until the day after tomorrow. I shall write the office of the solicitors and request that the documents be waiting upon my arrival."

Darcy promptly dispatched the letter. The appearance of the Bingleys in the early afternoon was particularly welcome, providing a much-needed diversion from the turmoil that Wickham had instigated. Darcy and Elizabeth both thought it best to keep the affair secret until everything was resolved, so they engaged the Bingleys in conversation, cards, dinner and walks, but breathed not a word of their troubles.

After the Bingleys departed, Darcy rode in chaise and four to his London home, paused briefly to recuperate from the bumpy journey, then set out for the office of his father's solicitor.

Slithy and Bandersnatch may have seen prosperous days, but the condition of the office suggested that it had been uncontaminated by commerce for several years. As soon as Darcy entered the dimly lit front room, the dusty odor induced several violent sneezes. There were no clerks to be found -- only a short, grossly overweight man sitting at his desk and squinting at the Times.

"Ah, Mr. Darcy," he said presumptively as he stood and extended his hand. "Mr. Jonathan Bandersnatch, at your service, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Bandersnatch, but I was hoping to meet with a Mr. Henry Bandersnatch, the principal who signed this invoice." Darcy showed him the receipt.

"That was my late father, sir. He died over twenty years ago, and when Mr. Slithy followed him not two years later, their combined practice passed to me. How may I be of assistance to you?"

"In my letter I mentioned that you may possess other records pertaining to this transaction between my father and yours. Were you able to locate them?"

"No, Mr. Darcy. I am sorry to report that it was impossible to comply with your request. The matter in question is quite ancient. Records older than ten years are routinely sent to the archives -- a warehouse not two streets away. Unfortunately some fourteen years ago a nearby brewery caught fire and destroyed many of the surrounding buildings, the warehouse included. I am afraid that all records pertaining to the case are irretrievable."

This news momentarily stunned Darcy. All records destroyed? Why then would Wickham have sent him here? Surely Wickham must have been ignorant of this.

"Tell me, Mr. Bandersnatch, has anyone else come here lately to inquire about these records?"

"Why, no one at all, sir. I was totally unaware of the existence of the transaction until I read your letter."

"Neither your father nor Mr. Slithy mentioned this matter?"

"Why would they, sir? I did not join the firm until five years before my father's passing, full ten years after the transaction took place. And the transaction was most likely quite an ordinary one. Among the thousands of tasks performed by this office, a transaction would have to be highly unusual to merit such distinction."

"Thousands of cases?" noted Darcy. "I take it that business was quite a bit more brisk during the days of the founders."

"That is true, yes. Unfortunately, my health does not permit me to duplicate my father's success."

"This office had clerks then, I imagine. Are any clerks from that era still living?"

"Now that you mention it, this office had four clerks in the old days. One of them had gone on to his eternal reward in advance of my father. The second clerk left for a better position outside London, but that was before my time and I have no knowledge of his whereabouts. The third one set sail for the Colonies during my apprenticeship. The last one, Mr. Archibald Leach, retired about ten years ago, after the business of this office began to diminish. But I have not heard from him since and cannot say for certain that he is still alive. But if you allow me a moment, I can consult my records and fetch his last address."

The solicitor disappeared into the back room for a few minutes and returned with a piece of paper. "Here you are, Mr. Darcy. The Vicarage Hotel is his last know residence."

Darcy shook the man's hand and thanked him for his time, then left directly in search of the hotel. Much to his surprise and relief, Darcy learned from the hotel clerk that Mr. Leach, a healthy septuagenarian in full possession of his wits, was still in residence. Although engaged in his daily perambulation of the neighborhood, he was expected to return presently.

Within a quarter hour a well-dressed Mr. Leach walked in with his beloved dog Rintintoul, an old hound whose stiff facial expression appeared to perfectly complement the stiffness of its arthritic joints. Darcy greeted the amiable old man and patted his decrepit dog. After acquainting the man with the purpose of his call, Darcy suggested a retreat next door to the Bag O'Nails pub, where the atmosphere was more conducive to conversation.

After they took possession of a corner table and the barmaid delivered ale and bitters, the conversation quickly turned from pleasantries toward business. Darcy introduced the ancient invoice and the baptismal record, and explained the predicament of the destroyed files.

Mr. Leach's countenance brightened as he perused the document carefully. "Yes, I do recall the matter quite well. It was a most unusual case… Mr. Edward Darcy… I had forgotten your father's name… My facility for recollecting names was not good to begin with, and it has not improved in my dotage, but I do remember your father, a most generous man."

"What transaction took place?" asked Darcy. "To what does this 'transference fee' refer?"

"Yes, that is rather an odd sort of description." Leach quaffed more bitters and began his narration. "Your father first came to our office to seek assistance in the establishment of a trust for a mother and child. I believe he meant to set aside a thousand pounds, a very handsome sum even to this day. Another clerk handled the preliminaries… I apologize, sir, his name escapes me at the moment. Well, your father and the clerk hit it off quite well... Gregory! Ah, yes, that was the clerk's Christian name... A week later your father returned to the office with both mother and son to conclude the transaction. I remember the woman very well indeed - as handsome a woman as one is likely to see in three lifetimes. A dancer she was; a most popular dancer…'

"Holly Doolittle was her stage name," stated Darcy.

"Yes, that's it. You have it exactly right, Mr. Darcy. Did your father tell you the story?"

"Not at all. My father kept the matter completely hidden. Please continue…"

"Well," continued Leach, "the clerk was quite taken by the baby boy as soon as he saw him. It was obvious to everyone in the room that the mother had no real interest in the boy. She being a dancer and all, the baby was no doubt a constant nuisance. Then a remarkable event took place. Gregory told Mr. Darcy about the difficulties between him and his wife. After eight years of marriage she had not been able to bear a child. He offered to adopt the boy on the spot, if the boy's mother were inclined to part with him. Your father was quite touched by his sincerity and found the proposal most agreeable. The mother refused at first, but your father saw the sticking point. He offered to give the trust money to her anyway, but she held out until he doubled the amount. Now that was the most magnanimous gesture I have ever witnessed, and that is why the matter sticks out so clearly in my mind. Imagine, spending an additional thousand pounds just to be sure that the boy could grow up in a family that wanted him."

"Yes," remarked Darcy appreciatively, "such a display of generosity was exactly in character for my late father. But I must be certain of one thing: to the best of your recollection, did my father ever declare that the son was his?"

"I cannot recall explicitly," answered the clerk. "All I can offer is my impression that everyone in the office seemed convinced that such was indeed the case."

"And the mother?" added Darcy. "Do you know whatever became of her?"

"No, I never saw or heard from her again. But as I said, she was a theater girl, and I had no time or taste for the stage back in those days. As for the clerk and the boy, all I know is that three months later I came to work to discover that he had suddenly left the firm for a better position outside of the city. No one seemed to know where he went or what became of him."

Darcy sighed in resignation. His discovery of the identity of the child was a most disheartening development. Feelings of shock, anger, and bitterness had already run their course. He had first suspected the truth when he saw the date of Sylvester's baptism. He found further confirmation when he learned the Christian name of the clerk, and now at last all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Darcy downed the remainder of the ale.

"Mr. Leach, the clerk's name was Gregory Wickham, was it not? I will wager any amount that he had little affection for the name Sylvester, and so he had the boy re-christened as George."

"Why, yes. Yes!" he cried in sudden recognition. "You have it correct on both counts! How in heaven's name do you happen to know that?"

Darcy then proceeded to tell Mr. Leach of the family steward: Mr. Gregory Wickham. All Darcy had previously known of the man's past was that he had been a law clerk prior to his arrival at Pemberley. Evidently the late Mr. Darcy's favorable impression of the clerk, his desire to see the boy taken good care of, his wish to permanently remove the boy's mother from the scene, and his need for a new steward, all combined to produce a result highly favorable for the parties involved. For the first time it became clear to Darcy what motivated his father to become godfather to George and to treat the Wickhams so generously. For their part, the Wickhams apparently had agreed to hold the circumstances of George's birth and adoption in perfect secrecy.

Further clarification was needed on one more point. "Mr. Leach, have you told this story to anyone else recently?"

The retired clerk emptied his glass and thought awhile. "Well, sir. I do occasionally like to reminisce about the old days at the office, and naturally the story of the rich man's generosity to the showgirl and the clerk is too interesting to pass up. But I swear, even if I had been able to recall your father's name, I would never have mentioned it. I have always been a model of discretion."

Darcy smiled appreciatively. He then described George Wickham and related how the whole investigation began from documents he provided. "Was ever this man present when you told your story?" asked Darcy.

"No, sir. No such young man ever loitered about with the rest of my cronies. I certainly would have remembered the likes of him."

It appeared that Mr. Leach had exhausted his knowledge about the subject, so Darcy paid the bar tab and slipped a ten-pound note to Mr. Leach as he shook his hand, thanking him most heartily for his time and good information. As he was about to leave the table, Darcy was struck by another possibility.

"Mr. Leach, have you always maintained residence at the Vicarage?"

"Indeed I have, sir, for these last ten years at least, excepting a few months ago when I had to seek temporary lodging for a fortnight whilst the Vicarage was undergoing renovation. Other than that, my residence here has been continuous. Why do you ask?"

"Permit one more impertinent question, please. Your temporary lodgings - did you happen to take room and board next door to the Moon and Sixpence pub on Wardour Street?"

"Mr. Darcy, you continue to astonish me. How did you know?"

"A most fortunate guess," said Darcy grimly as he took his leave.

Darcy soon found himself on Wardour Street knocking loudly on the boarding house door. A slightly disheveled woman of middle age greeted him pleasantly.

"You don't have to force your way in this time, Mr. Darcy. Please come in, sir. I've been expecting you."

"Mrs. Younge, I wish I could say this is a pleasure."

Chapter 6 - Entrapment

Mrs. Younge led Darcy into the modestly appointed middle room and invited him to sit in the hardback chair by the heavily shaded window. Darcy's impatient mood had no tolerance for hollow displays of hospitality, so he politely but firmly declined her offer of refreshment. The hostess poured tea for herself, sat down in the chair opposite, and looked at him expectantly.

"Mrs. Younge," he resolutely began, "you can have no doubt about the purpose of my call. I have just met with your former tenant Mr. Leach, who, I surmise, has unfortunately supplied you with information concerning my late father's private dealings. You probably wasted little time in transmitting this knowledge to Mr. Wickham. Madam, today's discoveries have hammered my patience to the breaking point, so I must give you fair warning that I am in no mood for evasion or deception. Despite my wish to minimize my demands upon your time, I am resolved to remain here until you have fully disclosed Wickham's information and intentions."

"Naturally, Mr. Darcy. I can readily understand what distress you must have suffered upon first learning the true identity of your half-brother," she mockingly replied. "Such a shock must be most disagreeable to any man of honor. I promise, however, to do my best to satisfy your curiosity about the peculiar history of both your father and your brother. Where would you wish me to begin?"

"From the inception of the plot," he answered coldly. "I an hell bent on finding out how Mr. Wickham intends to convince Georgiana and me that we should share our father with him."

Mrs. Younge smiled, completely ignoring the sarcastic tone of his response. "He first learned of his true parentage from me, via Mr. Leach, as you have rightly asserted. What a kindly and gregarious man Mr. Leach is! He liked nothing better than to take his place by the evening fire and discuss events of the day or reminisce about old times. About one week after his arrival he told the intriguing tale of the wealthy gentleman who had dallied with a dancehall girl and sired a son illegitimately. I am certain Mr. Leach has told you the whole story about the boy's adoption by his fellow clerk and the clerk's subsequent disappearance. That unusual story set me to thinking. I had known the elder Wickham for a long time. Every year he would accompany his family to London for a week's holiday, and they always secured lodgings at my establishment. I knew that prior to becoming Mr. Darcy's steward Mr. Wickham had clerked for a London solicitor. After Mr. Leach had finished his story, I innocently inquired about the date of the event and other particulars. The proximity of the event to George Wickham's birthday, and Mr. Leach's subsequent mention of the clerk's Christian name, convinced me that the child could be no other than George Wickham. I immediately wrote a letter to Mr. Wickham telling him of my discovery."

"That most certainly was months ago," observed Darcy. "What has Wickham been up to between time?"

"Mr. Wickham was on regimental maneuvers when my letter arrived and he could not depart for London until a fortnight ago. He was most naturally curious about the development, so Wickham went straight to see Mr. Bandersnatch as soon as he came to London"

"And what degree of success did he achieve?" asked Darcy.

"Wickham discovered that the clerk's name was indeed Gregory Wickham, and he found out about the lost records too, of course, a most serious blow. Fortunately he learned that the elder Wickham's records were still intact, as employee records were segregated from client records, and their small volume made archival unnecessary. Wickham paid Bandersnatch for the file and obtained his promise to keep the meeting confidential."

"Just one moment," Darcy interjected. "I knew of Wickham's involvement before I entered the office of Bandersnatch. What did he intend to gain by this secrecy?"

"It was all part of his plan to secure your involvement. When Mr. Wickham learned the name of this true father and wished to be united with his newly discovered brother and sister, he had a severe obstacle to overcome, namely, your intense dislike for him. How was he ever to induce your meeting with him? And if the meeting did take place and he had attempted to confront you directly with the facts of your kinship, you would have either laughed him off or tossed him out without ceremony. No, we had to find a better way. We determined that there was only one hope for your impartial review of the evidence. Because it was impossible for us to convince you of the truth, you had to convince yourself. We had to find a way for you to conduct an independent inquiry. By giving you a little information to begin with, and by lending an air of mystery to the proceedings, Mr. Wickham hoped to pique your curiosity and so keep you engaged in the hunt. He needed the solicitor's cooperation because he wanted to stay out of your way until you had opportunity to interview Mr. Leach, whom I trust you have found to be as sincere and convincing as I have."

Darcy nodded in concurrence in spite of his strong suspicions. Having heard her confess to blatantly manipulating him, he could not but wonder if he were being manipulated still.

"Yes, Mr. Leach did appear quite trustworthy," remarked Darcy. "Given the thirty-five year interval since the transaction took place, there would have been no likely way for anyone to learn of this matter except from someone connected with the office of Bandersnatch. I have no doubt that the substance of the matter is correct, but I cannot express equal confidence in all particulars. Perhaps you can provide clarification. What else did Wickham learn from the files he obtained?"

Mrs. Younge hesitated momentarily, not quite sure how much information she should reveal. "Very well, sir, I shall lay it out completely. You will see the documents soon enough, I suppose, so there is no need to prolong the suspense. It is probably best for all parties that you not be surprised when your brother reveals the documents to you. Surprises do have a unfortunate way of hindering reasonable judgement and fair outcome."

"Let us postpone talk of favorable outcomes for the present," said Darcy tersely. "Tell me plainly what remaining cards Wickham holds?"

"Just two," answered Mrs. Younge. "In the first document the mother, Ellen Glennie, forever rescinds all claims on the child in exchange for a pension of 100 pounds, payable annually for the following twenty years. That was very wise of your father, if you ask me. He made sure she would keep her mouth shut. By the terms of the agreement, if she talked to anyone about what had happened, the pension would be stopped immediately, but the child would remain with the Wickhams. The parents and Mr. Wickham signed the document, as did the witnesses: the elder Bandersnatch and Mr. Leach."

"Mr. Leach certainly recalled the correct amount of the settlement," observed Darcy. "What is the other document about?"

"The second is a letter that your father wrote to Mr. Wickham shortly after the adoption took place. He thanked and congratulated Mr. Wickham for taking on the joys and responsibilities of raising a son. He also mentioned his need for a new steward, and offered the position to Mr. Wickham. To avoid arousing curiosity about the boy, he suggested that the Wickhams take some months to first establish normal family relations before moving to Pemberley."

Mrs. Young took another sip of tea, pausing for effect. "And now we come to the point that may interest you most, Mr. Darcy. In the same letter your late father made an explicit promise to become the boy's godfather, thus hoping (how did he put it) 'to supply by proxy the proper nurture and advantages that the boy's natural father is unable to supply openly.' So you see, the late Mr. Darcy most definitely acknowledged his fatherly responsibility toward George Wickham."

Darcy winced at the bluntness of her assertion, but suppressed his desire to contest the issue. He reminded himself that he was here only to gather information; there would be ample time for disputation when he would next meet Wickham.

"And how, exactly, does the prodigal son hope to profit by this information?" inquired Darcy.

"I was just coming to that, sir. Your father also promised to increase the elder Wickham's salary by 100 pounds annually, specifically to alleviate expenses for the boy's upbringing. He further declared that when the boy attained the age of five and twenty, the expired pension of Miss Glennie and Wickham's additional 100-pound supplement would be combined into a pension for George Wickham. Unfortunately for Mr. Wickham both his natural and proxy fathers died before he reached that age, and the promise was unfulfilled."

"Ah! So now I see Wickham's plan in all its fullness," exclaimed Darcy in disgust. "He intends to apply for an annual pension of hundreds of pounds! So much for Wickham's avowed satisfaction with fifty pounds."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" asked the confused Mrs. Younge.

"It is nothing that concerns you, I am certain!" said Darcy sharply, only a little surprised that she knew nothing of Wickham's reimbursement.

"But Mr. Darcy," implored Mrs. Younge, "you can hardly blame Mr. Wickham for seeking to secure what is rightfully his. Who could not regard it his natural birthright, after such an explicitly written promise; and what honest son would nullify such clear testimony of his father's will."

Darcy let the assertions about will and testament slip by unmolested. He sat in silence for a few moments to contemplate the developments. Mrs. Younge sipped more tea and assumed a more relaxed posture, feeling quite secure that her strong appeal to his sense of justice had achieved great success.

"Mrs. Younge," said Darcy, "there appears to be only one person left in this whole business who can positively identify George Wickham's true father: Miss Ellen Glennie. Have you determined her whereabouts? Wickham has told me that he is uncertain if she is still alive."

"Yes, Mr. Wickham must have told you that to heighten your suspense. I began searching for her as soon as I learned her stage name: Holly Doolittle. After visiting one dance hall after another, following one blind close after another, I finally discovered an old friend of hers at the Palladium, and she told me where the mother could be found."

"Are you at liberty to share her address?" asked Darcy sardonically. "Perhaps we can settle this whole matter before the day's end."

"Oh, finding her will be no problem at all, Mr. Darcy, but obtaining the information you seek will be extremely difficult. I am sorry to be the one to inform you, but Ellen Glennie succumbed to rheumatic fever five years ago and now lies near the plum tree in St. James' cemetery."

"Yes, very sorry indeed… I can see that plainly," sighed Darcy as he realized that his last and best means of establishing the truth had been destroyed.

"You can go and see for yourself, Mr. Darcy, if you find difficulty in taking my word for it."

Darcy rose slowly and prepared to take his leave. "You have my assurance that such an invitation is gratuitous; I have every intention of verifying your information. As it appears that we have exhausted your supply of facts, we are now both free to resume our happy separate lives. I thank you, Mrs. Younge, for the forthright manner in which you shared your intelligence. I extend to you my earnest wish that you may be doubly successful in extracting from Mr. Wickham what he seeks to extract from me."

Mrs. Young bowed slightly and smiled in appreciation of the delicate articulation of his suppressed rage. "Do you intend to write Mr. Wickham soon and settle this matter, Mr. Darcy?" she asked as he retrieved his walking stick by the door.

"Yes, in due time, Mrs. Younge, in due time. But first I wish to interview Holly Doolittle's friend at the Palladium. Whom should I inquire after?"

"Miss Elsie Callooh, sir, but I'm quite certain that she will be unable to add anything to what I have already told you."

Darcy nodded good day, then walked briskly out the door toward his waiting carriage.

Chapter 7 - Illumination

Posted on Thursday, 25 June 1998

Elizabeth's letter awaited on the foyer table of the Darcys' London home. He opened it eagerly.

William, my dear,

Please write soon and tell me that your search has met with every imaginable success. You need not worry about any anxiety on my part, for I have been far too busy collecting barrels of tar and bales of feathers to ensure that when Wickham takes his final leave from Pemberley, he will ride in warm and comfortable luxury.

Your lady in waiting,
Elizabeth

Darcy grinned as he placed the letter on the writing desk. Elizabeth's playful irony, so like her father's, was just the sort of encouragement he was longing for. After he washed away the grime of the day, dressed in fresh clothes, and sat down to enjoy a solitary dinner of savory mutton and exquisite Bordeaux, Darcy felt sufficiently rejuvenated to reconsider the progress of his investigation. He wrote his beloved wife a detailed description of what he had learned and expressed dismay that an unfavorable resolution appeared imminent. He closed by restating his intention to see the matter through, having not yet completely given up hope of returning to Pemberley with better news a few days hence.

In late afternoon the following day, Darcy went to the Palladium Theatre. After several false turns in the cluttered backstage hallways, he finally knocked on the door of Miss Elsie Callooh. A gracious woman of not more than five and fifty years soon greeted him. Darcy introduced himself and the purpose of his call. She expressed surprise at being approached twice within the same fortnight to discuss Holly Doolittle, but she was pleased nonetheless. She admitted him into her dressing chamber and removed a pile of costumes from a chair to make accommodation. As there was less than an hour remaining before the next curtain call, she attended to preparations at her dressing table while she conversed. If Darcy felt any discomfort over the impropriety of his occupancy there, her easy manner soon dispelled it. She loved to laugh and tell tales, especially those involving her dear lost friend.

Talking was indeed her forte - she had an amazing capacity for continuous, animated speech with little apparent need for drawing breath. Before Darcy even had opportunity to inquire, he was treated to her entire early history with Ellen Glennie -- their childhood friendship in Edinburgh, their early hardscrabble days in the Scottish theatre circuit, and their running off together to London a few years later to permanently escape the disapprobation of their families. He was about to pounce into the conversation to inquire about the birth of Glennie's son, when a calico cat jumped down, unannounced, from the armoire onto Darcy's shoulder and began swatting a swaying curl of hair. Darcy stiffened involuntarily at the shock; then burst into laughter upon comprehending the situation.

"No, Reddy! No!" scolded Miss Callooh loudly. "Off his head, Red Queen. You do not belong on the gentleman. Come down at once!"

The cat showed no inclination toward obedience, but before the woman could walk over to retrieve her pet, Darcy picked up the cat and placed it on his lap.

"Please forgive Reddy, Mr. Darcy. She's a good cat, but a bit naughty. Perhaps that's why we get along so well."

Darcy pretended not to hear her overture. "Oh, there is no need for concern, ma'am; no harm at all was done." He stroked the cat gently, soon setting her purring. The lull in the conversation provided just the opening he wanted.

"Miss Callooh, what I desire most to learn are the particulars surrounding the birth of Miss Glennie's son, Sylvester. What can you tell me about the boy's father?"

"I can only repeat what I told Mrs. Younge a few weeks ago," she replied. "Holly entertained many gentlemen in her time, and most of them I have quite forgotten, but him I remember well. He was rather tall, dark haired, and only a wee bit out of trim, but not more so than your average man of means. Almost every weekend for a period of six months the gentleman was her steady companion. He seemed to treat Holly well enough, the model of attention really, always bringing her flowers and expensive presents; but sometimes he would act strangely silly, rather like a giddy overgrown schoolboy, and that used to annoy us all. Once after we performed 'Midsummer Night's Dream', he brayed for ten minutes straight, pretending to be an ass. Everyone found his performance very convincing."

This portrait shocked Darcy and started him wondering. He had never seen his father act in such a ridiculous manner. He muttered softly to himself in disbelief.

"As for the gentleman's name," continued the actress, "I only knew him by his Christian name. Holly always called him Sir Edward."

Upon hearing his father's name, Darcy slumped into the chair. His worst fears had been realized. Surely there could be little cause for him to further doubt the truth, but he wanted to learn the whole of it.

"Miss Callooh, permit me to ask frankly. Did Miss Doolittle ever express any doubts to you about the paternity of her child? Was she entertaining anyone else while Sir Edward was her escort?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, Holly was a good woman, she was. She entertained only one gentleman-friend at a time, and she told me herself that Sir Edward was the father of the boy."

"How did Sir Edward receive the news?" asked Darcy. "It must have been an unwelcome surprise."

"Indeed, sir, so it was. As soon as he found out that she was with child, he left straightaway. I never laid eyes on him again after that."

"He disappeared?" Darcy could not hide his surprise. "But he stood by her and the child at the solicitors and provided for them both… Has Miss Doolittle never told you about what happened at the meeting?"

"No she never did, but I assumed that Sir Edward was there. She said she badly wanted to tell about the meeting but the terms of the settlement demanded her complete silence on the matter. I only knew that she returned without the child, much to her satisfaction, as it was very difficult to care for a baby backstage. She simply said that a kindly couple had agreed to adopt the boy; that is all I know. Mr. Darcy, Holly may not have been an angel, but she was always true to her promises. I knew that if she wanted to tell me more, she would in her own good time, so I never pried for details. But I do know that she must have frightened Sir Edward considerably to make him appear with her at the solicitor's office."

Darcy slowly shook his head at the discrepancy between her despising of Sir Edward and Mr. Leach's admiration. "How exactly did she manage to frighten him?" he asked.

"Well, sir, Holly was furious to be abandoned by him in her time of need. After a late performance one night, she passed out while descending some stairs. Sir Edward caught her, but not before she had severely injured her ankle and back, incapacitating her for months. She could never dance after that, so she became an actress instead. Several weeks after she was laid up she discovered that she was with child. Sir Edward denied all responsibility. She laughed at him and quickly disabused him of that notion. He turned tail and ran away, the coward. After the child was born, Holly was low on funds, not having worked for the previous months. She had pawned all the jewelry given by her gentleman callers, and her friends helped out as best they could, but it was not enough. Holly was too proud to go back to her family for support, things were turning a bit desperate. She decided to visit the offices of Slithy and Bandersnatch and had them write a letter to the gentleman requesting a conference. The solicitors managed to convince Sir Edward that it would be in his best interest to live up to his new responsibilities."

"And so we arrive at the happy meeting where the boy was transferred to his new family," noted Darcy wearily, "and so it appears that I have reached the end of this promising road."

After some moment's agitated reflection, he sprang up and began pacing the floor. He tightened his right hand into a fist and slammed it into his open left hand. "Damn!" he cried. "Damn these circumstances! If only there were some conclusive clue, some unique artifact of his among Miss Doolittle's effects that could once and for all prove the gentleman's identity."

The startled actress stopped primping by the mirror and turned to view his transformation. They looked at each other in silence. She slowly broke into a broad smile. "That's it, Mr. Darcy! That's it!" she cried as she grabbed him in a smothering hug. The close proximity of her feather boa to his nose made it impossible for him to suppress a sneeze.

He recovered quickly. "What is it, Miss Callooh? What have you remembered?"

"His walking stick, Mr. Darcy. His fancy blackthorn walking stick!" she answered excitedly. "When Holly took her tumble, her ankle injury did not at first appear to be as grievous as it actually was. Sir Edward lent his walking stick to make it easier for her to hobble around. He never came back to retrieve it; I remember seeing it used as a prop in some of our productions."

Darcy's spirit picked up immediately. After sloughing through a desert of lost hope, he had finally reached a small oasis. "What did the stick look like? What became of it?" he asked excitedly. "Is it still here?"

"Holly used to keep it right here, in this room. It was ever so exquisitely carved -- it had a goose head as its handle." Elsie began looking about the room; Darcy eagerly joined in the search. "Holly and I shared this room during the last year's of her life and I distinctly remember seeing it. … Hmm... I wonder what became of it… I remember. She gave it to Freddie!"

"Freddie?" asked Darcy.

"Frederick Eyesvor-Hil," she replied. "He was a dilettante who got his jollies by hanging around with the theater crowd. He was smitten by Holly's great beauty, acting rather like a puppy the way he always waited in the street outside her door just so he could accompany her to the theatre. Holly grew quite annoyed by his unceasing attentions and finally refused to have anything more to do with him. Then Freddie's mother put her foot down and threatened to cut off his inheritance if he persisted in squandering his life on such a futile endeavor. So he reluctantly kept his distance from Holly, ever the heartbroken bachelor, although he did attend every one of her opening performances. His flame for her never completely died; during her last year of life, when she took ill, he returned to her side and devoted himself exclusively to her care. I haven't seen poor Freddie since Holly passed on, but I do recollect seeing him walk with that cane at her funeral."

"And what became of Freddie?" asked Darcy. "Do you know where I might contact him?"

"No, I don't have his address, if that's what you mean; but I do know where you might find him."

Darcy arched an eyebrow in anticipation.

"I'll wager that he visits Holly's grave at least once a week, the poor lost soul. I've seen him there when I had occasion to stop by."

"Miss Callooh, I cannot thank you enough for your great assistance," exclaimed Darcy, shaking her hand and smiling. But Elsie did not find such a parsimonious display of thanks at all acceptable from the handsome young man in her quarters. She gathered Darcy in another warm embrace.

"I wish you every success, Mr. Darcy," she simply said. "I know you cannot be Holly's son, you share none of her features, although I must acknowledge that you are sufficiently handsome in spite of that handicap." Darcy was about to reply with information about Miss Doolittle's grownup child, but Miss Callooh prevented it. "You must know the whereabouts of Holly's son, but please do not tell me. I have no desire to stir up the past. I wish only to be left with the delightful memories of my friend; I would not have them enhanced or reduced with knowledge of her son."

Darcy pledged to do his best to see that her wishes would be respected. He thanked her again as he took his leave for St. James' Parish.

A brief downpour had turned the streets to an unholy muddy mess, but his carriage eventually navigated the rutted streets to the cemetery. As Darcy alighted from the carriage, sunlight finally punched through the clouds, bequeathing gravestones with an instant adornment of sparkling liquid jewelry. Larks and cardinals sang cheerfully as he walked toward the plum tree in the far corner of the yard. He found a man sitting on a stone bench, trench coat thoroughly soaked, and grasping a solitary rose along with his fancy walking stick. Darcy introduced himself, splashed away the pooled water from the bench with his hand, and sat beside him. Freddie was eager to make the acquaintance of someone so familiar with his beloved Holly, and listened sympathetically to Darcy's tale about her son and his predicament. After nearly an hour and a half had passed, Freddie willingly swapped his cane for Darcy's inlaid gold and ivory walking stick. Darcy departed sighing with relief. He could now return to Pemberley, satisfied that there could be no further doubt about the identity of Wickham's father.

Chapter 8 - Confrontation

Posted on Tuesday, 30 June 1998

The perfect travel conditions created by cool breezes and overcast skies expedited Darcy's return to Pemberley. James and Jenny ran to greet him in the entrance hall, eager to discover what wonderful treats their father had brought home for them. Darcy lifted them both in his arms and gave each a big kiss, but they squirmed with so much excitement that he quickly had to set them down and retrieve their presents from his travel bag. Although James was happy to receive a new wooden jigsaw puzzle depicting the Tower of London, he became ecstatic when presented with a large bag of chocolate-covered walnuts, raisins and pecans. He immediately plopped down cross-legged on the marble floor, found a walnut confectionery, his favorite, and let the delectable chocolate layer slowly melt on his tongue. Meanwhile, Jenny's eyes opened wide with wonder as Darcy pulled out her new doll, a funny little stuffed warthog. She instantly named it Nelle, kissed and hugged it in delight, and then ran off to introduce Nelle to the other stuffed animals in her room.

Elizabeth and Darcy laughed at their children's uninhibited displays of pleasure. After taking full advantage of the opportunity for proper embrace and kisses, they retreated to the study to talk about Darcy's adventures in London. Elizabeth was both surprised and relieved to hear the latest developments. They were both eager for a quick resolution of the matter, so Darcy immediately penned a formal letter to Wickham announcing the satisfactory completion of his investigation, and extending an invitation to visit Pemberley at his earliest convenience, should he feel the need to do so.

In less than ten days, Wickham arrived from the North Country. The butler admitted him into the library and offered brandy as antidote to the rigors of his long journey. Wickham gratefully accepted the refreshment and busied himself with a recent edition of "The Times". Darcy joined him three quarters of an hour later.

"Mr. Wickham," said Darcy brightly as he greeted his guest with extended hand. "Please forgive my delay. I had to attend to the needs of another guest in the drawing room."

Wickham took this unexpected display of good cheer as a most encouraging sign. "Mr. Darcy, it is most pleasant to be in your good graces at last," he replied presumptively.

Darcy merely smiled while inviting him to be seated. "Mr. Wickham, I believe that I have fulfilled the terms of our verbal agreement. I have completed my investigation and I have written to you as promised. As you have already forsworn demands for any additional compensation, I can only assume that we both regard this meeting simply as a social call -- so we can, as you once said, 'replace family discord with harmony'."

"Ah, Mr. Darcy. So your investigation has led you to the same conclusion that I have reached. That is indeed most gratifying to hear."

"Yes indeed, Mr. Wickham! I am quite certain that I now share your full knowledge of our relationship!" Darcy said enigmatically. He enjoyed seeing Wickham's confident expression briefly dimmed by a twitch of alarm and concern before he could recover with a slight grin.

"It is a wonder, is it not," said Wickham, "that we grew up together on these very grounds, all the while completely unaware that we were half-brothers."

"A wonder indeed," returned Darcy. "I certainly never knew that such a connection existed. I cannot thank you enough for the pains you took to make me aware of our common genealogy. I particularly commend you for the ingenious way that you have induced me to follow the path to true knowledge. I cannot imagine a better return for the fifty pounds that I paid for your reimbursement."

Wickham was unprepared for Darcy's conciliatory attitude. Expecting only bitterness and spite, his well-rehearsed plan was of no use to him. How was he to work on Darcy now? His silence and vacant look betrayed his confusion.

Darcy simply leaned back and smiled. "Well Mr. Wickham, it appears that our reminiscences are concluded. You must excuse me, as I am wanted by my other guest. Perhaps some other day we can reprise old times and hoist a few mugs down at the Lambton Inn. Please relay to Mrs. Wickham and your fine children the best wishes of Mrs. Darcy and me."

Darcy's gambit focused Wickham's mind wonderfully. "Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, but there still remain a few matters to discuss…."

"Oh, I am certain that you are mistaken, Mr. Wickham. Did you not declare in our last meeting that reimbursement for your expenses was all that you sought? Did you not give assurance that you would never seek more? I have acknowledged our familial bond and thanked you properly for your efforts, so I must confess that I am completely unable to discern what there could be left to discuss."

"You must surely recall," countered Wickham, "that I raised the possibility that you might wish to offer some reward once you were reunited with your half-brother. Can you be so unfeeling that you deny the bonds of duty toward your brother?"

"Duty, Mr. Wickham? Yes, I find it very easy to be so unfeeling, for my previous advancements of money on your behalf have paid my duty to you in full."

"That is absolutely scandalous!" cried Wickham. "How can you be so callous to me, your elder brother? If not for some uncontrollable accident of birth, our roles could easily have been reversed. Imagine, you could now be imploring me for the same justice that I seek! Had I inherited the vast property and resources of our father, there is no way under heaven that I could live in clear conscience while denying my brother his rightful due!"

Wickham's turbulence contrasted nicely with Darcy's calm deportment. "Rightful due?" replied Darcy. "At the risk of sounding cold, Mr. Wickham, I must inform you that no rights of inheritance accrue to an illegitimate son, first born or not. As for your heartfelt profession of generosity were our places exchanged, I must confess that I remain unconvinced and unmoved."

"Yes, my rightful due," protested Wickham. "Here, read for yourself how our father planned to provide for my annual pension." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced a letter from the late Mr. Darcy to his adoptive father.

Darcy examined the letter carefully. "Ah yes, Mrs. Younge did mention something about this letter during my meeting with her. Hmm… I see here that my father intended to provide you with a pension of 200 a year once you had attained the age of five and twenty. That much is clear, and the signature certainly is my father's."

"Well?" asked Wickham. "You refuse to honor such an explicit desire on the part of our father?"

After pretending to study the letter once again, Darcy finally allowed. "No, of course not. I just wanted to review this evidence for myself." He then calmly walked over to a cabinet, retrieved a document and presented it to Wickham. "Here you are Mr. Wickham - the final disposition of my father's will that my solicitor has drawn up for this occasion. Please sign both copies and I shall pay the balance of the annuity at once."

Wickham read the document rapidly with a mixture of wonder, disbelief and alarm. "What!" he exclaimed. "This is impossible! Am I to renounce all claims on my rightfully inherited pension for a paltry sum of 500 pounds? I certainly shall not!"

"Not simply for 500 pounds," corrected Darcy. "I have made the assumption that you shall live to the ripe age of five and seventy. Thus for fifty years at 200 per year, the total comes to 10,000 pounds. Naturally I have deducted the money that I have already advanced to you, namely, the three thousand pounds which you received in lieu of a living, and the 6,500 pounds that I advanced to retire your gaming debts at the time of your marriage to Miss Lydia Bennet. The additional 4,500 pounds you received at that time I regard as my wedding present to you and your bride. That sadly leaves only 500 pounds to be paid from the original 10,000 pounds. If on the other hand, you reckon that you are shortchanged by my estimate of your longevity, I am perfectly willing to begin payments of 200 a year once you have lived beyond the 9,500 mark, which I calculate to be the age of seventy two and one-half years. Which payment plan do you find preferable?"

"Neither plan is acceptable," shouted Wickham. "The money you previously donated had nothing at all to do with my annuity and thus there can be no linkage. You can only discharge our father's obligation by paying me the full 200 a year beginning from my twenty-fifth year. I shall only be content with 10,000 at once."

Darcy glared at Wickham for several minutes and said nothing. Wickham began to squirm, realizing that he played with a very weak hand. At length Darcy dropped his controlled demeanor, walked back to the cabinet, grabbed the blackthorn walking stick and slammed it hard on the table.

"It is time to cut to the quick and end this false dance, Mr. Wickham," said Darcy forcefully. "We both know that we have no common father. This walking stick belonged to your father, not to mine!"

Wickham looked at Darcy incredulously.

"Please spare me displays of manufactured surprise," continued Darcy. "You have lied to me long enough."

Darcy motioned to his servant. "You can tell Mrs. Darcy that I am ready now, Thomas." The servant acknowledged with a bow and left the room.

"Mr. Wickham, as soon as I learned that this walking stick was given to Holly Doolittle by your father, your scheme was in ruins. I returned that same day to Mr. Bandersnatch and convinced him to disclose his knowledge of Mr. Wickham's file. Yes, I am certain you are surprised to learn that the cautious Mr. Bandersnatch took the time to copy all the important documents prior to handing them over to you. It seems that you have conveniently neglected to share with me the first letter that my father wrote to the late Mr. Wickham. I am certain that it could not have escaped your attention - my father clearly states that he was acting in proxy of another gentleman whose name he was not at liberty to disclose. But this walking stick identifies your true father just as surely as if his name had been included in that letter."

"I don't understand, Mr. Darcy. Where does this walking stick come into play?"

Darcy explained the circumstances of Holly Doolittle's injurious fall, how the gentleman donated his walking stick for her assistance, and his quick disappearance upon learning that she was with child.

He then handed the walking stick to Wickham.

"Here, see this emblem carved just below the handle? Do you not recognize it from the livery that has often visited Pemberley? And if that is not sufficient, look at the initials carved on the underside of the goose handle."

"L.D.B.," exclaimed Wickham, growing pale.

"Yes, L.D.B. Sir Lewis DeBourgh of Rosings Park," explained Darcy. "Sir Lewis died several years before my father, leaving his widow Lady Catherine and daughter Anne DeBourgh."

The stunning revelation left Wickham incapable of speech.

"For Sir Lewis to use the name of my father as cover for his own was an unforgivably venal thing to have done," said Darcy. "I have met your father many times as I was growing up. When I reached maturity I could clearly discern that while he retained little affection for his wife, he lost none of his fear. That was not entirely without reason for she can act quite the harpy, but that by no means excuses his cowardly behavior toward your mother. I imagine that when your father found out about Miss Doolittle's condition, he was terrified that word about the affair might leak back to Lady Catherine, and he tried desperately to distance himself from the situation. Bandersnatch's letter must have thrown him into a panic, and he probably came running to my father for advice. My generous father most certainly offered to act as Sir Lewis' proxy."

Wickham was the picture of confusion. Although certainly aware that the late Mr. Darcy was not his real father, he was unprepared to look upon Sir Lewis DeBourgh in such a capacity. He saw his dream for riches quickly fading, but Wickham had no time to improvise a plan for extracting a greater amount from Darcy.

As an audible disturbance approached from the far end of hall, Darcy calmly offered a suggestion. "Mr. Wickham, I strongly recommend that you sign this agreement now, take your five hundred pounds, and accept my best wishes for your long and happy life. Of course, you are perfectly free to take up the matter with Lady Catherine instead, or perhaps with your half-sister, Anne. Your desperation for riches may tempt you in that direction, but I would strongly advise against it. You are certain to find Lady Catherine even less tractable than I am, and Anne DeBourgh has recently married the Earl of Nottingham who, I understand, is renowned for possessing a most violent temper as well as excellent marksmanship. Still, if you think my advice wrong-headed, you have only to wait a moment longer. Lady Catherine has been our guest for this past week, and she comes now to greet you."

Lady Catherine exploded through the door of the study. "Nephew," she cried to Darcy, "Elizabeth has informed me of a most revolting circumstance. I am utterly ashamed of you! Whatever possessed you to allow this wretch of a man to pollute the fine home of Pemberley? This is not to be endured! My only solace is that your dear parents are not alive to witness this degradation!"

Elizabeth, who had trailed only slightly, was unsuccessful in hiding her amusement at Wickham's fear and bewilderment. Lady Catherine turned her attention to Wickham and looked him over disdainfully.

"So here is the infamous scoundrel that has shamed the Bennet family, polluted the shades of Pemberley, and now spends his time in drunken dissipation! Now what is it that you want of me, Mr. Wickham? Mrs. Darcy informs me that you seek my advice on some matter relating to pensions. That is a foolish thought indeed. Why anyone should wish to squander a pension on such an ingrate is beyond comprehension. It is most vexing."

Wickham could only stammer out a reply. "There has been a mistake. There is no need for your advice, your ladyship. All uncertainties are resolved." He looked around the table and added, "Darcy, where is your pen?"

Darcy lifted the pen from the holder not more than six inches from Wickham and handed it to him. Wickham quickly signed both copies of the agreement, bowed, and bolted with his copy and his five hundred pounds. Lady Catherine could only gape in amazement and wonder at the loud laughter of her nephew and niece.

Epilogue

So distressing did Lady Catherine find her encounter with Wickham that she could not collect her composure sufficiently to permit the continuation of her stay. None of Darcy's entreaties could ease her vexation or soften her resolve. Within two hours she was riding in her Barouche box back to the safe and uncontaminated confines of Rosings Park.

"How delicious an irony!" remarked Elizabeth. "Lady Catherine condemns Wickham for his pollution of Pemberley, all the while oblivious that her husband was the source!"

"Indeed," answered Darcy grinning. "I cannot imagine a more just and fitting resolution."

"You are not disappointed, then, that you have lost a half brother?" she teased.

"Not at all," he answered. "I happily pass along that distinction to our cousin Anne. So my half-brother has now been converted to a half-cousin; but as you know very well, my dear, some relations cannot be too far removed!"

Lizzy laughed as she took his arm and walked toward the dining room. After finishing the first truly relaxing dinner in over a fortnight, the family strolled leisurely along the path through the manicured gardens and the hardwood forest, finally reaching the pond, where they took turns feeding the ducks and geese.

All too quickly the setting sun announced bedtime for the children. Jenny rode on Darcy's shoulders as James, holding his mother's hand, kicked a small stone back to the house. As soon as nightshirts were donned, James and Jenny ran into drawing room for their nightly bedtime story. They sat cozily between their parents on the bench in front of fire.

"Now whose turn is it to choose a story?" asked Elizabeth. "Oh, yes… Last night James wanted to hear more about the family who lived in a hollow tree. So, Jenny, it is your turn. What would you like to hear?"

"Mama, can you make more rhymes? I love it so much when you do!"

"A poem, Jenny? You always give me such easy tasks! Very well, what should I talk about?"

"Anything, Mama," said Jenny. "I like anything you dream about."

"Hmm… I think I know what you will like, children. Ready?"

Lizzy cleared her throat and began slowly and rhythmically:

One fine day it rained so hard
I dried my clothes in my backyard.

The children giggled. "That's just so silly, Mama," said James.

"Quiet, son," admonished Darcy. "You want to give your mother a sporting chance to tell you the poem, do you not?"

"Thank you, my dear. I shall begin again," said Lizzy.

"One fine day it rained so hard
I dried my clothes in my backyard.

And then the rain turned into snow
Just to help the flowers grow.

But all the flowers were in bed
And wanted only sleep instead

The pigs got lose and came to play
And all the flowers ran away"

Lizzy feigned catching her breath to gain some valuable time for improvisation.

"But flowers can't run, can they mama?" whispered Jenny

"No, they normally cannot," whispered Lizzy back, "but these were wild flowers -- very wild! Now shush." She continued as before.

"I chased the flowers down to the pond
But they kept running far beyond

I was so sad I began to cry
A fish swam by and asked me why

'I do not know,' I cried in haste
'I've lost my pretties, 'tis such a waste'

'Forget the flowers,' demanded fishy,
'I know exactly what you wishy'

And so the fish swam fast away
Returning after slight delay

'Here you are,' said fish of whimsy
'I bring to you, your dragon … "

"Mimsy!" shouted Jenny. She burst into laughter.

Elizabeth smiled and waited for her to settle down.

"I invited Mimsy to the house
But Mimsy said she had no blouse

I told her pets don't wear such clothes
Unless of course they're nearly froze

I rode dear Mimsy to the door
I walked right through and waited for…

Mimsy to follow, she had such pluck
But the door was narrow, so she got stuck…"

Elizabeth stopped and glanced at first at Jenny and then at James. They looked at their mother expecting her to continue.

"Oh, mama, tell us more!" they chanted. "What happens next?"

"Yes," Darcy chimed in laughing. "Please tell us more."

"I am afraid that is impossible," declared Elizabeth with a smile. "You see, your mother finds herself equally stuck. Perhaps by tomorrow evening, she will find a way for Mimsy to pull through. Now off to bed with you both! That is all - goodnight!"

She ignored all protests as she kissed the children and sent them off giggling to their nanny. Darcy grinned as he filled two glasses with port. The contented couple nestled by the fire and toasted the happy conclusion of the day.

The End