Chapter 13
Lady Catherine did not sleep very well on the dark, dirty floor of the coal cellar. No amount of yelling her displeasure, demanding release, or banging on the door produced any results other than hurting her own hand. How dare they so ignore one such as she?
She was the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh!
She had the power to arrange things as, and whenever she desired.
In her deepening mania, she imagined how she would revenge herself on all for this affront.
With glee and cackling like a witch, she planned how she would dispatch the baggage that had the temerity to interfere in her plans for her nephew and daughter.
And no one could or would ever dare take her out of her domain!
Rosings Park was hers and she had the will she changed to prove it.
As she descended further and further into her own reality, which others knew as insanity, she believed all of her schemes were succeeding and she was an all-powerful ruler of her desires, one that could have all her wishes granted.
There was a chamber pot in one corner, and she determined it must be morning as there was light that was coming in from a crack in the door where the coal was loaded, and a very high slit of a window. Other than the chamber pot, there was nothing else in this cellar but coal and herself.
Unable to accept the truth of her situation, she built the delusion around her that she was in the master suite at Pemberley, finally ruling over it as was her right and about to go determine what jewels she would choose for the day.
She had seen a sapphire necklace she often wanted to rip off her sister’s neck and claim as her own, and that was the first thing she would wear this day.
If she had not been insane, or at least observant of her reality even as she daydreamed, she would have seen further proof of the Bennet’s wealth. There were very few who could afford the reserves of coal that surrounded her in the cellar.
At some point, the door opened, and a tray of food and a carafe of water were unceremoniously deposited on the floor. It confused her the new mistress of Pemberley was not served at the grand table downstairs, but she would make do for the moment, then would make changes to the staff.
In an unpleasant moment of lucidity that came as she was drinking the water, she remembered where she was and she saw even if she had attempted to escape, there were two massive footmen standing just beyond the servant that deposited the tray.
There was of course no knife on the tray, not even a butter knife, because there was no butter.
‘How has it come to this?’ she asked herself in her thoughts. ‘If only I had never heard the name Bennet,’ she wished silently to herself. She ignored the inconvenience of her daughter’s determination to claim her inheritance and would have even had she not met the Bennets.
It was always easier to blame someone else rather than accept she alone was responsible for her predicament. Her mind unwilling to comprehend the truth of her situation, she slipped back into her make-believe world.
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The Gardiners, after wishing their family and soon-to-be family goodbye, set off in two carriages for their home at Portman Square once they had broken their fasts.
Gardiner’s meeting with Sir William Lucas, Mr. Spencer Goulding, and Mr. Jonathan Long had gone as Thomas intimated, and all three had asked to be allowed to invest with Gardiner and Associates.
Edward Gardiner no longer took on investors with so little to initially offer, but they were his brother’s good friends and they had looked out for and cared for his nieces and nephews since they had been born.
Also, Bennet had started with a small or even smaller investment all those years ago and look at what he had accomplished.
In his inside coat pocket was a bank draft from each of the three men, and what he knew was the maximum amount each had available. As Bennet had before them, they would send all their profits to Gardiner each year.
The Earl of Matlock too had set out for town after he broke his fast, in fact shortly after the Gardiners departed. He was accompanied by his heir, Andrew, and the solicitor that had brought the documents for Anne to sign now she was finally taking control of her birthright.
The Earl was appreciative of the fact that his late friend and Anne’s father, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, had secured Anne’s dowry of fifty thousand pounds as well as an additional twenty thousand pounds in a way Catherine neither knew about, though even if she had she never could have touched either, no matter how many demands she may have made.
He had invested all of the seventy thousand pounds with Fanny’s brother, Midas Edward Gardiner, some years ago.
The investments had turned that twenty thousand into now well over a hundred thousand pounds so Anne would be able to return Rosings to its former glory.
In addition, her dowry had more than tripled in value.
He smiled when he thought of Anne’s promise of selling all of the ostentatious baubles Lady Catherine had obsessively collected because she had believed it demonstrated her wealth and superiority to all her visitors.
All her décor had really done was show just how she was lacking in class and how bad her taste was.
The occupants of the carriage dozed for the four-hour trip to Town, and after thoroughly considering everything once again, the Earl was able to fall asleep with a clear conscience.
Lord Matlock was doing the right thing by helping his niece gain control of what rightfully was hers, with the added benefit of knowing all at Rosings Park would benefit under her care, and that consigning his sister to Bedlam was the safest for all, especially herself.
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Wickham woke up a little worse for wear after spending most of the previous day deep in his cups and with no coin remaining. He hated that he smelled like urine, so he asked for water for a bath to try and purge the stench from his person.
After he bathed and dressed, he thought about doing what he had done so many times before, slipping away as he often was able to do as soon as things got too hard, or he was going to be called to account for his actions.
This time, maybe for the first time, it would not be to avoid unhappy relatives and debts, but because he thus far had been unable to act as he pleased due to the lack of credit and the fact there was nary a young maiden with whom he could please himself.
Once his head was a little clearer, he remembered two things. The men hunting him and the Bennet daughters and their forty thousand pounds each. He decided to stay to remain hidden and secure a fortune that he felt was his due.
He was very certain he could get it, either through marriage after the anticipation of vows or as hush money to make him go away. Who needed that little mousey Darcy’s thirty thousand when he could have so much more? It was past time to start planning.
Around eleven that morning, Wickham saw a sight for sore eyes.
He beheld the three most beautiful, striking young ladies he had ever seen.
He was both drooling and gawking at the vision.
They were somewhat older than he preferred, but beggars could not be choosers, and if begging was involved, any of them begging for his attention was a welcome thought.
Before he could approach them, he heard one of them say they would be back to make some more purchases on the morrow as they climbed into a grand carriage, assisted by one of the biggest footmen he had ever seen.
After some discreet enquiries, he learnt he had just glimpsed the three eldest Bennet heiresses, a blond and two raven-haired beauties. He had to have one or even all of them, then after he had his fill, he would decide which one’s dowry he would claim.
Drooling over his planned conquest, he had not noticed his shadows that were ever observant and were ready to spring into action not if, but when, his predilections caused him to cross the line.
Wickham was far too preoccupied with his dreams of the great fortune he would have and had no reason to suspect he was being closely watched.
These were not homely looking heiresses, they were the most beautiful girls he had ever set his eyes on, and he was more determined than ever to carry his point.
After all, no one could ever resist his charms.
Without any remaining coin, the tavern was not an option unless he was able to dupe someone into buying his grog for him. If not, he would have to stay sober until he received that first pitiful excuse for pay in another five days.
He stuck out his chin and puffed out his chest as he admired himself in a store window, deciding that he looked very well in regimentals.
His ego would not allow himself to notice he was being avoided by the townspeople, both because of the warnings they had received about him and the remaining smell of urine wafting from his person.
He had not bathed as well as he believed he had.
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“The officer practically drooling when he saw us, was that the awful Wickham the Darcys have long dealt with?” Lizzy asked Biggs who was in the carriage with them for added safety. Anger at Wickham’s actions against her soon-to-be family was burning just below the surface.
Biggs just nodded, knowing he would need to add someone else to watch Miss Lizzy now, She had the look of an avenging angel in her eyes, a look they all knew well when she knew someone had hurt someone she loved.
Mary and Jane shuddered as they too noticed how the man had leered at them, which could only be described as despicable.