The Stakes
Struggling to think, or even breathe, Darcy cast about for something to say—anything would do.
In desperation, he finally asked, “May we defer that question for the moment?”
“Certainly. Perhaps if you do not mind, you might help me with some easier questions. You are not expected back at Rosings for another three quarters of an hour at least.”
“Nobody at Rosings is even aware I am here. How would you know when I am expected?”
“Charlotte and I planned a contingency for this. If you came to the parsonage, she was to buy us one hour. I assure you, Charlotte is very reliable. Nobody will miss you. Consider yourself quite safe; we need not worry about propriety, as nobody but Hannah knows you are here, and she is completely trustworthy… or at least in this case she is, as she has not engaged any bets on this outcome.”
At a loss, Darcy asked, “You had a question?”
“Oh yes, can you tell me exactly which excuse Charlotte used for my absence? I could obviously wait for her to return, but I like to take care of things at first opportunity.”
“She mentioned a headache!”
Elizabeth jumped up, went to a desk on the side of the room, and brought back a small stack of papers, shuffled through until she found one near the top, and made a few more incomprehensible scratches, muttering to herself, “Maria! Maria! What are we to do with you? Will you never learn! I quite despair.”
“Do you mean the younger Miss Lucas?”
“Can you also tell me if she has spoken a word at Rosings yet?”
“To the best of my knowledge, she has not.”
“Well, that is something at least… although really, to get caught out on such a wager will not do.”
Darcy once again sought an explanation. “I fear you left me behind once again.”
“My apologies, sir. I digress… it is just that Maria is vexing me and I could not keep it to myself. I apologise most profusely.”
“Would you mind explaining that, as if to a child… a not particularly bright one?”
“Maria is sixteen, and she should be a much better gamester by now. We all despair. She does fine with challenges but is a complete muddle on odds and predicting behaviour. For example, I wagered that Charlotte would use a headache based on my knowledge of her. She is extremely clever, but lazy, so she will use a headache by preference rather than a more complex prevarication at least seven times out of ten. I depended on that. Maria should not have allowed me to catch her on that, or at the very least should have demanded better odds. I really must take the child under my wing, or maybe give her to Lydia… Yes, yes! That is it. Lydia is not fond of tutoring, but I will impose on her.”
“What do you mean by challenges?”
Elizabeth dug through the stack of papers, pulled out one, and showed it to him, although he could not read it any better than the previous lot.
“Here it is. Louisa Golding bet her that she could not get through… what was it... Oh yes, here it is… nine visits to Rosings without saying a word. She has managed seven so far, which means she is doing tolerably well, do you not agree? Her doe-eyed look is sheer perfection.”
She looked at him expectantly—whether for agreement or understanding was unclear—so he simply nodded, exactly as he would if he understood her.
“You mentioned Miss Lydia?”
“She hates tutoring beginners, but really, since she is the best of us, she will simply have to do her duty! Yes, it is to be tutoring until Maria comes up to scratch. I am quite determined!”
More confused than ever, Darcy asked, “You say, Miss Lydia? Your youngest sister is the best of you?”
Elizabeth frowned in confusion, and then her expression cleared.
“I apologise once again. I keep forgetting how little you know of our society. Lydia is the best of us. Her current fortune is nearly ￡500 more than mine. Do you know she had Mr Wickham measured down to his toes in less than a minute? She already had her strategy mapped out and was in process that day you and Mr Bingley met us in Meryton… do you remember that day?”
“How could I forget it?”
“It was a fairly ordinary day, aside from Lydia starting a new project.”
“Might you elaborate?” Darcy asked.
“My apologies again. I keep forgetting how little you—well, again my apologies.”
That said, she dug through her papers until she found another sheet and made a few marks.
“Once again, I must beg your pardon. I have to keep track of how many times I go off on tangents you cannot understand without the appropriate background, as my mother and Lady Lucas have an ongoing wager about it. So far, Lady Lucas is ahead… now where was I… Oh yes, Mr Wickham. Since Lydia ascertained his nature first, she got to manage the project.”
“Miss Lydia? Project?”
“Do not tell me you let Lydia fool you with her bubbly imbecile routine! I am all astonishment! Really, sir, A poor gambler such as Mr Wickham will fall for that every time, but I thought a proficient gamesman such as yourself would see right through it! Perhaps she is better than I give her credit for—”
She tapped her fingers against her chin in thought.
Darcy, fearing he might lose her forever to deeper ruminations, asked, “You mentioned a project?”
“Of course, you may not know about that.
As I said, Lydia determined he was a rake and a gambler within seconds, so she managed the project.
I think she mostly pegged him by simply looking at yours and his reactions to each other.
The town's tradeswomen managed his debts until he got exactly ￡25 over what he could pay, and of course, we made sure every woman within twenty miles knew what he was about while Lydia distracted him from everyone else.
Lydia is quite good at challenges—almost as good as me.
Once his debts exceeded what he could pay we simply bought all his vowels and had Sir William send him off to debtor's prison. You do know of course it only takes ￡20 of debts to accomplish that?”
Darcy sat staring at her in stunned disbelief.
Wickham, the bane of his existence, the man who tried to ruin him and his sister, whom he had chosen to allow to roam free in a vain attempt to protect his sister's reputation, had been reeled in and given justice by a bunch of country ladies and tradesman's wives and daughters.
“How long did this project take?”
“Oh, the usual. I believe it took about two months for him to run up that much debt, and of course we had organised a few confederates in the militia to fleece him for some debts of honour just as extra surety.
It would not do for him to find enough ready blunt to pay off some of his debts, as then we would have to start all over, or perhaps buy some vowels from you.
I did mention Lydia is the best of us, but easily bored, so she agreed to tutor Mary King on the appropriate tactics.
Miss King actually finished the task by claiming a mysterious inheritance of ￡10,000, and he fell for it like a fish to a tasty worm.
It was fortunate she had completed her training, as Mr Wickham tried to impose on her by force near the end and she had to—er…
well—probably best not to go into detail about our defensive strategies.
They are slightly embarrassing in mixed company.
Of course, it was Miss King's first defence, so it was not as clean as you might hope for. Her aunt made her clean her own dress, and blood is so difficult to get out, but her aunt said it served her right for wearing white.”
Darcy paled. “Blood?”
“I cannot believe you do not already know of all these things. Fear not, she did not cut off any parts he will particularly need in prison! All is as it should be.”
All was definitely not as it should be!