Chapter 7 #2
She had thought that she had been successful in hiding the truth of that day, but now she knew that was not the case.
The nameless man and woman who had been in the drawing room knew, and he had said that others were aware of the truth as well.
Catherine briefly considered paying some men to end the man and his wife—having no information about them notwithstanding—but she acknowledged it would be futile as he was not the only one who knew.
No matter what scheme she formulated to try and circumvent what she had been ordered—like some commoner—to do, she found no way to escape the Gordian knot in which the man had tied her.
She did not even have control of her disappointing, sickly daughter any longer.
And that man had admonished her to leave Anne be, so she could not chance a return to Pemberley and demand her daughter be restored to her.
It was not to be borne, but it seemed for now she had no choice but to do what he had commanded.
There was nothing for it. On the morrow—the Sabbath be damned—she would commence her return to Rosings Park. There she would lick her wounds. At least she still had her domain under her control.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
On Monday morning, Bingley was just looking at the outstanding orders for the Scarborough branch when a clerk knocked on his door and handed him an express. The man informed Bingley it had been delivered by a courier.
He waved the man away and looked at the writing, immediately identifying Louisa’s script. She had never before sent him an express, so it was with no little trepidation he broke the unknown seal and began to read.
12 November 1803
Pemberley
Derbyshire
My dear Papa,
Do not be alarmed that this express contains bad news. Harold and I are as well and happy, as we have been since the day we married.
I sent this the way I did to stop Mother and Caroline from making a huge faux pas, one from which they will never recover and may end a friendship that Charles values.
If my mother has not tried to convince you that she and Caroline are needed or have been invited to Pemberley after the late Mr Darcy’s death, then there is nothing for you to do. However, if, as I suspect they have, my epistle is critical!
Papa, not only have they not been invited, nor are they needed here, but the new Mr Darcy has issued orders that they are to be turned away at the gates to the estate.
You know without me having to tell you what a performance Mother and Caroline will put on when denied that which they want. If they arrive here and when they are turned away, I worry they will do so much damage as to make it impossible for Charles’s friends to keep the connection with him.
It will not affect Harold or me because we do not bear the Bingley name.
Please, Papa, in the name of all that is holy, if they are planning to travel into Derbyshire, do not allow it. The perceived pain they will suffer at your refusal will be nothing to the real consequences of their coming here unwanted and uninvited.
I pray this reaches you in time.
With all my daughterly love,
Louisa Hurst
Bingley sprang up from his desk. He hoped they had not departed yet. He reminded himself that Mavis and Caroline did not rise early unless they were forced to.
He practically ran out of the offices shouting orders to have his curricle prepared.
He reached his house in record time and just in time to see the coachman put his team of four horses into motion. Bingley pulled the curricle in front of the lead pair, which caused the coachman to pull back on the ribbons with all of his might, stopping the conveyance dead.
“Why have you stopped?” Miss Caroline screeched from inside of the coach.
Mavis was about to add her voice to that of her daughter’s when one of the side doors was wrenched open, and there stood her husband with a thunderous look on his face.
She had a feeling he knew there had been no invitation, but she decided to bluff.
“What is the meaning of this? We are expected at Pemberley, and now we will be late, causing them to worry.”
“Yes, Papa, Mr Darcy wrote that he especially wanted me to visit,” Miss Caroline added to bolster her mother’s lie.
“Show me the letter,” Bingley demanded curtly.
“I-I-I left it in t-the h-house,” Mavis prevaricated. “No, now I remember, Caro dropped it into the fire in error.”
“How DARE YOU lie to my face?” Bingley barked.
“Evidently after that one time when you attempted to impose your company on the Fitzwilliams and Darcys at Cambridge, Mr Darcy was concerned that you would do this very thing using his father’s death as your justification.
He had Louisa write to warn me you would be turned away at the gates to the estate, and you would more than likely ruin Charles’s friendship with Captain Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy.
You will both have no allowance for a year complete, and you will be barred from spending any of my money on unnecessary shopping as well.
You are cut off. The coachmen will be told that they may not convey you anywhere without my personal say-so.
“Both of you, out of the coach and back into the house.” Bingley saw both his wife and youngest child were about to protest. “One more word, and I will double the punishment from one to two years!”
Mavis and Caroline Bingley closed their mouths and meekly slunk back into the house.
The courier and his horse were still resting at the carriage works. Bingley would write a reply to Louisa’s missive once he returned. He had much to tell and owed her a huge debt of gratitude for helping him stop their family from being ruined.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
The Wednesday after the funeral, the sixteenth day of November, a rented carriage approached Pemberley.
In it was one George Wickham who travelled from Cambridge where he was completing his final year before, hopefully, graduating.
He had not troubled himself to arrive at Pemberley soon after his former godfather’s death.
After the way Mr Darcy had treated him, Wickham did not believe he owed it to the man to be present for his funeral. Also, other than while he was at Pemberley, he would not wear a black armband.
Regardless of the old man’s threats, Wickham was sure he had been remembered in the will.
He had accepted that he would not be bequeathed one of the satellite estates, but he was certain a few thousand pounds would come his way.
In addition, Wickham believed he would be recommended to one of the livings in Pemberley’s gifts.
He had no interest in the church, but he knew he could parlay that into more ready funds to go with what he had been left.
It was lucky the gates were open to all the callers who would be coming to condole with the prig. How it irked Wickham that now, just because of an accident of birth, damned William Darcy was one of the wealthiest non-royals in the realm.
During the final mile or so, Wickham practised a face which would reflect the sadness which would be expected by those he would see in the house. As they approached the manor house, he placed the armband. Now, he looked the part.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Mr Douglas, Pemberley’s butler, knocked on the drawing room door and entered. “Mr Darcy, George Wickham is here to condole with the family,” he said stoically, even if he had emphasised the one word. It was no secret that Wickham had no friends among the staff, servants, or tenants at Pemberley.
Darcy was about to tell Douglas to send the parasite away when Richard spoke first.
“William, see him in the study, but leave the door open. As soon as he begins to speak, we will come in and stand behind him. If he tries to make demands of you, I will know how to act,” Fitzwilliam suggested.
Douglas was told to wait five minutes before showing Wickham into the study.
On entering the master’s study and only seeing William Darcy behind the desk, and no one else in the room, Wickham’s confidence that he would be able to manipulate the grieving prig went up considerably.
“I am sorry I did not have the funds to rent a carriage before now so I missed the funeral,” he stated with a put-on sorrow.
“You mean you could not take the post?” Darcy enquired. Seeing the three Fitzwilliam men and Hurst enter and silently stand behind the libertine almost made him smile, but he schooled his features.
“Thanks to the rules my godfather imposed…” Wickham started to respond, then he saw Darcy raise his hand.
“We both know my late father ceased being your godfather about a year or so ago. Why are you here, Wickham? You would not make the journey unless you felt there was some profit in it for you,” Darcy insisted.
Wickham was not pleased. He had expected a grieving Darcy to be pliant and easily manipulated.
The man before him was anything but. He decided he would have to be direct and demand his due.
“Give me what I was left in the will, and I am willing to resign all claims to one of the livings for a pecuniary advantage, as I will never take orders. I will then be on my way.”
Darcy gave a bark of humourless laughter.
If that were not bad enough, Wickham heard more guffaws from behind him.
He whirled around, and there were Lord Matlock, the Fitzwilliam brothers, and that Hurst fellow who was always foxed, except this day he was not.
His stomach sank when he saw the way Fitzwilliam was looking at him.
It was in a way which told Wickham that Fitzwilliam would like nothing better than to be left alone with him. He felt deep fear at that moment.
“Lost your glib tongue, Wicky?” Fitzwilliam taunted.
“Did you think my late father was not serious when he said you would receive nothing on his death? Also, you were told that he was to remove the recommendation for you to receive the living. Unlike you, my late father’s word was his bond,” Darcy hissed.
“By the by, Wicky, do you remember the document which Uncle Robert had you sign at the Blue Heron Inn in Cambridge?” Fitzwilliam said.
“I do, but I thought with his death…” Again, Wickham was cut off.
“Nothing has changed. Contravene any of the things you are forbidden to do, and your debts will be called in. As you know, the amount is well over one thousand pounds. You will be an old man if you ever walk out of debtor’s prison alive,” Fitzwilliam pointed out.
“Now be gone, and do not set foot on any Darcy land or in any Darcy home again, or what my cousin just reminded you of will happen,” Darcy commanded.
A reeling Wickham made his way out of the house and back to the carriage on which he had used most of his coin to rent.