CHAPTER NINE
Bingley did not arise in time for breakfast the next morning. He had not slept so hard in weeks, as the stresses of establishing his house in Netherfield, the abhorrent business that kept his evenings often occupied and nearly constantly occupied his thoughts, as well as the improvement of the family business which his late father had left in his care, often denied him repose. This night’s slumber, however, was filled with the aroma of perfume, the rhythm of the dance, and the delicate figure and angelic smile of Jane Bennet, with whom he had been quite captivated immediately upon being introduced. When he awoke after eleven, he sent for tea and rolls to be brought to his room, and instructed the footman to request that Mr. West, the butler, inform his sisters and Mr. Darcy that he was, indeed, in good health and even better spirits, and that he would join them shortly. While eating in bed, musing over the many pleasant images of the past night imprinted upon his memory, he heard a courteous knock at his door.
“Come in,” Bingley called.
The heavy door turned slowly on its hinges and his steward, Mr. Wilshere, entered.
“Ah, Mr. Wilshere, top of the morning to you,” Bingley said cheerfully.
“And to you, sir,” the steward replied. Wilshere was a man in his late thirties, as of yet unmarried in large part due to the strain his work put upon him. He was, as always, immaculately dressed.
“Do you care for some bread?”
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Well, what business is at hand that requires my attention from bed?” asked Bingley jovially.
“I believe I have discovered the third and fourth members of the Fraser cabal,” stated Wilshere.
Bingley sat up and placed a half-eaten roll on the silver platter resting atop the duvet. “Tell me,” he demanded, his mood suddenly transformed.
“First, let me prepare you, sir—”
“Tell me, man.”
Wilshere put up both hands. “Patience, sir, I beg you. The development at hand is, while not certain at this moment, rather sobering .”
“Wilshere, out with it.”
“I am in no doubt whatsoever that the third member of the scheme is Lord Bertram St. John.”
“The Earl of Canterbury? ” asked the bewildered Bingley.
“The same, sir,” responded the steward.
“It cannot be.”
“As I stated earlier, sir, of this I am completely certain—”
“Complete certainty does not persuade me, Mr. Wilshere.”
“I am waiting on particular confirmations, Mr. Bingley. You will, as always, inspect the evidence yourself and make your determination.”
“Yes, I certainly shall,” Bingley answered. “Bertram St. John is one of the wealthiest men in Europe.”
“I am aware of it, sir.”
“He has personally advised the King’s Treasury on several occasions.”
“Indeed, he has,” confirmed Wilshere.
“King George himself summoned him personally during the American War—”
“You commissioned me to gather information, sir—to track down those responsible for the unthinkable evil being committed under the noses of our countrymen, by our countrymen. I have faithfully executed this task, with great effort and personal risk, I might remind you. You will consider the evidence yourself at your leisure, but it most certainly leads to the door of Lord Bertram St. John, the Earl of Canterbury.”
Bingley picked up the half roll and tossed it haphazardly at the window. “How sure are you, Wilshere?”
“Comprehensively.”
“As certain as you were of Andrew Fraser and Thomas Abbot?”
“Aye.”
“Unthinkable,” Bingley answered calmly.
“Again, sir, you will inspect the evidence yourself.”
Bingley nodded. “And who is the fourth?—No wait, let me guess, the Prince Regent himself?”
“I should not entertain such a thought, sir, not even facetiously.”
“Of course not, Wilshere; forgive me.”
The steward nodded. “The fourth, and I would submit to you that of this person’s involvement I am slightly less convinced, although only slightly less so—”
“Please, end this misery and tell me already.”
“We have eliminated the military muscle—Sir Andrew Fraser. We determined the political favours were purchased by the late Thomas Abbott and have recently dealt with him. The obscene operation itself is financed by none other than Lord Bertram St. John. And I believe, Mr. Bingley, that the legwork, the real and daily work of the devil, is carried out by none other than George Wickham .”