That was something else which angered Wickham. All the time he had devoted to old Mr Darcy and what was left for him in the will? A satellite estate? A large legacy? No! A measly one thousand pounds and a recommendation to the Kympton livingifhe took orders. Sermons had never been in Wickham’s future so he had demanded ten thousand pounds in lieu of the living; he settled for three thousand instead. He had told Darcy he intended to study the law, and of course the interest on the one thousand his godfather had bequeathed him was not nearly enough for that. Damned Darcy had tricked him into signing away any future claims to the living before the bank draft would be released. Thanks to his owing money to men on whom one did not welch, Wickham had signed thinking regardless of what he signed, when he needed more money, he would claim the living again, and have Darcy pay him off once again.
It had not been his fault that after he paid the Spaniard, he had lost the balance of the four thousand pounds he had had in less than three years. Just when he thought his luck was all bad, he had heard the incumbent vicar at Kympton had retired. Not wanting the living, he had nevertheless written to Darcy claiming it. He had planned to offer to not take his living for the low sum of five thousand pounds. The fact he had never taken orders, or read the law like he had claimed he would, was neither here nor there.
Bloody Darcy had refused to give him anything! That was when he had begun to plan to extract his revenge. How fortuitous it had been when he had seen an advertisement in the paper for prospective companions to apply at Darcy House for a young lady of fifteen. Luckily, his paramour, Karen Younge , had been willing to act as the companion and they had paid a man to create characters for her. Fortune had smiled on them when Darcy and Fitzwilliam—now that was one man Wickham truly feared—had not verified her characters. With the coaching Wickham had provided, Karen had known just what to say. The position had been awarded to her.
Everything had been going according to plan, and then the prig arrived. Wickham had thought Darcy was about to beat him, but he had just been sent away. When he had attempted to extract money for his silence, Darcy had threatened sending his cousin after him. Wickham had left Ramsgate with all speed, thankful to be alive and not to have Richard Fitzwilliam on his trail.
He had not seen Karen since the day Darcy had arrived in Ramsgate. Wickham knew not what she had done after, but he had heard Darcy sacked her on the spot.
From what Denny had told him on his return from scouting for an encampment in Meryton, there were lots of trusting merchants and many pretty girls to beproposedto. Under normal circumstances Wickham shied away from gently bred girls as they were always well protected, but hisfriend had related that there were two in particular who would share their favours with any officer sporting a scarlet coat. Once Wickham had his fun with the willing girls, he hoped he would encounter an heiress in this Meryton.
One thing he was certain of, he would never see Darcy or Fitzwilliam in a backwater town in Hertfordshire. If he never saw either of them again it would be too soon.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Miss Bingley sauntered into the dining parlour with her nose still in the air. She was on her way to sit next to her sister so she was most put out when she saw a Bennet girl either side of Louisa. That she would have to sit lower than these country mushrooms did not sit well with her. She thought herself supremely fashionable.
When Miss Bingley entered, she was in a hideous shade of orange, with a matching turban and three dyed ostrich feathers stuck into it. The colour of her hair and her ensemble clashed violently. Elizabeth had to force herself not to laugh at how ridiculous the woman looked. She reminded herself of the promise she had made Jane and schooled her features.
Nothing was said while the creamed leek soup was served. As soon as the footmen withdrew, Miss Bingley pounced. “Did I hear your mother is the daughter of a solicitor?” she stated with an insincere smile on her face.
“That is correct,” Jane replied, but added no more than that.
“I am sure you have illustrious connections with a mother whose roots are in trade,” Miss Bingley declared nastily. “Does your mother have family?”
“Her sister’s husband took over the law offices when our late grandfather Elias passed away, and Mama has a brother who lives in London,” Elizabeth responded through gritted teeth as she fought to keep her temper in check.
“In London you say? I am sure he does not live at afashionable address like we members of high society do,” Miss Bingley asserted cattily.
“Uncle Edward lives on Gracechurch Street near Cheapside,” Jane averred. She could see Lizzy’s ire building and tried to answer in her stead all the while she was feeling worse and worse as she felt a fever beginning to burn.
“How quaint. All of your connections are in trade. Although your family owns an estate, insignificant as it is, it is entailed away to the male line, so you will one day be evicted from it,” Miss Bingley alleged with a sneer. “I hear you have no dowries, while I myself have twenty thousand pounds.”
“Caroline! Cease!” Mrs Hurst hissed.
“Then it seems we have much in common, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth proclaimed.
“We have nothing in common!” Miss Bingley screeched.
“Of course we do, we have family in trade, while your late father was in trade, and unless I err, there are members of your family still working for their money. The money for Mama’s dowry was earned from good, honest work, as was yours,” Elizabeth pointed out with saccharine sweetness belying the anger behind her words. “I am afraid that is where the comparisons stop. You see, entailed or not, the Bennets have held Longbourn for hundreds of years. Unlike you we were raised in the gentry. My mother, like Louisa, was elevated in rank when she married a landed gentleman. Lastly, I will offer you a tip for one who was not raised as part of the gentry—it is considered rather vulgar to speak of one’s dowry.”
“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME IN THAT WAY?” Miss Bingley screamed as loudly as she was able. At the same time she slammed her fist down on the table not noticing her soup bowl was right there. Her fist struck the near side of the bowl, causing the still hot soup within to be sprayed all over her burnt orange ensemble.
Miss Bingley howled as the hot soup seeped through herdress. She jumped up before a footman could pull her seat back and rushed out of the dining parlour, a stream of expletives issuing from her as she ran. It was not long before the sound of a door being slammed was heard.
“I am so sorry Louisa; I could not sit quietly while she attacked my family. If you desire us to leave, we…” Elizabeth stopped when her new friend placed her hand on her arm.
“Lizzy, I am not angry with you. In the face of Caroline’s unacceptable behaviour you showed admirable restraint. No, you are not going anywhere…” Mrs Hurst saw Jane and how flushed she was, while at the same time not looking at all well. “Jane are you well?”
“I believe I may have a fever,” Jane said, “I am not…” Jane lolled back in her chair.
Mrs Hurst summoned the housekeeper and with great efficiency and gentleness, Miss Bennet was assisted up to a suite in the guest wing. Elizabeth was assigned the second bedchamber in the suite.
“With this rain, I doubt whether you and Jane would have been able to return to Longbourn in any event,” Mrs Hurst opined. “I will have a groom ride to your estate with a note as soon as it is safe for him to do so.”
‘Well at least that means the men will have to remain at the inn,’ Elizabeth told herself silently.
As she had that thought, three soaked men arrived back at the manor house.
