“If we are able, we will assist the new Duchess,” Lady Matlock stated. “However, I expect he will isolate her from society like he did his other wives.”
No one disagreed with her.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
As soon as he had arrived in London, Hertfordshire had the settlement papers sent to his solicitor. Yes, he had agreed to some things which raised his lawyer’s eyebrows, but he fully intended to survive his new wife like he had the others so it was of no consequence to him.
The same day he sent Wickham to deliver the notices to the papers. If only he could have been present in the homes of members of theTonwhen, despite their attempts to hobble him from finding a new duchess, they learned he had successfully secured a fiancée.
The next two days he spent between two of his mistresses. How it pleased him to be able to exercise his power over the doxies. As much as he would have liked to have Wickham procure him a wife of some peer or another, he knew he needed to refrain until after he was married. He did not want to give the Bishop of St. Paul’s reason to deny him being married at that church.
Before returning to London after the summer upcoming, he would need to get the spitfire with child. Once she was sent away to one of his estates for the duration of her confinement, he would be able to enjoy himself and take his pleasures.
On his third day in Town, the Duke remembered he should send an engagement ring to his fiancée. He was at the largest of his four homes in London, Hertfordshire House on Berkeley Square. Hertfordshire pulled a bell pull. When the butler entered he told him to summon Wickham for him.
While waiting for Wickham, he swung the painting opposite him on the wall open and opened the safe behind it. Without paying attention he pulled open a drawer of rings and grabbed one from the top.
It was a gold band with a large emerald surrounded by smaller diamonds.
By the time Wickham knocked and was bade enter, the safe was locked and the painting back in place. “Ride to Long…whatever the name of the estate is, and present my fiancée with this ring.” Hertfordshire tossed the ring at his man carelessly. Luckily Wickham caught it.
“It will be as you wish, Your Grace,” Wickham bowed and then inspected the ring. “If I may point this out, Your Grace, your betrothed’s fingers are somewhat thinner than this ring, it will not fit her.”
“What care I, tell the father to have it made smaller then. Away with you.” The Duke waved Wickham away like he would anyone of no consequence.
Wickham schooled his features, bowed and left the room. In short order, he was on a horse headed to Longbourn.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
“The Duke of Hertfordshire’s man to see Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth,” Wickham told the butler who opened the portal after he had let the knocker fall against the oak door.
Without a word, Hill made his way to the study. He returned anon and led Wickham into the room. Wickham lookedaround, other than at Pemberley and the Duke’s libraries—and that man disdained reading, his libraries were to impress—he had never seen so many books in one place.
“My daughter is no longer here,” Bennet stated gruffly without standing and greeting his guest.
“You have allowed her to run away?” Wickham thundered. “His Grace will be most displeased and you will feel his wrath…”
“I said she was not here, not that I do not know where she is,” Bennet interjected.
“Then where is she?” Wickham demanded.
The worst thing for his health would be to return to Berkeley Square and report Miss Elizabeth was gone.
“She is at this address,” Bennet proffered a piece of paper.
Wickham read:
Edward Gardiner
23 Gracechurch Street
London
“Why did you not write and tell His Grace she is in London?” Wickham insisted.
“I knew one of his lackeys would call.” Bennet blanched when he saw the man bunch up his fists. “You are correct, I should have done so. With everything which has occurred of late, it was an oversight on my part.” Not wanting to be hit again, Bennet had used a more conciliatory tone of voice for the latter part of his speech.
Wickham relaxed and opened his balled-up fists. “Good day,” he intoned and then was gone.
