Wickham was denied credit by the fourth tradesman with the same reasoning before he stopped asking. Although he was bothered that his normally unfailing manipulation skills were not working, he was not concerned because his fellow officers had confirmed the shopkeepers in this town would not extend credit to any of them.
This at least made Wickham feel a modicum of relief, believing his impunity to convince unsuspecting persons to give him anything he asked for was intact and he just needed to find a way to reach the merchants or tradesmen outside of town.
As he walked toward the tavern at the Running Bull Inn, he ruminated on the fact unless he charmed someone into buying his drinks, he would have to use his own dwindling supply of coin.
He had lost a good amount of his blunt at cards the night before; though the truth was luck had not been on his side for his gambling endeavours in a long time. Not only that, but he had also had the misfortune to join a unit where the Colonel had banned playing unless you had the blunt to pay upfront, and on top of that, even worse the prig did not allow any debts of honour among his officers.
But to make matters worse, his fellow officers he pegged as easy marks were instead very vigilant, so there was no way to cheat without being caught in the act. He had no choice, he had to remain with the infernal militia for the time being to hide from the men from London he had cheated and owed much more than he could ever pay, who were seeking him. Not to mention the dogged pursuit of a brother desiring satisfaction for one of the girls he had bedded and left behind with child. Ruined was such a nasty word, he had just introduced them to the arts they would soon need.
He looked along the High Street of Meryton as he sauntered toward the tavern, noticing there was a distinct lack of targets for him to start priming with the intent to seduce when the opportunity was right. If he could not find a willing participant, Wickham had no issue with forcing his attentions on a young maiden, so long as it got him what he wanted.
As he always did when down on his luck, he turned his anger on the source of all his woes. ‘If only Darcy had not arrived in Ramsgate unexpectedly to spoil my perfect plan. He is always costing me money!’ Wickham thought bitterly.‘Even if I had not been able to get that mouse’s thirty thousand, though it was but what was my due after all, I should have ruined her so I would have achieved my vengeance upon that prig Darcy. By spoiling her, I would have ruined their good name at last!’
Wickham knew had he done so, there is nothing that would have stopped Colonel Fitzwilliam from hunting him down and killing him without even a chance to say a final prayer to get him into heaven. That caused him to shudder involuntarily, and he refocused on the entryway now before him.
He swaggered into the tavern and in seeing no possible mark to sponge off, he laid a coin on the counter and ordered an ale. No, this paying for himself and being forced to be honest was no fun. He was George Darcy’s godson, he was meant to get what he wanted, and he should have been left Pemberley, not a paltry thousand pounds after all the time he spent sucking up to old Darcy.
He conveniently ignored the fact he had been given three thousand in lieu of the living he had refused. Him, a pastor, making sermons and taking orders and working to earn his blunt!? No, that was way too much effort for the likes of George Wickham who was destined to be a gentleman.
As was his wont, he assigned his failings to others as the list reran in his head. He did not have the character or honour to see his only enemy was himself so here he was again, scheming out the best way to get money without earning it. What did he care how many people he hurt, or how many maidens he ruined so long as he got what he wanted with minimum effort?
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
An extremely displeased, fuming, certainly very angry Lady Catherine de Bourgh was stewing in her discontent as she was wending her way into Hertfordshire to order her wayward nephew to do his duty to her daughter Anne. She had schemed about this for too many years to allow some nobody to snatch the prize of Pemberley away when it was so close to being hers.
‘I will get what is my due, I will gain control of Pemberley and all of the vast wealth that goes with it.’ she vowed to herself again.
That she was the only one in the world who forwarded the union did not deter her, she believed it would happen just because she wished it. That she had been told by all in her family that Anne and George Darcy had made it known her claim of an agreement was patently false was not something Lady Catherine acknowledged.
She discarded this inconvenient truth as she did all facts not fitting the narrative she spun for herself. Those who knew her were well aware her desires and actions were driven by the lies she told herself and everyone else. In her mind, she was always right, knew everything about everything, and always got what she desired.
That none of that was true never entered her stream of consciousness, but like her ex-parson who had had a date with the hangman’s noose, she never allowed facts or inconveniences such as truth to sway her.
At least her useless, snivelling parson, who had dared beg her to intercede on his behalf, had performed her one last service, she had the directions to the Bennet’s insignificant estate because of the missive he had sent her.
As her carriage rolled through Meryton she sniffed with disdain, as if there was a bad smell in the air while her barouche box traversed through the already forgotten country market town on the way to her destination.
Based on what her now late, former parson had imparted about them before she sent him on his fateful and doomed mission, she believed the Bennets were of the lowest circle of gentry with no fortune and an insignificant, irrelevant estate. The distinction of rank had to be maintained, so she was sure these inconsequential persons would wilt before her grandness even before she made her sentiments known.
Her first clue her parson had not imparted the truth to her came as the carriage made its way down a long drive, which was greater than a mile in length, and the manor house came into view.
Lady Catherine was shocked to discover the structure rivalled Rosings Park in size and were she someone that was willing to be honest with herself, she would have acknowledged that it was, in fact, larger. But as this did not fit the expectations, she expected all to abide by, she dismissed the visual evidence before her, presuming it was but a trick she would get to the bottom of before she departed.
After the coach came to a halt the step was lowered, and the footman stood aside before he opened the door just in case the mistress repeated her actions from when they had arrived at Matlock House. She marched up to the front door and, in her imperious manner, rapped on it with her now cracked walking stick.
The door was opened by Hill, bodily blocking her attempt to storm into the house unannounced and uninvited. The assembled party now included Anne de Bourgh, cringed as they heard the familiar refrain echoing in the entryway.
“I am most seriously displeased! Move out of my way! Do you know who I am?” Lady Catherine looked at the butler with disgust, while anyone else would have taken a moment to recognise he was dressed in the most impeccable of butler’s suits. Bennet watched Reggie, waiting for the request that was, as ever, unnecessary.
“You know my house is your house, Reggie. I give you leave to act as the host to your sister in any way you see fit. I have two sons that also need a firmer hand and three daughters that had the nerve to grow up on me and are intending to make their own lives. Please order time to cease advancing as soon as you have handled yourdearsister,” Bennet ribbed.
His jest won the laugh he had hoped for from Anne, and as a bonus, the rest in the drawing room. He winked at her, nodding when Fanny went to her side and took her hand, murmuring something perfect, he was sure, and was proven right when Anne settled and relaxed.
“Thank you, Bennet. I have long since had enough of her behaviour. Now that Anne is claiming what is hers by rights, it is time to handle this harpy.” He winked at Anne, who had never imagined this side of her family and giggled, which was so rare for her Richard and Darcy grinned at the hearing of it.
Richard stood behind Anne in a show of support, allowing Darcy to stay away so their Aunt would have no fuel for her delusion as his father stepped toward the hall. What swelled his heart with pride was Mary’s sitting on the other side of Anne and her too whispering something that made Anne smile as she took Mary’s proffered hand.
“What are you doing here, Catherine?” the Earl asked drolly as soon as she saw him.
