Saint-Omer
Near Calais
France
Monsieur Long,
My name is Doctor Pontmercy. It is my sad task to write and inform you that your brother and sister-in-law are now with our Lord God.
They were beset upon by brigands who robbed them and left them for dead just outside of our normally peaceful little town. Your brother’s wife had already passed on when they were discovered by a farmer in the morning three days past. Mr Arthur Long was alive, though barely. He knew that his time was close, so he had me write the enclosed document which he signed and was witnessed by myself and Inspector Javert, the head gendarme in our town, after which it was certified by our mayor.
He begged me to inform you of his fate and make sure that you received the document passing the guardianship of his dear daughters to you. I think that he was holding on until he had achieved his aims. As much as I tried and my wife Cosette dedicated herself to his nursing, he joined his wife a day after he had made sure the business was transacted.
On behalf of Monsieur Valjean, the mayor, and all law-abiding citizens, please accept my apologies that this befell your family in our country.
Au revoir,
Maurice Pontmercy, Doctor of Medicine
Mrs Long was most concerned; her husband had turned almost white in pallor and was unsteady on his feet as he sat down heavily on a bench. It took a little while before he called his wife over to quietly explain what had befallen his brother and sister-in-law. Cheryl Long started to sob as her husband hugged her close. The only saving grace was that the two little girls, now orphans, had not noticed their aunt and uncle as they were engrossed in their play with their new friends.
Mr Long sat up with a determined look and lifted his wife’s chin while he used his handkerchief to dry her eyes.“We do not have the luxury to fall apart now, Cheryl,” he said as he looked toward the girls who in an instant had gone from nieces to daughters.“We have two young girls to raise who will need all of our strength to get through this period once we break the awful news to them.”
“You have the right of it, Jonathan,” Mrs Long said as she sat up straight.“Our first concern must be the girls now. When will we tell them?”
“Allow them to finish their play time,” Mr Long said with sadness.“We will take them inside and break the news to them as gently as possible once Jane and Mariah have been taken home.”
And so, it was two hours later when Mr and Mrs Long had to tell the two girls that their mama and papa were now in heaven with God. Mandy, the eldest, had a basic understanding that death meant that she would never get to see her parents again. Her younger sister Cara just kept on asking when God would allow her parents to come home again. Eventually the Longs got the distraught girls to sleep on their first night of being parents hoping that soon they could go to bed after seeing smiles rather than tears.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Charles Bingley was enjoying his lessons at Eton, mostly. He had quickly made friends with Darcy who helped him with understanding some constructs in mathematics that he had a hard time grasping, and he was also becoming friends with Darcy’s cousin Fitzwilliam. He was also fairly friendly with Lord Wes De Melville when they were in company; however with the rest of the boys it seemed to be a different story.
He had been whispered about in his hearing as others spoke about the tradesman’s son who was reaching too high, while other boys openly mocked him and his antecedents. Bingley, who did not like confrontation, tried to ignore the taunts as much as he could, hoping that being unable to garner a reaction the boys would get tired of making sport of him and leave him be.
One afternoon Bingley was walking from the college to his house when he was pushed into an alleyway where he stumbled and fell. When he looked up, he saw four of his worst tormentors blocking the exit from the alley.“P-lease a-allow m-me to p-pass,” Bingley stammered.
The leader of this lot walked up to Bingley and drove his fist into the unsuspecting boy’s stomach, causing him to double over in pain as he gasped for air.“We do not want dirty tradesmen in our school,” said the bully who hit him.
The other three closed in menacingly and Bingley prepared himself for the blows to rain down on his person, when he heard a commanding voice rise from behind them.“Graceford, you snivelling coward, leave my friend alone.”
The heckler and his cohorts turned to find Richard Fitzwilliam standing behind them. Graceford, knowing that the Earl’s son was strong and exceptionally good at fisticuffs, decided that four of them would be able to deal with the interfering house captain.
“You should not have come alone, Fitzwilliam,” the bully said from behind his accomplices.
“Look at the coward hiding behind his so-called friends,” Richard said derisively.“And who said I was alone?” His cousin and Viscount Westmore stepped around the corner of the building, both looking ready to take their pound of flesh from the reprehensible boys. The three with the bully knew that they would have had a hard time subduing just Fitzwilliam, but with the other two to back him up, they did not want any part of it, so they turned tail and ran. Graceford was on his own and looking decidedly paler.
“What did my friend do to you, Graceford?” William asked.
“Your friend?” the ruffian looked back at him in surprise.“But he is a tradesman’s son!”
“And you are the son of a degenerate gambler,” Lord Wes shot back.
“He has one thing you will never have,” Richard growled as he returned the favour of a hard blow, much harder than had been delivered to Bingley by the cowering coward,“Character! You have none,” he spat out at the prostrate Graceford fighting for air.“If you or anyone else touches our friend or any other, I will see you sent down.”
“One word to my mother and you and your family will never be able to show your faces in society again,” Lord Wes added. His mother being one of the patronesses of Almack’s meant that his threat was a profoundly serious one indeed.
The three made sure that Bingley was well and the four of them left the snivelling bully sitting on the cobblestones of the alleyway with tears running down his cheeks. From that day on, the whispers and taunts were not heard; some derogatory comments were made in private from time to time, but Charles was not harassed by anyone any longer.
