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“You wanted to see the prisoner?” Forster verified.

“We do,” Fitzwilliam confirmed. Forster summoned his adjutant to show Lord Hilldale, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Mr Darcy to the brig.

“I always knew you would end up behind bars one day,” Fitzwilliam mocked once the soldier guarding Wickham left them alone. “It has been a long time coming, and now, you will finally pay for your misdeeds.”

“It is nothing less than you deserve for what you attempted with my young cousin,” Hilldale snarled.

Wickham felt a certain amount of bravado, as there were steel bars between him and the man who so scared him. “If I were you three, I would get me out of here unless you want me to begin telling one and all how I compromised little Georgiana. I am sure…” He closed his mouth when he heard the sound of a sabre being drawn from its scabbard.

In a flash, Fitzwilliam reached through the bars, grabbed Wickham by his shirt and pulled him hard against the cold metal. There was a cracking sound as some of Wickham’s teeth broke against the bars. Just as fast, the tip of the sabre was at Wickham’s throat. “Mention my ward again, even think of her, and I will end you. No gaol will protect you, as you can see now,” Fitzwilliam growled menacingly. “No one will believe you, and who will you tell in prison? Never forget what I said; not one more word about my cousin.”

The cold, sharp steel tip against his neck was more than enough to convince Wickham that Fitzwilliam was deadly serious. The abject terror he felt caused him to relieve himself in his pants again.

“I will always regret that I did not allow my late father to see proof of who you really are. Perhaps had you been stopped early enough, you would not be here now,” Darcy mused. “You always look to blame others, but it has always been you, Wickham. You are, and always have been, the author of your own misfortune. We will leave here and never think of you again. I am sure; however, you will think about us every day for the rest of your miserable life.”

Fitzwilliam withdrew his sabre and threw Wickham back towards his straw pallet. The three cousins turned and walked away, never looking at the prisoner again.

Chapter 23

Fanny was holding court with her two youngest daughters while she extolled their methods of flirting with officers. Jane and Elizabeth were seated on a settee as far from their mother and youngest sisters as they were able to. They burnt with embarrassment at the impropriety of what their mother and sisters were discussing.

When the door opened and her husband entered, followed by Mary and Mr Collins, Fanny was confused. Why would Mr Bennet be in the drawing room at this time of the day? Also, why was Mary’s hand resting on Mr Collins’s arm?

“Mrs Bennet, and daughters, I am happy to inform you that Mr Collins asked our Mary for a courtship, and she has accepted said offer. I have given my permission and blessing,” Bennet announced. “I am sure you will all join me in wishing the courting couple well.”

“No! I said he was to marry Lizzy! I do not agree to this match! Mary is far too plain!” Fanny screeched.

Bennet was highly amused as his wife’s reaction was even more than he had hoped it would be. He said nothing, as he wanted to see how much more of a cake his wife would make of herself.

William Collins did not miss the mortification on the two eldest sisters’ countenances. He saw the pain on Mary’s face as well. “Mrs Bennet, pray tell, whatever gave you the idea that you had the right to direct me to anyone? I, Madam, am my own man, and as such, the choice of who will be my wife one day is between me and the lady involved. Also, Mrs Bennet, are you in need of spectacles?”

“Spectacles? Of course not, how could you say that?” Fanny spluttered shrilly.

“Because, Mrs Bennet, for you to claim Mary is plain, there must be a deficiency in your eyesight,” William asserted. “If you paid attention, you would see that Mary and Cousin Jane have the same face and features, only different hair and eye colour,” William shot back. “Thanks to your constant deriding of Mary’s looks over the years, she dressed and did her hair severely to try and fit into what you called her. She is anything but plain.” He turned to his cousin. “And you, Cousin Bennet, rather than protect your daughter, you revelled in the pain your wife was causing.”

Suddenly things were not so amusing for Bennet. He did not expect to have his own behaviour scrutinised.

“Mary is a warm, intelligent, compassionate, and pious woman,” William insisted. “She will be the ideal parson’s wife. Cousin Elizabeth and I do not suit, and we both know it. So, tell me, Mrs Bennet, when it has been obvious to everyone else in this house that I have been unofficially courting Mary almost from the day I arrived, how is it you did not see it? You still tried to push Cousin Elizabeth and me together, ignoring that you failed each and every time. Now, rather than be happy for one of your daughters, you cry that I have not chosen the daughter you think I should have.”

“Lizzy is too hoydenish to marry, and men are frightened off by her intelligence. I thought this was her only chance to make a match, as no man wants a clever wife,” Fanny bemoaned.

“I would have liked an intelligent wife,” Bennet mumbled.

“Cousin Elizabeth will find the partner of her future life when the time is right, and God ordains it should be so,” William opined. “Let me ask you something, Mrs Bennet.”

“What is it?” Fanny sniffed, putting on a hurt look.

“You hoped I would marry Cousin Elizabeth so that you would be able to remain at Longbourn after Cousin Bennet is called home to God—which we all pray is many years from now—did you not?” William enquired.

“Yes, and I would remain mistress…” Fanny began.

“Firstly, Mrs Bennet, whether or not you remain in the manor house will be my future wife’s choice,” William explained as he cut her off. “If she accepts me when I offer for her, that wife will be Mary. Now ask yourself if Mary will be disposed towards allowing you to remain in the house she will be mistress of from the first day I become master? After the way you have treated her over the years, what reason would Mary have to want you living in the house with us? Secondly, let me be rightly understood, you will not remain the mistress of this house after your husband goes to his eternal reward.”

Fanny fell back into her chair. If she was being honest with herself and if Lizzy had been Mr Collins’s choice, she doubted whether she would have been allowed to remain at Longbourn. Why had she not seen that Mr Collins was Mary’s suitor? Had she been completely blinded by her own plans and desires? Was not one daughter married to Mr Bennet’s heir as good as another? As Mr Collins’s words about it being his wife’s choice if Fanny would remain at Longbourn sank in, Fanny began to feel somewhat panicked. She knew she had not treated Mary well, and now it would be this daughter who held Fanny’s future security in her hands. As the panic increased, Fanny swooned and promptly fainted. Thankfully, she was sitting in an armchair at the time.

Mrs Hill and the salts she carried with her at all times were summoned. The housekeeper placed the vial under her mistress’s nose. The effect was almost immediate.

“Mr Bennet, you cannot allow Mary to turn me out to starve in the hedgerows,” Fanny wailed.