Part 2.
Far away from the river and its environs of nearly poverty stricken inhabitants, stood the houses of London's richer society. Instead of the cares of home's owners focusing on how little they had with which to feed and clothe themselves, these wealthy leaders of frivolity and fashion were, today at least, concerning themselves with a wedding. A union brought about by money, witnessed by money, and now celebrated with money.
Ensconced upon the outskirts of the crowd that had gathered to congratulate the 'happy couple,' were those who felt obliged to attend events such as these, in order to keep their businesses alive by accumulating connections with these affluent personages.
Richard Fitzwilliam was one of these business men. A son of the Earl of Matlock, he had been provided with enough means of free fortune- money that was not tied to his elder brother's inheritance -to start a practice at law. His personal preference had been for the Army, but his mother had fear of his being killed on some foreign battlefield and so to please her he had chosen the law instead. While it had not advanced his career as much as Richard would have liked, it had brought him a much valued friendship.
Taking two glasses from a passing servant, Richard made his way through the crowds back to that friend now.
He had secured for them the privacy of two large armchairs by a fire in one of the connecting anterooms, which provided some peace from the main wedding breakfast festivities. Richard caught sight of the smoke from his friend's cigar as he neared these armchairs and sank gratefully into the vacant one.
"Did I tell you, Richard," his friend began after he had sat down, "that my respected father has found a wife for his not generally respected son?"
"Really, Charles," Richard remarked. "With some money of course?" He sought to ascertain.
"With some money of course," Charles echoed. "Else he would never have found her."
Richard turned from his view of the fire to glance at the crowd for a moment. "So, who exactly is our host today?" He asked his friend, knowing from past experience that Charles loathed talking about his father's filial expectations for long.
"Lucas," Charles replied. "Over there," he added, pointing the host and hostess out for his friend. "Mr Empire. This is his good deed for the year."
A click of one of the doors leading into the main room called their attention from the Lucases to the new arrival.
"Good lord," Richard said as he recognised the formidable woman. "I'm surprised Aunt Catherine has graced this gorgeous spectacle with her royal presence."
"Old money doesn't mind sniffing around new money for an hour or two," Charles remarked. "Champagne tastes the same whoever's buying."
This was a practise which his friend knew about all too well. Charles' father was once accorded the same honorific 'Mr Empire,' as Sir William Lucas was now, but enough time had since passed to let his new money become old. Mr Bingley senior saw the sense of attaching himself to a landed gentry family by marrying an heiress, and now expected his children to do the same. Charles' preference for a career was encouraged, but only with the expectation that he should earn an acceptable profit out of it.
"Oh lord," Richard said suddenly, as he sank himself deep in the confines of the chair, vainly hoping it was not too late to go unnoticed. "She's coming over."
"Richard Fitzwilliam!" Lady Catherine called out, making her nephew reluctantly rise from his seat. "You wretch! Why have you not come to see me?"
"Oh my dear Aunt," Richard began, hoping his charms would flatter her ego enough to leave them in peace; "I cannot bear having to force my way through the crowds of your other admirers. A man must have hope."
Lady Catherine de Bourgh flicked her nephew's shoulder with her fan in mild admonishment, and then glanced at the hosts.
"Well, the Lucases have certainly done their young friends proud." she declared. "Dear best friends of the groom and of course the bride." She raised her voice to attract the attention of other guests. "Any one know anything about the bride?"
The only response that met her query was the entrance of the couple in question.
"I've never seen him before," Lady Catherine continued, "or her. Does anyone know anything about them?"
Someone chose to answer her at last, providing Richard with a brief respite and he enjoyed some peace with his friend while the room gossiped and speculated about how many acres of land, or investments, and fortunes to be inherited by either one of the happy couple if not both of them. Though it was clear by the end of this discussion that no one present had made the acquaintance of the newlyweds before they were wed, it would have been the pinnacle of bad manners to declare such a distinction publicly. So as the bride and groom made their rounds to talk with the host and hostess, along with a few of the guests, everyone pretended that their knowledge of each other was long established on both sides.
"Nephew," Lady Catherine called again when the bride and groom had retired to talk before leaving. "I insist upon you telling me all about the Darcy fortune."
Richard sighed and pretended he had no knowledge of what his Aunt was talking about. "Darcy?" He echoed.
"Come now, nephew. My late and dearly lamented brother in law has been dead for weeks and we don't know what is to become of his fortune."
"Society becomes restless when it smells a great fortune left unclaimed," Charles remarked to friend.
"I find it immensely embarrassing having the eyes of society upon me to this extent," Richard said, before relenting to tell the story behind his involvement with his late Uncle's Will. "George Darcy as you know was a younger son and a tremendous old rascal who made his money in dust."
"An absolute scandal!" Sir William Lucas commented. "A fortune to be made in rubbish!"
"And my brother in law actually lived among the dust heaps?" Lady Catherine sought to confirm, her tone full of disdain at this way of living.
"Yes," Richard confirmed, "like a veritable mountain range about him. My Uncle however had the miserable inclination to make enemies out of all his family. All were turned out of the house. Even the son. Now keep your eyes fixed on the son because this is where I come in. He grew up abroad."
"In the Cape?" Lady Catherine queried.
"In the Cape," Richard confirmed. "Where I discovered he was living, only the other day, having been abroad for some fourteen years. The whole range of dust mountains plus estate is left to young Darcy and he has set sail home to claim it. He is due in England now, even as we speak."
"So my brother in law was not such an unnatural monster after all. Fortune will go to the son, as it should," Lady Catherine opined.
"Ah, but he did leave a sting in the tail of his will," Richard remarked. "The son's inheritance is conditional upon his marrying a girl he has never met. One Elizabeth Bennet."
"Elizabeth Bennet?" Lady Catherine echoed. "Never heard of her. Has anyone any knowledge of any Elizabeth Bennet? Is she out?"
A general silence met these enquiries.
"What if Darcy does not care for the bride his perverse father has chosen for him?" Charles asked.
"Not care for her?" Cried the other.
"Cast off the dust mountains?" Added the brother.
"Not care for a marriageable young woman called Elizabeth?" Lady Catherine cried. "And throw away a fortune? Really, Charles!"
In to this crowd of feckless society a footman entered, carrying a slip of paper. He came to a halt before Richard.
"A note has arrived for you, sir," the footman announced.
The room settled into eager silence as Richard unfolded the slip of paper and read the contents contained therein.
"This note arrives in the most opportune manner," he said a few minutes later. "I fear it is the conclusion of Darcy's story."
"There," Sir William Lucas cried out. "Fellow's married already."
"Refuses to marry Elizabeth Bennet?" One of his daughters added. "Surely not?"
"No," Richard replied. "No you're all wrong. The story is completer and rather more exciting than I had supposed." He paused before announcing, "William Darcy is drowned."
Silence overcame the occupants of the room as each member of the crowd quietly dealt with such a disturbing revelation coming upon the conclusion of an inheritance, the nature of which had occupied the gossip columns for almost a twelvemonth.
Richard took the opportunity to slip out of the room, his friend quietly following him downstairs and into the sanctuary of the Lucas Library.
A young man was awaiting them, seated in the armchair by the window. In his hands rested one of the many leather bound volumes which resided in the Library and his face was buried within its pages.
Richard came over to stand in front of him. "Did you write this?" He asked.
The boy looked up. "I did," he answered curtly before looking down at the pages again.
Richard sighed but persisted. "Did you find the body?"
"My father, Jesmond Philips, found the body," the boy replied.
"What's his position?" Richard asked.
The boy's answer was a little uncertain this time. "He... gets his living along shore."
"And why did your father," Charles inquired, "Jesmond Philips, not write the note himself?"
The boy looked up at him disdainfully and made no reply.
"Is the body far?" Richard asked.
"It's a goodish stretch," the youth informed them arrogantly. "I came up in a cab, and the cab's waiting to be paid." He paused, then added, "we could go back in it before you paid it, if you like."
Richard placed his hands on the arms of the chair before venturing another question. "William Darcy was discovered dead?"
Young Philips looked up disdainfully refusing to be intimidated. "Dead as the Pharaoh's multitude drowned under the Red Sea. If Lazarus was as half as far gone that was the greatest of miracles."
"Good lord," Richard remarked as he walked away from the boy. "You seem to be at home in the Red Sea, young man."
"Read of it with a teacher at school," Philips informed them, "But don't you tell my father. It was my cousin's contriving."
"You seemed to have a good cousin," Charles commented.
"She ain't bad," Young Philips agreed. "But if she even knows half her letters its because I learned her."
Charles looked up from his stance by the desk at this and walked over to the boy. He gripped Philips' chin with his hand and turned the arrogant youth's face so he would meet his gaze. A silent duel of strength was quietly initiated by the boy and calmly refused by the man, who returned to the desk. He lifted the lid of Lucas' cigar case and took out two prime specimens. Placing both in his jacket pocket he closed the lid and turned to his friend. "I'll go with you if I may."
Richard nodded his consent and took the book from the boy, returning the volume to its proper shelf. Affecting not to care, the boy rose from his seat and led the two lawyers out into the city.