Thank you all for the wonderful comments. I live for them. Thank you. Thank you. Real life is easing up a bit and should be able to start answering comments soon!
History Notes:
I find it hard to blame Queen Charlotte for her fictional negligence of Jane in my little story. Her Majesty had had a very hard time of it all. She had completely devoted herself to her husband and their family. She had been very busy. I cannot imagine birthing fifteen children over a period of twenty one years. The Royal couple had done their best to raise the children in a pious environment where duty came first.
Somewhere along the line, it had all started to go wrong. The King's ministers made trouble. Wars crept up. The American colonies were lost. The people began to hate the King. The heir to the kingdom was openly defiant of his father. Her two youngest sons died. Some of her older boys went quite wild. There was more than one illegitimate marriage to a commoner and more than one long term mistress. Rumors flew that one of her sons was even a murderer.* More rumors flew that two of her unmarried daughters had given birth.** Her youngest child suffered debilitating illness and finally died. And, to top it all off, her husband went mad.
She had withdrawn further and further into a smaller and smaller world. Now she existed mostly at Windsor Castle. There she tried to keep everything that might further upset the King far away from him.
Who could blame Queen Charlotte for keeping Jane Bennet, the image of the King's favorite daughter who was now dead and buried, out of their lives?
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*In the early morning of May 31, 1810, the valet of the Duke of Cumberland was found in bed with his throat slit. Prince Ernest Augustus (Cumberland) claimed that the servant had attacked him with a saber. (He did have wounds.) The Prince cried out and raised an alarm. When the valet heard the guards approaching, he slit his own throat. The Prince's strange story became the official version of events, but it was not widely believed. Cumberland went on to become King of Hanover.
**It seems certain that Princess Sophia did give birth. The other rumored pregnancy was that of the Princess Elizabeth. Historians do not seem to believe that she really had a child.
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Redemption
Chapter 13
Wapping, London
March 30, 1812
George stood in front of his cracked and dirty pier glass as he unwound the scarf from his around his head. The person who stared back at him was a stranger, a misshapen stranger. He slowly ran his fingers over the bumps and bulges that were growing larger every day.
He could still feel the eyes of his master as they had borne into him today. George had been mucking out the stalls. He was so tired that he had to pause and lean on his rake. It was then that he had felt someone's eyes on him. The master was already suspicious of the scarf. It was no longer the dead of winter. George's hat and beard hid a great deal, but not enough. He had to keep the scarf. But it had drawn the master's eyes and now the man was watching as George struggled to work. How much longer could George keep his condition hidden? He was going to lose his job. He just knew it.
Even worse, Wickham knew that the Darcys had left for Pemberley. He had himself prepared all those horses for their carriages. How long were they to be gone? When would Georgiana come back? In his current state how could he possibly follow them? He had no more funds and he was ill.
Even if he just stayed in London until they came back, how was he to live if he lost his job?
If only he could get to Younge, she would help. But her watchers were still there. They were always still there.
His head ached as his mind went to dear Georgiana. He knew that he was somehow responsible for her current state. How it had come about, he did not know. Did he give her a pox and then mercury ruined her mind? That was entirely possible. The how did not really matter, though. He knew he was guilty. Now all that mattered was staying close, learning how she was, seeing if there was anything that he could do to help her.
He could do nothing for Georgina if he could get no information about her. If he were to become homeless, he would soon be too weak to help her anyway. If he lived on the streets, this illness would soon consume him. He knew it. What was he to do? A place to stay, food and information about Georgiana were all needed. How was he to get all that? How? How?
Eventually George fell into a fitful sleep, plagued once again with nightmares about the Darcys.
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The answer to his dilemma was clear as soon as George woke up. Why had he not thought of it before? There was a house in town that he knew as well as he did Darcy House. It was an old monster with plenty of places in the attics to hide. Plus it held Georgiana's relations. He could sneak in, find a place sleep, steal food from the kitchens, and, best of all, he knew all the hidden passageways. He would be able to listen in on conversations. He would be able to hear about Georgiana.
Matlock House. He should have thought of it before.
The only drawback was Richard. George would be near a dangerous foe. Still, Richard would never look for him inside his own home. The foolish Colonel would not think George brave enough to come so near.
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Grosvenor Square, London
March 30, 1812
Bingley arrived home late at night. He had been three days at a hotel but the time alone had not helped. He wanted to head for Derbyshire and Jane, but he was not sure that Darcy would let him through the doors. He wanted to wash his hands of Caroline, but he did not know if he could carry it out. Facing Caroline never went the way he intended. So here he was, entering the Hurst townhouse, mostly because he thought Caroline would be asleep and he could not think of anything else to do at the moment.
To his surprise, the drawing room was aglow with light. He went in and found Louisa staring into the fire.
"Sister, I did not expect to see you at this hour."
"Charles!" Louisa flew into her brother's arms. All the stresses of these last days came out in a torrent of tears.
When her sobs finally stopped, Charles led her to a settee and got her a small glass of brandy.
"Take little sips. It will help to settle you."
Louisa did as she was bid. "Oh Charles, it was awful. We were received the direct cut from everyone. We are ruined. Hurst. Oh, he will be terrible to deal with. He was turned from his club. He has been in his cups since then. When he sobers…"
"And Caroline?"
"Charles, all she can do is blame Elizabeth Bennet."
"Mrs. Darcy."
"What?"
"She is Mrs. Darcy. You should not say Elizabeth Bennet."
Louisa wrinkled her nose.
"Louisa! Is that how you feel? Are you just like Caroline in this?"
"Charles, I cannot help it. I do not see why we should be suffering when that family was so awful. Why no one even knew who mothered those two eldest girls! They were not of our station."
Charles just shook his head. "Listen to yourself. You do sound just like our sister. We know now who mothered those two girls. The daughter of a duke mothered those two girls. Even Mr. Bennet is the son of an earl. You have known this for months. How can you still look down your nose at the Bennets? For Heaven's sake! We are tradespeople! You are so right. They were not of our station. They were far, far above our station. Louisa, what are you thinking?"
Mrs. Hurst seemed to collapse in upon herself. Only the crackling of the fire disturbed the quiet of the room. Finally, Louisa spoke. "I cannot explain it Charles. Since we first arrived at Netherfield, all Caroline and I have done is to make fun of the Bennets, especially Miss Elizabeth. It seemed so natural, so right. All those years, people of higher station looked at us with disdain. And then we were at Netherfield. We were the ones at the top of society! Charles! Surely you see that it was only natural!"
When she paused as if gathering her thoughts, her brother did not speak. He was too amazed. Is that what rising in society means to my sisters? Gaining the right to ridicule those beneath them?
"Then there was the wedding announcement. As soon as my shock had passed, I knew that we must remain the closest of friends with the Darcys. When we went to the Earl of Arlington's ball it was with the intention of being everything gracious to the new Mrs. Darcy. We had to regain our ground. Once we were there… Oh, Charles. It was not right. She was in the middle of them, just like she was one of them. That girl from that horrid family in that little town, she was…"
Bingley shook his head. How had his sisters acquired such high opinions of themselves? "Louisa, she was always one of them. We just did not know it. Even in Hertfordshire, we knew she was gentry. Without the dukes and earls, she was still a gentleman's child. That is something that we will never be. Sister, even then she was above us. We may have had more money than anyone else in the neighborhood, but we were not at the top of that society. The Lucases and the Bennets were."
Charles saw the stubborn pout on his sister's face. "Even now you do not believe it. You are as bad as Caroline. Louisa, you are more clever than this. You married a gentleman. You rose above your roots. Now you are throwing all that away…" He rose and looked down at Louisa's face. "Well, I am sure that you and Caroline will both face the truth shortly. The two of you have really ruined us. I shall not be surprised if Hurst casts you out."
Louisa blanched.
Charles made for the door and stopped to take a long look at his sister. Wordlessly he left the room. After requesting his hat and coat, he looked all around the entry. It was an old house, a fine house. It had been left to Hurst by some aunt or other. It had sheltered and welcomed the Bingleys into the society of gentlemen. But they did not belong in such a society, not by birth and not by behavior. His sisters had proven that.
Settling his hat on his head, Bingley went out into the night. There was nothing for him in the house he was leaving behind.
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A plan came to him as he made his way back to the hotel. He may not belong in London, but there was a place on this earth where a man's birth did not matter so much. He had money. He would be accepted there. Most importantly, no one there would interfere with his marriage to Jane.
Charles frowned as he thought of all the rumors of increasing hostilities between the new country and England. He would need to move quickly. He did not want these political forces to interfere with his plans. There was much to do. Some provision needed to be made for Caroline and Louisa. He must move his money to his new country. He had no idea how to take care of any of that.
He would see Woolridge in the morning. That man would know what to do. For tonight, even though it was very late, he knew he would not sleep right away. He would have a nice brandy at his hotel and read through the ship sailings that were scheduled. Something from Edinburgh would be perfect. He could pick up Jane from Pemberley and marry her as soon as they crossed the Scottish border. God and Jane willing, he would soon be married and sailing for America.
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Matlock House, London
March 31, 1812
Wickham had no trouble at all sneaking into the rear yard. It required none of the stealth he had needed to gain access to Darcy House without being seen. Matlock's servants were either too lazy or too few. In no time at all, George was snuggly hidden in overgrown shrubbery. He had a perfect view of the kitchen door.
Very little time passed before Wickham knew that something was amiss in this house. He had watched the rear of Darcy House for long enough to understand the rhythms of a great London home. Servants and messengers came and went. Deliveries were made. Kitchen maids and man servants went out with empty baskets and came back with full ones. Almost all day long, something or someone was coming into the house.
Matlock House was different. Wickham soon saw that bundles came out of the kitchen door almost as often as they went in. Even though his mind was working more slowly, it still did not take much to understand what was happening.
The servants were cheating the masters. Things from inside the house were being sold. There could be no other conclusion. George thought most of thievery probably consisted of selling off supplies. Meats, coal, candles and the like would come in from the market and then the participating servants would sell them off. However, he would not be surprised if he learned that a few of the house's silver candlesticks also disappeared out the back door.
This was interesting. This he could use. Perhaps he could have more comfortable arrangements than just hiding in the attics and stealing from the kitchens.
For now, he must remain stay in the shrubbery. He needed to discover which servants were making a tidy little profit from Matlock's pantries. Then he would know who to blackmail. He did not have much time. It could not be long before the stable masters got a good look at him and sent him on his way. Before that happened, Wickham wanted a safe room inside Matlock House and someone who would bring him food.
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Road to Derbyshire
April 1, 1812
Darcy spent most of the journey riding alongside the carriages. Not only did it give him a good vantage point from which to look out for dangers, it gave him time to think. Removing them all to Pemberley was only a temporary measure. The Earl and the Viscount were irritants, but hardly dangerous. However, Lady Catherine and Wickham both needed to be dealt with, once and for all. And then there were Jane and Bingley. If they were ever to be together, they would need to leave the country. Was it treason, Darcy wondered, to help them leave against the Queen's wishes?
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Grosvenor Square, London
April 1, 1812
Unknown to Louisa, Hurst had sober for two days now. He had simply kept to his rooms where he could think. Without his club and his friends, his life would be nothing. It was time to go and see his brother. Randolph would know what to do.
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Matlock House, London
April 2, 1812
The housekeeper had to be at the center of it all. While several different servants passed packages out the back door and received coin in return, George had often seen a tall, angular woman nearby. She was well-dressed and had an air of authority. The coins were always passed to her hands.
It made perfect sense, now that he thought about it. To keep such a scheme running day after day, week after week, one would need the housekeeper. Someone in power had to be adjusting the account books. George paused for a moment in surprise. The formidable Lady Matlock had not seemed the type to let such a thing occur right under her nose. Wickham shrugged. No matter. It was happening and he was going to use it to his advantage.
The time to move into Matlock House had arrived.
George looked down at himself. He was a mess and surely he must stink. He practically lived with horses and their muck every day.
For the last time, he made his way back to Wapping.
The sun had already set when he used some of his precious remaining funds to pay for a hot bath. As soon as the tub was delivered and filled, George locked his door. Going down on his stomach, he reached under the bed and retrieved his old travelling case. Carefully he opened it.
The first thing that hit him was the delicious smell. It was heaven. It almost seemed like forethought had caused Wickham to throw his sandalwood soap into his bag, all that long time ago in Meryton. Now he needed it and here it was.
He caught sight of his hands and stopped what he was doing. It went over and used some of the inn's soap to scrub his hands clean. He did not want any dirt on his fine clothing.
Returning to his bag, he began to remove the items that he had oh so carefully stored in there all those months ago, as soon as he had acquired old clothing. The fine materials and the still white shirt nearly brought tears to his eyes. He lovingly ran his fingers over the soft wool of his jacket. These were the clothes of a gentleman, the clothes of his previous life.
He violently shook his head. He would not think about that, not now.
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Now clean and well dressed, George stared down at his boots. They were old and scuffed. No matter that. He would need to wear them until he was safely inside Matlock House. Then he could change into his evening slippers. He looked at his old greatcoat and hat. He could not bear to put them on, not on top of his beautiful clothing. The hat he stuffed into his bag that now held his old, dirty clothes. The coat he would leave behind. It would not fit in the bag. If he needed another one, he would have the housekeeper find one for him.
Then Wickham sat down on the spindly chair. He would not sit on that filthy bed. He had some time to waste. He needed for the inn to become quiet and for those at Matlock House to go to sleep.
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It was ridiculously easy to slip into the house. The servants had not even locked the kitchen door. Things were definitely wrong in kingdom of the great Earl of Matlock and George was grateful for it. He had decided where he would hide. The nursery apartments on the top floor would have been empty for years. The old maid's room was an interior one, without windows. George would even be able to have candles and not risk being seen.
He knew his way around this house. He, Richard and Fitzwilliam had played in all the passages. After lighting a candle from the low burning kitchen fire, George slipped into the servants' hallways and slowly made his way up and up. Finally he stood in his new home. There were no sheets on the bed nor was there a blanket. Never mind. He could stand one cold night. Carefully and quietly he moved the bed against the closed door. It would not do to be found before he had his protection in place. After carefully removing his good clothing, George pulled the thin mattress around him as best he could and drifted off to sleep.
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Pemberley, Derbyshire
April 2, 1812
"Stop the coaches." Elizabeth rapped against the roof and called out her order. They had just crested the hill and the house lay before them.
She scrambled from the coach and strode forward to drink in the scene. In a moment her husband was behind her.
"Fitzwilliam, it is magnificent; something from a fairy tale."
Darcy chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her. "You have seen it before, my love."
"No. No. I have not. When we last approached… I do not claim to understand, but I have truly never seen it before."
Darcy understood at once. He suddenly found that he had a lump in his throat and he could not speak. How did he ever find such a woman? Where in the world could there be another such? Nowhere and he knew it. When he had first brought her to Pemberley, she had not even noticed the magnificence of the place. She had not wallowed in her newfound fortune. She had not even seen her new circumstances. She had thought of nothing but caring for him and his sister.
How undeserving but how blessed he was! He placed his hand on Elizabeth's jaw and slowly turned her head until she looked at him. He tried very hard to put into his eyes everything that he was feeling.
Elizabeth looked up into his eyes and she knew how loved she was. Forgetting where they were, she pulled his head down. All they could not say in words, they put into their kiss.
There was a loud throat clearing nearby. Embarrassed, they broke apart and looked over to see Mary standing there.
"That is quite enough for now. It appears that we are nearly at our destination. I realize it has been a long trip, but save all this for the privacy of your rooms." She turned on her heel and headed back to the carriages.
Elizabeth giggled and Fitzwilliam smiled. They had just been reprimanded by Mary and with humor! Would wonders never cease?
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Mrs. Reynolds stood in the entryway, waiting for the family to come inside. She had received letters from London that told of the improvements in Georgiana, but fear still gripped her. The poor girl had been so near death the last time that Mrs. Reynolds had laid eyes on her.
Suddenly they were before her. Georgiana was smiling and giggling as she held to the arms of two young women that Mrs. Reynolds did not know. These must be Mrs. Darcy's sisters. Georgiana looked up and saw the housekeeper standing there. The girl flew into the old woman's arms. Both had tears in their eyes.
The housekeeper stepped back and took hold of Georgiana's hands. "Let me look at you, dear child. You look so well."
They babbled together, with Lydia soon joining in and Mary as always standing close by. Mrs. Reynolds was not surprised by Georgiana's childlike state. She had seen it before the Darcys left and knew from the letters that it had not changed. Nonetheless, Reynolds was relieved to see the dear girl in such health.
Finally turning to face her master and mistress, she smiled widely. It was true. The mistress glowed with what could only be a child. More tears started to form, but Reynolds pushed them away. After greeting them, she turned to her master and spoke sternly. "Sir, you must take the mistress to rest. I will sort everyone out and see to their comforts. Mrs. Darcy, there is bath water waiting for you in your rooms."
Darcy did not need to be told twice. His mind was still on the top of the hill, holding his bride in his arms. He swept up Elizabeth and made for the stairs.
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Once inside their chambers, Darcy waved his hand to dismiss Akers. "I will see to Mrs. Darcy."
Even before the door had clicked closed behind the faithful servant, Elizabeth was again in his arms. "Oh my beautiful girl, let me take care of you. Let me worship you. I cannot believe how fortunate I was to find you." Bingley flittered through Darcy's mind. I owe so much to Bingley for taking that estate.
Reverentially, Darcy undressed his wife and placed her in the tub. After removing his own coat, cravat and waistcoat; he rolled up his sleeves and proceeded to tenderly clean Elizabeth from toe to head. Only after he had rinsed the last of the soap from her hair, did he allow his hands to worship her in a more carnal way. Covering her swollen breasts with soap, he gently slid his hand over her and pulled at her darkened nipples. Then he impatiently rinsed them so he could take them into his mouth. One hand wandered down to her folds. Every time that she neared her pleasure, he backed off a little. Finally, when she was writhing and moaning and begging, he concentrated on her nub as he suckled hard on one of her tender breasts. Her body stiffened and then convulsed as wave after wave took her.
She felt boneless as he lifted her from the tub and carried her to the bed. Someone had turned it down for them. Darcy did not pause to dry Elizabeth. He could not wait. His hands tore at the buttons of his pants until he sprang free. He plunged into her and Elizabeth moaned. For a moment he stilled and let all his emotions wash over him. This was home. This was the safe and welcoming and wonderful place inside his wife. She had not just saved him. She took care of him. She wanted him. She loved him. Not his position or his money, she loved him. There had never been a man more fortunate than he.
Then, Elizabeth began to move against him and he was lost to all but pleasure.
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Bedfordshire, England
April 2, 1812
Charles was content to watch the countryside pass by. He would miss England.
In a few more hours he would stop for the night. It had taken him two days in London to take care of all the business that was crucial. He now had tickets for passage to America in one pocket and a ring for Jane in another.
He knew he should be feeling heavy guilt for leaving Louisa and Caroline without even a farewell. There was little chance that he would ever see them again. But, Charles had known himself well enough to stay away from them. He would have blurted out where he was going. They would have tried to stop him. He was weak enough that they may have succeeded.
He was certainly no one's hero. Still, his Jane loved him as he was. Of that he was sure. Now he could only pray that Darcy would let him take her away.
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Matlock House, London
April 3, 1812
As evening fell, George carefully made his way to an old passage that he knew ran to the housekeeper's rooms. It allowed her direct access to the master's and the mistress's chambers, but George knew another way into it. Given the state of affairs in this house, George could not imagine that it was used much at all. He settled down outside the door that would give him access to the thieving servant. He blew out his candle and waited. He would approach her when he was sure she was alone.
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Mrs. Wright had relaxed as soon as she realized that this interloper did not want any of her funds. She had always known that her little scheme could not last forever. It had been going on for more than two years now and perhaps this was a sign that she should be prepared to flee. However, she had not yet saved enough money for her escape. This man's threats brought it all home to her. She would have to increase her pilferage of the more valuable items in the house. That she could do without her fellow conspirators knowing anything about it. Those funds she would not need to share. Mrs. Wright had only ever wanted enough money for a simple life in a little cottage back in her home village. She would get the rest of what she needed quickly and then she would flee this place.
She looked again at the man. Brief thoughts of murdering him passed through her head, but she knew she could never take the life of another. In fact, he did not look so dangerous. He was ill and misshapen. Perhaps even without any help from her he would not live long. Even if he did, his demands were few; a place to sleep, food, warm water now and then, and his chamber pot emptied. She knew he would ask for more, but what of it? There was nothing in his demands that spoke of greed for her money. He did seem to know the house well, entering through her hidden passage and choosing the nursery in which to hide. She knew he had some reason to be here that went beyond a place to stay. However, she did not want to know anything about it. As long as she could accumulate her wealth, what did she care what his reasons were?
"Very well. But if you are seen or heard, I will denounce you to the rafters."
It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Wickham held the upper hand. Mrs. Wright was secretly pleased when he suddenly became the perfect gentleman and pretended to defer to her. Perhaps he would not be an unpleasant guest.
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Grosvenor Square, London
April 4, 1812
Louisa was stunned. She should have expected it, but she had not. Somehow she had never believed that Hurst would really throw her out. Now here it was. She was holding the proof in her hands. The missive was not even from her husband. It was from his solicitors. She had a week to be gone. For the time being, he would continue to deposit an allowance for her into the bank.
Where would she go? Scarborough? Just as she sat down to pen an urgent missive to Charles at his hotel, the footman entered with another letter. It was from Charles.
Louisa ripped it open. A low moan escaped her as she read it. Oh Lord! Charles had abandoned her, too.
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Great North Road, London
April 4, 1812
As Fitzroy's carriage slowly made its way to the edge of town, his mood grew lighter and lighter. At first, he had been most displeased when he found that Miss Bennet had been taken from London. However, his coach was finally on its way to Derbyshire to retrieve her. He had the permission of the Queen for his marriage. He had settlement papers signed by the Prince Regent. He had the special license in his pocket. In only a few days he would finally have Amelia as his bride.
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