I do not own Divergent. Credit goes to Veronica Roth.
I do not own Pride and Prejudice. Credit goes to Jane Austen.
Beatrice took the letter greedily from her father and started to read through the letter.
"My dear brother," Beatrice read her Uncle's words. "I have found them both."
"It is as we have hoped," cried Shauna. "They are married!"
Before Shauna and Christina could rejoice, Beatrice started to read the letter once more.
"They are not married. Uncle has found that their is no intention on Mr. Wickham's part of marrying Lauren either. That is unless father is willing to perform the following engagements which is to guarantee that Lauren still receives her share of Father's inheritance upon his passing and to," Beatrice paused at the next statement because she did not think it true.
"What does it say," asked Christina.
"Eric wants to be paid one hundred pounds per year," Beatrice commented. "Why so little?"
"Read on Tris," her father encouraged her. "You did not get to the most disturbing part."
Beatrice turned back to the letter. "I do believe," she mimicked her Uncle's words. "That there will be some little money to settle on my niece when all of Eric's debts are discharged."
"What's so disturbing about that, Papa," Christina turned to him.
"Is it not obvious," asked Beatrice.
"No man under so slight a temptation as one hundred pounds a year would marry Lauren," their father spoke. "Your Uncle must have been very generous."
"Do you think it a large sum," Shauna questioned.
"Eric is a fool if he takes less than ten thousand pounds," Beatrice commented knowing just how much in debt Mr. Wickham truly was.
"Ten thousand pounds," proclaimed Myra and Christina.
"Heaven forbid," Shauna finished.
"Yes that would be a practical sum to request. Regardless," Mr. Prior said and turned back to his desk. "We must be thankful for your Uncle," a grim look appeared on his face.
"Father," Shauna stood and walked to the table. "It's not as hopeless as we thought."
"True," Beatrice agreed. "They will be married. Well," Beatrice held out the letter for her father. "That is if you agree to it."
"Of course I'll agree," Mr. Prior took the letter. "There is one thing that I must dearly love to know. If that truly is how much your Uncle laid down," he shook his head. "How am I ever to repay him?"
After a few minutes of silence and consideration, Mr. Prior decided to write the letter to Uncle Arman while dismissing the girls to inform their mother of the news. Almost immediately when stating that there were terms father needed to fulfill that would secure her youngest daughter's marriage, Mrs. Prior sat up quickly from her bed.
"A daughter married," Natalie smiled dreamily. It was as if she had not been ill at all. "Ring the bell, Christy. Fold my blankets for me, Myra," Mrs. Prior ordered. "Who sent the letter?"
"Uncle Arman," stated Beatrice.
"That good, kind brother of mine," Natalie commented as she got out of bed and fixed her hair. "I knew it would work out in the end. I just knew it!"
"We really should thank our Uncle, Mama," said Shauna.
"He paid more money that there ought to have been," added Beatrice.
"More than we could ever repay," Shauna finished.
"And who else but her own Uncle should lay down money for their niece," Mrs. Prior said as she fixed her dress.
"Mother," Beatrice stared at her shock.
"Ooh," Mrs. Prior rushed out of her bedroom and down the stairs. "I must go and tell Lady Lucas. When I see the look on her face," Natalie squealed. "A daughter married and only fifteen too!"
"Is that really all you think about," asked Beatrice.
"Tris," Natalie turned to her. "When you have five daughters and no sons, tell me what else would occupy your thoughts." And with that Mrs. Prior rushed off throughout the house. "Tell the servants they may have a glass of wine. We are too celebrate," her mother's shouting could be heard throughout the house.
"You don't know what he's like," Beatrice commented before walking towards her father's study.
"Shut the door, Tris," Mr. Prior told her upon hearing his wife's excited demands around the house.
Beatrice closed the door and walked in slowly as her father stood by the fire place, staring into it.
"At least someone finds enjoyment in this whole circumstance," Andrew commented.
"Father, you really should not be so hard on yourself," Beatrice said.
"No," he shook his head. "I should be the one to blame. I have the satisfaction of having one of the most worthless young men in all of Divergent as a son in law," Mr. Prior continued. "I should have taken better care of you all, especially young Lauren."
"You could not have foreseen this," admonished Beatrice.
"No but I could have prevented it. True I did not put aside money to bribe worthless young men to marry my daughters," Andrew commented. "The truth is because I intended to father a son. A son who would take care of my wife and any other children I had upon my passing," added Beatrice's father. "But I did not. By the time Lauren was born it seemed a little late to be saving. And then when you all were older, I allowed your mother her tastes to indulge upon you all. I am heartily ashamed of not being a better father."
Beatrice walked up to her father and embraced him tightly.
"You are a excellent father," whispered Beatrice.
Mr. Prior smiled before pulling his daughter back. "I sure hope I am. Let me feel my troubles right now, Tris. Let me worry as I ought to," Andrew told her. "In time it will pass," he assured Beatrice.