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A week or so later…

"Where is Mr Darcy, Reynolds?" the Viscount asked as he came into the vestibule.

"The master and mistress are both upstairs in their chambers, My Lord. They have been rising quite late in the mornings for this past week or so," the housekeeper replied as she beckoned Edward to come forward to take Richard's outer apparel.

"Oh! So, they have finally come to their senses and started talking again." Richard was pleased for the couple, but he had serious matters to discuss with his cousin. "I need to see Darcy as a matter of great importance, so would you be so kind as to inform him I am here?"

"Certainly, sir. I will see that he is informed immediately. Would you care for some tea or coffee brought to you in the parlour?"

"I think I will go and wait in his study, and tea would be lovely. Actually, could I have a hot toddy with a good dash of brandy in it, to ward off the cold instead," he shivered as he removed his greatcoat and gloves before handing them to the footman. "Where is Mr Stoker? I have not seen him around for a while now."

"Oh, he is not well, sir. Has been fighting painful joints for many years; things are getting too much for him now. Mr Darcy has allowed him to retire at the end of the month with a handsome annuity, and will take up residence in one of the smaller tenants cottages close to Lambton."

"Darcy is a good ol' chap; he treats his staff with such care. I doubt many men would rehouse their servants at his own expense, but I suppose Mr Stoker has been here for a long time."

"Yes, he was here even before the current master's father. I remember him saying that Alexander Darcy, Mr Darcy's grandfather, employed him around 1770, so that would make him in service for well over forty years."

"My word! He has served three masters in his time, that is an achievement. So, who is replacing him?"

"Mr Gladstone is travelling up from London," Mrs Reynolds blushed.

"Ah! Good, old Gladstone. I am sure he will be well settled here." Richard did not miss the housekeeper's flushed cheeks and knew that Mrs Reynolds had a soft spot for the town butler. Mr Gladstone had spent a few months at Pemberley a few years previous when Mr Stoker had to travel to Scotland to aid a sick relative. During that time a bond had formed between the stand-in butler and the housekeeper, but it was not to last, as the town based servant had to return to his regular duties before the summer was out. Richard did not know their exact ages, but believed Mrs Reynolds was in her fifth decade and the butler only a couple of years older. They would do well together, if only Darcy allowed his staff to marry and stay employed, but he knew it could cause unsettlement in the household if they were ever to have an argument.

"Yes, sir. I will go fetch your refreshment," she babbled. Noticing the Viscount's slight smirk as he came to realise the reason for her flustered state made her only the more embarrassed.

"Don't forget the tipple," Richard yelled out before Mrs Reynolds quickly disappeared down the stairs.

A quarter of an hour later, a somewhat dishevelled Darcy entered his study. He had only half dressed in his lawn shirt and breaches; his boots pushed on haphazardly and his complexion quite flushed. "What do you want, Richard?" he asked with an annoyance of having been disturbed.

"What is that smell?" Richard sniffed the air several times. "It's you!"

"What?" Darcy stiffened thinking that the essence of their lovemaking could be detected, even though he quickly cleaned himself before dressing.

"Lavender? With a hint of rose?" Darcy relaxed.

"It was in the bathwater, last night, and I got my hair wet!" Richard grinned at his cousin's confession of sharing a bath with his wife. "I'm busy, Richard, what do you want?!"

"Sorry for ripping you out of your wife's arms. I assume you and Elizabeth have worked things out?"

Darcy's expression proved Richard's assumption was correct, for a glorious smile grew before displaying a rather cheeky set of dimples. "Yes, and better still, we now have no secrets between us anymore."

"Thank the Lord for small mercies. I assume with that grin that she feels the same?"

"Yes. Although, it took quite an argument for it to come about. I say argument, it was rather a one-sided tirade of abuse and I was on the receiving end."

"Well, that's women for you. At least you got it sorted."

"Yes, and you disturbed my making it up to her."

"For a week plus? You must have atoned adequately by now."

"What do you want, Richard?"

"We have a problem. Bingley."

"Bingley?! What has that reprobate done now? Not getting another girl into trouble. There is already talk of him being the father of Widow Sotheby's child."

"Yes. I spotted the nanny out with the tot earlier last summer. He was sitting up in the pram looking at all the ducks on the Serpentine; there is a canny resemblance to Bingley. You cannot miss, even from a distance, that bairn's hair; he's positively *ginger-hackled."

"I did hear talk a couple of years ago; some of the members at Whites had commented on him sniffing around the lady and that she was shamefully with child. I wanted not to believe it; even if he were eager to be away from the area around the time she would have discovered her condition. No doubt Widow Sotheby had attempted to persuade him to do the honourable thing and marry her. Bingley left and travelled to Yorkshire for several months, and would not return until the woman had given birth to the boy. I understand that the child resembles Bingley in more ways than one, but I still denied the truth. But now, I cannot disbelieve anything that is said about him, including siring a bastard and abandoning the woman to the whiplashing tongues of society." he sighed. "So, what news do you have?"

"I took advantage of having him followed day and night after you told me of his behaviour here. I knew we all agreed to be vigilant within the family, but something deep inside of me was niggling away as soon as you told me, so I sent a message to town that day to have someone shadow him."

"And?"

"The men were only on his tale for a couple of days, before they followed him to Mrs MacFaden's School for Girls in Yorkshire. They sent me a message immediately, and I received it the following day. Luckily, Bingley had gone to Georgiana's school, whilst she was here. I am not sure what he expected to find there during the Christmas holidays as all the girls go home for the festivities."

"Do you suppose he was after Georgie? She is all but sixteen?"

"Yes, I doubt her age would make much difference to him. In fact, it would be to his benefit as she is so gullible. You know him, Darcy, he does not seduce anyone with the intention of marrying a compromised maiden, look at how he treated Widow Sotheby. Plus, you have heard him before, he does not care to stay in any particular place for long and is happy enough to remove himself from an area once he is bored. That to me cries out the lack of seriousness in his attitude towards the fairer sex; he goes from here to there without a care in the world, breaking hearts and probably impregnating several women along the way."

"I visited before Georgiana returned to school, with the view of finding out what had occurred, but did this under the guise of needing to know how she was handling the situation of being away from home. The school's mistress volunteered information when I arrived and said that Bingley had come to speak with Georgie. Luckily, they took one look at his face and did not even acknowledge her attendance as a pupil. He certainly does not look like an acquaintance any young gentlewoman of sixteen would have; he looks more like a prizefighter who has paid the consequence of going ten rounds at the boxing saloon in Bond Street."

"We must tell my sister and warn her of his conduct. I am sure she would be quite content in his company if we did not truly know his character; she is too naive to not be persuaded by his charms."

"I have already done that, plus I have told the school to be careful who they let in and handed over a list of welcomed visitors. Once Georgiana goes back at the end of the week, they will ensure no one gets to see her that is not on the list."

"What exactly did you say to Georgiana? Did you mention Bingley's behaviour towards Elizabeth?"

"I had to Darcy. I explained that he was a cad and a rake and did not care whether the lady was of genteel breeding or a serving wench in a tavern, but she wanted to know how I knew and demanded examples; I am sure she did not wish to think ill of the man. I had to mention his behaviour with your wife as well as other women, one of which bore his son. Then she still did not believe me so had to explain that Elizabeth had taken action at his obnoxious behaviour and his disfigured face being the result."

"Was she upset?"

"No, she laughed. I must admit that on talking about it, it did sound quite amusing, but I know it was not so at the time."

"No, it was not. So, what is to be done now? I cannot have Bingley traipsing about the country attempting revenge by molesting my sister!"

"Do not worry. There are plenty of ships Bingley can be discretely placed upon that are destined for the Americas. I paid for a one-way passage before I instructed some men to do my bidding. They are experts at bamboozling gentlemen of their purses and jumped at the chance for a hundred a piece."

"You employed criminals?!"

"Darcy, they are good at what they do, which is what I want them to do. I instructed them to entice him to join them at a local tavern before going to a brothel. Then, when travelling to the establishment, they are to get him drunk from a hip flask of brandy laced with an opiate. Once the lights are out, they are to take him aboard the ship. The only thing he will know when he wakes up is that he has been hoodwinked by some strangers he recently met. The captain will turn a blind eye to all the capers that it will involve, and he will not take Bingley's nonsense about it being a mistake as he will be dressed in the uniform of a junior petty officer.

"I am sure when he wakes up in the middle of the ocean with nothing on him but his naval attire and some forged documentation, he will have difficulty returning to England. He will have no money, no true documentation and once the ship docks, he will be under the power of his commanding officer, whom coincidentally is an old friend.

"His sodden clothes will be thrown onto the banks of the River Thames with several documents and trinkets in the pockets to establish who they belong to. I may even forge a suicide note; then everyone will think he has drowned himself because of his disfigurement."

"You cannot do that!"

"Why ever not? I know he was your friend, but you cannot be concerned about him now. You were all for killing him in a duel at one point. This way he will have to live an impoverished existence mimicking hell and be none of our concern. We may even be blessed with him being killed in the line of duty."

"But what if he writes back home? He is sure to write to his attorney and family."

"Who will believe him? By then his clothes would have been discovered along the river; the suicide note will have persuaded everyone of his death, so they will think the man is nothing but a scheming opportunist and ignore the blighter."

"And what if they do not? Or his letter arrives before he is announced dead?"

"Ships will not sail on a daily basis to that part of the world, and he has to get there first, which could take over a month. Then, he will have no opportunity to send the missive back, as he will be at his commander's beck and call. I have asked Captain Forbes to keep him busy and not let him stray away from the encampment, or to keep him aboard the ship."

"Is Forbes not related to The Sotheby's?"

"Ha! You spotted my deliberate ploy. He is the widow's cousin and took very keenly to my scheme; revenge on behalf of the family was a glorious enticement he could not refuse. He does not know Bingley by sight, so there is no chance of him being called out. Forbes will certainly not allow any correspondence through, as he has to agree on each one. If Bingley does manage to post a letter by other means, then there is another month on top before the ship docks in England. We are looking at two months, minimum.

"I am sure that even without a body, the death will be quickly deemed as suicide and as he has no legitimate offspring, the money will be divided between Hurst and Wickham. Do you think they will query such a claim after the courts have proclaimed him dead and they each receive fifty thousand pounds? They will be upset at the scandal produced by his suicide, and any attempts Bingley will make to persuade them he is still alive will be treated as an unsavoury joke by some unknown swindler."

"I cannot believe you have conjured this up. You will probably be hung if it were discovered."

"It will not be. Besides, it has already happened. The scallywag was placed on the ship two nights ago, and the clothes were discovered yesterday morning. I must admit that writing his note was far easier than I had expected. His hand was easy to mimic, and a few ink blotches here and there made it rather authentic."

"What?!" Darcy shouted as he shot to his feet, but was quickly silenced when Elizabeth came into the parlour.

"I heard everything from outside; I had my ear to the door."

"Elizabeth!" Darcy gasped. "I had no idea!"

"I am not upset with Richard's actions, Fitzwilliam. Although it would have been better had he told us before it happened."

"But it is against the law!"

"Do you wish him to get his claws into your sister? Have him compromise her and then be forced to marry?"

"I will not force her to do anything! I would not want that man as a brother."

"But what if she ends up pregnant?"

"Then… Then… I do not know! Pay someone to take her for his wife?" Darcy huffed and slumped down into the chair; Elizabeth knelt at his feet and prized his hands away from his face so that she could talk to him calmly.

"You cannot expect her to be scandalised in such a way. You know if he had found her and things had happened over Christmas, we could not pass the baby off as our own."

Richard frowned, then it dawned on him. "You are with child?"

"Yes, I believe so. We did not wish to tell anyone so early as I am not entirely sure; not until the quickening."

"Then all the more for getting that man away. Darcy, you do not have to do anything. The fact that the man committed suicide-"

"But he did not!" Darcy interrupted.

"In the eyes of the world, he did. I doubt anyone will go to any lengths to pay him respect. There will be no body to bury and doubt Hurst or Wickham will take time out to organise a memorial service, not when he had disgraced the family with the sin of his self-imposed demise. You will not need to travel to London and if you are asked, just tell them that you cannot as Elizabeth is not well enough to travel."

"But I am."

"They do not know that… Maybe I should not have said anything and let you remain in ignorance, but I did not wish for you to feel sorry for the bugger. You need to keep this to yourself. Even when you finally see Wickham, you cannot let it be known as he will tell his wife. The fewer people who are aware, the better."

"I suppose we do not have much choice now that it is done."

In the middle of the Atlantic

"What in the darn nation is going on?" Bingley grumbled as he woke up in darkness. He stood, trying to see around him, but could not discern anything until his eyes had adjusted to the dim light that was beaming in from above. Then he noticed the barrels depicting the word 'gunpowder' painted on the side. "Why has the tavern got gunpowder?" he mused aloud. Finding his way to the ladder, he climbed each rung with much care, for his head was swimming to the point of not being able to keep his balance. But when he reached the top and came into the light, he discovered he was not in the cellars of the local tavern, but aboard a warship, destined for god knows where. "What the blazes!" he cried out as he stood on the deck, looking at the horizon, which did not afford the view of any mainland. He turned a full three-sixty, but still nothing.

"Enough of that boy, get to work!" the captain shouted from the upper deck.

"Work? I do not work, sir, I am a gentleman of leisure!" he responded with much chagrin. Bingley had yet to realise what he was wearing, not until the captain grabbed a nearby bucket of seawater and threw it over his head from a great height, before throwing the container down at Bingley's feet.

"I want you to mop the decks, when done you can do it again until nightfall!" he commanded.

It was only after looking down at his wet clothes, that Bingley noticed his uniform. Then it dawned on him; he had been hornswoggled by those blasted men in the tavern.

"Fuck!"

From 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue:

GINGER-PATED, or GINGER-HACKLED. Red-haired: a term borrowed from the cockpit, where red cocks are called gingers