Formidable

Everyone sees Anne DeBourgh as weak, sickly, and powerless. That is exactly what she wants them to see. It was all part of the plan worked out with by her, her father, and trusted servants to protect her until she turned twenty-five. But after her father passed, Anne expanded on the plan. And when her dearest innocent young cousin's life and virtue are threatened, the true Anne emerges.

George Wickham grunted as he was jerked roughly around and then forced down into a chair. His arms, were numb from being tied behind his back for so long, but he still cried out into his gag when two of the fingers of his left hand were scraped severely.

The last thing he remembered before waking like this in the back of a moving wagon was a night at the gambling tables and a doxy. He had been mostly playing careful and quiet so as not to attract unwanted attention in Ramsgate. He had a plan, an accomplice, and a very plush prize to think about. Now he was fuzzy from what must have been a drug, sore from hours riding trussed in a wagon, and terrified.

"Gentlemen! I told you that I wanted to speak to him and to bring him to me! I did not tell you to mistreat him!" A young woman's voice, soft, cultured, somehow familiar.

"Sorry Miss. We thought it was the usual. We knows about this one. Why else would you want him?"

"We use the tools we are offered. This one may be gutter scum, but he has been effective in his schemes and he has demonstrated the ability to form networks of information. He could be useful to our organization."

"I don' like it."

"You do not make those decisions. Now untie the man and get that ghastly sack off his head."

The man and his compatriot complied, albeit none-too-gently and George had to grit his teeth and squint against the bright light in the room. Two large, dark figures faded into the shadows in the corners of the room but did not leave. In front of him sat a young blond woman. He squinted again and again, trying to get his eyes to focus.

"Pardon my men. Please pour yourself a drink to clear the dust from your throat. I am afraid that I have nothing to help clear your eyes. You should be fine in a few minutes."

George saw the ornate bottle and glasses in front of him and complied, pouring himself a large tumbler full of the liquid. When he took his first drink, he could not help but sigh. This was French brandy, the finest he'd ever tasted since he'd lost access to Pemberley's cellars. It was a shame that his throat was so dry and numb that he couldn't enjoy the full beauty of it yet. Still, he tossed it back and poured another. Then his eyes cleared enough to finally see the young woman's face. "Anne DeBourgh?!"

"It has been a few years. I am surprised that you still recognized me."

George did not tell her that he had spied on her just two years ago while trying to hatch a scheme to snatch her and her inheritance. It had been impossible to catch her alone, however, so he had moved on to easier quarry. Only then she had looked so frail and sickly. This young woman looked pretty, composed, and completely healthy!

"Perhaps you are used to seeing me more like this?" Before his eyes he saw her somehow shrink and transform into the helpless creature of two years ago. Then she revived just as quickly. It was eerie and uncanny. "We all have our secrets, Mr. Wickham. You know what my mother is like. She will stop at nothing to retain control of her little crumbling empire. Papa knew this and wanted to protect me, so he taught me ways of protecting myself through subterfuge and disguise.

"I apologize for the method used to collect you, but I will have to ask you to remain and hear me out before you are free to leave.

"You see, Mr. Wickham, Sir Lewis DeBourgh was much more than he seemed. For many years he worked with White Hall and the War Office to watch over the coasts for foreign intrigue and criminal activities. We are only twenty miles from Margate and only a little further from Ramsgate, but our reach extends much further. This are has been the venue for intrigue from the continent since before the Romans appeared, so good men and women formed a network to watch over these shores.

My grandfather formalized the organization. My father ran it until his death. He involved me peripherally as soon as I was old enough to understand." Her face turned sad, "When he became sick, I was still only three and ten. He knew that his time was limited, so he taught me ways to make myself appear non-threatening to my mother's eyes, just as he had done. As I'm sure you know since you are skilled at finding out people's secrets, my mother created a compromise to entrap my father. He might have simply used the methods at his disposal to eliminate her, but he did need an heir..." Anne indicated herself.

George Wickham was still sore everywhere, and exhausted, but the brandy was providing a cool numbness. "So you want me to join your organization? I am usually a person who works alone."

"Nonsense. Why, you've worked with Mrs. Younge twice now to place young girls into impossible positions and extract blackmail. You've worked with others as well. Shall I name a few?"

"You seem very well informed."

"Truthfully, I had all but forgotten you until you chose to spy on me two years ago," George jerked in his chair and Anne smiled, "I did tell you that I had an organization. You thought you sweet-talked young Millie out of information about my habits, but she reported the contact the same day and gave you the information that I told her to. Had you attempted to seize me, your life would have been shortened considerably."

George's hands trembled as he poured another drink. When he could find his voice, he asked, "So... you want me to work for you?"

"Not exactly," Anne's soft voice turned hard. "You see, Mr. Wickham, there are very few people in my extended family who I value deeply. My uncle the Earl and his wife have made no effort whatsoever to protect me or get to know me. My cousin, the viscount, has probably forgotten that I exist. There are no de Bourg relatives remaining. Richard is a dear friend. William is just as dear, since he endures my mother every year in order to watch over my properties. But dearest of all to me is Georgiana. You see, she and I share a bond because we have both lost our fathers. When your godfather passed, I reached out to my cousin. We became as close as sisters. We have been corresponding faithfully ever since.

"She wrote to me when you first made your appearance at Ramsgate. Darcy still thinks of his sister as an innocent child, so he has not shared your true nature or a list of your bad behaviors with her, foolish man. I knew your true character and your activities; even more than cousin Darcy."

Anne rose and gestured around the little cabin, "Do you recognize this place, George?"

George shook his head. Oddly, he was alarmed but not at all inclined to move about or try to escape.

"This is the cabin where you lured me in and cornered me. I was but ten. You were four and ten. Richard, who knew more of your nature, had kept an eye on you and he stopped you before you could do more than frighten me. Until that day, William would never believe anything but good of you, just like his father. That was the day that his eyes were somewhat opened to your true nature. He still tried to think well of you but you kept showing him something else. Foolish, really."

Anne looked out of one of the two windows for a minute and then turned, "You had one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom taking an interest in you and your future. His son considered you one of his best friends. Together, they would have seen you to a position in Society far above your birth. All that you had to do was be a good man. Pathetic."

"Darcy was jealous of how much his father loved me," George said, slurring a little. Irritated, he poured another drink but spilled quite a bit and lacked the energy to lift the tumbler to his mouth.

"Fool! It was William Darcy who convinced his father to take you on. It was William Darcy who convinced him to send you to Eton with him! By the time that it was time for Cambridge, William had begun to see your true nature, but not the full scope of your debaucheries. You threw it all away, Wickham! Nobody took it from you."

George shook his head to clear it, "Then why am I here?"

"Simple, George: to protect Georgiana from you. You made the mistake of stepping into my territory and messing with my little cousin... And so, I decided that it was time to end your depredations once and for all."

George Wickham wanted to attack. He wanted to run. He found that he could not move. It seemed like the world around him was getting smaller. He couldn't even work up the energy to be truly frightened. A blond head and a pretty face leaned in to look at him, "Nobody messes with the people I love, Wickham. Goodbye."

Anne de Bourg stood up and looked to one of the two men standing in the corners. "Dispose of him as usual. Then come speak with me after Mother has gone to sleep for the night. I turn five and twenty in four days. I think that a celebration is in order. We'll begin the celebration by removing Lady Catherine to the dower house." She turned and the other man followed her as she left the cabin.

"Also, I'll need to speak with Lord Crowley soon. I do not like the way that that those smugglers in Margate are cozying up to the French..." She continued issuing instructions as they walked away. The other man looked over as George Wickham lost his battle to live and fell face-forward onto the table.

"Formidable indeed. You would have been proud, Sir Lewis. Very proud indeed."

Twenty-seven miles away, a dusty and tired Fitzwilliam Darcy rode up to his family villa in Ramsgate. Georgiana, who had seen him coming down the street, forgot dignity and rushed out to hug him. "Brother! Oh, I'm so glad to see you! I was having sooo much fun and then Mrs. Younge had to quit for some reasons she wouldn't explain. Oh, and you'll never guess who I met walking down the promenade last week!"

Darcy hugged his dear sister close and let her drag him into the house. The anonymous letter had informed him that George Wickham had hatched a scheme to steal his sister, with the help of Mrs. Younge. It had also assured him that neither individual would trouble him any longer. He did not know what to make of it all, but he was thankful that Georgiana was safe. He was, however, resolved to tell her the full story of his dealings with his childhood friend.

He would need to interview for new companions as well... but that could wait. For the next month he would devote his time to walking the beach with his sister and spending time with her. As the ultimate sacrifice, he might even shop with her.

There was nothing like almost losing someone to make you appreciate that person. For Georgiana he was resolved to be a better brother and a better man.

But just who exactly was it who helped? Odd indeed.