Thank you to Jane Austen for creating these wonderful characters.
Fortune and Happiness
© All rights reserved by Enid Wilson, please do not post it anywhere without my permission. Thank you.
Prologue
"More liquor? I'll never say no to that," a handsome, tall man said to his friend with a toothy grin. "Those are my favourite two words."
"How is life?" asked the slender friend, pouring more whiskey into the tall man's cup and encouraging his friend to drink up.
The men were at The Spread Eagle Inn, one of the finest inns in Hertfordshire. The thin man met his friend here with a mission. He was a prospector, after all, and blackmail came naturally. He met the tall man during the summer, at the race course. After months of plotting, it was time to profit from this relationship.
"There is so much work to do around the estate," the handsome man answered, drinking happily.
"What brings you to Hertfordshire?"
"Business, of course. That's what always brings me to Hertfordshire."
"Anything in particular?"
"No. Just the usual."
"Well, I think estate work would be difficult. I know my place," the blackmailer said with false deference.
He wanted to ask the tall man more about the estate, but an attractive young maid disembarked from a carriage and rushed into the inn wearing a dress that fit her figure very well. The handsome man looked at her with longing. The corner of the blackmailer's mouth lifted and changed his tactic.
"A handsome wench?" the blackmailer questioned.
"Handsome? That word doesn't go anywhere near enough to describe the likes of her. She is quite alluring."
The blackmailer laughed. "Oh, I see. You're quite the gal-sneaker, I take it."
"You guessed right. T'isn't my fault, though. Women are always throwing themselves at me. There's just something about me, I suppose," the handsome man said. On his fifth glass now, he was red in the face and slurring his words.
"Yes, well, you are quite handsome," the blackmailer stated, trying to curry favor with the man.
"These maids will jump into bed after knowing you naught but five minutes," the man said, laughing.
"I agree. Low-class baggage is easy to seduce."
"It is the same with those in higher station," the handsome man said, hiccupping.
"Have you ever seduced a gentlewoman?" the extortioner said, heart pounding.
By this time, the man was about to pass out. "Of course! It was so pleasing that it became a regular affair. Even put a babe in her belly. Her husband—has no idea at all."
Fathered a married woman's child? The blackmailer asked himself. This is even better than I imagined. "Who is she?"
"Oh, I can't tell you that," the tall man declared, slobbering with intoxication. But a moment later, without persuasion, he continued, "Alright, I'll tell you. Lady…"
He leaned over and whispered the name right in the blackmailer's ear.
Good god, the blackmailer thought. I am going to be rich.
Chapter One
1806
Marriage was at the forefront of Mr. Thomas Bennet's mind as he looked out of the carriage, watching the endless countryside. He heard a slight clearing of the throat from the other passenger, his long-time friend George Darcy.
"Now, now, Thomas, let us focus on the matter at hand," George Darcy said with his usual weathered stoicism. The old man gleamed at Bennet, dressed in a refined but weathered suit.
"Yes, the marriage contract. Do you think we are right to have signed this for our children? They are still so young," Bennet asked. Bennet was decades younger and held substantially less fortune than Darcy. One would see their friendship as unlikely.
"I believe so, yes. Though, you know my thoughts on the institution of marriage," said Darcy, grimacing. "Lady Anne, damn her, was more interested in gowns, jewels, connections and appearances than love."
"You were more interested in vegetables and herbs and the number of sheep than romancing your wife," Bennet said in jest.
Darcy cleared his throat, unwilling to discuss that subject further, but smiled faintly at the thought of his vast gardens and numerous livestock. Since he was a young man, nature had been his true love. "This marriage contract will ensure the happiness of our families for years to come. Surely, you agree?"
"Yes, my friend, yet I cannot remove this sense of unease about it. I have seen how your Fitzwilliam looks at my Lizzy, but I remember the way I once looked at my own bride. Alas, that has not turned out precisely as one would have hoped."
"Ah, Mrs. Bennet is a disagreeable sort, is she not?" Darcy commented knowingly. The seventy-year-old gentleman had seen enough mercenary and conceited women to last a lifetime.
"She is that no doubt," said Bennet unhappily.
The carriage lurched, setting Bennet on edge as he looked out again to the fields around them.
"London was as filthy as usual, wasn't it?" Bennet said, wanting to add brevity to the conversation. They spent the day at the office of Darcy's solicitor, Mr. Kingsway, in London, signing the contract that betrothed their children.
"Indeed, with every passing moment in that forsaken city, I find myself nearer to death," Darcy said with alacrity. Darcy rarely felt at home anywhere besides Netherfield, his Hertfordshire farm, where he had moved five years ago.
The two friends shared a laugh.
"Pray tell, do you trust this Kingsway fellow? He will not tell the children about their contract until Lizzy has reached the majority, correct? I do wish for her to have some say," Bennet asked.
"You are correct—Kingsway has been a family friend for years and years and has been instructed most firmly." The contract stipulated that Elizabeth Bennet had either reached the majority or been proposed to by another suitor would the young couple find out. After which, Fitzwilliam and she had the choice to null the contract if they so desired. "Yet I have reason to believe there will be little need for that," said Darcy, who paused to look at his friend. "I am much obliged to you, Thomas. You know the importance of this contract."
Bennet nodded firmly. "Certainly, you are most welcome."
"The matter concerns my wife and the Matlocks. It is a shame—I once had such a friendship with them," Darcy said with a sigh.
"How do you mean?" asked Bennet curiously.
"You might recall that I have known Lord Matlock since before Cambridge, as we were both from Derbyshire. He is not a prideful man whatsoever. He could exist as contentedly with naught but the clothes on his back as he does with his wealth and title. We are the same in that regard. On the other hand, his wife, and his sisters— Lady Catherine and Lady Anne, my wife—are somewhat different." Darcy thought back to his time at university, remembering much more jovial times.
"Lady Anne must have entranced you at first, no?" Bennet asked.
"I suppose she did. Previously, I thought of myself and was known as a bachelor. At that point, I was in my fifties and had taken to visiting the Matlock estate to keep Christmas. On one such visit, Matlock's baby sister Anne had turned into an eternal beauty. She came to me one evening with her charm, and I could not keep away," Darcy said, looking away with a faint flush on his skin.
"I see, so you found yourself compromised, then?" Bennet said, intrigued by the depth of this conversation.
"Yes," Darcy said brusquely. "I understood I needed to do the right thing. Anne was so young, as compared to me, rather handsome but she looked vulnerable. I had thought she would keep well as the Mistress of Pemberley."
"Remind me, when were you wed?"
"In the year of our lord 1789. Little Fitzwilliam was born soon after. This, my friend, is where my troubles begin," said Darcy, the conversation disturbing his usual countenance.
"Please continue," Bennet said, adjusting his cravat. He had heard Darcy alluding to the trouble of his marriage but had never known the full extent.
"Before meeting Anne, I had appointed young Richard Fitzwilliam, the Matlock's second son, as the heir of my estate, as I did not think I would ever have children of my own. After Fitzwilliam's birth, I gave him the sole inheritance of my fortune, of course. Richard will still retain a small sum of money as bequest. Lord Matlock had no qualms with the amendment, yet I believe Lady Matlock found that somewhat unfair as Richard had been my heir for some time already," Darcy explained.
"But surely she understood that Fitzwilliam was the rightful heir?" Bennet asked, confounded.
"Well, I speak purely on speculation, as naught was ever said, but there has been distance since. Even after Lady Matlock's father, Lord Radbourne, made Richard his heir a few years later after his two worthless sons died in a carriage accident," Darcy stated before continuing his tale.
"Life with Anne was not happy, as I found her to be a rather un-amiable wife, ill-content with the lack of finery she possessed. Gowns, jewels, and parties were her obsession. At first, I thought to accept it, as she was but twenty and her previous husband left her without a penny. Yet, she could not fathom that I did not hold fortune with as much esteem as she did. Thus, I kept to myself, spending my time with Fitzwilliam amongst the splendor of orchards and flocks instead." Darcy put his head in his hands, reliving the difficult time.
"Lady Anne was widowed? I had not an inkling," said Bennet. He massaged his temple, as he was beginning to tire at the cumbersome journey from town.
"Yes, her lordly husband expired under mysterious circumstances. I never knew the cause and whatever it was kept well hidden. But he was a gambler—I knew that much. As she had married against her father's wish at sixteen, she was cut off from the Matlock family. She then lived in poverty, which caused her great pain, with tremendous aspirations for wealth. Thinking about this now, I suppose that's why she seduced me when she was welcomed back to Matlocks after her father's death," Darcy said.
"You mentioned another sister, Lady Catherine. Was she similar to Lady Anne?" asked Bennet.
"Oh yes! Catherine had a similar pride and obsession with money, though she seemed to be able to keep it more easily."
Bennet chuckled. "Surely there were some gay times within the marriage with Lady Anne?"
"Perhaps during our brief honeymoon and her confinement with Fitzwilliam. She seemed to bloom during that time. Then she began to rot."
Darcy paused, checking the window to see where they were on their journey. There was still nothing but endless, placid countryside.
"After the birth of Fitzwilliam, Anne showed her true colours. No matter how much she was given, she was unhappy. Anne despised me for the simplest of things, from how I dressed in homespun to how I requested only basic dishes from the cook. I seem to recall that once, when Fitzwilliam was still quite small, she wanted a roast swan with oysters and other hor d'oeuvres for a Sunday lunch with just the two of us. How she howled when I protested," Darcy said, shaking his head before continuing.
"It seemed as though she could never be happy. I spent the first few years doing my best to appease her, willing her to be content, but she could have been given the world on a silver platter and insisted that I serve it on gold instead," Darcy retorted.
"I can certainly relate to that," Bennet said, shaking his head.
"One year, she insisted we summered in London and rode daily in Hyde Park at the fashionable hours. It was detestable for the horses. We spent the whole summer attending more balls than I can remember. But worst of all was how she treated poor Fitzwilliam."
Bennet nodded at his friend, urging him to go on.
"Anne's purpose as Fitzwilliam's mother was to teach him that money was of more value than anything in this world, including people. She would tell him, 'There is nothing in this world that money cannot buy.' I detested it. She would try to teach him to be arrogant and prideful, to refuse to thank the maids or be distasteful to his nurse, as Anne thought servants were beneath him."
"That is quite common among the noble set?" offered Bennet.
"Thomas, if I have learned one thing in my many years, it is that we ought to treat people equally, regardless of status. I have done my best to teach Fitzwilliam this since," Darcy said firmly.
"I say, with a father such as yourself, Fitzwilliam will make an excellent match for my Lizzy," Bennet said with a smile.
"I should say so," Darcy chuffed. "Though it ought to be a miracle, thinking of the way his mother treated him. I did my best to spend time with Fitzwilliam out in the farms, teaching him the value of work and the importance of people."
Darcy paused. "How we argued in those days over Fitzwilliam's upbringing. There wasn't a thing we could agree on. We avoided each other, which was awful for poor Fitzwilliam. I loathed thinking of him hearing us shout at each other. I thought to take him down south to Hertfordshire, where I had spent part of my youth. Fitzwilliam and I could spend time away from glamour and excess—"
"Ah, I still remember my young Lizzy that fateful day!" Bennet interjected.
"As do I," Darcy recalled the day he met little Elizabeth five years ago. He was walking with Fitzwilliam in the woods near Longbourn. Darcy was looking to lease Netherfield then. They came across a creek, small but deep. He knelt to show Fitzwilliam some small carp, and suddenly felt pierced on the shoulder and fell into the water. Fitzwilliam was alarmed and jumped into the water to help his father. They struggled for a few moments for their footing. George tried to stand but he felt hands around his neck, pushing him into the depths of the creek. He remembered grasping for a hold on the slippery rocks. He could hear Fitzwilliam shouting at the man as his son tried to scramble out of the water to help and attempted to hit the assailant. Darcy felt his lungs fill with liquid and his vision darkened. Suddenly, Darcy felt a thud and the hands around his neck and head released. He came up, coughing. Darcy cleared his throat now, still feeling the burn of the water.
"It was young Elizabeth who rescued me. The brave girl threw rocks to knock off the assailant's gun, squarely at his head and scared him off," Darcy offered a smile to Bennet, who smiled back. "The culprit had run a mile before Fitzwilliam and I were able to get up to the shore again."
"She was always the boldest of my girls, without a doubt," said Bennet proudly.
"The rest, you will know. We recovered at your home at Longbourn Park for a time and did not tell a soul the true story. We had a reasonable likeness of the assailant based on Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth's description, but my men were unable to find him."
"Mrs. Bennet still believes that you were quite impoverished, fleeing France and looking after Netherfield Park for a friend for food and board," Bennet said with mirth.
"Well, yes, it was for the best that the word of the attack not spread about the county. Though, if I am honest, one might assume it was Anne who ordered the attack, keen as she was to keep spending my money. With me gone, she could have control of all my fortune while Fitzwilliam was still young," Darcy considered.
"Is that why you had her return to Matlock?" asked Bennet.
"Indeed, though I could never confirm that she was behind the plot. Yet, if I had died then, she would have had complete control over Fitzwilliam and his inheritance, which would no doubt be wasted. Kingsway helped me update my will, remove Anne to her family home at Matlock and assisted me in securing Netherfield, as you remember, through Mr. Morris."
"Fitzwilliam has come into his own since then," Bennet said.
"Indeed, Fitzwilliam has thrived. He is deeply fond of young Lizzy. She is endowed with quite the sense of honour, that one."
"I like to think she received that particular temperament from her father," said Bennet.
"It brings joy to my heart to see Fitzwilliam shed the teachings of his mother and grow into quite the principled young gentleman," said Darcy proudly. "Yet, I still fear for him."
"Why ever so?" asked Bennet.
"I have heard from Kingsway and others at Matlock's estate that Lady Anne is of a desperate mind. She waits at Matlock, longing to seek revenge upon me," Darcy said.
"Yes, 'tis a shame that she will not rest," Bennet said, annoyed for his friend.
"It makes me quite ill to think about it," Darcy said, sighing. Looking out the carriage window, he noted that they were to happen upon some wood soon. That part of the journey was the most difficult. There were some escarpments and ravines on the side of the road. He felt a sense of growing apprehension.
To distract himself, Darcy asked, "How are your girls, Bennet? How is Mrs. Bennet faring lately?"
"The girls grow as tall as weeds, it seems. We now think of getting a governess for Jane and Elizabeth. Mary hit on the pianoforte daily until I got a headache. Kitty and Lydia spend most of their time arguing," Bennet chuckled.
"I cannot fathom the rearing of young women," Darcy stated.
"Nor can I," laughed Bennet.
"And your wife?"
"Fanny remains scheming as usual. She also tends toward unhappiness of her surroundings," Bennet murmured.
"With the entail?" Darcy asked.
"Heir to my estate, my distant cousin William Collins, and the prospect of my demise is of much concern to Mrs. Bennet. It causes her to spend more time than I would prefer with the Morris fellow, plotting on how to secure more money. I will not leave much else behind due to my laziness, but she should understand the tradition of the male heir," Bennet said, irritated.
Darcy cleared his throat, purposefully not looking toward Bennet. He would not dare imply anything untoward, so instead, he said nothing.
"Do you plan to ever return to live at Pemberley?" Bennet said, suddenly changing the subject away from himself.
"No, I do not think I shall. It will be Fitzwilliam's, of course, but I am quite content in Netherfield. Pemberley seems to bring ill-luck—" Darcy stopped mid-sentence as he heard something behind them.
"What is that?" Bennet asked. "It's a small carriage," the coachman replied. "The driver appears to be in a hurry, Sirs."
"Let him pass, Robertson" Bennet said to his coachman, always a relaxed gentleman and full of patience. Bennet's carriage slowed down.
"Blast," said Darcy, seeing Bennet's postillion waved to the carriage behind, "I had hoped to attend to my horses with Fitzwilliam before supper. I quite like to groom them in the evenings."
"The more time it takes, the better," Bennet said instead, not looking forward to returning to his unhappy wife.
But the carriage didn't pass.
"What is going on?" Asked Darcy. It was just then that they heard gunshots.
"Go!" Bennet yelled to his coachman. "Fast!" Darcy's heart was beating rapidly.
Who is this man? He thought. Why is he shooting at us? None of the bullets seemed to reach anyone or the horses. Was he missing deliberately or just a terrible shooter?
The horses continued as fast they could. There was a sharp turn up ahead and a steep escarpment on the other side of it. They needed to turn left when they reached it, which would be difficult to do at that speed. As they were nearing the bed in the road, the other carriage sped up and started to ride alongside them. The driver shot toward them from the side, still not getting anywhere near hitting them.
"Left!" Robertson shouted at the horses, as though they understood English. The horses didn't understand him. Instead of turning left, they veered right, even though there wasn't anything to the right but air. They flew off the escarpment. The inertia forced all four of them out of the carriage and into the air. Robertson and the postillion hit the ground at great speed, hitting their heads on a hard piece of earth, dying instantly. Mr. Bennet's body hit a boulder, cracking his skull, killing him as well. Mr. Darcy hit a softer patch of the ground. He was severely injured, but still alive.
The mysterious coachman with the gun got out of his carriage. He carefully climbed down the side of the slope, which wasn't that steep. He saw that Mr. Darcy was breathing and struggling for life. A look of surprise filled the gunman's face, as though he had been expecting something else. "Who are you?" He didn't expect Mr. Darcy to reply and murmured with a menacing voice, "I've got to finish the job though—can't have you talking."
"No, you mustn't!" Darcy choked out, trying to crawl away from the unknown attacker. Darcy noticed a gilded dagger sticking out of the man's pocket and tried to grab for it. He remembered exactly who that blade belonged to.
The gunman delivered the fatal blow with a large stone, quickly climbed back up the road and drove his carriage away. He was too unnerved by his mistake to realise that he had left the gilded dagger at the crime scene.
A.N. Dear Sunday friends, thank you for reading my NBs "A Series of What-ifs". I'm encouraged! "Fortune and Happiness" is a angsty murder mystery, co-written with M.G. It has about 19 chapters. There are several areas I'm not too sure about. They may require substantial rewrite once I start to see your comments and speculations. So I can't promise I will post every Sunday. Anyway, I hope you can hold on tight. Constructive and encouraging comments are most welcomed. Thank you and stay safe! Big warm hugs from Sydney, Enid