Madam and Missy — A Pride and Prejudice Variation
This is dedicated to all the writers both here and on KU who've released their stories for free! As I enjoy reading them so much, I thought that I'd have a go, and here it is.
[Note that I'm a Brit, so have written with British spelling, punctuation and terminology 😏]
In which Mr. Wickham is offered a choice
Darcy House
Mr. George Wickham
Mr. Wickham had been very curious about the Darcys' visit to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, especially as Fitzy Witzy had returned looking so miserable. He had been keen to find out what had happened but, even by pressing his ear to the closed study door, had been unable to hear anything of consequence. Then, one morning, when approaching the breakfast room, he had chanced to overhear Mr. Darcy rather harshly telling his son that the betrothal was soon to be formalised. Ha, ha, ha, Fitzy Witzy and his sickly Cousin Anne are to be betrothed! Fitzy Witzy will live at Rosings after the marriage and Pemberley will be mine! He had gloated to himself and had had to stop himself from laughing aloud as he entered the room to join them.
A week later, Mr. Wickham had been summoned to Mr. Darcy's study. He sat in front of the huge desk where Mr. Darcy and, increasingly often, Fitzy Witzy worked at their business. He cared nothing for this, considering that if they wished to spend their time reading and writing, adding and subtracting, whatever it was that they did, then he was happy to leave them to do so.
He sat waiting, assuming a carefully confident, not quite relaxed pose and his most pleasing expression, while Mr. Darcy collected up some of those many boring business papers, closed his ledger and smiled back at him.
"Well now, young Mr. Wickham," Mr. Darcy began. "What are your plans now that you are eighteen and have finished your schooling?"
A little surprised at such an enquiry, he replied, "Am I not to go to Cambridge with Fi— William?"
"I had thought to send you there, but I am not convinced that three or four years of study and seriousness would be to your liking. You are too lively a young man! Such things are much better suited to William."
Mr. Wickham smirked fleetingly before regaining his habitually genial mien. Yes, no more books and lessons, but a small estate to live on before inheriting Pemberley. "Yes, I quite agree, Mr. Darcy."
As he daydreamed of Pemberley and its riches, Mr. Darcy had continued speaking. Mr. Wickham caught the end of a sentence.
" —Klympton, but I do not think that you would enjoy the work of preaching and caring for the sick and needy— "
'Sick and needy'? Not at all. Mr. Wickham could not quite conceal a shudder.
" —so, unless you have a different profession in mind— "
'Profession'?!
" —I propose to buy you a commission in His Majesty's Cavaliers. You are an excellent horseman, so the Cavaliers ought to be perfect for you."
'Cavaliers'? In shock, Mr. Wickham's jaw dropped and then clenched in anger. He expects me to work? To fight? No estate?
Mr. Darcy put his elbows on the desk, leaned towards him, looked at him with a benevolent smile, and spoke further, crushing his dreams.
"As you know, my nephew, Richard Fitzwilliam, has recently joined the Cavaliers. Should you like me to purchase you a commission, I could attempt to have you join the same company. That way, you would report to someone with whom you are acquainted which would help you in your career." Mr. Darcy looked at him, expectantly. "Should I make enquiries?"
For, possibly, the first time in his life, Mr. Wickham was lost for words. While Mr. Darcy put his chin on his hands and regarded him, Mr. Wickham found himself unable to reply.
"Should I make enquiries?" Mr. Darcy repeated the question.
He tried to find an escape. C-Cambridge, that was it. "Perhaps I should enjoy going to Cambridge instead."
"Oh, I really do not think that sitting and studying for days, months and years on end would suit an outgoing young man such as you. Far better to be active as you make your living. I had thought that, as you are such an excellent horseman, you would prefer the Cavaliers, but if your preference is to be a foot soldier or for the excitement of the navy, perhaps, I shall oblige you." Mr. Darcy paused. "So, which will it be?"
Checkmated, Mr. Wickham managed a grateful grimace and said, "The Cavaliers."
As Mr. Darcy stood to shake his hand in congratulations, Mr. Wickham kept his composure, bowed and left the study, not quite slamming the door behind him.
Mr. Darcy
Hearing the door close, Mr. Darcy let the benevolent smile turn into a grin. He looked down at his son who was sitting on the floor beside him.
"Yes, yes, I know and you are quite correct that this is not gentlemanly behaviour, but I am glad that you were hiding there to hear that conversation. After all, he listened to our play acting at breakfast." He grasped William's hand and pulled him to his feet. "That was not what he was expecting, was it?"
"I suppose that I should not gloat, but cannot help feeling relieved that he's to leave our household. I only wish that I had been able to see his face," William replied with a smile.
"I can only assure you that it was a picture as he tried to keep his false geniality in place.
"Now, let us return to our discussion about the best way to deal with the flooding in the north east field."
"Before we start," said William, "may I ask if you will try to find a commission in Richard's company?"
"I have written the letter, but I do not think that Mr. Wickham will remain here long enough for me to send it. In fact, I should not be at all surprised to find that he leaves by morning having taken some of our belongings with him."
"Father!"
"Anticipating this, I have asked Mrs. Weaver to remove the most valuable and portable items 'for cleaning', leaving only a few small pieces in sight. I suggest that you conceal anything that you regard as particularly precious and employ your wine bottle ruse before you retire this evening."
William could only shake his head in admiration of his father's plans.
They sat side by side working on solutions for the flooding until they were interrupted by a knock at the door heralding Mrs. Weaver with a tray of tea things. Her husband, the butler, held the door open for her and followed with the post. Mr. Darcy asked Mrs. Weaver to pour their tea while he took the letters and quickly looked through them. After passing them their cups, the Weavers left the room.
"Ah, here is a letter from your dear Mamma," said Mr. Darcy. "Let's see what she has to tell us."
The letter was in code. (Mr. Bennet would have laughed had he seen it.) Deciphering it, father and son read:
'Second daughter perfect — meeting her again on the morrow.'
George Darcy was correct. The next day, he congratulated his housekeeper when she presented him with a very short list of items missing along with Mr. Wickham. Well done, Mrs. Weaver!
Please don't copy, but please do let me have comments/corrections 😏