It's midterm election day in the USA today. I voted early. If you live here and are registered and haven't already voted, please do so. I don't care if we don't agree on anything but Jane Austen FF, I want you to participate and help decide on our next leaders. You can always read this chapter while standing in line at the polls. The best reviews I could get for this chapter is to read a whole series of "I voted."

More drama coming up next. It's been so fun to read your suggestions. As I'm writing on right now rather than responding to reviews, I've got a few general comments for you all: I promise a HEA for ODC, and for Colonel Richard as well. As for the Earl and John, I have not yet decided what may or may not be befall them. Anyone who's read Les Miserables knows the reformed hero dies at the end and the evil ones continue on, but of course that offends my sense of justice.

22. Seeking Help

Directly after dinner, I rode to Mr. Hurst's home to see Bingley. I am not as close of a friend to him as Darcy, not having attended Cambridge with them, but we get along well enough and he is often the better company.

It was of course not the time for polite calls, but Bingley is not one for being offended when all the forms are not observed. My only concern was that he might be entertaining or not at home.

I have been in Bingley's company enough that I have gotten to know his sisters and Mr. Hurst as well. Miss Bingley amuses me while she greatly annoys Darcy. This is because I am fortunately enough not an object of Miss Bingley's matrimonial objectives (and supposed affections) as he is. Within five minutes of our acquaintance she had sussed out that I had no real money, which was fine by me. While I am not an object of Miss Bingley, she and the Hursts do like to claim the association on account of who my father and brother are, so they are all hospitable enough. I do not particularly like Mr. Hurst or Bingley's sisters, but I tolerate them for Bingley's sake, much as my cousin does.

When I look at Miss Bingley, perhaps because of my long association with horses, my long stint in the cavalry, I see something horsy in her. Her face and nose is just a touch too long, her eyes a bit wide set, and certain of her movements remind me of how a horse moves. There is nothing wrong with this, of course, for I think them fine and graceful animals, far more so than they are given credit for given their size, but it gives me more enjoyment of Miss Bingley's presence to make these observations to myself (I would never be so rude as to share these thoughts although I have been sore tempted before). Too, when Darcy is in company with her and I observe the efforts he makes to avoid her while remaining halfway polite, this gives me cause to laugh afterwards; sometimes I try to rescue him from her, other times I just watch how it all plays out. As for Bingley, he seems oblivious to the nature of his sister's interactions with Darcy.

Bingley is usually a jovial fellow, though the last few times I saw him he was less in spirits than usual. Although he did not confide in me, Mrs. Hurst explained that he had suffered a disappointment the year before. However, I knew none of the particulars, save for that on one occasion on which he was particularly morose, Miss Bingley had declared with a shake of her head (which to my mind resembled a horse shaking off a fly), "Charles, you must try your eyes toward someone else. She is not worthy of you."

It was nigh on half past eight o'clock when I arrived. The butler recognized me and ushered me into the dining room. I was embarrassed to find I was interrupting their dinner, but fortunately there were no guests and they were at their dessert.

I joined them for a good pudding, but I had trouble enjoying it as Miss Bingley kept asking me questions about the target of her matrimonial aspirations. So I found myself explaining that I had last seen Darcy on Easter as he had left for London early in business, and had not seen him since arriving in town this morning.

"Charles," Miss Bingley declared, "we must certainly call on Darcy tomorrow."

Bingley considered, "Caroline, I do not believe the Darcys are at home for calls on Thursdays."

"Oh Charles, such rules surely do not apply to close friends such as us." Miss Bingley tapped on the table with her closed fist for emphasis, which put to mind how a horse might stamp its hoof if restless or annoyed. Then she rolled her head and shook her hair as a horse might its mane. "Oh how I am longing to see dear Georgiana and to hear about Darcy's visit to Kent. Surely they will return to Pemberley before long and we might be invited there again this summer if they see us before then."

"Georgiana is still staying with my parents," I felt obliged to advise them.

"Oh," Miss Bingley acknowledged. "Is that not strange, that her brother has not fetched her now that he is in town?"

I had not really thought of that aspect of Darcy's return to London, but I thought about it then. No matter how busy Darcy is with his business concerns, I could never recall a previous occasion where Darcy had not had Georgiana with him when they both were in town.

As dinner concluded, Miss Bingley offered to entertain us at the piano forte, but I politely deferred, explaining that I needed to talk to Bingley about some business. I could tell that Bingley was curious about this, as I had never talked to him about business before. However, he pleasantly agreed and Mr. Hurst knew well enough not to accompany us.

We retreated to a very male room that had many hunting trophies mounted high on the wall, looming down. From childhood, I had never been fond of seeing animals' heads mounted and their cold glass eyes looking down on me, but was even less fond of them now as I could not help but recall the cold dead eyes of the fallen, similarly staring at nothing up from wherever they fell on the battlefield. Bingley, apparently mistaking my eyes continually lifting to them as interest rather than muted horror, told me "Those all belong to Hurst and his father. I would rather eat my kills than pursue large predators to stuff them. Now what is it that you wish to talk about? We have never talked business before."

"No we have not," I acknowledged. "The truth is that I have some matrimonial intent but no ready funds at the moment. I have been named in my great uncle's will, so I have some future prospects, but do not wish to wait so long to pursue my interest as I have reason to believe her family is in a rather desperate condition."

Seeing I had gained his interest, I explained, "I met the young woman in Kent a year ago, but as I had no prospects then I could not pursue my interest. Now fate has dealt her a cruel hand, her father has lately died and her sister has been disgraced. I fear what may befall her, may befall her whole family if I do not press my suit."

Bingley seemed troubled, more troubled than he should have been, and jumped up from his seat on the sofa to pace back and forth. He mumbled to himself "Could it be?"

Then he halted before me and asked, "Pray tell, of whom do you speak?"

I rose likewise. I wondered if he had heard certain rumors that must be in wide circulation if my mother had the right of it. "A Miss Bennet of Hertfordshire."

Bingley reared back, his eyes wide. "You wish to marry Miss Bennet? Miss Jane Bennet? I . . . I suppose I must congratulate you." He sat down, bent over and cradled his face in his hands with his hair falling forward, obscuring whatever expression might be upon his face. The tone of his voice bespoke of surprise, followed by sorrow and shame, and if I was not mistaken, at that moment he was seeking to hold back tears.

"No, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but I believe Miss Jane is the name of her eldest sister." I quickly clarified.

I then recalled a certain conversation I had a year ago with the object of my new matrimonial intent, when I was trying to rehabilitate Darcy in her eyes and discussed the prodigious care Darcy took of his friends. Could it be that I had spoken to Miss Bennet about Darcy separating Mr. Bingley from her sister?

Then I recalled, "Oh, you rented a home in Hertfordshire for a time; perhaps you do not know, but when visiting Rosings last year, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was staying with Mr. and Mrs. Collins, Mr. Collins being her cousin and Mrs. Collins her bosom friend. You must have met the Bennets when you rented that estate in Hertfordshire."

"Yes," Bingley answered, "yes." He looked up, withdrew a handkerchief and blew twice. "For a time I thought I might ask Miss Jane Bennet to marry me, but Darcy was sure her affections were not equal to my own, and my sisters agreed with him that I could do better. They convinced me not to return to her. However, I could not forget her and might have gone against their wishes had I not learned the fate of their youngest sister. Do you know all of what has befallen the Bennets, how far they have fallen?"

I nodded.

"Surely the son of an earl would never make such an alliance."

I felt offended. Why could no one value Miss Elizabeth Bennet properly? "I cannot countenance your insults toward them. While the parents may bear some responsibility for what befell the youngest, the other sisters are not to blame, and the resulting child is innocent."

Bingley, who had already become pale during this conversation, blanched further. "There is a child now, too? The situation is even worse than I could have imagined."

"Yes, and they are to lose their home, too, for the Collinses are bound from Kent to take possession on the morrow, for six months have passed since Mr. Bennet died. Please, Bingley," I implored, "can you help me assist them?"

Bingley did not seem to hear me. He said, as if to himself, "I am so sorry, Miss Bennet, if I could but have spared you this pain and disgrace."

Then he roused himself and explained further, "I fancied myself in love with Miss Jane Bennet, the eldest. She was so lovely, but also so kind. I did not mind her mother and youngest sisters so very much, or her lack of dowry, but I did not want to be in a marriage of unequal affections. Still, I might have returned and hoped to earn her love, if not for learning what befell Miss Lydia. I could not marry into such a family, harm Caroline's marital prospects so, so I acted the coward and did nothing." He buried his face in his hands once more.

After a few moments, apparently having mastered himself, he lifted his head and blew his nose once again. Bingley then declared to me, "If only I had your courage! Yes, of course I shall help."

That night as I struggled to sleep. I needed my rest but it was hard to gain it while imagining the various reactions Miss Elizabeth Bennet might have to my unexpected arrival and whatever declaration I might make. Sometimes I imagined falling at her feet and violently declaring my love, for I was sure I could love her, would love her, perhaps would be thrown suddenly into loving her upon seeing her, as suddenly as a horse stung by a bee might rear and toss its rider. Other times I imagined walking with her, declaring my interest, my wish to court her, explaining that although I wished to, I could not propose until the anticipated sad event of my great uncle's passing came to be and I had the means to marry. I would press the bulk of Bingley's money into her hands, tell her it was for her family, whatever she might decide, but ask if I had leave to hope.

I eventually slept but was plagued by horrible dreams that awoke me at first light, a sweaty mess, tangled in my bedclothes. In my dream, my brother John seized Miss Bennet as she walked, grabbed her from behind, threw her down upon her face and prepared to take her from behind. I knew it was her, though I could not see her face, due to her pinned back dark curly hair, short stature and familiar dress.

In the dream I was there but tied to a tree, gagged, bound, unable to do anything to warn her, save her. From the angle at which I was held, his backside blocked what exactly he was doing to her, prevented me from seeing every detail of his attack upon her, but the snapping of his hips made it obvious enough along with her accompanying cries of pain and abject misery. Then she turned her face to the side and the face was not that of Miss Bennet, or even the Elizabeth who had been made a prostitute against her will, but the face of my sister Beth.

I struggled with all my might, was able to break one arm free and pull down my spitty gag. "John stop! Stop hurting Beth!" I yelled as loudly as I could. But he did not stop and then I awoke. I couldn't be certain then, but I believe I yelled that out in truth, and the sound of my own voice was what awakened me.

One of my father's servants, a sometimes valet to me, came in soon after and helped me dress. It was not as early as I had hoped to awake, but I still determined I had time to quickly break my fast before I rode for Hertfordshire. I entered the small dining room that typically had a bowl of fruit, planning to grab a couple of apples, one for me and one for my horse, for I did not want to request and wait for some repast to be prepared as my parents and brother were likely still abed. I was surprised then to see Georgiana, eating some toast with marmalade, a letter on the table before her.

"Richard!" She sprang up and spontaneously embraced me. "How glad I am to see you. I just received a note from my brother. Oh I am so happy he has married her." Her wide smile faded a bit and she said with regret, "If only I could but meet her before they leave for Pemberley today."

This was too much disjointed information for me to make sense of, so I asked, "What?"

We both sat down across from each other and I retrieved an apple that I passed back and forth from one hand to the other.

"My brother has married the woman he loves. He declared himself, they married two days later, only yesterday (oh how I wish I could have seen it), and now he is taking her home. Tis so romantic; he loves her so that he could not bear to wait for the calling of the bans. Oh, how I wish that someday I, too, might marry for the deepest love."

The idea that Darcy was married was confusing. I had trouble believing it, for all that I had no reason to doubt Georgiana if she had received a note from him. Darcy was always the sort to carefully consider things before acting and I had not so much as even heard a hint that he was courting. My mother, likewise, who ought to be crowing if he made a splendid match or despairing if he had chosen poorly, had given no hint that he was to be married, so she could know nothing of it either. I had the thought that perhaps he had been compromised and was trying to put a good interpretation on the whole affair to spare his sister. I hoped that was not the case, that he was indeed in love but had also chosen wisely, though, as for better or worse they were now bound for life.

"Who did he marry?" I asked, already trying to recall the current field of debutants, wondering if I would recognize the name. Perhaps I am fool, for I never expected the name she spoke next.

"Elizabeth Bennet."

A/N: Yup, another cliffie. What will Richard's reaction be, and what will he do? I have some ideas, but as I haven't written it yet, I'd love to hear your ideas as they might be better than my own.