Chapter 20 – The Bounder Network
Most of the stories up until this one have been about servants helping and protecting the people they work for. This one is about servants protecting servants... only in a more methodical and organized manner. Hope you enjoy.
"Mr. Timberley, we have a report that Baron Highcourt has exhausted his funds and his fellow gamesters' willingness to accept his vowels. He has instructed his valet to ready his luggage for a return to London on the morrow."
"Very good, Mrs. Fielding. Have you notified Mr. and Mrs. Jones?"
"I have. I have also notified Millicent to send over the older servants. There will be no young maids in the house when he arrives."
"Very well. And the females who will be in residence?"
"All trained by Former Sergeant Pike in the fine art of self-defense. Mr. and Mrs. Jones will also insure that no servant is ever alone while he is in the house."
"Excellent. You are a credit to the Network. Now, unless I am mistaken the new butler from Alton House should be downstairs?"
"He is, Mr. Timberley. He seems highly suspicious of our intentions, but he is here nonetheless."
Mr. Timberley thanked Penny for the tea service and then waited until the young maid departed, closing the door behind her."
"Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mr. Hightower."
Hightower, whose stature matched his name, was a very distinguished looking man with a strong figure, dark hair, and silver sideburns. It was no surprise that the man should have been trained as a footman and then a butler. Many of the gentry and nobility liked their visible staff to be an ornament to their house. Nevertheless, Mr. Hightower had a good reputation as a respectable and decent man. He did not look very pleased at the moment, however as he leaned in and said, "I came because my cousin asked me to. Let me be perfectly clear now: I am no revolutionary. If you and your 'network' intend some type of overthrow here in England, I will do everything in my power to stop you."
Timberley looked surprised, then amused, "Mr. Hightower, I never thought that someone might suspect our... organization... to be plotting something like that. Usually the servants we approach assume that we're some sort of gossip network or some such silly notion. Your concern is more reasonable and alarming. I shall have to be diligent in making certain that we never project such an image.
"However, allow me to assure you that the Network has no such designs. Although our society has much room for improvement, our group has no desire for a major upheaval. In fact, many of our members jokingly refer to us a the 'Bounder Network.' Our aim is not to overthrow or subvert, but to protect the people of our station when nobody else will. To explain in more detail, please allow me to tell you a story:
Jefferey Timberley looked at the discharge papers in his hand with both sadness and alarm. He had fully recovered from his wounds and his fever, but without a left leg the Army had no further use for him. Had the major survived, Jefferey had no doubt that the man would have secured him a position with the War Office. After all, trained agents with experience operating for extended periods behind enemy lines were few and far between. Most had a very short life expectancy. He and the major had not only outlived the rest of their small unit, but had thrice completed the most dangerous of missions with great success and not a single injury.
It was ironic, therefore, that Jefferey had lost his leg and Major Darcy his life when a Frenchie had attacked their transport on their way back to England. The soldiers who lost their lives in the barrage couldn't even fight back, as they had been shoved below decks to clear for action. Now Jefferey was without employment or much hope of a future.
"Sergeant Timberley," and orderly caught his attention, "A man is here to see you." The orderly was gone before Jefferey could question him further. Shrugging, he used his crutches to rise and proceed to the visitor's room.
He recognized the aristocratic man instantly although he had never personally met him. He looked so much like the Major that it was startling. When the man saw him approach, he spoke first, "Sergeant Timberley, my name is George Darcy, Major Frank Darcy's older brother. He wrote of you in a most complimentary way and held you in high regard."
Jefferey felt his eyes moisten at those words but repressed those feelings. "He was the best man and the best officer I ever met, Mr. Darcy."
The man nodded, the lump in his own throat the only indication that he also needed to fight for composure. "I was always quite proud of him. Now, as to my purpose in seeking you out. In one of his letters to me, Frank acknowledged that you had saved his life on more than one occasion. He asked that I offer you employment should you ever need it... and should he not be in a position to make such an offer himself. Will you accept?"
Jefferey grimaced and gestured down to his missing leg, "I do not see..."
Mr. Darcy waved him off, "That is unfortunate, but of no matter. First of all, I will fund the best possible wooden leg available. Then, we shall sit down and discuss just what skills you have and how they might serve."
And that was how Jefferey Timberley began training to eventually become the butler and major domo for Darcy House in London.
For many years Jefferey was quite pleased with his position and his employer, until he had the confrontation with Mr. Darcy concerning one of the upstairs maids who had been grievously imposed upon by the man's godson. "Sir, I assure you that Beatrice did nothing to lead George Wickham on. In fact, she has spoken with my wife on more than one occasion about his unwelcome advances. Had we known that he snuck into the house by the servant's entrance, we would have protected her. But he did not take her rejection well and he planned this assault."
"Nonsense, Timberley! George may be young and have an eye for the ladies, but he has never needed to force his interest on any young woman. I rather suspect that this maid encouraged him until she was caught, and now she is trying to force him into marrying her."
"Beatrice is fourteen, Mr. Darcy. And the bruises on her face and body make it quite clear that she did not welcome his advances. He is the last man in the world she would wish to marry. But Sir, you must deal with that young man!"
"Do not take that tone with me, Mr. Timberley. I know my godson and I am quite certain that he would never commit such an act. Now leave my office and do not trouble me with such spurious accusations again!"
Fuming, Jefferey left the office with every intention of writing out his letter of resignation and finding new employment for himself and his wife... and for poor Beatrice. It was his wife who dissuaded him and suggested another option, "Jeff, I will not trouble you with the difficulties of finding another position... much less three... after leaving this one under less-than-happy circumstances. But think of the rest of the staff. Beatrice is not the only young girl working at Darcy House. You have been successful in protecting most of them from that vile boy, but who will protect them if you leave?
"Mr. Darcy is not a bad man, just terribly ill and willfully blind. Young Mr. Darcy has been overheard attempting to address the same issues with his father, but George Wickham is an accomplished liar who had the elder Mr. Darcy wrapped around his finger. You must bide your time until young Mister Darcy becomes master. We also need to devote ourselves to finding clever means to blunt Wickham's threat and protecting our people."
Jefferey did just that and the next time George Wickham entered the London townhouse of his benefactor, he found it impossible to pull another young servant out of the herd. Frustrated, he eventually left to exercise his nature elsewhere. After consideration, Jefferey extended his system to the Reynolds in Pemberley, where the servant population and isolation made the young girls even more vulnerable.
It was when another, even more horrible incident happened at another home on Grosvenor Street that Jefferey Timberley decided to expand his concept and form "The Network." A group of young noblemen at a house party had become bored with gambling. They saw a pretty young maid carrying a tray and decided to have some fun. In their drunken state they hunted the girl down and trapped her in a secluded part of the house. When they sobered, the girl was dead.
Their fathers covered over their sons' crime and sent the young men away, but the report of the terrible assault and murder circulated among the servants of London. Many advocated for tracking the boys down and extracting justice. Jefferey, though just as furious as the rest, instead proposed forming a servant's network. Known offenders would be tracked, both to impede their designs and to protect the innocent. Servants would be shuffled when necessary, for example: when a known offender would be in residence. And servants would receive instruction in self-defense from an experienced hand-to-hand fighter.
There were occasions where a man... and in one case a woman... would be so evil that the only recourse was removal. In such instances the person would quietly disappear, to be found face-down much later at an entirely different location. This had only happened three times in the nine years that the network had existed.
Hightower left that day after shaking Jefferey's hand and promising to support and work with the network. He too knew of incidents where servants were imposed upon, including his own dear sister many years before.
It was two weeks later that the report of George Wickham's return to London was announced. The bounder had joined the militia and some hoped that he might reform, but Jefferey had no such illusions. The network had offshoots in many places now, including Brighton, where Wickham's unit was currently stationed.
"Mr. Timberley, George Wickham deserted his post yesterday and ran away with a young gentlewoman who is but fifteen years of age. Mrs. Hannaford, of the Swiftfoot Inn in Crawley, reports that they rested there before going on. The foolish young lady believes that she is to be married, according to Hannaford's daughter. But My. Hannaford's clerk was in the gambling hall where Wickham was bragging on securing a "stupid and willing bedwarmer" to make his stay in London pleasant.
"Marjorie, who married the baker and removed to a lower part of town, sent in a report that she saw Wickham and a young lady entering the establishment of a Mrs. Younge, an innkeeper who buys from her husband's bakery, at _ street."
The network was formed to protect fellow servants, but when young Mr. Darcy, now the master, arrived at his London townhouse, Jefferey chose to break protocol and present his employer with the information.
"How did you get this?" Darcy asked with amazement.
"Servants talk sometimes, Sir, and many who are in service in Town know of George Wickham's crimes."
Darcy looked at his butler with curiosity, but he was too focused on saving the Bennets for the sake of the woman he loved to ask more questions, "Thank you, Timberley. You have saved me days of searching in vain."
The couple was found. An unfortunate marriage was brokered. Mr. Darcy eventually won the hand of his own bride. One day, months later, Darcy asked for his butler to sent to his office, "Please have a seat, Mr. Timberley."
The man sat and Darcy smiled, "I wish to thank you again for your aid in locating George Wickham. I did not achieve the best solution, but at least the girl's family name was somewhat restored. At the time I had many questions for you. One night, while talking with Colonel Fitzwilliam, I learned of an interesting rumor about a secret organization operating in our city and beyond. It seems this 'network' keeps track of people like Wickham and takes measures to protect servants from their depredations."
Jefferey only raised an eyebrow, "That sounds... fascinating, Sir."
Darcy regarded the man for a long, silent minute, then nodded, "I thought so as well. Given that Mrs. Darcy and I care for everyone who works for us, we wholeheartedly support such a concept. In fact, after talking together, Mrs. Darcy and I would like to do what we can."
Jefferey continued to remain silent, but looked contemplative. The others in the network would almost certainly baulk at having a member of the gentry involved. Darcy resolved his concerns by sliding an envelope across his desk to his butler, "Now, I realize that you probably know nothing of this group, but I trust your honesty enough that I know that, if possible, you will work to place these funds into the right hands where they can do the most good. Would you be willing to take on this task for me?"
Jefferey looked at the young man and saw the man's uncle, his dear friend and commander, in the new Master of Pemberley. Clearing his throat to prevent the well of emotion, Jefferey took the thick envelope, "Certainly, Sir... and may I say, Sir, that you remind me very much of Major Darcy."
Darcy had to clear his own throat as he stood, "I hope that I may always live up to the memory of such a man, Jefferey."
"Very well, Sir," the butler replied simply, bowed with his usual dignity, and then left the room.