Of Rakes and Gentlemen

Playing With A Marked Deck

Netherfield Park

Meryton

Hertfordshire

November 30th, 1811

Dear Lt Wickham,

Forgive my impropriety for writing this missive but times are desperate.

You are aware that we had a ball here at Netherfield, and not only did the Bennet's behave abominably during the whole evening, but it would also surprise you to learn your latest interest was seen disappearing with Mr Darcy with her friend Miss Charlotte Lucas, ostensibly to act as chaperone. They were gone for at least three dances. Whatever they did there seemed to change all three of them.

I will give you five thousand pounds to woo and marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet, She and Darcy were far too close for comfort, they danced twice, once before their disappearance and once after. They seemed to enjoy their second dance a little bit more and I know for a fact that you desire Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I desire Mr Darcy, in that, I believe, we have a common goal.

Whilst you are seen courting Miss Elizabeth Bennet it would break Mr Darcy, and I will swoop in proving to be a great comfort to him.

You will receive £2,500 now from me, once you begin courting. The rest when you finally marry the chit. I shall also say my sister is invested, so you may end up with more if you play your cards right.

Our original plan was to leave Netherfield to stop my brother from making the biggest mistake in his life by marrying Miss Bennet, she will never get her cold grasping hands on my brother's fortune, he falls in and out of love too easily. I do not care if one of your friends gets involved with her or not. It would be a bonus.

However, after the events of the Ball, Mr Darcy seems to have had a change of heart and is willing to support Charles in his endeavour. How he changed his mind I do not know, so I shall be around, keeping an eye on you, making sure you are showing utter loyalty to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

I am sure a man of your dubious charms can win her over.

If you fail you are left with the sum of money I shall pay you, I suggest you use this pecuniary offer to purchase gifts for her. Use whatever excuse you can give, just make sure you are extra affectionate towards her when you see Mr Darcy.

You wish to ruin Mr Darcy; this is your time to do so. I do not care for Miss Elizabeth's reputation.

Meanwhile, I shall be left to mend his poor broken heart. Once Mr Darcy and I are married, you shall be rewarded handsomely.

Are we in accord?

Do not respond to this letter, I shall advise you to let actions speak louder with words.

Thank you for your time, please burn this letter once you have read it.

Yours

Miss Caroline Bingley.

He pursed his lips and turned the paper over and frowned as he read its contents again. It was not ideal to have to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but it could be worse, he shuddered. It could be Lydia, her behaviour made him feel ashamed and embarrassed for her, as she was not considerate of her own actions and how they could affect her sisters.

Could he charm Miss Elizabeth though? He noticed when they were together, they seemed in harmony regarding Mr Darcy but was mutual hatred of one person enough to sway her to his side. What if it was true? Of course, Mr Darcy would fall in love with the impoverished, impertinent miss, she was the exact opposite of what he was used to.

This letter was proof ladies of the ton were not to be trifled with when it came to something they wanted. Yes, he sensed a kindred spirit in this Caroline Bingley, she wanted to hurt Mr Darcy just so she could be with him when he saw her as a compassionate, kind, woman helping a friend mend a broken heart. Yes, he could see sense in the scheme.

Quite how he was supposed to win Miss Elizabeth's heart that would lead to a wedding he had no idea, but it would be fun to try, his dark curly locks flopped over his brow hiding his little smirk. He took a deep breath. Miss Elizabeth's fine body to be his as he saw fit, to be able to take her wherever he goes, to always be able to rut her. Knowing that each time he did so would drive a stake through Darcy's heart.

He began to imagine their children, such beautiful girls and such cunning boys. Yes, there was credence to the plan, it was a shame because the word was there was an heiress in town. Usually, he would switch allegiances, but with this intrigue, he would have some money now.

As for burning the letter there was a conundrum, to burn it would appease her, but to keep it would appease him, he could use this to continually blackmail the Bingley brat. That would please him immensely to have such a rich brother-in-law. No, it was in his best interest to keep the missive.

Carefully, he folded it up and put it in a little box he kept mementoes of past victims. Ones that were stupid enough to believe in such pretty words. So, he grinned, tomorrow he would begin his pursuit of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and encourage Jane Bennet to accept Charles.

How this Caroline Bingley heard or knew his weaknesses he had no idea. As he was up at the break of dawn, a habit he had never been able to break from his humble beginnings as the son of a steward, he began to bathe as where he was staying had such basic human needs that he was pleased.

He began to wash his face and leaned back in the copper tub, resting his arms on the lip of the tub and threw his head back and observed the ceiling. It was plain and boring, but it was a roof over his head. The wrong roof! It was him that should have had Pemberley. He was more favoured than the heir but no - he had to be born a Wickham and not a Darcy.

Slowly, he lowered his body in the water and dunked his head under it, only to emerge from the water hair dripping around his handsome face, he shook his head like a dog and then rubbed down his face. He picked up his washcloth and used some mint oil to rub it into his skin. Then he cleaned his teeth.

During his ablutions, he tried to think of Miss Elizabeth in a more friendly situation and he did feel stirrings. Yes, he could do it, he could. Comfortable in his own skin he walked into his room and picked up his trousers and started to get dressed, he would love to take this chance. To his pleasant joy, the day dawned sunny and bright.

What a fine day, he thought, as he brushed something off the golden lapels on the shoulder and decided he was going to start as soon as he possibly could. He knew Miss Elizabeth's younger sisters should be here, therefore at least one of the older sisters should be with them.

Happily, he skipped down the steps to his host's breakfast table, he ate some cold meats and eggs and drank some coffee. Ah, for coffee, he thought. As his cup clinked back on the saucer, he was inspired by design and his own acute imagination of how to go about such a Machiavellian scheme.

After breaking his fast he mopped his mouth and used the window as a mirror to check if everything was in place, he had to look impeccable and respectable for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mrs Lizzy Wickham, he thought, yes if he was to marry, he could do worse. Once finished there was a knock on the door, and he answered it.

"Denny," he sighed, "why so grim?"

"Something called second son sickness," he muttered. "My older brother is still sickeningly healthy - blast him. What are you so happy about?"

"Ah, love, Denny. Love!" he sighed and pouted as if truly forlorn, "nothing finer than being in love."

Denny grinned, "So would it be true love or pecuniary love?" he asked with a tight lilt to his voice.

Wickham barked with loud merriment. Then regarded his friend with a puzzled look on his face, then slapped his shoulder, "Tell me, who has captured your heart, Denny?"

"One of the Bennet's, who has yours?"

"Another Bennet," Wickham sighed, "Oh my, they are a popular family are they not?"

"Which one?" Denny demanded eyes aflame with jealousy, "Tell me now?"

"Why my heart has fully been taken with Miss Elizabeth Bennet," stated Wickham adding a heaving sigh, "a moment without her feels like years."

Denny's gaze softened, "Yes, she is a beauty," he sighed, "But do not fret for my heart has been taken by Miss Kitty Bennet," they walked out of the house, watching the mist swirl from their breath in the Autumn morning. Shivering from the late Autumn cool air. Dried up leaves crackled beneath their feet as the morning mists drift over the ground. "However," he grinned, "we shall flirt and frolic and when next posted, we may meet an heiress with a heart of gold."

"I would have thought Lydia would have caught your notice," Wickham replied, "you seemed to be her favourite before I turned up."

"I despair of Miss Lydia, some of her schemes have naught but been embarrassing," he sighed, "Miss Kitty when she is on her own, is a much better life companion."

Dear Lord, Wickham thought, was Denny truly considering a penniless marriage? Love makes people fools but if you bring cash into a courtship, then the world's your oyster. He sincerely hoped that the Militia would soon depart from here before things got too hot to handle, yet everyone seems just fine. Possibly leaving him with 5,000 pounds or more, and a ruined reputation behind him intrigued him greatly.

The two men swung into the direction of Meryton where they were sure to bump into one Bennet girl or three. It was nearing 10 am and they both were hungry to see what they hoped to be future brides. They played cards in one of the inns and drank tankards of ale. Soon it was time they usually spotted at least one of their quarries, and there they were. Miss Lydia's strident voice carried through the streets. Miss Jane was there, and they observed that she tried to keep Miss Lydia controlled to no avail.

To Wickham's delight, Miss Elizabeth was also there and the autumn light hitting her glossy auburn hair made someone beside them catch their breath, A lovelorn pup too lowborn for her to take notice of! Wickham smirked, soon she would be his.

"DENNY!" Miss Lydia shouted, "WICKHAM! OVER HERE!"

Immediately they walked across the street or swaggered, in the case of Wickham, to the group of ladies. As soon as they reached the quartet Denny sided to Miss Kitty who blushed under his attention. Wickham, to Miss Lydia's disappointment, attached himself to Miss Elizabeth.

Leaning down he tucked a coil of hair behind her ear, and offered her his most winning smile, "Do not you look beautiful today, Miss Elizabeth. Why the sun holds nothing to your radiant glory."

She gulped, obviously uncomfortable at having him close by, "Why Mr Wickham, you ought not to say such things," she sighed. A few days ago she would have welcomed such balms to her vanity but not after the revelations of the ball, on Tuesday.

"May I ask you a question in private, Miss Elizabeth, perhaps I can walk you back to Longbourn after you purchase something, I have something that has been pressing on my mind since you came into my notice."

"Why sir," she smiled coyly and looked away, hiding her frown. How was she supposed to act normal around him now? "Whatever can you mean?"

He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, looking deeply into her beautiful eyes, no it wouldn't be a hardship to be married to her. "What else can it mean when a man meets a beautiful, kind, intelligent woman and desires a private audience with her?"

Carefully he watched her reaction, she was definitely discomposed but not one little thing was given away, she blushed and offered a quirk of her lips, "Most delightful," she said, "I confess, I…" she turned her head away, the bonnet hid her expression of disgust as she offered a prayer to all that was holy to forgive her sin of deception, "I may comprehend your meaning sir."

"Tell a man whose heart is full of love," he whispered in her ear. "That he has hope?"

This is going to take all of her acting skills, and she hoped that Mr Darcy came with proof soon. "Depends on the man, sir," she responded as she removed her hand from his grasp.

The others had gone on ahead. Oh well, let them buy second-hand bonnets and ribbons to trim them with, and let her purchase more books. With her arms swinging by her side, she walked over to the bookshop on the other side of the road. Mr Wickham tilted his head to the side as he admired her form. No, he would not mind training her to be his perfect little submissive wife.

He followed her as he said, he had to ask her a question, in private. The rickety old bookshop would be as private as they come. He could secure a courtship and £2,500. What a fine day, he skipped forward and joined her side. He did not know if her cheeks were pink from a blush or from the exercise of walking into Meryton, or from the frigid air that was the weather. He certainly did love certain parts about her. They walked together, her swinging arms had now stopped as one was trapped in his arm and the other wrapped around his arm, laying on top of the other hand.

They strolled into the bookshop and Wickham led her to the far corner where all the dusty old tomes were kept and he swung her into the corner and manoeuvred himself in front of her, no one walking in would suspect he had company. Gently, he tilted her chin up so they could gaze into each other's eyes.

"This is the perfect spot," he whispered, as he lowered his head.

"Perfect spot for what?" she whispered.

"This," he sighed as he brushed his lips against hers.

She shuddered, he found this to be a promising sign and then slanted his mouth against hers as he teased her lips with his - she opened her mouth to speak but he used this to lick the seam of her lip causing her to gasp, "Sir, this is inappropriate," she said trying to move away but he mirrored her steps.

"My intentions are honourable, Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he whispered, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek, so pale right now with just the hint of a smattering of freckles across her nose, "Please say you will court me, I cannot offer much but what I can offer is yours and yours alone," he pleaded with begging eyes. An expression he perfected throughout his life on many a maiden, dark almost black eyes that seemed to peer into her soul and stripped it bare, "after all is that not what we have been doing?"

"I…I…I," she stammered but he pressed her lips with his again cutting off her reply.

"I feel like a dying man wanting to slake his thirst one last time with you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, court me?"

This went against everything she'd been told by Mr Darcy, that he was a mercenary, but he did mention courting and not marriage, so perhaps she was just someone he could play with but had she not suggested she act as if nothing had changed?

"I am afraid I am at a loss, for certain, you could see I only saw you as a friend," he lowered his gaze but only to hide the fear that he would fail and lose his money, "but I suppose I could court you," she whispered.

Oh, how she hated herself, this was going against everything she had ever been taught. Only a few days ago she had rejected a proposal from Mr Collins, and if it was not for her foresight to let him take notice of Mary then she was sure Longbourn would have been lost to the family forever. For Mary, knowing this may be the only chance and matrimony had been accepted with alacrity.

Now she was starting to wonder if she had made a mistake, Mr Collins was not a cad or scoundrel. If she was going to court him all of Meryton would support it, and her choice for he was well-liked for all the wrong reasons. Yet, Mr Darcy was hated and scorned - and she had a hand in that - all because her pride and vanity had suffered a blow.

What if, during the courting, he asked her to marry him, what would she do? She was saved from answering when she heard an angry voice reverberate through the store: "Mr Wickham!"

The change in the man before her was immediate. His face went white as a sheet. Slowly he turned around and glanced into the eyes of a powerful enemy.

Elizabeth craned her neck around and, to her surprise, she saw a complete stranger in the same style of dress as Colonel Forster. He was not a handsome man, square-jawed, a few battle scars evident on his face, and his stature was stocky but, somehow, he held himself taller than Wickham who seemed to curl in on himself.

When the stranger noticed he was with a lady his blood boiled, "Unhand the maiden or I shall run you through," he snarled.

This man knew how to command unlike Forster - he would vet his men properly. Elizabeth noticed that Wickham was quivering with anger.

"We are courting," Wickham had recovered himself, smirking. "I believe that it is customary to kiss a courting lady."

"Courting my foot," the strange Colonel boomed, "I repeat, unhand the maiden, or I shall run you through!"

Wickham's smile almost became self-assured, "Tell him!" He said to Miss Elizabeth, "tell him we are courting?"

"Madam," the Colonel sighed, "I beseech you to not trust the pretty words of a practised liar."

Whoever this man was, had a vendetta against Mr Wickham. Then it clicked, he was a Colonel. They already had a Colonel and so it could not be a replacement but rather visiting some friends - no - family. More importantly, Mr Darcy's family. This man was Colonel Fitzwilliam! If what Mr Darcy said was true this man was out for blood, and quite frankly, she did not blame him.

"Lt Wickham," she said, calmly laying a hand on his arm to placate him, "I need to think about this, can you give me a day or two to sort my feelings out. It is just…well… such an important decision that I feel it requires some consideration."

Now that he had it in his mind that he was going to marry her, Wickham would not take no for an answer, but she had not rejected him, she was going to think about it. Perhaps on one of her early morning walks. He knew her favourite route, perhaps a 'chance' encounter would make her change her mind.

Realising he was currently beaten he stepped aside and allowed Elizabeth to pass him by but before she could leave, he grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, winking impishly whilst doing so. Nervously, she approached the Colonel who suddenly relaxed when she was behind him. "Now, get out, Wickham, If I ever see you alone…" he did not need to finish his threat.

With that, the Colonel offered her his arm and they walked out of the bookshop and, to Miss Elizabeth's chagrin, without a book to read.

When they were outside, she turned to the Colonel and said: "I believe we must be introduced," she said, "I am Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn."

"Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, second son of Earl _ and cousin to Mr Darcy."

Looking around, to make sure they were quite alone, Elizabeth whispered: "Do you have the proof he asked for?" Stunned, the Colonel nodded, "Good, I am not sure how convincing I could be if I had to…"

Behind them, lurking in the shadows was an angry man. She had almost agreed, and what in blazes was he doing here? Darcy's loyal little lap dog? With him in the neighbourhood things could get tough for him but this time, he was going to stay and fight for what was his. Perhaps, he would get everything he ever wanted. A beautiful life, with a gorgeous little wife. He just had to play his cards right; played dirty, he did, and he held a marked deck.

He knew Darcy, and he knew from one little glance that his old 'friend' was in love at last. Even this Miss Bingley saw Elizabeth as a threat. If he was going to destroy Darcy it would be through Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Once he discovered this man's weakness then he could move on to the Colonel.

Everyone had a price!