It might have all been different, Book Two

by leavesfallingup

The second installment of "It might have all been different," where we explore how a single change or perhaps one large change might alter the entire story of P&P. Happily Ever After is not guaranteed.

11. Written all over his face

It's written all over his face

(a.k.a. Don't mess with a blacksmith's daughter)

When Darcy first encountered his nemesis George Wickham talking with the Bennet ladies in Meryton, all he wanted to do was ride his horse away. Then he saw the expression on his enemy's face and he formed a different resolution

AN: Body mutilation implied in this story. Do not read if this will disturb you.

It was the smirk that did it.

Darcy and Bingley had ridden into the little town of Meryton on their way to Longbourn, the home of the Bennets. Though it had only been two days since the eldest two Bennet daughters, Jane and Elizabeth, had departed Netherfield, Bingley was in full withdrawal, chomping at the bit to be near his "angel" once again. Of course Darcy had no such desire. He only accompanied his friend on his quest to offer support. His presence had nothing whatsoever to do with the teasing, hazel eyes, dark-curly hair, or light, pleasing figure of the second-eldest... nothing whatsoever!

Yet here they were, standing with their troublesome younger sisters in the main thoroughfare of Meryton, speaking with several gentlemen. Darcy noticed an oddly-shaped, oily-looking man in clerical garb standing close to Elizab... to Miss Elizabeth and a taller figure in gentleman's garb engaged in animated conversation with her. He saw the youngest two flirting with an officer and fought the urge to roll his eyes. And of course he noticed Miss Bennet smiling at his friend even as Bingley hastily dismounted.

Resigned, Darcy also began to dismount... and then he saw him. Darcy's anger immediately flared and threatened to boil over into rage. It was everything that he could do not to rush forward and choke the life out of George Wickham, faithless friend, profligate gambler and despoiler of innocents. Darcy's second impulse, in fact his third and fourth, was to shoot the man or run him through... but reason prevailed. With iron self-control, Darcy met Miss Elizabeth's eyes, nodded, gave Wickham a cold stare, and began to turn to mount.

It was the smirk.

George Wickham had once been Fitzwilliam Darcy's dearest friend. They had been practically inseparable as boys before George's true character began to slip out. Unfortunately, one result of that friendship was that they could read each other like open books. George's eyes flicked from him to Elizabeth and back again. He knew. In that instant he knew that Darcy had feelings for the petite, intelligent, lively dark-haired beauty.

Then George smirked... and Darcy knew that the villian had just chosen his next victim. Wickham's brows rose just-slightly in challenge to his old friend. Darcy stomped down his rage, finished his turn, and remounted. With another nod at Elizabeth, he flexed his knees and his mount cantered away. Bingley, bewildered and not a little frustrated, said a quick goodbye to his angel, mounted his own horse, and followed.

Elizabeth saw it all and pondered, but for the moment she found no answers.

"Darcy, what is the meaning of this? I thought our purpose was to check on Miss Bennet. Why did you ride off so rudely?"

Darcy was almost out of the little town, on his way back towards Netherfield, when he pulled his horse to a stop and wheeled, "I need to take care of a little business. Sorry, Charles. If you wish, go back and escort the ladies home. In fact, I encourage you to do just that."

Bingley worked his mouth as if to speak, but hadn't formed any words before his taciturn friend was well-away. Grumbling under his breath, Bingley turned his horse back to where he had left his dear Jane and happily forgot his enigmatic friend.

The town post was located in the mercantile, once owned by Sir William Lucas and now owned and operated by a pleasant older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Barton. Darcy forced his hard expression into something remotely resembling a smile and said, "Hello. I with to send two expresses. I require paper and pen."

When both were provided, he began writing. It was more difficult than it should be because his mind kept revisiting that smirk... and his beloved sister's broken expression... and the thought of Miss Elizabeth's lovely face with that expression. NO! It will not be! How may has he hurt already?

With iron determination, he forced himself to concentrate, trim the pen he had just ruined, and complete his task. He borrowed sealing wax, sealed both missives, paid his coin for express delivery, and turned to go... and again he stopped. "Mr. Barton, I noticed that the militia has come to town."

The older man smiled and said, "Yes. We are quite pleased to host them for the next several months. It will be a pleasant addition to our rather restricted society here, and a boost in business as well."

"That is true... for the most part. Sadly, my experience at home in Derbyshire and while visiting Brighton has been that, while most of the officers and soldiers are quite respectable, there are a few who bear careful monitoring. Their salaries are quite low and so they like to buy on credit. They are not in a position to marry and yet they find the local young ladies... fascinating. I strongly advise that you, your fellow merchants,... and any fathers with young, impressionable daughters, exercise wisdom and caution. Good day."

He left a very thoughtful couple behind.

oOo

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam rode onto the circular drive at Netherfield that same night along with four highly capable looking soldiers. Bingley was happy to host the man and his entourage. Caroline Bingley was torn. He was the son of a powerful Earl, but only the second son. He was cousin to Darcy, but not even remotely as wealthy. Most of all, he arrived without any prior notice. It was quite rude... but Caroline decided to view the intrusion as an opportunity for her to demonstrate her acumen as a hostess... specifically as the future mistress of Pemberley.

She was miffed when the men disappeared into the library, more so because two of the soldiers posted themselves outside of the door, making eavesdropping impossible. After their private conference, however, the four soldiers rode off into the night and Colonel Fitzwilliam proved himself to be a pleasant dinner guest. He flirted too much, to be sure. Caroline might enjoy such flirtations from time-to-time, but she wouldn't wish for Mr. Darcy to get the wrong idea.

oOo

Colonel Forster found nothing unusual in the arrival of the four men: a sergeant and three veteran soldiers. It was standard practice for traveling soldiers to put up for the night at the nearest camp. These men brought their own money, blankets, and fodder, so all that was required was to assign them to available sleeping tents. Nobody took note when all four wandered the camp until a certain newly sworn-in officer was located. Nor did they pay any attention when two of the soldiers bunked down for the night while the other two took up posts to monitor any movements from the aforementioned officer.

oOo

The next arrivals appeared the following day. The five men, two older and three younger, rode into town, took rooms at the only inn, and then scattered. It was one of the young men who, in speaking with several officers at a gaming table, located their quarry.

Arrangements were made. Necessary purchases were completed. Again, nobody noticed when the younger men took turns monitoring the movements of a certain officer.

OOo

Elizabeth Bennet did not know what to expect at her aunt's card party this evening. She felt a certain thrill about seeing the deliciously handsome new officer, Mr. Wickham, but she was also almost obsessively curious. When the arrogant Mr. Darcy had ridden up upon her first meeting with Mr. Wickham, Wickham had gone white and Mr. Darcy, the normally unflappable and emotionless man, had turned red. Fear and rage? Shock and embarrassment? What was the cause and how do these two highly dissimilar men know each other?

She cringed as she heard her pompous and yet obsequious cousin, Mr. Collins, began comparing her aunt's drawing room to the smallest summer breakfast parlor at Rosings. He then began to extol the virtues of his patroness, Lady Catherine DeBourgh, and describe with great detail the chimney piece in one of her drawing rooms. Why are most of the men in my life arrogant or fools or both? Why can't they all be true gentlemen like Mr. Wickham?

As if reading her thoughts, the officer in question walked in with his new compatriots. The gentleman was taller than his fellows and somehow more dignified in his mien. He was also devilishly handsome, far above any other man in room. Every woman's attention was on him, but his attention was focused on Elizabeth.

She had been having a quiet conversation with her dear friend Charlotte, but upon Wickham's approach Charlotte excused herself with a grin. Elizabeth certainly didn't mind the intrusion. He immediately proved himself to be an interesting conversationalist, making even the blandest topic fascinating.

Mrs. Phillips invited everyone to take their seats at the card tables for games of whist, but neither Elizabeth nor Wickham joined. He kept his admiring attention on her and said, "I have little interest in the game at present. I am perfectly content to remain where I am in such pleasant and attractive company. Elizabeth blushed prettily, more than willing to continue their conversation.

She wondered how to lead the conversation to address a certain question, but did not raise the subject. Wickham solved her dilemma by asking, "Is Netherfield far from Meryton?"

"Only two miles."

"And how long has Mr. Darcy been there?" Elizabeth could see from the intensity of his eyes that the question was not as idle as he might want it to appear. She was preparing to answer when he seemed to startle, his eyes suddenly searching the other side of the room. Whatever he though he had seen must have vanished, because he turned his attention back to her. "About a month. He is a man of large property in Derbyshire, I understand."

"Yes..." Again Wickham startled, his brow furrowed and he shifted about to survey the room.

"Does something trouble you, Sir?" Elizabeth asked, concerned at the man's expression. She noticed that his usual friendly expression had taken on a more calculating, almost shifty turn. Then the look vanished and he appeared the urbane gentleman again.

"Not at all. Mr. Darcy's estate there is a noble one. A clear ten-thousand per annum. You could not have met a person more capable of giving... damn!" He leapt to his feet, completely ignoring the shocked expression of the young lady he had been wooing and scanned the room.

Elizabeth, for her part, felt something unsavory and dangerous emanating from the man who, only moments ago, had so impressed her. Mr. Collins, having heard the oath along with many others, threw down his cards and said, "See here, Sir! Such language is inappropriate! My noble patroness..." He let out a strangled "oof!" as the tall officer shoved him hard, causing him to fall back, upsetting the whist game and raising other cries of alarm. Wickham continued scanning the room and then, with another even worse oath, scrambled for the door.

Everyone watched as several unknown men ran out of the door after the man. While their eyes were on the door, another tall figure took the seat that Wickham had abandoned. Elizabeth didn't know what to think as her eyes turned to find Mr. Darcy looking at her with evident concern, "Miss Elizabeth, are you well? Did he harm you in any way?"

"Harm? No...?" She didn't know what to make of the sudden turn of events. She saw the man's tense shoulders relax. "Good. I am glad. I could not bear it if he harmed..." As if suddenly realizing how much he was exposing, Mr. Darcy coughed and stood. His concerned and caring demeanor vanished, hidden once again behind that mask. "Miss Elizabeth, I realize that some explanation may be in order. If I may, I will meet with you and your father tomorrow to elucidate." When Elizabeth nodded dumbly, he returned the gesture and excused himself.

The card players attempted to return to their games, but to no avail. The incident was much too interesting to allow for other distractions. Unfortunately, since Elizabeth was the only one who had been in conversation with the person of interest, she was inundated with inquiries until she was finally able to extricate herself and her sisters for the night. The night, sadly, was not over because the younger girls rushed in to tell their mother, who then kept the discussion going on into the wee hours.

Mr. Collins interjected often with pronouncements, often quoting his great benefactor, but he was largely ignored. He felt quite put-out that he, the victim of such a vile and violent assault, had not garnered even an eighth of the attention that his cousin had, though she had only sat with the man! He was the most put out with Miss Elizabeth, his intended, who only made a passing inquiry into his status. In fact only Miss Mary seemed at all concerned, having brought him a brandy to settle him and asked, not just once, but four times about any injuries. He resolved then and there to direct his attentions toward a more worthy woman. It would serve the second-eldest right to be passed over!

The one benefit of the long night, at least that Elizabeth was yet aware of, was that everyone else except for Elizabeth and her father slept in, so there was nobody there to witness the arrival of Mr. Darcy and his uniformed cousin.

Mr. Darcy was a tall man and well-formed. Colonel Fitzwilliam was slightly shorter, but so powerfully built that he made Mr. Bennet's library seem small. Elizabeth, having ushered the men into the room, then arranged for tea. When she let herself into the room her father and the two gentlemen were enjoying a pleasant discussion about Cambridge. She set the tray down, poured the tea, and took a seat.

Once everyone had served themselves, Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, "Well then, Gentlemen, since it was you who requested this meeting, perhaps we should begin. Mr. Darcy, you have been in the neighborhood for well nigh a month and this is the first time you have deigned to visit, so I am at a loss to understand the urgency of this call.

Darcy looked embarrassed, his cousin amused. He took a long moment to compose himself before answering, then said, "I deeply apologize for my behavior, Mr. Bennet. I had... something... and incident in my family discomposed me severely... in fact, it was a matter concerning the person of whom we came to speak today."

The colonel interjected, "My father felt that Darcy needed to get out of the rut he put himself in, to change his setting, so he pushed him to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation... in retrospect, perhaps it was still too soon."

When the silence lingered, Mr. Bennet said, "This is all very cryptic, gentlemen, but as of yet I and my daughter are still no better informed than when you arrived. I assume that this has something to do with the gentleman who caused an incident at the Phillips' card party last evening?"

"He is no gentleman," Darcy growled, then recomposed himself and said, "I apologize. And yes, we are visiting you today to explain the incident last evening." He took a deep breath and then began, "George Wickham is the son of Jacob Wickham, my father's steward who was a fine man. We played together as children..." For the next fifteen minutes Darcy told his story, with occasional additions from his cousin, omitting the tale of his sister. For the sake of female ears, he said enough about the man's habits to inform without providing exacting detail.

Mr. Bennet looked over at Elizabeth, who had silently listened to the tale. "I have a feeling that there is more of a personal nature not included in your tale, but you have provided enough to make the man's character clear. I have two questions, however."

"Yes Sir. I came here this morning prepared to answer your questions."

"Good. First, who were the men who chased Mr. Wickham out of the room?"

"Fathers and brothers who were searching for the man for some time. When I saw him... I sent two expresses. One went to my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The other was to a wealthy tradesman from Derbyshire who has been searching for Wickham, along with others. I happened to know that the group was currently scouring London for him... which is most likely why he was here." Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth, considering his next words, but then continued on, "His fourteen year-old daughter, Grace, eloped with Wickham. Mr. Baxter received a letter demanding her dowry, which he paid, whereupon he received an anonymous tip on where to find the girl who Wickham had already abandoned." Darcy flinched, but finally added, "She died of complications in her father's arms after a miscarriage."

The room remained silent and tense for even longer this time as each person processed such a vile concept. Finally, Mr. Darcy expelled a breath and prompted, "You said that you had two questions, Mr. Bennet?"

Grateful for the distraction, Mr. Bennet, with a subdued twinkle in his eye asked, "I am not a supporter of vigilante justice, Mr. Darcy, Colonel, but in this instance I will hold my peace. What was said in this room is now forgotten. My second question is this: why are you here this morning explaining this? After all, it seems that matters concerning George Wickham are out of my hands."

Colonel Fitzwilliam didn't even try to suppress a grin. Darcy colored, steeled himself, and then glanced at Elizabeth before turning his attention back to her father, "I am telling you this so that any lies that Mr. Wickham had time to share would be clarified. I knew that George Wickham would focus his attentions on Miss Elizabeth and took actions in order to protect her."

Elizabeth, beginning to see something that she had previously missed, colored. Her father relentlessly pushed on, "And why would Mr. Wickham deliberately choose to focus on my Lizzy, other than the obvious attractions, Mr. Darcy?"

"Because Wickham hates me. Because he would do anything to harm me," he paused and looked directly at Elizabeth, "Because he knows me altogether too well... and he could immediately see what others might easily miss... He saw my very deep interest in your daughter, Elizabeth."

oOoOOoOo

George Wickham jerked awake, sore in every muscle and sinew, bruised and battered from his none-too-gentle capture. A small but well-proportioned older man stepped up to him, "Ah, you're awake, George. I don't know if you remember me. I am Phineas Dunn, formerly the owner and proprietor of Dunn's Haberdashery, do you remember it? You should, since you had several suits made there before running off with a large debt, my cash box, and my young wife. Allow me to introduce my friends. Mr. Baxter you know... he has been searching for you. Mr. Garner you don't know, but you knew his young sister, Agnes. Mr. Burch's daughter you sold to a brothel after having your way with her. Lieutenant Younge... well, I'm sure that you remember that name... after all, you pretended to be him and lived happily off of his prize money after seducing his wife while he was off at sea protecting King and country. And last, but certainly not least, Mr. Todd... you remember him? The blacksmith at Lambton? He hada sweet, kind, friendly girl who was the joy of his life... until you and your friend dragged her into the woods for your bit of fun."

Wickham, whenever faced with a sticky situation, tended to say the wrong thing. Sneering, he said, "Is it my fault that you can't control your own wives and daughter's? The doxies wanted me, so who was I to refuse?"

The fist that connected with his jaw almost knocked him out, but not quite. He was still conscious enough to hear Mr. Burch say, "The blade is nice and hot. I've steered all of my new stock in a single morning, so it shouldn't take but a minute to do the same here." Another deeper, gravelly voice said, "The letters is ready s'well." A friend who knew a newspaper man had seen to the purchase of bold-print headline letters to be used for a unique purpose.

Mr. Wickham looked down and realized that he was tied down and unclothed... and then he began screaming.

oOo

Over the following weeks, as his raging fever subsided, George Wickam became aware that he was on a ship, though where he was bound he could not fathom. He hurt everywhere, but his face and groin seemed the worst off. Someone took care of him, though none-too-gently. Eventually he recovered enough to sit up.

"Whe..." he croaked, his throat dry and parched and unable to form the words. He fumbled for the tin cup of water on the floor beside him and drank, spilling more on himself than he managed to get in his mouth. It was tepid and tasted of whatever might be found in water that had been months in a wooden barrel, but he finished it anyway. Then he tried again, "Where am I?"

A rough looking skinny man who had been bustling around in the low-ceilinged cabin looked over at him with a sneer, "Yer aboard the Leopard, boyo, an' bound fer the Americas. Cap'n ain' tellin' us much yet, but Sparks, the gunner, recons that there'll be a tussel wid the colonists again soon."

"I need to get off this ship and back to England!" Wickham croaked. Joining the militia had been a safe place, even for a coward, but aboard a warship...

Deevers, the surgeon's mate, scoffed, "Y'ain' goin' nowheres. Yer a proud member of the crew now, though ye be a lan'sman... and not much of a man at that." He chuckled and continued his work, shaking his head at his own joke.

"I have to speak with the captain! This is all a mistake! I have been assaulted and kidnapped! This is all the doing of my jealous enemy, whose father loved me better, and..."

"Ah shet yer trap, ye toff! I may not be abl'ta read s'good as I should, but I kin read what's written there on yer face. An' I know'd the l'tenant what brough ye here. 'e said ye was a bad'n, but cap'n agreed to take ye 'cause we're short on numbers. But 'e won' listen ta any of yer lies. Mr. Banks, ship's doctor, was goin' ter give ye 'nother day, but I says ye've had enough o' restin. So yer going topside ter meet yer watch an' learn yer work!"

"Wait! What do you mean, what's written on my face?" Wickham lifted shaking hands to his aching face and felt raised welts.

Deevers chuckled, "Le's see. This'n says 'THEIF', an' this'n says 'RAPIST', and this'n is easy, it says 'LIAR'. I worked this'n out to be 'BLACKMAILER', but I don' know this'n with the two words t'gether. The first is easy, it says 'CHILD' but the second is spelled 'S-E-D-U-C-E-R'..."

"Enough! Oh God, what have they done?"

"From what I heered, jes what they ought've done," the surgeon's mate declared darkly and without a hint of mercy. "But don' worry, ye won' be doin' any more o' some o' those things I think," He chuckled wryly, looking significantly down to Wickham's pants.

He was still laughing when George Wickham took a look to see what the man meant... and began screaming.

oOoOOoOo

Almost exactly one year after the fateful assembly where Mr. Darcy insulted Elizabeth Bennet, he was waiting at the altar while her father led her down the aisle. There had been many misunderstandings to clear up and Elizabeth did not make it easy for her taciturn suitor, but eventually she finally admitted to herself that she was just as in love with Darcy as he was with her.

As she looked at her nervous fiance waiting for her, she wondered how she could have ever thought any man more handsome than him. A year ago she began to hate him. Now she knew him as the best man she had ever known. She sometimes wondered if he would have ever revealed his true feelings had it not been for his concerns for her safety around that Wickham character.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was the happiest of men. Though he might have had his hand forced, he could not begrudge the outcome. He was marrying the only woman who matched him perfectly. They might fight on occasion, both being strong-minded, but they also challenged each other. His Elizabeth was no sycophant, no grasping climber, and no social butterfly. She was intelligent, lively, and fearsome to behold in her moments of anger... but oh so beautiful in whatever mood she was in.

Perhaps George had done him a favor after all.

Epilogue

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat with his beloved at their breakfast table in their private sitting room and sipped coffee as he scanned the newspaper. His beautiful wife was asleep again, having already cast her accounts this morning and scowled at him in a playful, accusatory fashion, her eyes clearly saying, "It's all your fault!"

Darcy couldn't deny his complicity in her condition, though he quite fondly remembered that she was a very willing and active participant at the time. He grinned into his cup. This would be their second child. The first, Bennet William Darcy, was all that a father could ask for. This time Darcy was hoping for a daughter, one who looked just like her beautiful mother.

Today would be a busy day. Charles and Jane Bingley would arrive soon, as would Richard and Kitty. Less welcome would be Collins and Mary, though Mary was slowly improving the man's manners. Mr. Bennet might or might not make it, but thankfully Mrs. Bennet and their youngest Lydia were too occupied in seeing to her trousseau; she would be marrying Major Carter in another month. The rest were coming to witness the marriage of Darcy's beloved sister Georgiana to Lord Fitzroy, the Earl of Euston, who would someday be the next Duke of Grafton.

It had not been easy for Darcy to let his dear sister go, but Elizabeth had bade him look at Georgiana's eyes when she looked at the man she wished to marry. Darcy took a step back, watched the man, and saw the same look that he himself wore when he looked into Elizabeth's eyes: Love, adoration, and longing. After that he had reluctantly given his permission and his blessing. Georgiana and Lord Whitecrest would wed on the morrow. Then she would leave Pemberley forever... returning in the future only as a guest.

Darcy sighed and looked back at the paper. It was only then that he saw the article about the HMS Leopard. "HMS Leopard run aground on Anticosti Island, Province of Quebec." The article went on to cite negligence on the part of the officer of the watch. The ship had been carrying a contingent of the 475th Royal Scots Guardsmen. The ship was destroyed, but all but a few aboard were rescued. I wonder how George fared? What will happen to him now?

Darcy had been receiving periodic but reliable updates on George Wickham. He had served without distinction or promotion for the past three years, never once leaving the ship. Now, with the ship broken up, what would become of the man?

Nobody in England ever heard of the fate of George Wickham after that event. His name was never entered onto the rosters of any ships company, nor could anybody ever remember ought about him. Darcy had the occasional worrisome moment, but if the man ever appeared on England's shores again, nobody ever spoke of it.

George Wickham would not trouble the Darcys or anybody else. After the shipwreck, he had snuck off and gone into hiding. Having none of his former charm and good looks to lean on, he found it difficult to make his way. He wandered further and further into the wilderness and was never seen again.

Years later, in an Inuit village located deep in the tundra, tales were told of a tall white madman with strange characters written all over his face. The man had stumbled into their village as if being chased. He was fevered and ranting, though nobody could understand the meaning of "jealous," "godfather." "living," or "elope." They shrugged, did the best that they could for the man, and then buried him when his spirit fled to whichever gods he believed in.

Author's Notes: After reading everyone's reviews on "A Message in the Dress," I realized that I had slipped away from my original intent at the start of the story: namely to show how Jane and Darcy might suit and to find a way to raise the family's financial prospects. If you re-read the story now I hope that you will be satisfied with the improvements.

One guest pointed out that this was supposed to be about Jane and Elizabeth still got the better deal. First, I should have noted that the challenge involved both sisters with specific criteria. Second, die-hard Darcy fans would argue that Jane got the better deal. Third, without changing her character, I cannot see Jane doing well in the Ton. She wants to believe the best in people and dislikes conflict. There is nothing wrong with that. I also hate conflict and would avoid the Ton were I in that time frame. I can, however, see Elizabeth taking on the Ton. That does not make her better, just wired differently.

So far as this story goes, I hope that it was not too disturbing to those who read it.