"Sir William Lucas."

Jane and Mary looked up from their sewing at Hill's announcement.

"For father?" asked Jane.

"To see you both, miss" said Hill.

The sisters looked at each other, eyebrows raised; both puzzled, both thinking 'what could he want?".

"Please show him in" said Jane.

Sir William entered the drawing room and bowed, in turn the sisters curtsied.

At Jane's invitation Sir William took a chair and they all sat. Offered refreshments, he refused.

Sir William was not his usual jovial self; well known for his command of pleasantries, he offered none. Visibly nervous, twice he started to speak but stopped. Finally, he blurted out "Tomorrow is market day in Meryton" but then he stopped.

Both sisters nodded and Jane said "Yes?".

Sir William sighed. "Tomorrow, at noon, the mayor will read out a proclamation. It is the Crown's response to Meryton's petition setting out its grievances against the militia. The mayor has shown me a copy. It's written in the usual incomprehensible bureaucratic language but the long and short of it is that the Crown will not reimburse the merchants and parish for their losses. It also proclaims that the main perpetrator of the offences complained of, George Wickham, has been hanged for his crimes, and it is hoped that such just punishment satisfies the good people of Meryton." He shook his head. "I wish it stopped there. It also proclaims that Wickham's accomplice, and accessory to his crimes, his wife, Lydia Wickham, has been sentenced to seven years transportation for her part."

Both sisters gasped.

"Would you like to speak to father about this?" asked Jane.

Sir William shook his head. "I know him too well; I've no wish to be abused for being a busybody. I'm here because I don't want you to be surprised when you are cut the next time you go to Meryton." He stood. "I'll take my leave now." On the way out he turned back and said "I can't stop you being cut, or harsh words being said against you, but I will not stand for any violence being committed, or threatened, against your persons, or property. If you are accosted in any way let me know. You are not without friends."

After they thanked Sir William for his warning, and they had seen him out, the sisters returned to the drawing room. They did not take up their sewing.

"Up to now we've just had to put up with vague rumours of Lydia's disgrace; now it will be official. We are well and truly ruined" said Jane.

"Should we tell Papa and Mama?" asked Mary.

Jane shook her head. "Aunt Philips will be here within an hour after the mayor quits reading. She will tell Mama, and Mama will berate Papa, and with any luck maybe they'll kill each other, and we'll be done with them."

Mary gasped "Jane; you can't mean that …"

"I can and I do. We're ruined because our parents didn't parent us. I warned them about Lydia; Lizzy warned them; you and your Mr. Fordyce warned them; but did they listen? No, Papa didn't care and Mama just wanted Lydia to have fun." Jane spat the last word out. "We're ruined through no fault of our own, and I'll not have it. I control Longbourn's purse now and we'll practice every economy there is and when we've saved enough, we'll shake the dust of Longbourn from our feet. We'll move to some place where they've never heard of Meryton or Longbourn or Bennets or Wickhams, maybe Nova Scotia or Upper Canada, and we'll open a tea room or something, and we'll live out our lives as the Misses Smith, gentil spinsters of uncertain backgrounds, fallen on hard times, but making the best of it."

Incipient tears notwithstanding, Mary's lips quirked upward, as she stared at her eldest sister, Boudica of Longbourn. She hoped that she, they, didn't suffer the same fate as that warrior Celtic Queen. She pulled Jane into a hug, as awkward a hug as one from Mary could be, and the two sisters comforted each other in their ruin and their resolve.

-}{-

About a week later, at Pemberley, in Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy was reading his newspaper, lately arrived from London. He usually did not read news of the militia but in scanning the page his eye was caught by the word 'Wickham'.

He read the short article outlining Wickham's crimes and punishment with interest. He felt that Wickham's fate was deserved and long overdue. He did not mourn the man; but he did mourn the boon companion of his youth, but that boy had died long ago, slain by his embrace of the vices and depravity of adulthood.

Mr. Darcy did mourn the punishment dealt out to Wickham's wife (knowing of Wickham's facility with lies, he wondered about the legality of that marriage), Lydia Wickham, whom he presumed was one and the same as Lydia Bennet, who had confronted him before his wedding about his wrongs against Bingley and Jane Bennet. She was too young and too stupid to have her life destroyed so by a practiced deceiver such as Wickham.

Mr. Darcy thought that he could have saved her, Lydia Bennet, from being Lydia Wickham, with all the grief that that title entailed, if only Elizabeth had married him.

If only.

Mr. Darcy threw down the newspaper and went on a long ride to work off his chagrin.

-}{-

About the same time, in Nottinghamshire, the circulating library at which there was a subscription in the name of Miss Carruthers of Quickentree Hall, received the same issue of the newspaper that Mr. Darcy had read, which reported the fate of the Wickhams. Elizabeth, whom usually read that particular newspaper when she visited the circulating library, through a particular set of circumstances, none of which are worthy of note, did not read that particular issue, and thus did not know her sister, Lydia, had completed the ruination of her other sisters, a ruination she, Elizabeth, had started in motion by her jilting of Mr. Darcy.

This was a blessing. Elizabeth surely would have been quickly driven mad by her realization that she could have saved Lydia, indeed, all her sisters, if she had not jilted Mr. Darcy. As it was, the ennui of her continued employment as companion to the Dowager Countess of Jeltotford was only slowly driving her mad.