A/N: I will admit to more than the usual amount of trepidation on this chapter, since I've been working my way up to it for a while. Yes, you guessed it. Time for a visit to the parsonage. This is about 3 chapters by my average length, so let me know what you think. Wade

Mr. Bingley surprised me! No, surprise is not the right word, shocked would be much better. I had given him an most exceedingly difficult task in desperation, and he had delivered. Mr. Bingley had apparently done the impossible! It was extraordinary, and I felt a little bit bad about the deception and the risk to his person, but I would survive the feeling.

According to his letter, all was proceeding according to my instructions, so I simply sat waiting for him and his miscreant of a charge. It was late Saturday afternoon. The sun was shining outside and I could see the parlor quite well; but I had chosen a shaded and nearly invisible corner of the room to hide in. I thought it might not do for them to recognize me too quickly.

Wickham was only barely recognizable, with long hair, an unkempt beard and a generally disreputable appearance. The two whip marks on his cheeks certainly made his appearance more closely resemble his true character than his handsome appearance had. He was carrying a knife in one hand, and his companion was staying as far away from him as possible while still in the same room. Apparently he had some sense.

When they approached the door to the dining room I was seated in, I decided it was time to make my presence known. I thought they might very well stop dead cold with the right sound, and it need not be a very loud one, so I simply cocked the hammer back on my pistol.

Both men froze on the spot, much as I had hoped they would. I knew not what Wickham expected, but I doubt this was it. They could no doubt see the barrel of the pistol, which was pointed directly at Wickham's gut. Since they had stopped ever so politely, I decided it was time to introduce myself. I very carefully got up from the chair without allowing the pistol to waver, and walked around the table.

Both men gasped in surprise at seeing me. I knew they both expected Mr. Darcy, but alas, all they got was poor little me.

I walked a few steps closer, and said, "Welcome, gentlemen. I have been expecting you."

Mr. Bingley was still staring, as he had not quite started putting all the pieces together; but his basic politeness would not allow him to stand there with his mouth hanging open, so he gave the appropriate greeting.

"Mrs. Bennet. This is… unexpected."

Both men were clearly shocked to see me, and I suspect I looked just a touch mad, which was close to the truth. I was not overly worried about Mr. Bingley. He had courage; you had to give him that; but he was not a viscous man and he would not harm me or any other more or less innocent for the world.

Wickham on the other hand, started pulling the knife forward, so I thought I might dissuade him. Once I was about four or five paces from him, I lowered the pistol until it was pointing at his most prized possession and said, "I will thank you rid yourself of that knife, Mr. Wickham. I am no marksman, but I have fired well over fifty rounds in this pistol in the past several months, and I doubt I could miss you from this distance. Will you choose to die a few minutes or days hence from festering wounds lying on this floor, or will you live to fight another day."

He looked at me appraisingly, but he could follow the direction of the pistol as well as I could, and the conclusion was inescapable. Somewhat to his credit, or more likely to his showoff nature, he threw the knife a good half-dozen yards to bury itself in the far wall, without ever moving his hands to a place where I could not see them.

I watched him most carefully, and said, "I am afraid I must detain you here for a bit Mr. Wickham. We have some business to conclude. Mr. Bingley, I will oblige you to lift the bar on that cellar door behind you. Mr. Wickham, I must ask you to cool your heels down there for some time."

Wickham, ever the gallant one said, "I think I shall not, Mrs. Bennet. I have very little faith you will not deliver me to Darcy or his cousin or the militia; and it seems unlikely you will actually shoot me when it comes right down to it. I think I shall make my stand here."

I simply stared at him long enough for the man to start squirming. He knew I was not really as strong as I appeared to be, and I am quite certain he was underestimating my resolve, but on this matter, I was not to be gainsaid. It did not take that much strength to pull a trigger, and I had neatly boxed myself into a position where I had no other choices. That had seemed a good idea at the time, and quite possibly it was the only way to force myself to do what needed to be done. I felt myself shaking, but made sure that it was not visible to either of the men. It would not do to kill one of them through sheer nervousness.

I simply said, "My life may already be forfeit, Mr. Wickham but I believe I will not mind taking you with me."

I stared him down until he started truly squirming, making sure to show a touch of desperation in my face, then continued.

"Mr. Bingley, if you please… the door. Mr. Wickham, you have until he lifts the bar to decide whether you want to die today or see if Lady Luck will favor you once again. Come now, Mr. Wickham… you are not afraid of the lady are you?"

He said, "Which lady?"

I just chuckled and waved the gun a bit more and said, "A man like you does not fear any lady."

I waved the pistol around a bit more, looked across the barrel and made certain it was pointing exactly where I wanted it to be pointed. Mr. Bingley had followed my instructions, and the door now stood open. Having little choice in the matter, Wickham did as he was told. He backed over to the door slowly, looking frantically all the while for an escape while watching the point of the pistol. I simply followed him, keeping my pistol pointed carefully where I wanted it, while never coming close enough for him to be confident he could accost me or turn tail without receiving a bullet. He no doubt decided he would rather die on the fields of France in a few months than the floor of this parsonage right now. His life's history probably convinced him he was invincible, and could escape retribution forever. He eventually stepped into the stairwell.

I bid him walk down a half dozen steps, while I prepared to slam the door. I had sent Mr. Bingley to the other side of the room with a glance and a wave of my head, and the gentleman was sensible enough to go along with the scheme.

When Wickham reached a small landing halfway down the stairs, I said, "Mr. Wickham, do you see that fire poker right beside you?"

He looked at it in some growing alarm wondering what in the world I could be talking about, but eventually answered, "Yes".

I said, "I suggest you take it with you."

He started looking alarmed, and I raised my voice to the one I used to call Lizzy in from the back fields. I was a mother, and I could be heard at any distance I wanted to be heard when it suited me.

"Mr. Collins, there is a man come to kill you. I suggest you defend yourself."

I was rewarded by the scream of a true madman, wound up for defense or revenge or mayhem, and was rewarded by a corresponding shout from another throat and only a few moments later, the sound of iron on iron, before I closed the door and carefully barred it.

Mr. Bingley was looking decidedly sheepish, but making no move to threaten me in any way, so I simply said, "Come sit with me and have some tea, Mr. Bingley. We have much to discuss. You have no need to fear for me, nor for your soul. This is all my doing, all shall be on my accounts. All you have done is help a man go exactly where he wished to go. You are innocent of any crime, sin or dishonor."

I very carefully and obviously pointed the pistol in another direction, and returned the hammer to a safe position. No matter how much I needed it, I had hated every minute I had that infernal thing in my hand; but that had not stopped me from learning how to shoot. Old retired soldiers could be very useful, and my brother was a much stronger and more resourceful man than anybody gave him credit for… which oddly enough was part of his strategy as an attorney, apparently.

I shushed Mr. Bingley towards the table just like I would with a recalcitrant child, and went over to the teapot that still had abundant reserves, as I had made it not ten minutes before the men came in. The entire episode with Wickham had taken well less than ten minutes start to finish, and I was satisfied with the result.

I poured out some tea for both of us, and even rummaged around in my bag for some biscuits I had purchased in the village.

Mr. Bingley flinched when we heard a few more shouts and the clang of iron on iron, followed by the sound of something heavy falling on the ground, but I simply said, "Do not fret, Mr. Bingley. They cannot escape that cellar. Lizzy's sergeant was quite careful with it. They shan't be interrupted from their sport, and my Jane made sure the curate, the sergeant and Mrs. MacDonald, are well away for the day. I am afraid though, that I deceived her as thoroughly as I deceived you, so she has no idea why; and I daresay she will be most vexed with me when she learns."

He looked like he was about to argue, or perhaps regret his part in the deception, or perhaps lose his biscuits, but I wanted to set his mind at ease.

"Mr. Bingley, would you feel an overwhelming need to interfere or be worried about the outcome if Wickham was in France fighting some French farmer's son who had done you no harm and had no more idea why they were fighting than Wickham did?"

He had to reflect that not all life and death circumstances were as simple as they seemed.

"No, Mrs. Bennet, I would not. It may sound vile, but in that case, I might wish the Frenchman good fortune."

I knew I liked this boy… well, truth be told that was not quite it. He had been a boy when he abandoned my Jane last year, and a boy had sat in his townhouse for most of the last year, but he had taken up the yoke when it was placed on his shoulder. It mattered not that it was placed on his shoulder by someone other than who he thought it was, and that I had used him as abominably as Wickham used others. The burden had been placed, he had acted honorably, and he had done the deed. No, this was not a boy any more. This was a man.

I said, "Think of me as a conquering army, Mr. Bingley. I do apologize for the deception and the risk to your person. I quite admire you."

He looked like he had a dozen or a hundred questions, but settled on, "How?"

I said, "You know I am an inveterate gossip and busybody, I am certain you must have seen that?"

He simply nodded, although it looked like he was uncertain if he thought his best chance of coming out with his hide intact was in agreeing with me or disagreeing. I let that go. He would understand soon enough. He was understandably concerned about my character as well, but he would survive that too.

I continued, "It was easy enough to get some of Mr. Darcy's letters. Servants like to save things that should be burned, and you left quite abruptly last year, leaving my brother and I very angry, and many of your servants without occupation. Did you ever learn about Lydia's trials with that… that…"

I could not really even finish the thought, so I simply nodded toward the door and he caught my meaning.

"Wickham?"

I nodded, and said, "Yes. She was a foolish girl and he took ruthless advantage of it. I am afraid I did not teach her very well, and her father taught her not at all. He would have ruined her and all the family if Mary had not saved her the night of your ball… with no help from either of her parents, I might add."

We heard another scream from the cellar so apparently the two were still about their business, but it did not really matter.

Bingley asked, "Were the things you said in the letter true, Mrs. Bennet? The things about Miss Elizabeth… I mean, Mrs. Collins? Was that man down there really that vile?"

I wondered how wise it had been to tell him the truth, but could think of nothing else that would have convinced him to act. He had to know the stakes, and to tell the truth I was not that concerned if he met difficulty. At the time, I was still angry about his abandonment of Jane, and my brother thought he would be satisfied with punishment on Wickham or Bingley since he did not hold either in any particular esteem. However, in the end, Mr. Bingley had managed against all odds to redeem himself.

"I believe so, Mr. Bingley. I took Mr. Darcy's letters a long time ago when we had to bribe some of your servants to keep quiet. I did not know all that had happened until my husband sent the rest of my daughters away, but one of them still writes… and she does so with more candor than I deserve."

He said, "I am astounded, Mrs. Bennet… and quite impressed."

I could own that the entire thing seemed quite farfetched, so I said.

"I must have seemed the silliest and most ignorant mother in the world. Am I correct, Mr. Bingley? I will ask for your candor, sir."

He just laughed a bit and said, "Not the most, certainly."

I had to admire his sincerity, if not his sense.

He asked, "Can you tell me how you came to this… position, Mrs. Bennet. How did you even know all of this?"

That was an entirely good question. How had I come to this place at this time? I thought to begin with how it came about, and perhaps we would have time for why later; or perhaps not.

"I suspected something was very wrong last spring."

I wondered just how much I could share with this man, and eventually decided he may as well know it all since he had risked certainly his health, and perhaps his life in my service.

"Did you know my husband and I forced Lizzy into the marriage?"

"I assumed so, since Miss Elizabeth could barely stand to be in the man's presence."

So, he either paid attention, or more likely he just noticed what was painfully obvious to everyone but me.

"I thought she would adapt. I thought she was strong enough and clever enough to work the man. I thought she had no idea the desperation she was facing if none of the girls married, as seemed likely after the ball. I thought she would work it out so she only spent a few minutes each day in his company, and soon enough she would have a babe to occupy her."

I looked at the man across from me intently, and admitted my ultimate shame, "I was wrong. So very very wrong, and she paid the price for it… is still paying."

He seemed confused by that and said, "I must ask Mrs. Bennet, was your intent tonight to hurry Mr. Collins' appointment with the Reaper, as seems likely?"

"Yes"

He asked, "So why ask me to bring Wickham?"

That was a very good question. I finally answered, "Three reasons, really."

I looked to make sure he was paying attention, as if he could do anything else.

"Of course there was his attempt to ruin all my daughters, which demands some retribution and some effort to protect the rest of the women of the world."

He nodded the good sense of that idea.

"Then by some odd twist of fate, he is the next distant heir to Longbourn. If Collins should die, he would inherit; and my husband's demise will be sooner than anybody thinks. Weeks or months at best."

That shocked him, so I let him have a minute to think through all the particulars, before he just nodded.

I added, "So you see, I had two miscreants who were fit only for the gallows but unlikely to actually go there. I did not think I had the courage to do what must be done until I saw Wickham being whipped. At that moment, I knew it must have been for one of the girls in Meryton, and felt perhaps part of that account should be laid at my feet. Charlotte Lucas left abruptly a month later, so it was not difficult to work it out. I had you bring him here to give him punishment for what he did, and to save my family's estate, but I really brought him mostly to deal with Mr. Collins, since I do not truly have the courage to face the noose myself for either of them."

The man looked pale at the coldness of the calculation, but after a moment he gave that little lopsided grin that Jane had loved so much and said, "I imagine I should feel guilty about my part in this affair, but I find myself curiously disinclined towards it."

Well, that was a surprise. Perhaps the boy had grown even more than I thought.

He looked at me carefully, and said, "Presuming you are as you claimed, 'silly and ignorant', how did you manage to accomplish this?"

That was a very good question that I sometimes wondered myself, but he deserved an answer.

"I was desperate, and I have a brother that was willing to help. People sometimes look down at my brother because he is an attorney or because his wife is silly and flighty… just like me… but he is a clever man. He helped me, but the scheme was mine and he shall not be blamed. He found a man that could write the letters, and I told him what to write. My brother helped me here and there, but did not know quite what I had planned. He still does not know the whole of it and probably would not approve if he did; but he was happy enough to see that either you or Mr. Wickham came to some mischief."

He simply nodded, perhaps for the first time realizing that Wickham was not the only possible intended victim.

He finally said, "I am still confused, Mrs. Bennet. That is the end of the story, but where is the beginning? How did you come to force Miss Elizabeth? How did you come to choose this particular way to solve it? How did it start?"

I liked this man more and more. I heard another big thump from the direction of the cellar as if someone had bumped up against the door, so judged we still had some time.

I took a deep breath, and said, "Have you ever been ridiculed every day of your life, Mr. Bingley?"

I rudely did not even wait for an answer, before continuing, "Of course, you have. Your sister seems like a woman who is relentless. Is that correct?"

Now he just looked pale, and quite surprised I of all people noticed, but eventually nodded.

I told him, "We share that, Mr. Bingley. My husband thought me silly and ignorant, but judged it better to ridicule me and my daughters than to try to help or educate us. If someone you love keeps telling you that you are stupid and unworthy, eventually you start believing it. Twenty or more years of ridicule can strip away what good sense you have, and I fear I did not have an abundance to start with. Are you surprised I know that about myself, for I find that I am myself."

He nodded in sympathy I thought, and I had another thought.

I asked, "And do you know what it is like to be afraid, Mr. Bingley… I do not mean just worried, I mean truly terrified?"

His flinch was telling. I am certainly not the cleverest woman that ever lived, but he was not the least bit subtle in his reaction.

I looked at him a bit more gently, and asked, "Who was it? Your father?"

He simply nodded, unable to speak.

I asked, "What was it? The belt? The Rod? Worse?"

He seemed unable to speak so I gave him some time, and he finally said, "All of those."

That actually made sense. I had not put the pieces together before, but they were all clear as if I were reading them in a book.

"Did your sisters get the same treatment?"

He nodded, but then clarified, "They did… at first."

"What did your father think of your demeanor, Mr. Bingley? Did he like your amiable nature and friendliness? Were you always like that?"

Now he snorted in derision or surprise, and said, "Hardly! He hated it. He was a harsh and implacable man, in business and at home. He thought it showed weakness, which he detested."

Now I asked, "When did you start behaving thus?"

"Perhaps when I had maybe twelve years or so. It infuriated him, and he let me have the full brunt of his displeasure, double or treble what I received before."

Coming to the crux of the matter, I asked, "When that happened, did he keep beating your sisters?"

Now he looked shocked that I had guessed the truth. I was not as clever as Lizzy. I had just been guessing, but hit close to the mark by accident.

He looked thoughtful, and then said, "I believe I kept it up because he quit beating my sisters. Instead, he just ridiculed them."

I stared at him with that revelation for a moment, and finally asked, "You deliberately provoked him with your manners, did you not? To protect your sisters? You kept at it until the mask became permanent?"

He nodded, as if finally understanding something that had puzzled him for some time, but I was not done with him yet.

As gently as I could, I said, "You do realize that by doing so, you prevented him from hitting your sisters, but you also, through no fault of your own but your desire to protect your beloved sisters; encouraged him to teach them to hate and ridicule everyone else?"

That was a thought that had clearly never occurred to him, as in truth it had never occurred to me either, but it explained so much so simply. He started trembling as I imagined one memory after another must have flitted through his mind.

His tea was forgotten sitting on the table as he ruminated for some time, and eventually said, "I believe you may have the right of it, Mrs. Bennet."

Yes, this man would do! He would do very well, if Jane gave him another chance. Perhaps she would or perhaps she would not, but it would not hurt if she could see the man I was seeing.

As gently as I could, I said, "Now that you see, you do understand it is your obligation to try to teach your sister not to hate. Do not blame yourself, as she has had many years to learn the lesson herself, but you must make the attempt. Do not distress yourself if it cannot be done, but I believe you owe it to yourself to try."

I thought he might be thinking on that thought for some time.

Eventually, he nodded to himself, and said, "I will try, Mrs. Bennet. I shall give it my best. I have already surprised myself, so perhaps I will again. It never even occurred to me before, but I thank you."

I said quite honestly, "Do not thank me sir. I only stumbled upon it by accident. I am not so very clever myself."

He straightened himself, and said, "Perhaps not Mrs. Bennet, but you are not hidden away in your bookroom when your family is threatened, are you? You may succeed or fail, but at least you are here in the arena."

I chuckled at that. I liked this man more and more.

He nodded a bit more at a private thought, then abruptly asked, "You asked if I was ever afraid, Mrs. Bennet. Why did you ask?"

He deserved an honest answer, so I said, "I have five daughters Mr. Bingley. I have been afraid for years that I could not get them well settled, and they might all end up in the gutters or the hedgerows or worse. Then I mostly drove them there myself. Fear does strange things to you, Mr. Bingley. Being afraid is terrible. Being ridiculed for it is even worse. I deserved much of what I got, but certainly not all of it."

I shuddered and continued, "Even with that though, there was no excuse, no justification, nothing I can say that makes what I did to Lizzy anything but terrible. I was just being selfish then. I deserve whatever censure she chooses to send me, and I doubt very much that I will ever be able to tell her how much I regret it."

The young man reached across the table, and took both of my hands in his, and just held them for a few minutes without saying anything. I had to admit, he was my very favorite man right at that moment. Perhaps, his story with my family was not complete yet, but only time would tell.

A few minutes later, he sniffed the air, and said, "Is that smoke. I believe those two…"

He glanced at the cellar door, before continuing.

"…may have set the place afire."

I just laughed and said, "I certainly hope so. I would not wish to have wasted the oil I spilled on the stairs. This parsonage is the place of Lizzy's nightmare. I would have it be gone. Lady Catherine can afford to build a new one."

Now he looked a bit alarmed, not that he cared about a parsonage.

I stood up and said, "Come Mr. Bingley. It will take a good quarter hour at least for the fire to escape the cellar. Would you mind walking me out and then releasing Lizzy's poultry and her pig? I care much more for that pig than I do for the two so-called men in the cellar."

He just nodded as if it were an everyday occurrence, and asked, "Where will you go, Mrs. Bennet?"

I just nodded to him, and said, "My husband is not the best husband, but he is still mine, and he is abed more often than not. I will return to Longbourn. He will not live much longer, and then I shall see. I…"

He just raised one eyebrow at me in question, and I told him my shameful little secret.

"It is well known I set a fine table and overspent my allowance for years. What is not known is that not all of the money went to tradesmen. I have saved some myself, and I believe I may be able to live simply for several years. Perhaps I will take your sister's place in Scarborough."

He laughed and said, "My aunt would welcome you with open arms, Mrs. Bennet."

Then he offered me his arm, I took my husband's pistol and put it back in my work basket, and left the parsonage quite satisfied with my day's work. I looked at a clock on the way out, and it seemed I had a post coach coming in a couple of hours.

I saw the smoke coming from the cellar door, becoming thicker by the minute and tried to see if I felt any remorse. It turned out, I felt remorse aplenty for what I did to Lizzy, but nothing whatsoever to the filth lying in the cellar.

True to his word, Mr. Bingley released all of Lizzy's animals and drove them off into the path towards Rosings, then gallantly escorted me to the lane in front of the parsonage where a carriage would park if it visited.

I asked him, "Please, if it would not trouble you sir, would you stay here to make sure some fool does not endanger himself looking for people in the parsonage."

He got a little bit of a faraway look, probably remembering that Jane was but a half‑mile away and perhaps not entirely out of his reach.

He bowed, and said, "With pleasure. It has been an honor, Mrs. Bennet."

I left him standing pensively just as I started seeing flames come up the wall, and by the time I turned the corner where I could not see the parsonage anymore, there was a good amount of smoke billowing up into the sky, and I welcomed it. Perhaps a phoenix would arise from those flames… or perhaps, I was just a silly old woman. Only time would tell, but for myself, I felt fully content with my day's labors for the first time since the midwife told me Lydia was my fifth daughter.