A/N: Cash on the nail is a British idiom that means immediate payment without delay.

Trivia: I first heard the expression in 1974 in the iconic mucical Jesus Chist Superstar. I played it form a record on an old vacuum-tube amp and recycled speakers hundreds of times. It started a love of musical theatre that's lasted 50 years. Trivia nuts will see me use lyrics from theatre sometimes, most recently borrowing the titles for a couple stories in "The Compromise Chronicles" from Hamilton.

Wade

"Sir, a gentleman asked if you might spare him a few minutes of your time on a matter of some significance."

Fitzwilliam Darcy glanced at the card momentarily in thought. He did not know the visitor, but the man was hardly the first to visit unannounced on some matter of business. The address meant he was a tradesman, and though the name sounded unfamiliar, it was likely to be someone he did business with and hardly the first he did not know personally. Since his butler referred to him as a gentleman, he was at least well-dressed and intelligent sounding, else he would be cooling his heels in the courtyard.

Darcy was not in a mood to entertain callers, and in fact, was in a relatively foul humour in general. On the other hand, doing just about anything was an improvement over yet more brooding over Elizabeth Bennet (as if the previous two months had not established the fact).

"I will see him, Ravenshaw."

"Yes sir."

Moments later two men entered. One looked every bit the gentleman, though his address indicated he was a tradesman, albeit a successful and well-educated one. The second seemed of the next level in status based on his clothing and demeanour—not a servant, but not the leader's equal. He had the look of a ranking steward or manager.

The butler introduced the three men, asked about refreshments, and immediately called in a waiting footman with a tea cart. He poured out, then quietly left the room.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," Darcy asked politely, though whether in genuine curiosity or relief at a reduction of his tedium was hard to say.

"Is that him?" the leader of the two men asked his companion incongruously.

"As we feared—no," the factor replied.

"Pity," the gentleman replied, then turned to Darcy.

Somewhat put out, Darcy asked, "Am I who, exactly?"

"I believe sir, I am the victim of a swindle," the man said, while pulling a sheet of paper from his jacket.

"I have a note for £300 from Fitzwilliam Darcy. As we just ascertained, you did not sign it. Ordinarily, I would not allow such a large credit, but the man fit your physical description almost exactly, he has a pronounced Derbyshire accent, answered several pertinent questions about your estate—and for the coup de grace, his handwriting matched yours, which I have on some bills from a previous sale. Your reputation for repayment is sterling, so we allowed it."

"I hope you do not expect me to make the debt whole!" Darcy snapped in abrupt anger.

His companion seemed completely unperturbed by the outburst. "Of course not! Why would I ask a man to pay another's debts? That would be ridiculous!"

Darcy settled down and found himself somewhat embarrassed that he had lost his temper and shamed himself with unwarranted accusations—though his companions did not seem distressed.

"Who made the error, if I may ask?" he queried out of curiosity and to give himself a moment to come down from his misplaced anger.

"That would be me, sir," the factor said quietly.

"And what will happen to you," he asked, slightly curious yet despising himself for sticking his nose where it did not belong.

"Nothing," the master said nonchalantly. "Wroxton is my manager, and he makes dozens of decisions every day. Some win… some lose—but he wins far more than he loses."

"I am glad to hear it," he said, much to his own surprise.

"Our main reason for calling was to see if you have some idea of who the culprit might be. Many years of experience have taught me thieves are almost uniformly lazy, and this plot smells like a repeat. The fact that he could mimic your handwriting so faithfully indicates there is a good chance this is not his first trip to the Darcy well."

Darcy rubbed the bridge of his nose and stared at his ink pot, feeling the start of what was likely to be a pounding headache.

He turned to Wroxton. "Is the man two inches shorter than me, dressed in clothing meant to approximate mine but not as fine nor as well cared for, with wavy brown hair slightly longer though less curly, and the sort of demeanour that would charm the birds from the trees?"

"Yes sir," he replied with no hesitation.

Darcy let out a long groan.

"The man you seek is almost certainly George Wickham. He is the son of my father's excellent steward of many years, and my father's godson, upon whom he liberally bestowed his generosity …" then went on to describe the rest of the story about the man's hidden proclivities, his wasting £4,000 in a few years, his using Darcy's name to get credit, and asking for the living again.

He naturally said nothing about Georgiana's folly, as it was hardly necessary to convince the pair.

"Have you a likeness of the scoundrel? I imagine with such a long association you must."

Darcy dug around in a drawer behind his desk and came out with a small painting that had been a pair with the miniature his father kept in his study at Pemberley."

"Is this the man, Wroxton?" his employer asked.

"Yes sir."

All business, the senior asked Darcy, "Might we borrow this for a few days? I have a visiting niece who has adequate skill with a brush. She will be able to make copies good enough for my thief takers. I shall return it by the end of the week."

"What do you intend to do?" he asked with some trepidation.

Without batting an eye, his companion asserted, "The man deliberately cheated me of £300, sir. He may as well have stolen food directly from my children's mouths. My business cannot allow this sort of transgression to stand, lest I be abused by every miscreant in London. I have enough trouble bringing the aristocracy to pay their debts, and I cannot allow this to go unpunished. The man will pay his debt in pounds or his neck."

The matter-of-fact way the man spoke about the end of Darcy's oldest companion made him gulp in consternation, though he could not argue the sentiment. His cousin Fitzwilliam had begged him on more than one occasion to allow him to call the rogue out, but he had never been willing to countenance either the killing outright of his father's favourite, or more likely the death of his favourite cousin because Wickham would almost certainly cheat.

"£300 is enough to land him in debtors' prison for the rest of his life, and I would be happy to give you more vowels—but it is insufficient for the rope or transport ship unless you have some pull in parliament. Naturally, a man of your resources could probably get him impressed in the Army or Navy as well—but I cannot see how he will hang."

"That is because you focus on the wrong set of laws—unsurprising for an estate owner. Debt is one of the few non-capital crimes in England—probably because most of the ministers rarely pay their bills. Debt will not do the job, but forgery is a capital crime. My experience tells me men who leave those kinds of debts usually also leave ruined maidens and bastard children in their wake, so I will watch him hang, return to my lovely wife for dinner, and sleep like a baby. I once saw a fourteen-year-old boy hang for stealing apples from a lord's estate that would have otherwise rotted on the ground. I can assure you that I will not regret Wickham's fate, and neither should you. Your father did enough—probably far too much."

"Out of curiosity, if I offered you £500 or £1,000 for the debt, would you take it."

"That would hardly teach the proper moral lesson, would it?" the man said with an infectious grin. "Aside from that, he would be back to the well within the year and another of my men might fall prey to his wiles—not to mention whoever else he cheated in the meantime."

Darcy nodded approvingly. "As I expected—I cannot blame you."

"It sounds like you had him in your power more than once yet stayed your hand… perhaps out of love for your father, or pleasant memories from childhood? I can assure you I suffer no such weakness."

Darcy sighed. "The man has certain leverage on someone especially important to me. Ladies' reputations are quite fragile. I need to ensure he has no opportunity to spread rumours."

"Depend on it, sir. He will head to court bound and gagged and may remain that way through his trial, which will be short and to the point. It will not be my first visit to a capital court, nor likely my last."

Darcy marvelled at the nonchalant way the man spoke of dispensing death, but then reflected that his cousin did much the same to men who committed no sin worse than being born under the wrong king (or emperor as it turns out), and the colonel had to dispense the measures personally.

He rubbed his nose a few more minutes in contemplation, as his sense of honour made him admit that he would also be guilty of the death of his childhood friend and a man his father loved.

Finally accepting the responsibility for both his present actions and any harms that were visited on innocents while he dithered, he made his decision.

"You need not trouble your niece. The man is in a small market town a few hours north of London, just off the Great North Road. He enrolled in the militia under a Colonel Forster in a town called Meryton, a few miles from Harpenden."

His companion stared at him hard. "You knew this all along?"

It sounded like a question but they both knew it was not.

"I was protecting my sister."

"I can understand that, and we will forget you said that. I would do a great deal to protect my daughters. My sisters never had a drop of sense between them, but I imagine I would have done the same for them, whether they deserved it or not. It is the nature of brothers."

Darcy nodded, accepting the implied rebuke, strongly suspecting he had just given away his secret unthinkingly.

"How do you know he was in Meryton?"

"I saw him."

"Did you warn anyone? Fathers? Merchants? His Commanding Officer?"

Darcy just shook his head and felt the shame of his failure to act exceedingly.

"I grow tired of following the man about warning people, and to be honest, I suspect the second-worst man in that regiment will take his place overnight."

All nodded at the uncomfortable assertion, though they all knew it was most likely true and removing one rotten apple from the barrel was not likely to redeem it.

His companions stood. "I thank you, Mr Darcy. You have been most helpful. Would you like to know the results of my intervention?"

"I would, sir."

"I shall see to it," the man said, then more brightly, "I suppose if Wroxton and I are to Meryton in the morning, there are things to do."

They all bowed and exchanged appropriate leave-taking, assuming they might meet once or twice in future to report on the results of the gentleman's actions, although a note was just as likely.

As they neared the door, with whispered instructions from his employer, Mr Wroxton went ahead while his employer turned back to Darcy.

"Sir… it is not my place to say this, but as a noticeably older man and a father, will you allow me to give you a piece of advice you will not like very much, but which might be to your benefit eventually?"

Darcy did not like the sound of that but prided himself on facing his obstacles like a gentleman. "Say what you must."

The man looked as if he were girding his loins for something unpleasant; and considering that he would watch a hanging without qualms, Darcy expected it to be very unpleasant indeed.

"I fear my wife will know some disappointment. She was born and raised in Lambton and will not like it when she learns the details of this escapade."

"How so?" Darcy asked with a snarl.

"All her life, she has held the highest opinion of the Darcys, and this episode will disturb her."

He paused a moment to gauge his companion's reaction.

"Regardless of how little you thought of my nieces or Meryton society in general—you owed them a warning. They welcomed you into their community with open arms and you repaid it with disdain. You could easily have spoken to Mr Bennet, Sir William, or even Colonel Forster without involving your family in any way. Like it or not, this Wickham fellow is a creation of your father, and your basic duty as a gentleman demanded a warning. It was badly done, sir. Having said that, I shall bid you adieu. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness."

"WAIT!" Darcy yelled in alarm, and watched the man turn around in resignation as if he regretted the last statement, though honour obviously demanded he deliver it.

"Pray, take a seat and let us discuss this as men, if you will," Darcy asked almost desperately.

They sat, and Darcy poured brandy for both without a second thought. Once they both had a sip, Darcy finally managed to get his agitation under control.

"Upon what basis do you assert that your nieces think I hold them in disdain. I do not even know who they are?"

"Ahhh… my mistake. I suppose my statement made no sense. I thought you knew. As to their opinion… well… my niece Lizzy has more faith in that assertion than in the rising and setting of the sun. Part of that, I assume, is because this Wickham fellow has been spreading rumours about you. Once I correct that, she will eventually go from despising you to only disliking you."

"Why?" Darcy asked with a hint of desperation.

"You slighted her before you even met. Called her tolerable, and not handsome enough to tempt you. Those are fighting words for young ladies. Then of course, you seemed to mostly agree with Mr Bingley's pernicious sisters on the general unworthiness of the company and did not bother to even converse most of the time."

Darcy put his head in his hands in consternation, unable to contradict a single assertion, while Mr Gardiner continued blithely on.

"Mary has no opinion whatsoever. The two youngest cannot be bothered with any man without a red coat. Jane has spent the last two months crying herself to sleep over your inconstant friend practically drooling over her for six weeks then leaving without a word, but she is such a kind-hearted soul she still absolves he and his sisters of any wrongdoing—though I assure you that I do not."

Darcy leaned back and groaned, then swallowed his brandy in one go while Gardiner looked on calmly. He seemed as if he might be enjoying the show, and Darcy admitted that given a reversal of situations, he would be equally entertained.

He finally asked sheepishly, "May I presume Miss Bennet is crying her eyes out because she had serious feelings for Bingley?"

"Of course… little though the boy deserves it. You need not worry about her. She will get over him, and once I have her mother out of the way, I shall help her find a worthier man."

"You think that will be difficult?"

"To be honest, I could pick a man at random from my acquaintance and find one worthier than your friend."

"What if I admitted I told him I could detect no sign of admiration from the lady, but her mother seemed likely to have him trussed up like a Christmas goose, whether the young lady liked him or not, and he was as likely as not to end up supporting a widow and four sisters in law."

Gardiner sighed. "I suspect you need to get your head straight, young man. I realise you took on the responsibility of your estate young, but you seem overly interfering in Mr Bingley's affairs and lax in Mr Wickham's."

Darcy groaned silently, but finally nodded in resignation.

"I suspect I have done wrong in nearly all my relations this year!"

Gardiner tsk-tsked with a fatherly chuckle.

"Do not be overly distressed. You are young, and your errors are mostly correctable, or at least you can dedicate yourself to doing better in future even if they are not. The issue of Mr Wickham will be resolved within the fortnight. I will have some strong words for my sister. They will not change her behaviour, but it will allow me to finally have my way in bringing my eldest nieces to London to find husbands. It is high time they stop waiting for lightning to strike. I know plenty of honourable and well-off tradesmen who would snap up Jane or Lizzy in a heartbeat. With their mother's interference neutralised, I doubt it will take a year to get them both decent husbands."

Darcy gulped in consternation. "What if Miss Elizabeth already has a suitable candidate?"

"I suppose if she likes him on first acquaintance, it might go faster."

"What if she despises him?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

Gardiner stared as steady as a lizard long enough to make him sweat, but neither man was willing to break eye contact.

Gardiner finally chuckled. "That seems less than ideal."

"But not insurmountable?" he asked breathlessly.

"Hard to say. Lizzy is very enamoured of her first opinions, but I think learning she thought the world of Wickham—who is so evil he will end his life at the end of a rope—might shake her confidence. I cannot say where she will go after that."

Darcy sighed, while Gardiner continued relentlessly.

"Are you implying you are in love with my tolerable niece, have considered lending consequence to a lady slighted by other men; and abandoned the area without taking leave or getting to know her well enough to detect her disdain?"

Darcy hung his head. "I am stating it outright, much to my chagrin."

Gardiner leaned back and gave the matter a good think while sipping his admittedly excellent brandy.

"Why did you leave, if I might ask?"

"I thought her beneath me and did not wish to raise expectations."

Gardiner had a tough time resisting a snort and was only partially successful. "You managed that admirably!"

Darcy sighed long and loud. "Now, I believe I had it backwards. Considering how badly I bungled my sister's upbringing, advising Bingley, and bringing Wickham to justice—I am unconvinced I am worthy of her."

"Do not make the mistake of placing her on a pedestal! She is a lady with good and bad traits, as are we all. She is high strung, opinionated and far too impressed with her ability to sketch characters. She rarely changes her first impressions, though they are right only about half the time. Her father is an odd mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice—and as much as I love my niece, I can assure you that she has more of her father's cynicism than is healthy. Her mother is hard-headed and stubborn, and Lizzy has inherited her fair share. If you are interested in her, know what you are about. Do not pursue her unless you are aware of her defects and willing to tolerate them, nor should you pursue her if you cannot embrace her family as she will never give them up."

Darcy chuckled. "Well, my pedestal is covered in bird droppings, as you well know."

"That is true," Gardiner laughed, then poured a bit more of the good brandy.

They sat in contemplative silence for some time.

Just to avoid the most painful topic, Darcy asked, "Since Bingley abandoned Miss Bennet on my advice—if I fell on my sword and admitted my error to both, do you think Miss Bennet would welcome his suit."

Gardiner thought about it for a moment. "You mistake the path for your friend. Mr Bingley's greatest challenge will not be courting Jane's good opinion—it will be courting mine. He will have to both prove himself and do something about those atrocious sisters of his before I even allow him to call. Naturally, he could avoid all that by simply returning to Netherfield, at which point it would be out of my hands, but in the short term, he will not be allowed to speak to her."

"That is fair," Darcy said. "I owe him an explanation—and Miss Bennet as well."

"If you wish my advice, explain your error, and then let him get on with making his own mistakes in life. He needs to grow up. As for Jane, I see no point in her knowing the whole story. Your friend made his own mistake, so let him own up to it or not."

"Agreed," Darcy said, then sipped a bit more. "I shall see to it."

They sat in companionable silence a few more minutes.

He finally asked, "Do you suppose I could travel with you to Meryton to see to Wickham's disposition? You would both be welcome in my coach."

"I would not have argued your right to apprehend him earlier, but he is my business now and I shan't give it up."

"I would not expect you to. I have another purpose in mind."

"Which is?"

"I am hoping I can prevail on you to assist me in getting Miss Elizabeth to listen to an apology."

"For what purpose?"

Darcy sighed and thought about his answer a moment. "I would like to get her to stop hating me, befriend her, court her, and ultimately earn her love and her hand."

Gardiner chuckled. "You may not be able to manage it in such an orderly fashion."

"I understand the challenges. I feel up to it."

Gardiner chuckled, then laughed openly for a minute, then stood to leave.

"Your funeral! Be at 32 Gracechurch Street before nine."

~~ Finis ~~