Author's Note: This is my second attempt at writing PnP fanfiction. If you have read my first story, Conspiracy and Estrangement, which was a one-shot, this new story may convince you that I have something against the Fitzwilliam's. I do not have anything against them, although they are convenient villians. It is just that these two stories were the furthest along in my small library of scribblings, and thus, they were the first two that I elected to publish. There is some angst, but I tend to lean that way. Sorry. But I do promise to end with an HEA. This story will only be about 15k words. It is unbeta'd so all the errors are my own. I appreciate your reviews, but please be kind.

Prologue

Gracechurch Street, October 8, 1812

As the carriage came to a halt, Elizabeth Bennet was jolted out of the stupor of despair that she had sunk into since departing Matlock House.

She waited as Uncle Edward handed Aunt Madeleine down from the carriage and Mr. Bingley did the same for her elder sister, Jane. After taking her father's hand and descending herself, Elizabeth avoided their concerned looks. Instead, she rushed into the modest, but elegant home, and blindly made for the stairs to her bedroom without looking back.

Her uncle opened his mouth to speak but let the words remain unspoken at the silent admonishment from his wife as she and Jane followed the distraught young lady up the stairs.

Bingley and the two older gentlemen shared a brief, somber word at the door before the younger man stepped back up into the carriage and departed.

Mr. Bennet motioned toward his brother-in-law's study. Nodding, the master of the house led the way. After closing the door, he allowed his countenance to lose the mask of calm that he had adopted for the sake of his niece.

Edward Gardiner angrily tossed port into two glasses and handed one to a grim-faced Bennet.

Poking with deliberate stabbing motions at the coals in the grate, Gardiner considered the events of the last few hours. What had been anticipated as an engagement celebration had ended as anything but.

Bennet knocked back the contents of his glass in one gulp and exclaimed, "What just happened? I feel as if we were ambushed."

Gardiner sat on the chair by the fireplace and motioned for Bennet to sit also. "Exactly." He spat out. "That is exactly what that was, an ambush." He punctuated his words with a searing oath. "Matlock planned this little soiree with one purpose in mind: to end the engagement, thereby, breaking Elizabeth's heart. I knew beforehand that she might face some opposition from Darcy's relations, but this was an assault of unprecedented scale. They planned this travesty of an evening in meticulous detail. Everyone in that room seemed to have a script and a role to play. They had the attendees handpicked for their willingness to do their bidding."

"Well, Darcy certainly fell into their trap. I cannot believe that Elizabeth's betrothed would allow himself to be so easily manipulated. He always seemed so in control, the model of propriety. But most importantly, he always appeared to be so in love with my Lizzy. Last month when he came asking for her hand, I did not want to agree to the engagement initially, but he convinced me of his devotion. I had only just begun to look forward to having such an intelligent man as a son-in-law." Bennet stared sadly into the glass in his hand for a long moment, before resuming his angry demeanor.

Gardiner's eyes took on a flinty gleam as he refilled their glasses. "I don't think that I have ever been as angry as I am right now. I came close to insisting that we leave at least on five different occasions during the evening. Maybe, I should have. It was cruel, I suppose, to force Elizabeth to endure the treatment that she received."

Bennet nodded in disgust. "I, too, wanted to storm out or commit violence several times." His grief for his daughter overcame his anger and he continued. "However, I thought that my Lizzie was better off seeing for herself how vicious they could be. Now, she can have no delusions as to just what her future family is capable of. I also wanted to stay in hopes that Darcy would realize what was afoot and put a stop to it. I wanted him to prove himself worthy of my dear girl. Sadly, he fell right in with their plan."

"I had the same thought. For months I have considered Darcy to be too clever and too in love to be caught out like he was. Matlock knew just what kind of trap to lay. If I was not so furious, I would almost feel sorry for the boy. I do not know if the couple can recover from this. He failed to stand up for Elizabeth when she needed him most. My poor niece. She will find it difficult to rally her spirits after this heartbreak."

Bennet steepled his fingers and gave a contemplative half smile. "Yes, but we are talking about my dear, strong girl. She will be fine in the long run. My Lizzie is a resilient young woman. She will weather this and be the better for it."

"Of course. Of course. My knowledge of the strength of her character was the only reason I was able to remain in that company of vipers." Gardiner paused and gave Bennet a shrewd look. "In addition, I found great comfort in dwelling on the many ways that I can make them regret their actions. They think that they have won, and it may be true as far as the engagement goes. We shall have to wait and see if Darcy regains his wits over the next few days. Nevertheless, I am fairly certain that there will be no wedding between them now." Pausing to draw Bennet's eyes to his own, he continued with determination, "But that family has sorely underestimated who they are dealing with. This tradesman knows how to bring retribution down on the house of the Earl of Matlock, and I have the means to do so. And perhaps some of the retribution will also fall on the House of Bramwell. They will rue the day that they plotted against my favorite niece. And if Darcy does not come to his senses, he too will be visited by my wrath. Reprisals are set to rain down on those gentlemen and I know just how to dole them out. Vengeance is ours, Bennet. Vengeance is ours."

The two men silently toasted each other with matching steel in their eyes.

Upstairs, Madeleine gazed unseeingly through the window as she held her weeping niece. Anguish and anger battled for dominance on her niece's behalf. Long into the night, she, Jane, and Elizabeth shed tears and talked, trying to make sense of what had occurred that evening at Matlock House. Exhausted, they all succumbed to sleep as the dawn began to lighten the sky.