PP FF AU Non-Canon General Regency
NOTE: I am pushing Anne and Charlotte to the same age as Jane to make this story line work (i do not want them over 27 here).
Sequel to my One Shot of Making Peace
A Gentleman's Choice
Ch. 1
The household of Thomas C. Bennet had gone down considerably in size. Francis Jane Bennet had been gone four years; she had fallen ill shortly after Lydia had married George Wickham. Jane and Elizabeth were both, as far as he could tell, doing very well in their respective homes in the county of Derbyshire; a fact, as far as Jane was concerned, had occurred the previous month.
Mary had recently married a duke by the name of Harold Walton, much to the horror of Lady Catherine, who had set her eyes on him for Anne. They now lived in Netherfield. That only left Kitty, who was over at Mary's just as much as she was home. And even she was engaged, her wedding would be within a few weeks. A knock at the door came just as Thomas was coming down the grand staircase, its polished oak banister gleaming in the morning light that streamed through the tall, arched windows. The staircase, a centerpiece of Longbourn, was adorned with a rich, red carpet that muffled his footsteps. The walls were lined with portraits of Bennet ancestors, their stern faces watching over the household.
Thomas descended the stairs, his riding boots clicking softly against the wooden steps. The air was warm and carried the faint scent of lavender from the gardens outside, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the kitchen. He wore a dark green riding coat, its brass buttons catching the light, and a pair of tan breeches that were slightly worn from frequent use. His hat was tucked under his arm, ready for his morning ride.
As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he walked through the hallway, its high ceilings and ornate moldings a testament to the estate's former grandeur. The hallway was lined with tall windows, their curtains drawn back to let in the summer sunlight. The floor was covered with a Persian rug, its intricate patterns slightly faded from years of use. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting pastoral scenes, adding a touch of color to the otherwise muted tones of the hallway.
"Why, hello, Steven." Thomas walked up to the open door where Mr. Hill had shown Harold's uncle in. The front door, a heavy oak structure with iron fittings, stood open, allowing a gentle breeze to flow into the house. The entryway was spacious, with a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, its crystals sparkling in the sunlight. A marble-topped table stood against one wall, holding a vase of fresh flowers from the garden.
"I was not expecting to see you today. I figured, when you left your home in Kent, you would be visiting Harold and Mary."
"I went to Netherfield instead of going to Charles and Jane's, and I was then ordered out by Horace and Mary," Steven laughed. "Or should I say my humorous remarks were."
"What did you suggest the head cook was fixing this time?"
"I may have… perhaps… suggested she had gotten her pieces of liver out of a few sewage rats rather than a butcher's shop. She, in turn, threatened to toss me into the river three times and only pull me out twice. My nephew, and your daughter, suggested I get my meal here."
Thomas roared with laughter and took Steven into the dining room. The dining room had been remodeled and its larger space now held a mahogany table at its center, surrounded by high-backed chairs upholstered in deep blue fabric. The walls were no longer paneled in dark wood, but had been replaced with lighter tones and a large fireplace dominated one end of the room, its mantel adorned with family portraits and a large mirror. The windows' heavy dark-colored curtains had now been replaced with lighter-colored curtains, though just as weighted as the last, were now pulled back to let in the light, casting a warm glow over the room.
Looking at Mrs. Hill, Thomas asked her to please get the gentleman a bowl of porridge, some fruit, and a glass of milk. Mrs. Hill, the housekeeper, was a stout woman with a kind face, her gray hair neatly pinned up. She nodded and bustled off to the kitchen, her footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor.
Thomas then sat down and asked if there was anything else he could help him with. The chairs creaked slightly as they settled into them, the sound blending with the distant chirping of birds from the garden.
"And do not tell me nothing, dear cousin of mine. We may not be first cousins, may not even be around each other a lot, but I know that look. You came here for more than breakfast."
"Yes, and no. I am not certain." Steven leaned back when Mrs. Hill came out and began setting a bowl of porridge, along with the other items, in front of him. The table was set with fine China, the delicate patterns reflecting the light. A silver candelabrum stood in the center, though its candles were unlit in the bright morning.
"What do you mean, you are not certain? What kind of answer is that?"
"First, yes, I came for more than breakfast. But exactly how to say what I really traveled up to Hertfordshire for is another matter. Yes, I wanted to see Harold and Mary; that was no lie, and no, I was not deceiving them when I said I was impressed with the way you have changed the way Longbourn is managed in the past five years, nor of the peace you and the late Mrs. Bennet were able to come to in your marriage before she passed away."
"But?" Thomas asked as he saw Steven pick up his spoon and, without even thinking about it, begin to tap it against the table. The rhythmic tapping was a familiar sound, one that Thomas had heard many times as he had done it himself when in deep thought over a matter tossing itself around in his mind.
"I woke up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago with oddest feeling settling over me that I would be dealing with your family, closely." He was not surprised when Mr. Bennet groaned and asked what George Wickham had done now. "Thing is Thomas. " Steven lowering his voice put Mr. Bennet on instant alert. "I do not know."
"What do you mean you do not know. You are here are you not?"
"Thing is no one is talking, but I have been called to leave my home in Kent and George's name is being whispered. So, I might add that I doubt I was supposed to hear what I did. I thought, perhaps, before I say more...you knew something and simply were not admitting to possessing the same knowledge?"
"No, I do not." Thomas was confused and concerned. "Is Lydia's name being whispered too?"
"Yes, heard she divorced the scoundrel, but I highly doubt that is true for those two had very little money." Steven spoke again. "I do not suppose you have heard from either one of them?"
"No, and I would have refused to talk to Ensign Wickham if he had attempted such a brazen act if had tried to talk to me." Mr. Bennet did not hide his disgust towards the young military officer. "I do not have a death wish for the man, but neither can I stomach him."
"What about Lydia, your daughter?"
"Why the sudden interest in her? What is really going on, Steven?" Thomas all of a sudden grew suspicious of Steven's questioning; he was sounding too much like a solicitor in court. " Did Charles and Jane really kick you out this morning?"
"Yes, they did." Laughed Steven, realizing himself the tone his voice had taken. "Please, forgive my way of speaking, old habits die hard. "Those rumors are running around my head a lot, and being called away from my home has me asking questions I normally would not."
"In that case, four years ago, my answer would have been...my relations with my fifth are extremely strained, to the point I prefer not to talk to her. But now...after making peace with my wife before her demise. Maybe we could do the same?" Thomas lifted his hands and laid them back down. "But only if George Wickham were nowhere around. I am sorry, I could not have that rat around. But could you please tell me what the rumors are about him?"
"That he is dead."