Ruined Forever

by D. L. Carter

  He opened his eyes and almost swallowed his tongue.

  There, in the alley beside a rooming house, currently home to some of the militia officers, Wickham was standing with his arms about a young woman. Kissing a young woman.

  No. Oh, no. With Lydia Bennet. Again!

  God save us all, the family could not bear another scandal.

  What was he to do?

  He could not permit it to continue. Someone had to warn the family, warn them to nail Lydia Bennet’s door closed before matters went further than a few kisses.

  Ignoring the departing coach he turned his horse’s head and drove his heels into his horse’s flanks. Alerting Colonel Forster took a moment only then he used the Colonel’s office to pen two letters to be sent express.

  ***

  Now that he was an accepted suitor, no, an overjoyed accepted fiancé, Bingley chose to arrive very early the next morning the better to enjoy Jane’s company. With Mrs. Bennet’s enthusiastic encouragement he stayed until after supper.

  He even was granted a few moments of quiet communion in the dark garden before his departure the better to enjoy Jane's kisses. He was thus engaged, and rather dazzled and distracted, when the closing of a door caught his attention. The lovers leapt apart, Jane moving away to restore order to her hair, leaving Bingley staring at the house to see who was emerging.

  There was no one near the front door. Bingley squinted into the dim light. A pale shadow emerged from that dratted side door.

  “Lydia!” cried Jane. “What are you about at this hour?”

  There was a squeak and the crunch of winter dried grass under running feet. Bingley and Jane dove through the undergrowth in pursuit. They caught Lydia, with two hat boxes and a valise, trying to squeeze through the garden gate Mr. Bennet had ordered chained shut earlier that day.

  “Let go! Let go,” cried Lydia. “You have your love, Jane. Why do you stop me going to mine?”

  “Lydia Bennet,” cried Jane. “For shame. Sneaking out a night? And to what? Elope? Have you no care for your family? Your sisters? Our family could not survive another scandal! Come inside at once before father sees you.”

  “Do not be cruel,” said Lydia. “Jane, you have Bingley. Lizzy has the estate. The whole estate. My dearest Wickham is waiting for me. You know what it is to be in love. Let me go. There will be no scandal. I shall write from Gretna as soon as we are wed and be home before any of those gossips know I am gone.”

  “Miss Lydia. I cannot believe you are so foolish,” said Bingley. “He has nothing to offer you. No money beyond his militia pay. No position in society. And, if you are that much in love why does he not approach your father to his understanding and consent?”

  “Father has forbidden him to come here. So cruel. So unjust.” Lydia managed to squeeze out a tear or two. “We are divided like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Both of whom died,” Jane said sharply. “If your young man lacks the courage to approach father, and lacks the patience for us to complete our mourning or to wait for the banns to be called, then he is not worthy of you.”

  So saying Jane caught her sister by the arm while Bingley gathered up her luggage and they began dragging Lydia back toward the house.

  Unwisely Lydia decided not to go quietly. Moments after she began shrieking her outrage their father appeared.

  “What new nonsense is this?” cried their father. Then, taking in the luggage, which daughter it was, and the hour of the night he sighed. “Ah, I see that Colonel Forster’s message was correct. Well, Lydia, you have fulfilled all the promise I saw in you. The silliest girl in England. Of all my daughters you are the one I thought would bring disgrace upon yourself. If it were not for the damage it would do to your sisters, and your poor mother, I might let you go.” Stabbing the girl with a glare he demanded. “Where is Wickham waiting and has he compromised you?”

  “Yes,” declared Lydia, head up and gaze steady. “Yes, he has. We are in love! We are to be married.”

  “Liar,” said her father, mildly. “I can always tell when you lie, Lydia. I simply did nothing about it. Well, no more. Inside, all of you. And, Miss Lydia, this is the last straw. You do not leave your room unless I personally unlock your door.”

  “This is not the end,” said Lydia. “Watch me, imprison me, my love is a solider. He shall storm the castle and rescue me.”

  Bingley rolled his eyes. Jane stepped forward.

  “Papa, she said that Wickham was waiting.”

  “Well now,” said Mr. Bennet. “It would be discourteous to have him wait in vain. It would be best if I should call on him.”

  “And tell him I might wed from Meryton church?” cried Lydia.

  “In company with his colonel to clap him in chains,” replied her father.

  Lydia’s shrieks turned quickly to tears but her father was not moved to sympathy. Jane hastily, and without realizing her action, kissed Bingley on the cheek and hustled Lydia into the house and up the stairs. Her father followed and turned the key of Lydia’s bedchamber himself, before tucking the key away in his vest pocket. When Mr. Bennet, climbing reluctantly into his overcoat, returned downstairs he was not particularly surprised to find Bingley still waiting.

  “Mr. Darcy spoke to me of his history with Wickham,” said Bingley. “And, as I am to join your family, might I be permitted to support you in this night's work?”

  Mr. Bennet stared at him for a long time before smiling. “It has been so long that I have been the only man in a house of women that I forgot the benefit gained by a gentleman companion. By all means come, and thank you, lad.”

  ***

  Colonel Forster was not pleased to be summoned from his bed at this hour of the night but he was not surprised.

  “I have had complaints about that man from the lower ranks, for abuse, from the other officers, for gambling debts unpaid. It was only a matter of time before I had to deal with an outraged father. Mr. Darcy did warn me of the dangers facing your family, sir. I understand he warned you as well.”

  The colonel sat down and waved Bennet and Bingley to chairs. “Well, how badly sinned against is your family honor, Mr. Bennet?”

  “I think he has not yet dishonored the girl,” said Mr. Bennet. “She is a sad and silly flirt but her manner does not suggest she has been seriously compromised. But, from her words tonight, she was planning an escape to Gretna Green.”

  “Tonight?” repeated the colonel then sighed and kicked of his slippers and reached for his heavy boots. “Then we should call on him.”

  The rooming house was dark when they arrived. There were no horses standing by in the alley or behind the building and no sign of any midnight preparations. Wickham, to their collective shock, was abed asleep when they arrived and rather startled when they revealed the reason for their visit.

  “Elope?” repeated Wickham, scratching at his hair, then laughed. “With that silly girl? Oh, what a joke.”

  Realizing that his humor was misplaced and mistimed, Wickham sobered. “Mr. Bennet. I cannot be held responsible for the romantic daydreams of a child. I have not seen Miss Lydia since last I called on your home. If you tell me she was coming here tonight, I must say, if she had, I would have sent her back again.”

  Mr. Bennet snorted. Colonel Forster glared but, in truth, there was nothing to be done.

  “Might you grant permission for us to search your room, Mr. Wickham?” said Bingley.

  “Search?” repeated Wickham.

  “Yes. There are such things as love notes,” said Bingley. “And I was one of those who saw Miss Lydia on the road between Meryton and Longbourn. Are you saying that in all the times Miss Lydia disobeyed her parent and came to Meryton that you did not see her? Send or receive a note?”

  “You brought her home once,” said Mr. Bennet. “And I know her intention tonight was to search you out. Has she done so before?”

  “Ah, but is not the monitoring of the comings and goings of a young girl the responsibility of her father?” inquired
Wickham with a grin. “Obviously there is something wanting.”

  “Stand up, Wickham,” roared Colonel Forster, before the officer could offend the gentleman. “Wait for me in the corridor.”

  Several other officers summoned by the disturbance appeared, peering in the door.

  “You, Denny and Mitchell, in here. Turn the place over. Show me anything of interest.”

  The two officers entered, refusing to meet Wickham’s eye. Once the work began several interesting things were discovered. A watch missing from another man’s room for several days was in the trunk at the bottom of the bed along with a scattered handful of notes reminding Wickham of I.O.U.’s written. A copy of the King’s General Orders and Regulations for the Army tangled with dirty linens. Several dying flowers were tucked between books and a handful of pawn tickets - but no love notes.

  Eventually Colonel Forster retreated from the room and met with Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley in the corridor.

  “Well, Mr. Bennet, I cannot find any evidence that Mr. Wickham was planning an elopement tonight. It may have been that he has spoken without proper restraint to a romantic and naive young woman who imagined he had offered when he was merely flirting.”

  Mr. Bennet let out a slow breath. “I cannot say whether I am glad there was no plan, or to be more concerned.”

  “For the moment,” said the colonel, “if you would take my advice. Lock the girl up since I have no legal reason to do so with Mr. Wickham. I can, and will, limit his leave. He will spend more time drilling, and I have suspicions that his fellow officers will deliver a more telling punishment once the extent of his indebtedness is known.” The colonel held up the handful of I.O.U’s. “It will take several months for him to pay off his current debts of honor.”

  “Not to mention his debts to the local shopkeepers,” said Mr. Bennet. “Since you decamp to Brighton soon, should not they be attended to first? There is no legal obligation to pay gambling debts and going short might warn your other officers to gamble less.”

  “Yes. I shall instruct the paymaster to do the rounds on behalf of all my officers before we leave and see that the accounts are settled.”

  “Thank you. And I shall see to my daughter. I apologize for the disturbance.”

  “Not at all. It does these lads good to know I watch them closer than they believe. And,” the colonel hesitated. “I shall instruct them to keep their tongues behind their teeth.”

  “Do so, if you are able,” said Mr. Bennet. “I have some recent experience with the power of gossip.”

  “Sadly so. But with a few judicious threats we might be able to limit the gossip. Mr. Wickham shall say nothing if he knows what is good for him.”

  With that promise the colonel escorted Mr. Bennet and Bingley to their coach.

  It was not until they were almost at Longbourn that Bingley dared to speak.

  “What is to be done for Lydia?”

  “I have been discussing the matter with Lizzy. The suggestion has been made that my daughters might benefit from some time at a school for young ladies. After tonight’s exercise I am inclined to think sooner rather than latter will be better for my poor nerves.”

  ***

  When her traveling carriage swayed and shuddered to a halt Lady Catherine shook herself awake and straightened slowly while aging joints creaked and complained. The noises outside her carriage caught her attention. Nearby was the rumble of carriage wheels on cobbles, the cries of those hawking fresh milk door to door. Nearby a coachman swore ripely at another driver. Surely those were street sounds of a city and not the familiar shrill honks of her flock of peacocks

  She could not think of a single staging inn between Meryton and Hunsford where these noises flourished to this degree.

  What was going on here?

  She glared at her traveling companion who was looking about with some confusion. “Where are we, Mr. Fitzwallace?”

  “I hardly know,” was the reply. “I slept the last few hours.”

  Lady Catherine gave him a sour look. How dense the man was! It was going to take her some time and effort to shape him into a suitable clergyman in her service. And this time she was going to select the man’s wife herself. She was not going to risk the results of her hard work on another foolish gentlewoman’s whims.

  “Find out, man!” cried Lady Catherine when the man seemed determined to sit blinking at her.

  Startled Mr. Fitzwallace threw up the blinds and stuck his head out of the window, letting in a blast of chill air. It was not necessary for him to speak. With the blinds opened Lady Catherine recognized the building’s facade instantly.

  “Tis my brother’s house in London!”

  “Indeed,” said Mr. Fitzwallace eagerly. “Is the earl himself at home?”

  “How should I know? He does not advise me of his movements.”

  Before she could say more, Darcy, travel worn and dirty, appeared at the door and swung it open.

  “Aunt,” he said. “We have arrived.”

  “London, Darcy? Why are we here? Anne awaits us at Rosings.”

  “No doubt. But first it is necessary for us to speak to the earl.”

  “No, indeed. I see no reason to speak to him.”

  “I do not doubt it. I, however, do. Come, aunt. I wrote to my uncle and advised him to expect us.” Darcy extended his hand to the old woman who regarded it without enthusiasm.

  “What is this, Darcy? What have you done?”

  “Done, madam? Why nothing more than give the earl an honest report of these last few weeks. Come, let us go in, and hear his opinion.”

  ***

  Getting Lady Catherine out of the carriage took a remarkable amount of persuasion. Mr. Fitzwallace pressed the case for rest and refreshment before continuing the journey - while secretly being determined to go no further without taking the opportunity to make his bow to a belted earl! Darcy reminded Lady Catherine that the horses could go no further. It was not until Darcy threatened to have the earl himself come out and have footmen carry her in that Lady Catherine relented and disembarked.

  Inside she tried to sweep all before her and retreat to her chambers but the earl of Matlock, Edwin George Fitzwilliam, was in the hall, waiting. He held Darcy’s note in one hand and a letter from Mr. Jeffers in the other.

  “You have gone too far this time, Catherine,” announced her brother. “This nonsense cannot continue. Come in. Sit down and tell me how this bee invaded your bonnet!”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The atmosphere in the earl’s study could best be described as thunderous. Lady Catherine sat in the less imposing chair despite her attempt to bully her brother into giving his great throne-like chair behind his great mass of a desk up for her use. The sherry offered had been despised as inferior, the tea stewed, the cakes dry and comfits, bitter. Lady Catherine had insulted the Countess of Matlock’s decorations, the housekeeper's lack of economy, the butler’s manner and two under-footmen’s wigs as well as the use of too much coal in the fireplace and Darcy’s presumption to bring her here instead of to her home.

  And that was all within the first quarter hour.

  “I cannot see that my actions are any of your concern,” declared Lady Catherine to the earl. “It is a private matter.”

  “It became my concern when you made it so very public,” snapped Lord Matlock. “Or do you think you can keep the constable and the magistrate and all those jury members silent!”

  “They will keep their tongues behind their teeth if they value their positions.”

  “Sister, it may have escaped your attention but you do not appoint magistrates. Sir Michael will say what he wills to whomever he chooses and you can do nothing to prevent it! Likewise, you do not own all of Hertfordshire! Hertfordshire, for God’s sake. Sister, why did you go so far out of your sphere? No one in that neighborhood owes you their livings. They are beyond the reach of your thumb! Those men of the jury will tell all their acquaintance that you were present at an illegally convened inq
uest and tried to bully magistrates into arresting an innocent woman of good family.”

  “They will not dare!”

  “They already have begun!” snapped Darcy. “I sent my valet to the village inn. The gossip in the public room was of nothing else. And, aunt, your name was mentioned extensively!”

  “How dare they? I am most displeased!”

  “You did this, aunt. No one else. This is all your responsibility!” Darcy rose and began pacing.

  “What I cannot understand is why?” cried Lord Matlock. “Why did you involve yourself in a matter that had nothing to do with you?”

  “Nothing to do with me? Mr. Collins was my personally selected clergyman. His death at the hand of that hussy was a personal insult!”

  “It was an accident,” said Darcy, wearily.

  “It was the result of inferior blood. I have always known that one should not quit the sphere to which one is born. I know it all. I know the truth. Mr. Collins told me of that family. Mr. Bennet damaged his family's standing by marrying into trade. That female is perfect proof. Her mother’s inferior blood contaminated the children beyond saving. I had thought Mr. Collins might repair the matter by marrying one of them, but instead of being grateful for the condescension offered to her that female brought about the death of her father’s heir.”

  Darcy turned to his uncle.

  “Uncle, you see my difficulty. She and I have gone round and round on this issue. She refuses to see where she has erred.”

  “I would consider these events prove the necessity for my involvement,” said Lady Catherine. “The local coroner yielded to the local landowner to give him the determination he needed.”

  “You are not the person to speak of over-involvement of a landowner in legal matters,” said the earl. “Dragging a magistrate away from his area of responsibility to another, just to impose your own will is offensive in the extreme!”