Can I just admit sometimes the scenes most fun to write are the ones with scoundrels in them? 🙂
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 4 - A Winter Wonder, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Edward Gardiner loathed his empty house. By day, he toiled endlessly to manage his contracts and pursue new vendors for his wares, returning home only when thoroughly exhausted to briefly eat and retire for the night. Despite the lack of wealthy customers in London due to the time of year, he found great opportunity in speaking with the lofty gentlemen’s clubs where his nephew Darcy had sent a letter of introduction.
The prime steed of his new portfolio was a meeting with the manager of White’s, the club of fashion for the most elite conservative families. The troubles with America had nearly ceased all shipments of fine tobacco and the dealers sat in high dudgeon about the effects on their business should supplies run out before an end to the nastiness. To Mr. Gardiner, with his routes through the more expensive South American colonies, the skirmishes affecting North American trade were less problematic.
“I have down orders for fifty-six crates of my finest cigars, for delivery in April.” Mr. Gardiner made a note in his trusty folded parchment he used for reminders, dotting the end with a flourish. “All orders do require a fifteen percent down payment, to reserve the goods, of course.”
“We’ve never paid in advance before.” Mr. Grayson peered over his spectacles at the tradesman in his office. Without a letter from a paragon of their patrons, this meeting would not even exist. He was not prepared to change long standing traditions of White’s reputation with creditors.
“Ah, I see.” Mr. Gardiner frowned and exhaled his breath to appear disappointed. He noticed Mr. Grayson hid a smirk. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Grayson. I wish you great luck in finding cigars for your club.” Edward Gardiner stood and extended out a hand. The smirk on Mr. Grayson’s face melted away. He also refused to shake Mr. Gardiner’s hand.
“We have you to supply our cigars, Mr. Gardiner. The name of White’s commands a healthy respect and should be payment enough for a lowly trade company.”
“Respect is earned, not paid out. There are many other clubs in the city in need and I have a limited supply. Fifteen percent is less than the twenty-five percent I usually demand. Perhaps when I visit Brooks’ next, they will be more than happy to have the ten percent discount.” Mr. Gardiner remained light and affable in his tone despite the very serious terms being discussed.
“You meet next with Brooks’, the cigars will go there you say?” Mr. Grayson smoothed his mustache as he considered a way to lift White’s above the status of that den of Whigs.
Mr. Gardiner nodded.
“See here, I shall pay you ten percent of the total value today, if in agreement you will not go to Brooks’ next and offer them any cigars. Am I understood?”
Edward Gardiner frowned. “I’m afraid a single vendor is too great a risk for a trade company of my size, and certainly not for only ten percent.”
“Fifteen percent then.”
Edward Gardiner shook his head again, his face full of remorse. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson, but for me to not go to Brooks’ directly after this meeting, my original offer is not enough. I wish you a good day.” He picked up his hat from where it rested on the edge of Mr. Grayson’s desk and began to walk towards the small office’s door.
“Twenty-five percent up front with the agreement you go straight back to your office after this meeting!” Mr. Grayson called out. He could not risk the club not having fine cigars for the nobility returning come spring and Parliament’s new session. Blast these wars that disrupted all and sundry!
Mr. Gardiner paused and pretended to mull the offer over with his back turned to Mr. Grayson. Eventually he turned around and told the manager they had an accord. As Mr. Grayson wrote out the promissory note for the Bank of England, he grumbled about the tactics of tradesmen.
“Though perhaps if we employed some of your required assurances from our members, the great families would not spend themselves into ruin,” Mr. Grayson lamented, reminiscing of a time before all of the speculation and gambles on ships’ cargo could bring a respectable family to their knees.
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Chapter 4 (cont'd) - A Winter Wonder, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
“I find there to be little difference between the word of a nobleman and the word of a working man. In fact, the working man often has much more to lose with a false tongue than a man merely courting popular opinion.” Edward Gardiner worried that his more liberal views might offend his newest buyer, but it appeared Mr. Grayson agreed.
“Indeed. Be grateful your letter came from the Darcy family, not the Fitzwilliams. Some families stock has risen while others fall.”
Gardiner did not know what to say to such intelligence but thanked Mr. Grayson for his business and happily left the back office of the club through the small alleyway off the main road. His personal chaise waiting for him, Gardiner’s habit of checking the underpinning no longer annoyed his driver. After his accident last spring, he took no chances.
Giving direction to the bank and then to home, Edward rested his head against the bench seat happy for his good fortune. He never expected White’s to make such a deal and he would have accepted far less. And as for his promise to not rush over to Brooks’ next, he had no need. He secured the Brooks’ contract before even attempting Mr. Grayson.
Waiting for a slowly driven carriage to finally make its pass, Alistair Darcy cocked up the collar of his overcoat and blew into his hands. The second hand leathers scarcely thimble thin made a poor job of keeping his hands warm. A trickster and a gentleman, Alistair had managed to find the funds and his way to London, satisfying a few stuffed birds en route from Dover. Across the street lay his prize, the Darcy family funds at the Bank of England.
Stepping off the walk, Alistair gallantly sidestepped the deposits of horses waiting the dust boys’ shovels, achieving his objective with nary a misstep. Tipping his hat to a passing woman and her companion to the infernal sound of a young maid’s giggle, Alistair Darcy entered the establishment of great importance, elated that his struggles would soon come to an end.
Inside, a young man with a face pocked from puberty narrowed his eyes at the stranger. The sudden appearance of an older gentleman he did not recognize sat ill with Mr. Josiah Tibbs. Important men were known; men that were unknown rarely had proper business at the bank, and his superiors impressed this point with utmost emphasis.
“May I help you, sir?” Tibbs sneered, scarcely looking up from his book of registrations.
“I am here to see Mr. Abraham Newland concerning my accounts.”
“I see. And do you have an appointment?” Tibbs’ voice took an even greater biting tone as he struggled not to also smirk at this stranger.
“I do not care for your treatment. If I had an appointment, do you not think I would have announced such?”
“Be that as it may, I’m afraid Mr. Newland cannot accommodate you today. Please come back when you have an appointment.” The boy returned to scratching notations in his book, not even looking at the gray-haired man trying to look the gentleman, but the frayed edges of his clothes and faded creases gave him away.
“I’m afraid I am not leaving this establishment until I speak with Mr. Newland concerning my family’s accounts. Get up off your arse and tell your superiors they have a visitor or I promise I shall pick you up and throw you myself.” Alistair delivered his threat as though he were ordering tea down the lane in a fashionable day cafe.
“Mr. Newland retired some six years ago. You cannot possibly have any legitimate business with this bank. Try Cheapside, I hear a number of establishments are taking new clients there.” Tibbs tugged on his right ear as if he were massaging an itch and two burly footmen appeared from the shadows of the lobby area.
Before the strong men could rough Alistair Darcy, the silver fox played his cards.
“Then tell whomever is now in charge that Alistair Darcy is returned from India and wishes to speak to him.”
The surname Darcy halted the advancing footmen as Mr. Tibbs spread his hands to signal for them to stop. Mumbling apologies, the man hopped off the stool from behind the lectern to reveal himself scarcely over five feet tall. Alistair Darcy tugged on his waistcoat and glared at the two bumbling footmen, feeling vindicated. In less than a minute, a man in an impeccable black suit ushered Mr. Darcy in with panache and further apologies.’
WHAT A DEAL!
A kiss at the Netherfield Ball . . .
Three Dates with Mr. Darcy is a bundle of: An exclusive story, Much to Conceal, a novella that imagines what if Elizabeth confessed to Jane in London that Mr. Darcy proposed in Kent?
A Winter Wrong, the first novella in the Seasons of Serendipity series that imagines what if Mr. Bennet died at the very beginning of Pride and Prejudice?
By Consequence of Marriage, the first novel in the Moralities of Marriage series that wonders what if Mr. Darcy never saved his sister Georgiana from Wickham’s clutches?
Elizabeth Ann West’s Pride and Prejudice variations have enthralled more than 100,000 readers in over 90 countries! A proud member of the Jane Austen Fan Fiction community since the mid-2000s, she hopes you will join her in being happily Darcy addicted!
Chapter 4(cont'd) - A Winter Wonder, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
“There is no harm done, I enjoy observing how others treat men they believe beneath them before learning the truth.” Alistair’s mouth twisted into a half-smile. Being the second son, he was often free to lurk just behind his brother George and play both sides of the gentry. Keep his last name hidden, he could navigate the seediest parts of London and make a song. Pull out the name of his ancestors and other doors opened, complete with the deference a fortune will bring.
Led to the familiar office of the head cashier, Alistair accepted the introduction to Mr. Henry Hase. The meeting began with a polite inquiry into Mr. Darcy’s health and his travels from India. With a few practiced tales of his high-adventures on the seas, the meat of the discourse was finally served.
“And so I am recently returned home to London, I have come to make a modest withdrawal on my accounts and begin a line of credit for local businesses.” Alistair Darcy did not flinch as the man before him began to clear his throat.
“Ah, as you can understand, I am afraid I am in a difficult position, Mr. Darcy. Do you perhaps have a letter from your nephew?”
“Fitzwilliam? Why on earth would I have a letter from him? These are my accounts, man.”
“I’m afraid the accounts are not so simply listed. I have reviewed the paperwork,” Mr. Hase made a point to reread the sheets in front of him of quick notes from his staff regarding the ledgers. “You see, under your father, you did have your own account, but it was withdrawn to null in ’08 it appears. The other account your name is affixed is tied to the family properties overseas and with the death of your brother, it most clearly states that any withdrawals require the co-signee to offer a signature.”
“But there’s over two hundred thousand pounds in there! Money I worked for, not that pampered primp of a nephew on mine! I demand access to my own funds!”
Mr. Hase steadied his spectacles as he looked up from his documentation. “That is not possible, sir. Kindly lower your voice.”
“The hell I will lower my voice! This is robbery! Theft of the worst breed! To hold a man’s livelihood hostage, a livelihood I risked my life to claim in those treacherous waters! And you sit here and tell me I may not withdraw a pence because my nephew’s name is on the account?”
“He is the primary account holder.”
“Oh, of course he is, he merely had to be born and the riches flow.” Alistair’s mind raced. He had counted on withdrawing monies to start his new life, a life he had made sure would come to fruition the night he paid off that gutter snipe to fan the flames. And here sat a banker with a quill pen in his way. Anger boiled in Alistair’s veins and he gripped the chair tightly to regulate his violent urges to throttle the square, squat man in front of him who lacked any look of true remorse.
“What of a transfer? Surely I can transfer funds from two accounts my name holds.”
“Again, my instructions are clear. There are to be no changes to the family accounts tied to the colony holdings without Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s signature.”
Alistair pursed his lips. His brother’s signature was easy enough to forge, he had done it countless times. But Fitzwilliam had been little more than a pup when he was shipped off to that godforsaken hot country in the Orient. Just remembering the heat made his wrinkled skin feel the daily torture of the sun’s wrath.
“Then I am to Pemberley to speak to my nephew as you say I must. I will require £100 for my journey and lodgings.”
Mr. Hase stood as Alistair Darcy rose from his seat, beginning to stammer that without funds in his personal account the Bank could not permit such a withdrawal.
“Are you telling me the Bank cannot make a personal loan of such a pittance to a longstanding account holder and member of one of the wealthiest families in the Crown?”
“Mr. Darcy, you must understand. The wars have made liquidity tight for many families. If I grant you this personal line of credit with no collateral, imagine the line I shall have out my door when word gets out.”
Alistair Darcy nodded and pretended to understand the plight of the poor banker’s lot. Relieved, Mr. Hase extended his hand to shake Mr. Darcy’s who accepted the gesture paired with a hypothetical of his own.
“And imagine when I reach my nephew I tell him how I was treated and the Darcy family accounts are moved to another establishment. Say one of those upstarts in Cheapside? I hear my nephew’s marriage brings him family connections in the area.”
Mr. Hase’s face melted into a frown as he slowed the hand shake to a stop. “You are very informed for being away for so long.”
“Ah, well I didn’t spend the last twenty years of my life in a foreign land without picking up the most valuable commodity of all is information.”
A half hour later, Alistair Darcy walked out of the Bank of England with fifty pounds more in his purse than before, more than enough to make it to Pemberley and back by post and then some. Where every journey begins with a single step, Alistair Darcy’s journey began with a step in the direction of the nearest pub. After the day’s news, he needed a drink and some cards. He also wouldn’t say no to any company of the female persuasion.
You’ve been reading A Winter Wonder
Confronting her first trials at Pemberley, Elizabeth takes on the tenant Christmas party, sidestepping her mother’s meddling, and finding a way to support the needs of all of her family members. But finding time alone with her husband, Mr. Darcy, in a house full of people is a challenge, even at an estate as large as Pemberley! As old secrets bear fruit, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stand united and find support in each other. With a babe on the way, and surprise visitors, there may just be more than one winter wonder to behold.
The fifth season in the Seasons of Serendipity, a historical family saga that imagines how the story of Pride and Prejudice might have changed had Mr. Bennet died of illness before Mr. Collins arrived.
A Winter Wonder, Seasons of Serendipity a Pride and Prejudice novella variation series
Release Date: July 3, 2015
232 pages in print.
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A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.