This is the book that was never planned in this series… but when I sat down to write what I wanted Book 3 of the series to be, Elizabeth Bennet had other plans . . .
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 22 - The Whisky Wedding, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
COLONEL RICHARD FITZWILLIAM’S horse carefully negotiated the narrow alleys of Cheapside just as the day’s heat began to amplify the summer’s most displeasing smells. A city full of people and all of their waste were all a visitor to London could expect to greet him as the fashionable season came to a close. Richard counted the houses, as many of the numbers were obscured or simply missing, until he arrived at a town house that appeared in better condition than those earlier on the block. The door boasted a fresh coat of blue paint just as his cousin’s letter from Scotland had described. Over the door hung a slightly rusty two and three to denote the residence. A groom from the carriage house behind shuffled forward to take the reins as the colonel’s boots landed in two inches of muck and he cursed under his breath.
After giving the young groom explicit instructions for his mount, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of His Majesty’s Finest climbed the stone stairs to the front door stomping with each step to remove as much of the street’s filth as he could from his boots. When his ring was answered, Richard introduced himself and asked for Edward Gardiner, surprised to find himself admitted right away.
The house of Edward Gardiner bustled with activity as the colonel was not the only guest to disrupt the daily routine. After being shown into Mr. Gardiner’s office, the colonel felt confused as it appeared the room was empty. Shortly after the servant closed the door, a voice from the high wingback chair by the fire greeted him.
“I am impressed with your diligence.”
“Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam of the — Regiment at your service. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to? Mr. Gardiner?” Richard continue to stand by the door as he had not been formally invited to take a seat. The man laughed.
“My brother sees to his business. I suspect you received a letter from Mr. Darcy much as I have, though I must say I did not fully expect you the same day. I received his missive just this morning, perhaps not long after the rider left your barracks.” Mr. Bennet revealed his identity by stating he had received a letter similar to Richard’s from his cousin.
“I came to call as soon as I might, I had morning exercises you see.”
“Certainly, commendable, in fact, come in, come in. Might His Majesty’s Finest indulge in a drink?” Mr. Bennet offered to pour from a decanter at his side. Richard stepped forward to take the wooden chair nearest his host, noticing the open book on the man’s lap. Richard frowned, though Darcy had warned him that Elizabeth’s father may not appear to be doing very much to find his daughter. But Richard suspected even this much inactivity would draw the fire of Darcy’s breath, yet Richard kept his own.
“So another joins the fruitless brigade to find my foolish daughter. I cannot speak ill of your cousin, but I do not see his connection in all of this. You both have an acquaintance with my Lizzie?” Mr. Bennet’s hand showed a slight tremor as he handed the glass to the colonel.
“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Elizabeth Bennet at my aunt’s estate in Kent. I believe she visited her cousin, my aunt’s parson.”
“That great buffoon. But Lizzie went to please Charlotte, er—Mrs. Collins, and I was loathe to lose her. When the news came of Lydia’s flight, she left for Scotland with her aunt where I am appraised she has reunited with your cousin and enlisted him in our aid. . .”
Richard schooled his face at Mr. Bennet’s odd acceptance of his daughter Elizabeth being alone with a man not of her family. To say this Bennet man held peculiarities did not fully prepare him for such a bizarre interview. Still, the man continued talking, so Richard felt it best to listen more and speak none.
“But I tell you just as I told my brother, there is nothing to be done. My time is nearly up for the show I must perform for my wife. You see that my daughter is too penniless for a man like Wickham to seek a ransom. He may not have even had to say very many pretty words to get my daughter in the carriage.” Mr. Bennet coughed; a wet, hacking display, not a sound to be heard in the middle of summer’s warmth. Out of breath after his fit, Mr. Bennet helped himself to more of his own drink which appeared to subdue whatever irritation resided in his chest.
“I wonder if you might share with me any information you may hold concerning Mr. Wickham. I understand he was in your home county with the militia?”
“Aye, much to my wife’s happiness for she always did love a red coat.” Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows in the colonel’s direction with a nod to the man’s uniform. “She filled the girls with all sorts of silly notions . . . balls and proposals. When Colonel Forster and his wife invited Lydia to stay with them for the summer encampment, I assumed she would be perfectly safe under the commander’s protection.” Bitterness seasoned Mr. Bennet’s last words as a brief expression of anger overtook his face. Mr. Bennet cast his glance to the fire and visibly adjusted his shoulders, as if shaking off the demons of rage.
Richard cautiously took a sip of his drink to buy time so his next question did not sound too eager. As the coals on the fire shifted from the bottom layer turning to ash, both men studied the grate to avoid each other.
“Your daughter was the particular guest of Colonel Forster and his wife? Wickham was so bold as to not only desert, but to take with him a woman under the protection of his commanding officer?” Richard asked, but Mr. Bennet had already said as much.
A cold, steely gaze met Richard’s own as Mr. Bennet pressed his lips to a thin line. The man approached fifty, but in that frail moment of a father’s greatest failure, a passerby might mistake him for nearing four-score in age. “I believe it is safe to say that filth Wickham holds no scruples at all. And that is why I hold no hope of my daughter’s recovery.”
Richard took a deep breath and set his drink down on the table, hardly half gone. He had duty later that day and did not wish to return to the barracks smelling strongly of drink for those who might press it to their advantage. Rising from his chair, Mr. Bennet offered Richard little more than a wave of his hand before turning his book over as a sign of dismissal for the soldier so wholly unconnected to him.
Still, despite his misgivings about the father, Richard did care for Miss Elizabeth, perhaps more than was proper, but not more than she deserved. He felt he needed to declare his intentions to Mr. Bennet as he was the most proper person to hear them, even if they were not a responsibility he cared to hold.
“Thank you for your time, sir. I will begin my search for your daughter and Mr. Wickham after I have requested leave from my superiors. With your permission, I should like to call again when I have secured the freedom to look into the affair.” Richard did not stand at full attention, but his intimidating presence made a slight impression upon Mr. Bennet in that he could not ignore the declaration outright.
The man looked over his spectacles and addressed Richard directly. “Suit yourself, Colonel, I am but a man with a book reported to by all sorts, it would appear, as to their plans. My eldest daughter has joined me and I expect her arrival again any moment. She, too, is searching I believe, though she comes up with a new excuse every day to go into town. Are you acquainted with her as well?”
Richard shook his head. “No, sir, I have not had the pleasure of meeting any of your daughters other than Miss Elizabeth. But I have heard very admirable recounts of Miss Bennet from her sister.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged. “If you call again, and she is here, she may be able to tell you more about this sordid affair with Wickham. I still don’t see how it will be of any help to you personally to conduct such a search, but I know better than to stand between a man and his plans, especially a military man. I suspect by the end of the week I shall be returning to Hertfordshire.”
“You will not await your daughter and Mr. Darcy returning from Scotland?” Richard looked at the man, utterly confused. Darcy’s letter had made it quite clear he and Miss Elizabeth were to marry, certainly that development had to have some bearing on Mr. Bennet, dedicated reader though the man may be.
“Young man, I hold a letter from your cousin with not a line written by my daughter’s hand. I suspect my Lizzie will be returning with her aunt and have quite the story for me about the poor lovesick Mr. Darcy.” Richard drew a sharp breath bringing another chuckle from Mr. Bennet. The older man touched the side of his nose. “You did not think I knew my daughter refused your cousin’s proposal in Kent! My daughter Jane is ever dutiful, though she did not tell me this little intrigue until we left Longbourn. I suspect it was guilt.”
Richard took a turn at pressing his lips into a fine line as he had little more to say to the exasperating man that was Mr. Bennet. Instead, Richard offered the man a bow and turned to open the door and show himself out. He was not entirely sure the Bennet family was at all deserving of the fuss and attentions of the Fitzwilliams nor especially his cousin, but he did know that Miss Elizabeth was entirely worthy of whatever help he could offer. And Bennets aside, the situation developing represented a much more complicated matter than any of them might know, unless Richard found the couple and made them marry.
As Richard showed himself out of the study, he nearly crashed into the most beautiful creature he had ever set eyes on.
“Pardon me, miss?” The soldier remembered his manners as soon as he realized he was staring. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service.” He bowed low.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” The woman’s voice surged with hope. “My sister spoke of you, I am Miss Jane Bennet.” Jane looked furtively around for her father or uncle and not spying them, frowned. “Excuse me, Colonel, but why are you here?”
Remembering Mr. Bennet’s words about not a line being in Elizabeth’s hand, the colonel hesitated. If Miss Bennet did not know to expect him, but her father did, it was likely Mr. Bennet did not share the letter from Darcy with his daughter, but merely asked her about Mr. Darcy when he received the missive. Whether he agreed with the denial of information or not, Richard wisely chose to give a half-truth and preserve a small amount of respect with the father of his aim.
“The military is looking into the matter. Lieutenant Wickham is a deserter and the King takes desertion very seriously.”
Jane nodded. “Well, thank you, on behalf of my family.”
Richard grimaced and Jane understood the look all too well.
“Please,” she gently touched the sleeve of his coat, “do not judge him too harshly. He is devastated and it is making him ill.”
With nothing more to say, Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded and took his leave of Miss Bennet, wishing her well and promising to do his best.
After Jane farewelled the colonel, she watched him mount his horse and ride away through the window, wondering why Lizzie had never said how handsome Mr. Darcy’s cousin was.
Remembering her own mission was not over, Jane retreated to the kitchens for a mid-day nourishment, and then planned to go out once more in the afternoon. She yawned as she accepted the already made plate from the Gardiner’s cook, finding that even with the carriage, the business of searching still required a great deal of walking. She smirked as she cut up the crust of bread and cheese thinking how much better suited Elizabeth would have been for this part of the search, but then she would not have met Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Jane allowed herself to daydream through her meal until it was once more time to ask if anyone had seen a younger, dark-haired version of herself in the company of a soldier. If she was honest, even she was beginning to give up hope as another week passed with no sign of either Mr. Wickham or Lydia.
Chapter 23 - The Whisky Wedding, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
SUNLIGHT FROM THE high windows in the dining hall of Broadmeadow illuminated Elizabeth’s face as she enjoyed her meal with her husband. She blinked at the relentless assault on her eyes, but could not cease looking at the man dining with her. The meal mimicked previous spreads of game and pastry, but knowing Mr. Darcy was her husband brought a smile to Elizabeth’s face.
“You appear different today, madam. In good cheer.” Darcy tilted his head to one side and considered his wife’s rosy complexion against the dark plum of her neckline. A deep blush began to spread along her clavicle at his compliment. He wondered if she would ask to go to Gretna Green to find her aunt or if she would remember the events of the previous day.
“I would say that I am.” Elizabeth paused to make sure she did not stutter. “Husband.” Elizabeth offered him a half-crooked smile as Mr. Darcy dropped his silverware with a loud clatter.
“Do you mean to say that you remember?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded and took a deep breath through her nose and then squared her shoulders. She released the breath and remained focused on Mr. Darcy, remembering the letter had said how much her condition pained him.
“But that is astounding! Rowley predicted it might take weeks!” Darcy’s empty hands reached to grasp hers, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her open palms. Elizabeth giggled and looked behind her at the footman standing sentry along the wall. “Do not mind them; they are very loyal.”
Elizabeth thought about the assistance her maid Fiona had offered in helping to restore her memory through the letter, and she heartily agreed with Mr. Darcy’s assessment.
“All of the Broadmeadow staff are beyond compare, sir. Although I have yet to meet the staff at your other homes, I have a feeling they are likely of the same caliber.”
The happy couple merely stared at one another for a moment before Darcy’s eyes lit up with a new inquiry. “And how did you like my gift?”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched in her chest.
“I enjoyed your gift very much.”
Inwardly, she panicked. Her letter to herself had made no mention of any gift from Mr. Darcy! She hoped if she feigned a shy embarrassment, he would not inquire further. She wished to change the subject, but could not think of anything under such pressure and found this business of pretending to be well more ambitious than she had imagined.
“I know it might appear to be a castoff. If you’d like, I am happy to commission one of your own. But I believe you will find very great use in me passing it down to you.” Mr. Darcy took a bite of his meal and considered his wife carefully.
Elizabeth listened for clues and dissected Mr. Darcy’s language. He said he had passed it down to me; perhaps it was jewels?
“I agree. I shall find great use.” Elizabeth’s stomach clenched at the need to playact. Her plate of stewed cabbage mixed with young turnips suddenly appeared limp and unappetizing.
“It’s been in my family for many years. My mother never traveled without the case.”
Elizabeth’s posture rose at the mention of Mr. Darcy’s mother. Emboldened, she reasoned he must be speaking of a jeweled set his mother owned that he gave to her yesterday. Her second thought questioned why she did not write that down and she frowned.
“You did not truly like it.” Mr. Darcy sighed.
Breathing sharply through her nose, Elizabeth froze in panic. She had charged herself with being well for Mr. Darcy’s sake and she was monumentally failing! Clearing her throat, she had to trust the instructions from her yesterday self if the letter had carried her this far.
“I believe the jewels are the most spectacular settings I have ever seen.”
Mr. Darcy blinked a few times with his face slackened. “The jewels?” he asked.
“Are you not speaking of a gift of jewels?”
“You have no recollection of what I’m speaking about, do you?” Mr. Darcy accused, no longer interested in his meal. Barely perceptible, Elizabeth shook her head. “So you have lied to me. You do not remember a thing!” His voice raised to a level that made her flinch.
“That is not true,” she countered quietly. “At least, I do not remember all.”
Mr. Darcy scowled at Elizabeth as she looked down at her hands in her lap. He seized his glass of wine and helped himself to a healthy gulp. Time ticked by as the footmen looked to one another, but none dared utter a word. This movement attracted Darcy’s attention, and he lowered his voice to a rasp.
“I need your complete honesty. When you awoke this morning did you remember that we are wed?”
Again, Elizabeth’s head very gently shook in the negative.
“Then why did you lead me to believe that you had? And who told you the particulars this morning? Was it that maid?” Mr. Darcy’s anger at being played the fool returned an edge to his voice.
Elizabeth looked up with tears starting to fall from the corners of her eyes. She sniffed. “It was me. I told myself.”
“What the devil?” Darcy grew bombastic at the riddle, but Elizabeth held up a hand to signal him to wait for an explanation. Stunned, he followed her gesture and waited.
“I wrote myself a letter last evening with all of the details I thought I might need to remember the next day. My illness is a great burden to you and has kept you in Scotland longer than you ever planned. And there is the matter of my sister in London–”
“And so you pretended to be fully recovered so that we might hurry to London.” Mr. Darcy interrupted his wife.
“I did not, that is, I may have? I am not certain.” Elizabeth’s voice began to rise to match Mr. Darcy’s volume as she too became frustrated with the entire situation. How had she ever agreed to marry this man when there was so little that they seemed ever to agree upon?
“I should like to see this letter.”
“Certainly.” Elizabeth tucked her hand into her gown pocket and pulled out the missive, heavily creased from use despite its young age. After she handed the letter to Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth found she still held no appetite but picked at the edge of her roasted quail with the prongs of her fork. The gentle action of flaking the meat away from the bone occupied her as silence fell over the room while her husband read silently.
Mr. Darcy sighed as he refolded the letter and handed it back to his wife. Elizabeth looked up at him with hopeful eyes.
“I apologize for the amount of pressure I have placed upon you to feel that you must recover in haste. “
“No, but I –” Mr. Darcy shook his head, and Elizabeth ceased speaking.
“It is true there are very grave matters that we both must attend in London, in good time. I have sent letters to your father and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam; do you remember him?”
Elizabeth smiled, remembering for once a memory so easily from her past. She had admired Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam a great deal when she met him in Kent. “Yes! I do remember the Colonel. My older memories are not lost. And he is in London?”
A deep growl turned over in Darcy’s stomach as he tried to ignore his wife’s pleasure at the mere mentioning of his cousin. “There is no other man I would trust with such a serious matter. Richard is searching for your sister and that cad as we speak. I suspect by the time we arrive in London he will not only have found your sister and Wickham, but likely recovered the situation as much as it might hoped to achieve.”
Elizabeth frowned.
“What is it, dearest?” Mr. Darcy breathed more freely with the conversation settled into a calmer manner.
“I should write to my father.”
Darcy nodded to encourage Elizabeth to continue.
“This is going to be very mean for me to say, but I fear his abilities may not shine to their best if he feels interference and that he has lost control. My father can be very stubborn, and I suspect he takes a great deal of responsibility for the mess upon his shoulders.”
“Oh?” Darcy asked as he lifted his drink to find occupation. He agreed with Elizabeth but knew better than to make that agreement eagerly and appear to slight her father.
Elizabeth nodded. “I had tried to warn him, you see, about allowing Lydia to go to Brighton.” Elizabeth watched as Mr. Darcy’s posture stiffened and his knuckles turned white holding the stemware in his hands. “Do not worry, I said nothing about your sister.” Elizabeth’s assumption had been correct, and as soon as she reassured her husband that his family’s privacy was not breached, Mr. Darcy visibly relaxed.
“If you should like to write your father, I shall be happy to send it express.” Mr. Darcy did not add that they were running out of riders, and then felt further relieved as Elizabeth shrugged.
“There is no reason to send a letter at such expense; I suspect you have likely sent many an express to London already on my account.” Elizabeth watched her husband freeze his movements at the question. She arched her eyebrows.
”If I may not lie, sir, then neither shall you,” Elizabeth smirked as her husband let out a breath and a single, short nod. “Besides, if I shall write my father, I might as well write my mother.”
Mr. Darcy let out an involuntary groan, and Elizabeth broke out into a tinkling laughter. Darcy grimaced in apology but then joined her in a chuckle.
Gasping for breath as the stress of the argument had heightened her anxiety into uncontrolled laughter, Elizabeth finally managed to speak.
“My exact sentiments,” she howled as the dining room that had once been so tense now filled with the happy couple’s companionship. Elizabeth found herself no longer wondering why she had married this man she so very often crossed. Their marriage would be one of challenge, but also of strong character and that was an assessment she could build a life upon.
“I promise,” Mr. Darcy began in a solemn tone, “I promise as soon as you are well enough to travel, we will not hesitate to pack the coach and head to London. But if you are ever to be healthy enough to go, you must eat.” Mr. Darcy’s insistence on pointing at her plate made Elizabeth give one last chuckle before finding her countenance. She felt a bit of mischievousness was still in order.
Elizabeth picked up her fork and scooped a healthy amount of the flaked quail she had produced earlier and noisily brought it to her mouth with a gulping sound. Mr. Darcy, deadpanning at the comedy his wife provided and knowing her manners in any other situation were beyond reproach, raised the stakes. In a show of utter solidarity, the man made a similar uncouth, noisy garble of his next mouthful and Elizabeth matched in kind.
Bite after bite, the young couple enjoyed teasing each other with the most atrocious table manners the dining room at Broadmeadow had seen in a decade! But at the end, Elizabeth had eaten, and this pleased Mr. Darcy even if the speed in which they ate disrupted his digestion.
As the meal came to a close, Mr. Darcy invited Elizabeth to write her letters in his study with him.
“Do you have any objection to me also adding to the letter I wrote myself yesterday?”
Mr. Darcy stopped as they left the dining room, finding tremendous joy in the right to gently touch the small of Elizabeth’s back as her escort. “Dr. Rowley believes forcing you to recount lost memories will delay your recovery.”
Elizabeth frowned, but then she spun around to face Mr. Darcy directly. “I worried something of the same, but my maid told me that I did not have a headache as I did the first morning nor did my gait suffer.”
“You mean you once had difficulty walking?” Darcy gulped as he and Elizabeth now stood very close and he could feel her body’s warmth, close as she was to him.
“Did you not know?” Elizabeth asked gently.
“No. I am beginning to worry about this maid . . .” Darcy looked above towards the bedrooms when Elizabeth placed her hands upon his chest.
“Please, no, she . . . I believe I may have given some orders over the last few days that I do not remember today, but she has followed them in good faith. She could easily take advantage of a woman in my condition, and she has not.”
Darcy peered down at Elizabeth’s small hands still pressed against his coat, a slight pressure that naturally endeared her to him. He cleared his throat as Elizabeth, too, stared at her hands and then brought her gaze up.
“Fitzwilliam . . .” she tested his name.
“Elizabeth . . .”
Darcy bent his head down as Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes and equally tugged on the lapels of his coat. The two shared a kiss in the hall just outside the dining room, uninhibited by the staff scurrying around them working to remove the dishes.
When the kiss ended, Elizabeth returned her height to its normal stature and pressed her cheek against his chest as his arms naturally enveloped her.
“Could we . . .” she started to say but realized it was not something she could ask, not in the hallway nor even the privacy of a bedroom.
“Not until you are well.”
For a moment, they remained embraced before Darcy reluctantly released his wife.
Finding her nerve, Elizabeth found herself very curious about the feelings coursing through her veins from a simple kiss. Her first kiss, that she could remember. Suddenly, the idea of going to Mr. Darcy’s study, alone, sounded less like an activity to give either of them peace. She did not wish to say she would write her letters alone and hurt his feelings, but she did have another idea.
“I have not yet had occasion to see the grounds of Broadmeadow. Perhaps you would care to show me?”
Darcy inhaled through his nose and resumed his dignified manner of Master of the House. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Darcy. If you are feeling well enough for a stroll?”
Elizabeth glared at him in a way only the minxish Elizabeth Bennet had ever dared. “Husband,” Elizabeth pronounced, finding she did enjoy that moniker for him with its many subtexts, “did you forget you have married a very accomplished walker?”
“No, madam. I have not,” he said as he took his lady’s arm and they walked towards the back door of the estate, the summer weather being fine enough for a short stroll in the gardens.
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 24 - The Whisky Wedding, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
THE WHITE DOOR to General Hill’s London headquarters opened and the second cousin of the Duke of Wellington looked up from his desk to the unexpected visit of one of his favorite officers. Returning to the dispatches in his hand concerning the Americans, General Hill removed his spectacles and rubbed one eye with a knuckle. He allowed Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam to come to full attention before addressing the officer junior to him.
“Colonel, this is unusual. My secretary did not alert me we had a meeting today.”
“No, sir. I did not wish for there to be any official record of the information I am about to give until you deemed it necessary.”
General Hill put the dispatches into his top drawer and locked it. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Spanish wine both he and the colonel preferred from their time on the Peninsula.
“Now you have me intrigued.” The general poured the colonel a drink and gestured to the chair beside his desk. “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
“I will be formally requesting another leave of absence for personal reasons, but my family business it would appear juxtaposes with the interests of His Majesty’s Army. There is a Lieutenant of the —shire militia that has deserted his post and in doing so eloped with the younger sister of an acquaintance of mine.”
“Desertion is something I think the militia ought to be able to handle, this has no effect for those of us in the Regulars. Pardon your acquaintances to the woman’s relations.” The general bristled at the concern shown the nonprofessional soldiers that trooped in towns and villages, raising the overall morale of their glorious island, but would never see real combat that tried the mettle of a man’s soul.
“Ordinarily, I would agree with you, sir. The command happens to be one Colonel Forster’s unit.” Richard Fitzwilliam waited for the name to sink into his superior’s mind.
“Colonel William Forster?” The general clarified, not that there were many Colonel Forsters in either the Regulars or the militia.
“The very same. And I’m afraid the young woman this lieutenant absconded with was a particular guest of the Colonel and Mrs. Forster when she was taken.” Richard helped himself to a healthy draught of his wine while awaiting the general’s response.
“Wait just one moment. Are you insinuating the Colonel and his wife were derelict in their duties and allowed a young lady in their care to run off with a Lieutenant in the Colonel’s own regiment?”
“That is what my sources have told me, and what I have been able to independently confirm as well.” Richard drank more wine as he remembered his interviews with both Mr. Bennet and that worthless bit of scum, Mrs. Younge. His cousin Darcy had been right, Wickham had abandoned the girl at first chance, though now he held a lead.
The general sighed and swallowed the rest of the sweet wine that was more appropriate for dessert than early morning refreshment. “I don’t know if you are aware, but William is my wife’s nephew.”
Richard cleared his throat. “I could pretend to have not known such a fact if it would please you, sir, but I think we’re both smart enough to understand why I did not add this meeting officially in the logs.”
“And how do you wish to proceed? If I am to understand it, you are attempting to minimize the impact this wretched turn of events might bring upon the reputation of the militia and the Army.”
Richard stood and returned to attention before the desk. “With your permission sir, my leave papers will say I need four weeks to attend to family business, but the real aim of my absence will be to find this Lieutenant Wickham and use whatever means necessary to inspire him to marry the girl. All reports confirm they did not leave London.”
“Wickham you say? That name sounds familiar.”
Richard shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably. It was no secret that all correspondence going to the men on the line was read by their superiors, and General Hill or one of his secretaries would have read the correspondence from Fitzwilliam Darcy to a Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam the summer Georgiana Darcy nearly ran off with the same man.
“Mr. Wickham grew up alongside myself and my cousin, a particular favorite of my Uncle Darcy who paid for his education. I believe it was my uncle’s hope that the son of a steward might rise above his stars and make a decent man of himself. But the man’s character was never of the same strength and fiber as the upper classes.”
General Hill frowned as he considered the colonel’s words. The problem was that to grant Richard another lengthy period of leave could become an equally tricky politic as his nephew’s poor regulation of the ——shire militia. But the post in Spain he struggled to fill . . . perhaps he could solve two problems at once.
“I appreciate your discretion in this matter, Colonel, but I do not discount that you appear to have a personal stake in this situation, so those being equal, if you will consent to fill a post, for I am having trouble finding a volunteer . . . hmm, Badajos?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed, but he remained in a respectful posture. “I was promised the teaching command here in London by Lord Wellington himself.” Richard had only returned from the Peninsula just after Christmas, the very reason for his lengthy leave period in spring to visit his aunt despite a war being on.
“Yes, so consider the appreciation he will hold for his bravest colonel to return to the front, so soon, though not really the front, it’s well secured, you know. And you shall have more of our favorite wine.” General Hill stood from his desk, signaling negotiation was over as to the terms. Richard sighed and nodded.
“There’s the spirit, might even be a promotion for you at the end. Much more likely than as a schoolmaster here for the ragtag troops we muster up.” General Hill walked around his desk and clapped Richard on the shoulder, giving further instructions about the leave papers to file with his secretary.
Richard Fitzwilliam walked out of General Hill’s headquarters with mixed emotions. He had hated the scars of the battlefield etched on his mind and held no great joy in returning to those nightmares. But they had won the fort of Badajoz in April, and it would be a promotion to hold command of the entire fort. In addition to the task of finding Wickham and his lady, another mission of greater distaste faced him still. How was he to tell his mother he would be leaving again so soon?
You’ve been reading The Whisky Wedding
When Elizabeth Bennet of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice learns of her sister’s elopement before leaving for the Peaks District, she and her aunt are off to Scotland to chase the wayward couple. Inn after inn, there is no sign of Lydia or Mr. Wickham, but Elizabeth won’t give up. A foolhardy decision to continue to search on her own lands Elizabeth right into the arms of a familiar face . . . Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Join author Elizabeth Ann West in a tale of carriage accidents, amnesia, and a forced marriage, but happy endings for all. Well, maybe not Mr. Wickham!
The Whisky Wedding
a Pride and Prejudice novel variation
Release Date: December 28, 2016
514 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
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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.