Writing OC is one the best parts of writing derivative fiction. Please welcome Mr. Lamont Scudamore Winde to the story, who had a deeply researched backstory and I cannot wait to write future novels where he is helping the new Mrs. Darcy in her role.
-Love and safety to you all-
Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 19 – Happy Was The Day, A Pride and Prejudice Sequel Novel
Wearing her smartest frock, Elizabeth joined her family downstairs much later than her normal habit. She had laughed at Miss Bingley adhering to “Town hours” when she had stayed at Netherfield Park almost a year ago, but as she stifled a yawn and blinked her eyes at the well-lit foyer, she suddenly understood. Shopping, dressing, and attending the theatre last night had worn her completely out. Even Mary was still in bed.
Finding her aunt sipping tea in the dining room, Elizabeth looked for her father. She also noticed her uncle was also missing.
“Are they in the office?” she asked, not bothering to identify whom she was talking about before helping herself to a plate of food.
“They’ve left, you just missed them.”
Elizabeth pulled out her chair and plopped unceremoniously into it, expressing her frustration that her father was gone before she had risen. “Where?”
Mrs. Gardiner looked up from her teacup, bewildered by the sudden moodiness of her normally most stable niece. “They had their meeting with Mr. Darcy today, and his solicitors. I believe they were meeting Mr. Darcy at his townhome and continuing from there.”
Soured by the turn of events that meant her father and uncle were not present for her to discuss the previous evening with them, and also the lost prospect of Mr. Darcy visiting that morning as she had asked last night at the theatre, Elizabeth pushed her plate away.
Mrs. Gardiner clucked her tongue.
“Sullen are we?” She laughed at her niece’s expression. “You are terrible in love, child.”
“You were not in the carriage last night when Papa behaved abominably. He forced Mr. Darcy to admit that he only saved Lydia for my sake and that had he not been in love with me, he would have offered our family employment.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes widened with shock. “Mr. Darcy did not say such a thing!”
“He did,” Elizabeth nodded, “but I’m not so certain he was wrong to say what he said. It stung, but had we not rescued Lydia . . .”
Mrs. Gardiner sighed. She closed her eyes and Elizabeth watched wondering if she was replaying what she witnessed over the late summer when she and Mr. Gardiner were charged with the bulk of the work in saving the Bennet reputations. “Your sister was foolish, and young. But mostly, foolish.”
Elizabeth lowered her voice. “I told Papa not to let her go, that she was too immature and in danger. He said she was too poor to get into too much trouble.”
Mrs. Gardiner stood to refill her teapot with hot water. Elizabeth suddenly realized there were no footmen about.
“There is no such thing as too anything to get in trouble. And being poor means there is no way to repair the damage,” Mrs. Gardiner said, tersely.
Elizabeth slumped in her chair, trying to will away the bile that swirled in her stomach making her breakfast look unappetizing. She pinched a corner of toast off with her fingers and brought it to her mouth to nibble on it nervously.
“What if my father ruins my engagement with Mr. Darcy?” she braved asking.
“Your uncle is there.”
“Yes, but, what if—” Elizabeth stopped talking when her aunt raised a finger to shush her as the butler opened the door.
“Ma’am, I know you said the household was not to be disturbed early this morning, but there is a visitor for Miss Elizabeth,” he relayed.
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, hopefully, forgetting to allow her aunt to address her staff.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, ma’am. He claims to be an agent of the Darcy family and may only speak to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, in person, and cannot leave until he does so.” The butler paused and looked at his employer directly. “He is dressed very smartly,” he added.
Mrs. Gardiner frowned. “Ask him if he will return later today,” she said and the butler left them alone. Feeling a sense of urgency lest they become interrupted again, Madeline Gardiner seized her opportunity to needle her niece as to her plans. “Go back to your fear, my dear. Do you and Mr. Darcy have plans to elope?”
“Elope? No, we would—” Elizabeth turned bright red and stumbled over the words to claim they would never do such a thing. But dishonesty had never been her strong suit, unlike her youngest sisters who could convincingly lie about sunny weather as it stormed outside. Elizabeth nibbled on more toast as she chose her next words carefully since her aunt was now glaring at her with disappointment in her eyes. “We know better,” was all that Elizabeth would say.
“Yes, that is what I hoped to hear,” Mrs. Gardiner said, as the butler suddenly returned.
“Ma’am?” he braved, and Mrs. Gardiner blew out a breath of frustration.
“Yes, what is it now?”
“He says he will wait on the front stoop.”
“He says what?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, incredulously.
The poor butler gulped. “He says, I am to give Miss Elizabeth this,” the butler held out a pristine, white card with bold black lettering upon it, “and that he will wait upon the front stoop until it pleases Miss Bennet for them to meet.”
Elizabeth pushed back her chair and hurried to grab the card from the butler before he could rightfully give it to Mrs. Gardiner first, as mistress of the house, to inspect.
She read the wording carefully out loud. “Lamont Scudamore Winde, agent Barclay’s Bank.” She flipped the card over to see a brilliantly pressed black spread eagle. The card felt heavier than the paper it was written upon.
“What would an agent of a bank be doing making housecalls?” Mrs. Gardiner asked as her niece handed the card to her.
“I do not know, but I am most curious, aren’t you?” Elizabeth asked with a mirthful smile that her aunt felt far more familiar with than the sullen girl who had been at her breakfast table a moment ago.
“See him into my husband’s office. We will receive him there,” Mrs. Gardiner ordered and then shared a small squeal with her niece. “You did not wish to receive him alone, I hope?” she asked, conspiratorially.
“I’ve never met the man, most certainly not. I’m sorry for whatever morning plans you had that this disturbs.”
“Never you mind my plans,” Mrs. Gardiner said, hastily finishing her tea and then rising to give instructions to the kitchen to serve refreshments in Mr. Gardiner’s office in twenty minutes. Either this Mr. Winde would stay until then and the offering would be polite, or he would leave and she would feed her niece who had skipped breakfast altogether.
The ladies did not leave Mr. Lamont Scudamore Winde waiting in the office alone for long, and both of them were arrested by the sight of a man not much older than Elizabeth, with dazzling dark eyes and black hair slicked back against his head in even curled ridges. He bowed low over his beaver held close to his sternum, holding out an arm to keep his balance. In a buttery baritone, he rose and locked his eyes with the younger of the two ladies.
“I have waited many months to meet you, Miss Bennet. Such a remarkable young woman could be for no other than Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Winde said as a means of introduction.
“I don’t see how you could know anything about me, sir, or if I’m remarkable as you say,” Elizabeth countered, hoping her aunt was not getting the wrong idea from this stranger about the nature of her relationship with Mr. Darcy.
“On the contrary, my clerks have talked endlessly about me finally meeting the one woman in all of England who turned down Mr. Fitzwilliam’s proposal!”
“Lizzy! What is this man talking about? Mr. Scudamore—”
“Mr. Winde, ma’am.”
“Yes, you are mistaken in your claims, my niece has accepted Mr. Darcy’s proposal of marriage.”
“Of course she has! Otherwise, I would not be here,” he said, looking around at the furniture he had not yet been invited to sit upon.
Elizabeth, entirely intrigued by the sheer frenetic energy of the man before her, and keen to control the conversation more, stepped up to invite Mr. Winde to take a seat in a chair, while she sat upon the settee. Her aunt, dumbstruck by the odd response only took a seat next to her niece after the man began speaking again.
“You are curious as to why I am here,” he said, lifting a leather case to his lap and undoing the buckles to release the flap. “I was certain we would have taken care of this months ago, but here we are.” He pulled a stack of papers out of his case and frowned they appeared to be out of order. As he read the tops of each one and reassembled them, Mrs. Gardiner finally demanded satisfaction for her confusion.
“Mr. Winde, why would you have expected to handle this issue, whatever it is you are here for, months ago?” she asked.
He rewarded her query with a grin that showed the man not only had all of his teeth, but they were remarkably bright. “Mr. Fitzwilliam asked that we prepare the agreement and copy the journals back in April. Then, rather mysteriously, he ordered us to stop not a month later, and then rush order everything three weeks ago!”
Elizabeth and her aunt exchanged a glance, and Elizabeth cleared her throat.
“I think you might be mistaken, Mr. Winde, that the agreements should go to Darcy House where my father and uncle are with Mr. Darcy,” she explained, making a note to ask about the journals. She grew annoyed that Mr. Winde continuously called her fiance by his given name.
“No, ma’am, my instructions were clear. My father is meeting with your family’s male representatives and Mr. Fitzwilliam as we speak. I am your agent, at the bank. For the Darcy privilege.” He handed over the small stack of parchments with gilded embellishments that mixed Old English with more common spellings. After a few moments of scanning the lines, the transpositions of “s” and “f” and “v” and “w” became too tiresome to decipher.
“Excuse me, but why do you keep calling Mr. Darcy by his Christian name?” Mrs. Gardiner asked as she found the behavior odd.
Mr. Winde looked down and shook his head, taking a handkerchief from his jacket and wiping his brow. “I do beg your pardon. For so many years, it’s how my father addressed him when speaking, perhaps what began as a slight, and I’m afraid became the normal custom. Even I am called Mr. Lamont by Mr. Fitzwilliam, excuse me, Mr. Darcy, to distinguish me from my father.”
Elizabeth giggled, finding she liked this man for his easy way and sincere manners. Beginning to understand he was there for her needs, she elected to test his honesty further. “Would you prefer I call you Mr. Lamont?”
“Yes, please, Miss Bennet, if it pleases you.”
“What did you mean about the journals?” she asked, looking to her aunt to see if she held any inkling as to what all this meant.
“Ah, I’m afraid —” Mr. Lamont licked his lips as his mouth had run dry, and he motioned towards the parchment agreements, “I spoke slightly out of turn. Until you sign those agreements, I’m afraid I am bound by the terms of the Darcy privilege. You see, this is all so very out of order, I was never the one to share with you the privilege that comes with becoming Mrs. Darcy,” he explained.
“Who would? Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth asked, coughing as she nearly lost herself to laughter at such an odd wording for her beloved’s name. In her head, he was Mr. Darcy, and in her heart, her dear Fitzwilliam. But Mr. Fitzwilliam was very odd indeed.
Mr. Lamont again looked uncomfortable, and suddenly Mrs. Gardiner looked up as she had read a few lines of the agreements before her niece.
“Oh! I believe I know what has transpired,” Mrs. Gardiner said, and their visitor looked at her with relief in his face. “There are ancient families that will a protection for spouses and children, though not often would they be outside of the purview of the male line . . .” she mused, but then stopped herself from sounding like she was criticizing. “Mr. Lamont,” Mrs. Gardiner also tested out his name to match her niece’s appellation for the man, “is being placed in a difficult position. The former Mrs. Darcy would likely have been the one to discuss with you the circumstances of the inheritance, and if Mr. Darcy’s parents were alive, the matter would not have been discussed until long after you had been married many years.”
“Precisely that,” Mr. Lamont seized on the easiest explanation for his predicament.
“And journals?” Elizabeth asked, to no response but a wide grin from Mr. Lamont as though a cat held his tongue.
“Most likely private family history you should have in your possession, once you are married,” Mrs. Gardiner pronounced, gathering up the parchments as though they were superfluous.
Mr. Lamont stretched out to still her hands and his wide with fear, he carefully reorganized the long scrolls of carefully inked writing. “Please, careful with those. Miss Bennet must sign them, you see.”
“Must sign them?” Mrs. Gardiner asked, narrowing her eyes. But Mr. Lamont did not flinch.
As the two held an unregulated staring contest, Elizabeth gently placed her hands on both of theirs, shocking both her aunt and the bank’s agent. “The scrolls are very delicate, and I shall review them and sign them back to you at the bank. But first, I’d like to discuss this with my father, uncle, and Mr. Fitzwilliam,” she said, remembering to use the name that settled the poor nervous bank agent. She pushed away thoughts that any hope for a stroll in the park that afternoon was likely to be a fool’s wish. As soon as her father and uncle were back, they had more paperwork to translate and evaluate.
“You wish me to leave these documents, with you?” Mr. Lamont asked, suddenly conflicted.
“Heavens no, I don’t understand them!” Elizabeth said, laughing with a wink to her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner sighed and then agreed with her niece’s silent plan. She rose and opened the door just as a cart of refreshments were to arrive. Leaving the door open, Elizabeth summoned Mr. Lamont to the settee beside her.
“But you understand them, and you did say you are my agent at the bank?” she asked.
“At your service, ma’am, for all matters of your property,” Mr. Lamont recited back, almost as a solemn vow.
“Then why don’t you explain them to me, and then you can take them with you. I’ll discuss the particulars with my father and uncle, and hear what Mr. Fitzwilliam is to say.”
“As you wish. Let’s begin with a brief explanation of the Darcy privilege.”
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.
Very interesting
Well, this is certainly a turn of events for Elizabeth! This sounds like another chapter of very serious finances, which is why there was no “traditional” marriage settlement between Darcy and Elizabeth. The Darcy privileges sounds extensive and beyond the “hauteur and sarcasm” of Mr. Bennet. I hope it shuts him up once and for all. I am too disgusted with the excuse of a man and father!