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“Oh my dear Mrs. Annesley,” squealed Miss Georgiana Darcy as she entered Pemberley’s breakfast room. “I do believe my brother has gone to propose!”

“Propose!” came a shriek from behind the draperies, startling both young Miss Darcy and her companion. “But I was waiting here to compromise him!”

A footman swiftly came forward and moved the draperies aside, revealing Miss Bingley, all dolled up and wearing a rather risqué gown, her face an unhealthy shade of red, her hands balled into fists and trembling with rage. “Propose!” she repeated. “To that little harlot? It must not, it shall not be! I am to be mistress of Pemberley! I am to be Mrs. Darcy! I will stop them if it’s the last thing I do!”

Bumping Miss Darcy out of the way, she ran for the door, shrieking for a horse to be saddled, a carriage to be prepared and for her brothers and sister to join her immediately. Of those three, only Mr. Bingley appeared and without asking even the most basic of questions, allowed himself to be herded towards the stables.

Miss Darcy, Mrs. Annesley, Mrs. Reynolds and a wide assortment of other servants followed the  Bingleys out. Miss Bingley grabbed the reins of a horse that was just returned by the steward and shrieked at her brother: “Charles! Do Something!”

The horse danced away nervously as Miss Bingley hitched up her skirts to her waist, and inelegantly hoisted herself into the saddle. Not waiting for her brother, she spurred on her horse, which sprang away. In a cloud of dust all assembled watched her race away, petticoats billowing behind her. That she was headed away from Lambton, where Miss Eliza was supposedly staying, would occur to the lady in a short while.

Mr. Bingley went and saddled his own horse, certain he would have to follow his sister, whatever the cause for her current actions may be and whatever her destination. Miss Darcy had a stableboy hitch up the curricle for her own use, and drove away in the company of Mrs. Annesley and Mrs. Reynolds, both of whom were ever eager to thwart Miss Bingley, whatever the occasion. That this was to be in service of their much beloved master, only added to their joint determination.

Mr. Bingley still stood waiting outside the stables for his own horse as the ladies departed. On the driveway, they encountered another rider, his scarlet coat bright in the morning sunlight. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was only just arrived, turned around when his younger cousin urged him towards Lambton instead.

Mr. Bingley, now in possession of his own horse, mounted and rode off after his sister, just as a bleary eyed Mr. Hurst stepped out. “I say Charles, where are you going?” he called.

He did not hear most of Mr. Bingley’s reply, but some words, such as ‘Caroline’ and ‘ruin’, managed to penetrate his liquor-sated brain. He called for a carriage and his coachman and went to collect his wife. In another half hour, the Hursts were on their way to the quaint little town of Lambton, rightly assuming that town to be their sister’s ultimate destination.

When the dust settled behind this last carriage, another man in a scarlet coat appeared out of the woods behind the house. He was followed by a bedraggled looking girl with a fearsome scowl. “Hurry!” the man hissed.

“The house is empty! Now is the time to strike! We will continue to Lambton and then Gretna Green afterwards.”

The girl took a breath, but before she could speak, the man hissed: “Be quiet!”

The pair entered the house through a side door.

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Meanwhile, in Lambton, Mr. Darcy had left his horse at the hostler’s, picked up the basket containing his picknick, tapped his vest pocket containing his grandmother’s ring and then greeted Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner just as they arrived at the door of the inn. He asked their permission for a private audience with their beautiful niece and proposed a walk with a chaperone for the two of them. Once permission was granted, all three entered the inn. Mr. Darcy went up to invite Miss Elizabeth for a walk, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner followed him to their room to wait for the couple to return. Hannah, one of the maids working at the inn, was solicited as a chaperone. Hannah smiled brightly at the couple, happy to be given such an agreeable task. She hoped they would walk for a very, very long time.

Once outside, Mr. Darcy offered his arm to the love of his life, who accepted with the brightest smile she had ever directed his way. Together, they turned towards the church and the heathland behind it, the side of town that faced away from Pemberley. The morning sun in their faces, they walked contentedly together, followed by an equally content Hannah. As they approached the church, Darcy explained a little of the history of both the building and the town itself. They took their time admiring the ancient structure, unaware that others would soon begin to arrive in Lambton in pursuit of the two of them.

Once they had passed the church and its graveyard, Mr. Darcy led his ladylove into the fields of heather. Surrounded by purple bloom, she was more beautiful than ever to his eyes. She belonged here, in Derbyshire, and with him. He had never been more certain than he was now.  “Miss Elizabeth,” he spoke as he put his basket down and stepped before her, taking her hands in his. “I have brought you here for a dual purpose. Please be assured that I do have your uncle’s permission not only to escort you on a walk, but also to ask you a very important question.”

Miss Elizabeth blushed and looked down. His heart seemed to stop, until she looked up at him, smiled shyly and said: “Please continue sir, I would be pleased to hear your question.”

For a moment, he knew not what to say, so overcome was he by her smile and encouragement. As he looked out over the heathland, collecting his thoughts, he continued: “I stand before you a changed man, my dearest Elizabeth. There are so many things I have longed to say to you, so many things I wished to share. Your words have taught me a lesson I shall never forget. I thought I loved you before, but I have had to learn that love without respect is not love, is nothing at all. And I do respect you, my dearest Elizabeth, and I long to prove to you that I do love you. Have I any hope, my dearest? Will you accept this humbled man as your own, to have and to hold, as long as we both shall live? Will you marry me?”

Mr. Darcy had fallen to his knees, still holding Miss Elizabeth’s hands. He looked up and saw the unshed tears in her eyes, as she nodded and replied: “Yes, a thousand times yes! I will marry you, Fitzwilliam. Nothing would make me happier.”

As Mr. Darcy jumped up and took his betrothed in his arms, Hannah chose to study a nearby flower, facing away from the pair.  Mr. Darcy presented his lady with a beautiful amethyst ring, which would forever bring her fond memories of this wonderful day. Then the couple shared their first kiss, or rather first kisses. When they finally continued their walk, not paying any attention to direction or surroundings, wholly engrossed in one another, Hannah followed in their wake, well outside hearing distance. Hannah smiled almost as brightly as the couple walking ahead of her. The new mistress of Pemberley was a lovely lady. She would not mind working at Pemberley herself in the future.

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At the inn, the Gardiners had returned to their room, accepting three letters from the proprietor on their way in. One was addressed to Mr. Gardiner, two were addressed to his niece. Those two he set aside as he hurriedly opened his own letter. Mr. Gardiner was slightly alarmed, as his niece Jane would usually write to his wife instead. He hoped nothing dreadful had befallen his children, who were currently at Longbourn. He was wholly unprepared for the actual news his niece had to share and sat down with a thud, not quite believing his own eyes.

“My dear?” asked Mrs. Gardiner anxiously. “What has happened?”

“That stupid brat!” exploded Mr. Gardiner. “Would you believe it? Lydia has eloped! ELOPED! Foolish, unworthy, stupid chit! But that is not the worst of it!”

Mr. Gardiner recollected himself before any profanities spilled from his lips, no matter how much he believed the situation called for stronger language. He took a breath to explain the facts to his wife, but was interrupted by loud knocking on the door, accompanied by a shrieking voice calling: ”Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy! Don’t do it, I beg you!”

As the doorknob was rattled with increasing violence, suddenly the door lurched inwards and Miss Bingley fell into the room. The door slammed into the wall and ricocheted back into its lock. Mr. Gardiner quickly grabbed all letters and stuffed them in his pocket, then turned towards Miss Bingley. She was a sight to behold! Her gown, a bit too revealing as far as Mr. Gardiner was concerned, was crumpled and creased, dusty and smeared with mud, and only let down halfway, leaving a large portion of her petticoats uncovered. Those petticoats had fared no better than her fine gown and had accumulated six inches of mud and dust, at the very least. Her face was sprayed with mud and now covered in fibers from the carpet on which she had landed face-first when she entered the room. She struggled to stand up and put herself to rights, all the while looking around with wide eyes. “Where is Mr. Darcy?” she shrieked.

Mr. Gardiner shrugged, then finally answered: “I do not know.”

As he turned away from Miss Bingley, she demanded imperiously: “Where did you hide Miss Eliza?”

Mrs. Gardiner looked her up and down slowly, clearly showing her disdain, before answering the question. “She went for a walk, as she often does. I am sure she will return soon enough. You may wait for her if you wish.”

Miss Bingley sneered and turned away, muttering under her breath about ‘traipsing around the country like a common harlot’. This comment so enraged Mrs. Gardiner that she grabbed the infernal woman by the wrist, forcefully turned her around and slapped her in the face, hard. “You arrive here uninvited, dirty like a street urchin and you dare insult your betters?” she growled menacingly and Miss Bingley backed up against the door, suddenly afraid.

As someone loudly rapped on the door, Miss Bingley jumped forward, careening into Mrs. Gardiner. The impact sent both ladies to the floor. Again, the doorknob was rattled and again somebody almost fell into the room. “Darce?” called a man’s voice as standard issue army boots danced around the ladies on the floor, not quite managing to miss all of Miss Bingley’s petticoats. In addition to six inches of mud, and very likely more, she now sported a rather impressive footprint in a rather impressive size on her petticoats. The door slammed shut behind Colonel Fitzwilliam, for he was the latest arrival, as he grabbed hold of Mr. Gardiner’s shoulder to steady himself. “My apologies,” he panted. “The door suddenly gave way.”

Once the colonel stood steadily on his own two feet, Mr. Gardiner went to assist his dearest wife, who had managed to push away Miss Bingley from laying on top of her and was now sitting up. “Are you hurt, my dear?” inquired Mr. Gardiner solicitously.

“I am afraid I struck the back of my head,” grumbled Mrs. Gardiner. “And this chit here poked her elbow into my stomach. I feel I need to lie down for a bit, else I might cast up my accounts.”

“Certainly my dear,” said Mr. Gardiner as her led his wife to their shared bedroom. “Please rest while I speak to our guests.”

As they went inside their room and were hidden from both of their visitors, he quickly pushed all three letters into his wife’s hands. “Read this and hide the letters please until we are alone,” he whispered, then he quickly kissed his wife and closed the bedroom door behind him as he left.

He felt he was not as surprised as he ought to be, when he returned to find not only the unknown officer and Miss Bingley, but also Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley, as well as Mrs. Reynolds in his room. The latter three sat together on the settee.

“Ladies, officer,” he nodded at the latest arrivals. “Welcome. Might I inquire the reason for your visit this morning? We did not make plans for today, did we?”

As none of the ladies replied, the officer stepped forward. “My apologies to you, my good sir. My name is Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

This was accompanied by a huff from Miss Bingley, who then found five pairs of eyes glaring at her.

“As I was saying,” continued the colonel, “I came here this morning on the insistence of my young cousin here” as he indicated Miss Darcy.

“She told me my other cousin required help.”

The colonel pointedly looked around, before he addressed Mr. Gardiner once more. “I see my cousin is not here, so unless you can tell me his whereabouts, I should probably be on my way.”

“Well colonel,” replied Mr. Gardiner, “my name is Gardiner. Your cousin must be Mr. Darcy?”

At the colonel’s nod he continued: “Well, I do not know where your cousin is, colonel. But I would be very surprised indeed if he needed help. He seemed in excellent health and good spirits this morning when I encountered him on the street.”

Miss Darcy squealed, Miss Bingley wailed, Mrs. Annesley smiled and Mrs. Reynolds looked smug.

“You saw him?” asked a puzzled Colonel Fitzwilliam. “This morning? And he was fine? I guess we shall wait for him downstairs then. No need for us all to …”

“No!” yelled Miss Darcy as she jumped up from the settee. “We should all stay here!”

“I am leaving,” shrieked Miss Bingley. “I have not a moment to lose!”

She inelegantly hurried towards the door, but Miss Darcy was quicker. Both ladies reached for the poor, beleaguered doorknob, which was once again rattled into submission as the ladies struggled for control of it. Unsurprisingly, the doorknob, not able to take the abuse any longer, flew out of its socket as Miss Bingley gave it her best pull. Both ladies flew backwards and downwards, Miss Bingley still in possession of the now useless doorknob.

“Now see what you have done,” she shrieked, quite enraged. “We are now forever stuck in this den of iniquity, with people of trade no less!”

She gesticulated wildly with her hand, still holding on to that infernal doorknob. She narrowly missed Miss Darcy, who had landed on top and was now sitting on Miss Bingley, slightly dazed.

The colonel handed up his cousin with a grin. “Well Georgie, I am glad to see the many hours of sparring with your favourite cousin have not been in vain. Who knew you could be so tenacious?”

Miss Bingley once again righted herself. Large portions of her hair had fallen out of her pins and much of it, covered in grime, was now sticking out at odd angles. She looked at that blasted doorknob, then furiously threw it into the fireplace, where it lit up and was consumed instantly.

“That,” drawled Colonel Fitzwilliam, “was our only chance of getting out of this room. Now we really are stuck in here.”

“What?” said Miss Bingley, disbelievingly. “Well, damn it all!” she shrieked.

“Such language,” tutted Mrs. Annesley whilst shaking her head.

Meanwhile, Miss Bingley had started furiously pounding on the door. After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, the door was pushed into the room from outside. Miss Bingley, still leaning on it and pounding her fists, did not immediately give way. As a result, the person stood outside applied more pressure.

“Caroline!” yelled a voice and Miss Bingley stepped away as soon as she recognized it.

“Charles!” she shrieked as the door flew open and her brother stumbled into the room.

“For Heaven’s sake!” yelled the colonel. “Keep the door open!”

Unfortunately, Mr. Bingley was a bit disoriented and unbalanced. Therefore, as before, the door banged into the wall, then ricocheted and closed before any of the inmates could stop it from doing so.

“What took you so long?” demanded Miss Bingley of her brother. “I had need of you here! These people are preventing me to leave! I must get to Mr. Darcy! He must offer for me now!”

Mr. Bingley, wholly confused, tried to calm his sister. His words however, were woefully inadequate for that purpose. “Caroline,” he said. “I have told you time and again Darcy will not offer for you. Leave the man alone. You are in no fit state to be seen by any man, least of all Darcy. Besides, It is likely he left the house purposely to avoid you; seeking him out shrieking like a hellcat will not endear you to him.”

While Miss Darcy giggled and Mrs. Reynolds guffawed, the colonel stepped in between the Bingley siblings. “Let’s pour some more oil into the fire, Bungley-boy,” he said as he caught Miss Bingley’s fist in his hand, before it could reach her brother’s face. “Even I know when not to rile up one’s sibling any further. A lesson one cannot learn too early in life.”

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At Pemberley, the two visitors were not quite as satisfied as they had expected. The young lady found the decoration lacking.  Besides, she was hungry and the servants here should be able to set a good breakfast for the two of them. She hadn’t had anything to eat since supper last night! She pulled her companion’s sleeve, but he shrugged her off. He confidently strode towards a door and opened it quickly. He ushered the young lady in and closed the door behind them. She looked around with disfavour. It was a man’s study, full of books and ledgers, paintings with hunting scenes and dark wood. It was not as cramped or stuffy as her father’s bookroom back home, but it was just as unappealing to her. She picked up a small bronze statue of a horse and put it in her reticule. A silver pen knife from one of the desk’s drawers soon went the same way.

“Not much has changed in here,” the officer said with satisfaction. “Dull Darcy is a creature of habit, just like his old man was. They were always so easy to fleece.”

With these words he pushed aside a painting, revealing a hidden strongbox. He carefully but quickly picked the lock, all the while chuckling. “Oh Darcy, Darcy, always so trusting, so reliable. You utter, utter fool.”

As the man opened the safe, he fell silent.

“Empty,” he whispered disbelievingly, after staring for quite a while.

A cold rage swept through him as he stood up and looked around. “Wait a minute,” he mumbled as he swiped a finger over the desk, collecting dust on it.

“He does not use his father’s study,” the officer realized.

“Well, this is boring anyway. Why don’t we go eat? Nobody cares about a stupid study,” huffed the girl.

Then she fluttered her eyelashes at her companion. “Awww Georgie-porgie,” she crooned. The officer looked at her in disgust.

“We came here to obtain funds and so we shall. Pick up any trinket you see that might be valuable,” the officer instructed his companion. “We do not have much time and we cannot be seen by anybody. Hide anything you pilfer on your body.”

“But I am HUNGRYHY,” whined the girl, a little too loudly just as the officer opened the door to the corridor again. He turned around and viciously backhanded her across the face.

“Shut your trap!” he hissed, his face a menacing mask unlike anything the girl had ever seen. She opted to remain silent.

As the two made their way to the breakfast room, carefully staying out of sight, they came across precious little to steal away. Inside the breakfast room though, there was plenty of silverware to satisfy their immediate pecuniary needs. Also, to the girls great pleasure, there was food. While the officer stuffed his pockets with as much silver as he could carry, the girl picked up some buns, some crispy bacon and some fruit. She poured a cup of tepid tea and drank it immediately, then stuffed her mouth with two raspberry tarts.

Satisfied, the two of them left the breakfast room and wound their way towards the exit, staying in the shadows and using lesser travelled corridors. The officer had had a lifetime of practicing his unseen passage in this house, and practice does make perfect. They arrived back at the door they used to gain entry, and left the house swiftly to return to the woods, where they had a horse and trap waiting. Both were unaware of a pair of dark eyes following their movements until they disappeared between the trees. A burly man then ran to the stables and took the horse that was waiting for him, saddled and all. His batman, who had saddled two horses, nodded and indicated he would follow the two in the forest.

Approaching the woods at a different angle, the first man, clad in Pemberley livery, was quick to spot a trap with two passengers riding towards Lambton. The man rode a very spirited horse, one Pemberley’s master had intended for the races. This allowed him to veer away from the woods and cut across the fields to Lambton, arriving well ahead of the trap. Leaving his horse with the hostler, he spotted Mr. Darcy’s horse, the colonel’s horse, another Pemberley horse, Miss Darcy’s curricle and her horses and finally Mr. Bingley’s horse. He had overtaken the Hursts’ carriage on his way. He could not fathom why everybody had chosen to go to Lambton today, but decided it were better if at least Mr. Darcy’s horse, as well as that of the colonel, would be stabled somewhere well out of sight. He would not wish to spook one George Wickham before he could be apprehended. As such, he paid for the services for all Pemberley horses and took them with him to the magistrate’s house. The man had a fine stable and Wickham would certainly never dare show his face there. The man chuckled grimly.

His errand completed, the man returned with the magistrate. They went to the black smith’s shop, which offered a good view of the hostler’s and the inn, while allowing both men to stay well hidden from any passersby.

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In the Gardiners’ room at the inn, things had heated up considerably, on account of the large number of people currently present. The Bingley siblings had depleted much of their energy arguing, Colonel Fitzwilliam had moved towards the main window to look at the street below. Mr. Gardiner had spread out his newspaper on the table and sat down to read it, while Mrs. Reynolds busied herself heating a kettle of water above the fire. A spot of tea would restore everyone’s spirits quite nicely, she had thought. Miss Darcy had strategically retreated into Miss Elizabeth’s bedroom, accompanied by Mrs. Annesley. Miss Darcy had taken the window seat, while Mrs. Annesley sat in a chair. That lady had picked up some of Mrs. Gardiner’s knitting and was now happily occupied in that endeavour, ignoring the hubbub surrounding her. Miss Darcy had picked up Miss Elizabeth’s book and was currently engrossed in that, forgetting to look out to the street. She had chosen the window seat because she wanted to see her brother return, hopefully with Miss Elizabeth.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was the first to spot a man he knew outside, a man who was currently riding down the street. By the looks of his horse, he had been riding hard. As the colonel knew this man well, and had been the one to secure him a place in Darcy’s household, he had an inkling of what might be expected soon. He watched the man dismount and enter the stables across the street. After some time, he returned with a number of horses in tow. The colonel appreciated the man’s quick thinking, and drew a number of conclusions from what he saw. He prayed fervently that his cousin Darcy would be well occupied for the nonce, as he would not like his cousin to step into what promised to be very interesting happenings to be occurring very soon! He rubbed his hands in glee, while stepping back so he was no longer visible from the street.

It was not a quarter hour later, when the colonel saw the same man return, accompanied by one he knew to be the local magistrate. As he observed both men disappearing behind the black smith’s furnace, he once again applauded their cunning. By all appearances, a trap was being set, and the colonel was eager to see its prey get caught. He lamented the broken door which held him captive in this room, but realized his eye witness account may yet be useful, so he stayed at his post.

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Below on the street, the officer driving the trap was shocked to recognize the young miss sitting in one of the inn’s windows. Immediately he adjusted his plans, to now include an exchange of one young lady for the other on his way north. He informed his travelling companion that they were to visit a dear, dear friend at the inn as he deftly steered his conveyance towards the hostler’s, before dismounting at the far side, rendering him less visible from the inn. He was however, very well visible from the black smith’s shop.

The girl accompanying the officer hopped off the trap by herself, when no assistance was forthcoming. She was sulking about the lack of gentlemanly behaviour her prospective groom had been displaying this morning. While she would still be the first of all her sisters to marry, she felt her groom had lost just a little bit of his shine. Then she huffed and flounced towards the inn.

From yet another window, the girl was observed by one, with such cold fury she would be afraid, if she had any sense of it. The girl knew nothing about her relative who was watching her with so much disfavour, so she remained unbothered for the nonce.

The soldier who had followed the trap from Pemberley, assessed the situation and tied his horse to a post near the inn, remaining behind it to stay out of view. The officer on the street pulled his hat down, in an attempt to remain anonymous. The officer in the blacksmith’s shop, in the guise of a Pemberley footman, grabbed for his absent sword, flexing his fingers. The officer upstairs cracked his knuckles, turned towards his companions and directed all to step back into the two bedrooms. Only to Mr. Gardiner and Mrs. Reynolds did he hint that there might be trouble coming their way. At that precise moment, Mrs. Gardiner stepped out of the bedroom, signaling her husband. The look on her face, more so than the colonel’s warning, impressed upon Mr. Gardiner the message that trouble was indeed brewing. When his wife informed him exactly which one of their nieces was now inside that very same building, Mr. Gardiner felt like he might wish to inflict some ‘trouble’ himself very soon.

It seemed inevitable that everybody who found their way to Lambton this fine morning, would also find their way into this room, and such proved the case for one George Wickham, accompanied by one Lydia Bennet. As soon as the knock on the door was heard, several people jumped into position. The colonel took up station right behind the door, so he could step out behind Wickham and prevent him from leaving. Mr. Gardiner chose to stand in front of and slightly to the side of the door, ready to pull his youngest niece away from her companion. His wife stood in the doorway of their shared bedroom, contemplating all the best ways to put a wayward young girl over her knees and spank some sense into her. Mrs. Reynolds had chosen to stay near the fire, a hot poker in her hand. She would brandish it at anyone who dared approach the door to the room where Miss Darcy was, she was determined.

The knocking finally roused Miss Bingley out of her stupor and she suddenly screamed “Open that door! Let me out of here!”

“Who are you?” asked a masculine voice outside the room. “I am Mis Caroline Bingley. Sir, you need to let me out. We are locked in this room. I am a dear, dear friend of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. I assure you, he will reward you handsomely for your aid.”

They all heard a snort from outside the room, and a feminine voice saying: “Miss Bingley! Heavens, but she is a cow. She was at Netherfield last year. Tart dressed in feathers.”

“What!” shrieked Miss Bingley, all semblance of refinement forgotten. “Open this G_ddamned door and I’ll show you who the tart is!”

She once again rushed forward to pound on the door, not realizing it was already being pushed, until it suddenly sprang open. Before Miss Bingley could retreat, an officer fell over her and sent her, once again, tumbling to the ground. The officer managed to cushion his fall by putting his head onto the softest part of Miss Bingley’s body, which happened to be her chest. Colonel Fitzwilliam acted with lightning-like speed, clubbing George Wickham over the head with the back-end of his sword, rendering the lesser officer unconscious. Wickham therefore remained where he was, face buried between Miss Bingley’s breasts, as Lydia Bennet, who had been hit in the face by a ricocheting door, slammed that unfortunate article open once again and rushed in like an avenging angel – of sorts – shrieking “Get away from my George, you hussy!”

The sheer force she used on the door, made that much abused item slam back with even greater force, locking all within once more.

Inside mayhem reigned, again. Miss Lydia Bennet shrieked invectives at Miss Bingley, while trying to pull ‘her George’ of off that lady. Miss Bingley, unfortunately once more on the floor, now had an officer sleeping in between her proudest assets, while his nether half was firmly nestled between her legs. She did not have enough strength to push this man off of her, and neither, apparently, did Lydia Bennet. Lydia Bennet! In here, shrieking like a fishwife! Miss Bingley quite failed to appreciate the resemblance between Lydia Bennet and herself on that or any other day, but she was quick enough to see opportunity in this unfortunate situation. The chit was planning to marry this sad excuse for a gentleman? And so far north of Longbourn, that could mean one thing and one thing only. The chit had eloped. Now this was something she could use against Eliza Bennet! She would pronounce the Bennet’s shame far and wide and Mr. Darcy would have no choice but to cast her off, she of the fine eyes and countrified allurements.

Mrs. Gardiner had come forward and slapped her youngest niece so hard the chit stumbled backwards. Mr. Gardiner grabbed her arm and escorted her into the Gardiner’s bed chamber. “You will stay here and be quiet, or so help me God I will gag you!” he thundered.

Colonel Fitzwilliam lifted the unconscious Lieutenant Wickham and threw him on the settee. “Bingley, help up your sister!” he barked.

Mr. Bingley, who had observed everything with ever wider eyes, had not moved at all. Now he hesitantly came forward, offering his sister a hand. Miss Bingley hoisted herself up and gleefully announced: “I have conquered at last! That little chit has ruined all the Bennet sisters and I will make it known far and wide! Mr. Darcy can do naught but marry me now! I must find him!”

The colonel stepped in front of the door, as Bingley grabbed his sister’s arm. “You are going nowhere just yet,” the colonel replied.

“Let go of me Charles, I have important business to conduct!” shrieked Miss Bingley in a manner eerily similar to Lydia Bennet’s dulcet tones.

The siblings argued once more in ever more strident tones, completely missing the important detail of somebody politely knocking on their room’s door. The colonel moved away, mindful of what was likely to follow. The door was opened from the outside just as Miss Bingley wrested herself loose from her brother’s grip and rushed to the door. We may not know what happens when an irresistible force meets an unmovable object, but we now know what happens when Miss Bingley meets an unmovable object. She bounced back into the room with the same force she had used to try and run out. She fell, rather inelegantly, onto the floor, hurting her bum in the process. The unmovable object, otherwise known as Mr. Hurst, then moved. Into the room he came, followed by his wife who, very politely, shut the door behind her. Once again, Miss Bingley starting shrieking unintelligibly. Her mind, already severely tried today, snapped at this latest set-back.

Mrs. Hurst stared at the lady on the floor in utter shock. She was frothing at the mouth and wailing like a banshee. Her hair was loose, dusty and matted and sticking out in all directions. Her dress was dirty with grime, the skin of her face and hands was stained and muddy, her eyes were wide and blood shot, her petticoats appeared dirty up to well above her knee, why she believed there were even footprints on the petticoat! This was obviously a creature of the street, but surely someone so far beyond proper self care should be institutionalized? She voiced this opinion to her husband and her brother, who both nodded with resignation. Mr. Hurst then gently escorted his wife to another room, saying “Your brother will arrange it, my dear. I pray you will not be too disturbed. Why don’t you sit with Miss Darcy for a little while?”

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Out on the heathland, Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet had discovered that kissing one’s betrothed was a very pleasurable activity indeed. They had also discovered that losing one’s chaperone on such open fields was impossible. Hannah had discovered a whole range of admirable flowers and little creatures that lived in between the heather. The three of them slowly circled around Lambton, towards the trees that marked the edge of the forest that ran behind Pemberley. They were unaware of a trap exiting the woods behind them, just as they crossed the tree line. Had they known who passed behind them, or why, they would’ve felt honour-bound to act. Had the two in the trap known who they had passed, they would have made it their business to ruin their day. As it was, none knew the others were there. All were therefore left to entertain happy thoughts of their future felicity, not worrying about any others so wholly unimportant to that felicity. The newly betrothed couple acquainted themselves with every sturdy-looking tree and its suitability to hide behind it to steal a few kisses.

In the shade, on the edge of a clearing by a babbling brook, Mr. Darcy spread his blanket and put down the food and drink for their picknick. Alle three enjoyed their meal and their peaceful environment, and all three imagined a happy future in this vicinity. None of them felt an urgent need to return. Surely their relatives and guests would be well for a day, and besides, after the announcement of their betrothal everybody would wish to spend time with them. This sacred time of the couple having the other just to themselves, and the presence of a well meaning and rather relaxed chaperone, made all three of them feel blessed and lulled them into a drowsy sense of peace.

Mr. Darcy sat with has back to a tree, Miss Elizabeth lay down with her head on his lap and he lazily removed her hairpins, one at a time. He then proceeded to massage her scalp and comb his fingers through her hair, resulting in both of them feeling utterly relaxed.

Hannah sat by the brook, running her hand through the water, observing lily pads and frogs. When, much later, Miss Bennet rose again, Hannah assisted her in putting her hair up in an intricate fashion, that suited Miss Elizabeth to a tee. “Hannah,” said Mr. Darcy, “would you like to be Mrs. Darcy’s ladies’ maid? With your permission of course, my dear,” he added to Miss Elizabeth.

“Oh Hannah,” said Miss Elizabeth. “Would you, please?”

Hannah blushed and thanked them both, joyfully accepting her new position.

“Excellent,” said Mr. Darcy. “If you please, you can start tomorrow at Pemberley so you will get to know the house and staff.”

“We should probably return,” he then said. “I wish to speak to your uncle so our engagement is properly sanctioned. I will then go to Longbourn once you continue your travels. I would not wish to be parted from you any longer than necessary.”

“I would not wish for that either,” acknowledged Miss Elizabeth. “I would also prefer to choose a wedding date that is not too far away. It is nearing the end of July now. What if we wed on August 31^st? That leaves us plenty of time to have the banns read, and I will be one-and-twenty four days before our wedding as well.”

“August 31^st it is,” replied Mr. Darcy.

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In the inn, Mrs. Reynolds had resumed her duty of preparing tea, having laid down the hot iron poker after accidentally dropping it on Mr. Wickhams handsome face. The angry red welt marring his visage made Mrs. Reynolds feel somewhat vindicated for all the evil this man had wrought upon those in her care.

 Mrs. Annesley was knitting, Miss Darcy giggled as she read the little notes that Miss Elizabeth had made in the margins of her book, Mrs. Hurst played with her bracelets, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were exchanging very stern words with their very unrepentant niece, who sported a rather red and swollen nose in addition to a fine handprint on her face, George Wickham lay unconscious on the settee, aided every now and then by a blow to the head which was administered by the good colonel, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst held Miss Bingley in place and Colonel Fitzwilliam had opened the window and attracted the attention of someone outside.

“Good man, bring up enough rope if you please,” the colonel said. “We have him subdued, but I would not wish for him to wake up before he is properly tied up or locked up. He is too slimy by half.”

Mrs. Reynolds huffed and poured hot water into a teapot. George Wickham moved just as she passed him on her way to put the kettle back and as she jerked her hands back, she unfortunately spilled some boiling hot water right in the man’s groin. It gave both Mrs. Reynolds and Colonel Fitzwilliam a savage sort of satisfaction that George Wickham’s family jewels may be damaged, hopefully beyond repair.

Once again there was someone knocking on the door, and once again Miss Bingley tried to stir. Her brothers were prepared for this and managed to keep her down. Mrs. Reynolds brought the young lady her tea and helped her drink it. Only after the cup was finished, did she whisper to Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley she had added laudanum to it, courtesy of Mrs. Gardiner. Both brothers sighed with relief as the young lady slumped and then collapsed. Both were happy to leave her crumpled on the floor for the moment.

When the door was opened once again from the outside, Colonel Fitzwilliam urged the men to put a wedge in to prevent it from closing. The soldier who was last to arrive, went to procure said wedge.

“Brigadier Younge,” the colonel saluted.

“At ease colonel,” replied the brigadier after saluting.

Brigadier and Colonel worked together to tie up the Lieutenant securely. Then, after some cold water had been procured and poured over Lieutenant Wickham, the latter, now awake, heard himself being addressed: “Lieutenant Wickham, in the name of his Majesty King George, I apprehend you. You are accused of deserting during wartime, an offense punishable by death.”

“NOOOOOO!” wailed an unexpected voice. “We are getting married!”

“Is this the harlot that accompanied Wickham?” asked the Brigadier, throwing the girl – he would not call her a young lady – a quelling look. “The one accused of stealing over fifty pounds of jewelry?”

“She likely is,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam carefully, whilst looking at Mr. Gardiner. That man shrugged and replied: “Yes sir, this here is Lydia Bennet. I understand she was accused of taking family heirlooms of the Forsters upon her departure with this scoundrel.”

The magistrate, Mr. Bagaley, now came forward. “I am sorry, Emmet,” he said, addressing Mr. Gardiner. “I will have to take her into custody. Forster is unlikely to let this go.”

Mr. Gardiner nodded, resigned. “I understand, Uncle Simon,” he replied.

Mrs. Miriam Gardiner, nee Bagaley, now came forward. Her uncle and godfather, Mr. Simon Bagaley, hugged her tightly. “I am so sorry my dear,” he whispered. Then, Brigadier Younge and his batman bound Miss Lydia Bennet’s hands together. Brigadier Younge also stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth. Her wailing was giving him a headache.

“Let us sit down,” the Brigadier said. “I am loath to leave the door open.”

“Baxter,” he addressed his batman, “please stand guard outside the door. Do not open it until I tell you to.”

“Sir yes sir,” replied his batman as he closed the door.

“I suggest we remove to one of the bedrooms,” suggested Mr. Hurst, eager to stay out of any unsavoury business. Mr. Bingley, ever eager to follow orders, did as his brother directed and helped carry his sister into one of the bedrooms.

Mrs. Annesley decided to close the door of the other bedroom, staying in the room she occupied with Miss Darcy and Mrs. Hurst. She judged both ladies did not need to be disturbed by what would, undoubtedly, be a recounting of indelicate facts.

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“I am afraid our sister is bound for the York Lunatic Asylum” said Mr. Hurst.

Mr. Bingley started, then turned to observe his sister. She looked like his childhood drawings of evil witches, he realized. Never had Miss Bingley been as far removed from the genteel image she wished to project.

Mr. Bingley stood thinking for a while, before he responded. “While I agree that Caroline needs help,” he finally ventured, “I am loathe to submit her to the inhumane conditions at Bootham[i]. She is still my sister. Would not the Retreat[ii] be a better option?”

Mr. Hurst shrugged. “It is your money,” he responded. “I care not where she goes, as long as she is locked away. If you wish to pay for better treatment, I will not stop you. Likely, my wife will agree with you.”

Mr. Bingley nodded, still looking at the disturbing image his sister presented. “Did you bring your carriage?” he finally asked Mr. Hurst.

“I did,” replied Mr. Hurst. “Do you intend to leave for York from here?”

Both brothers agreed it would be best to leave as soon as it could be arranged. Returning Miss Bingley to Pemberley, even for one night, seemed a terrible idea. Remaining at this inn for a moment longer than needed, seemed equally unwise. The important decision made, both brothers sat down to wait until they were free to leave.

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“Allow me to make introductions,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, once everybody in the main room, other than himself, had been seated. “I am Colonel Fitzwilliam, of His Majesty’s 7^th Hussars. This,” he indicated Brigadier Younge, “is my comrade in arms Brigadier Sir Frederick Younge, currently of His Majesty’s 7^th Hussars.”

“That bounder,” he continued while pointing at Lieutenant Wickham, “is George Wickham, Derbyshire native, terrible gambler, rake, despoiler of maidens and now deserter in a time of war.”

Lieutenant Wickham sneered, earning himself a knock to the head, which the Colonel was happy to administer.

“This,” he continued as he turned to indicate the lady, “is Mrs. Reynolds, Pemberley’s housekeeper, almost a mother to both my cousins.” He affectionately pressed the lady’s hand.

“This is Mr. Bagaley, serving as magistrate for this area,” he finally bowed to Mr. Bagaley.

“Thank you Colonel,” replied Mr. Bagaley. “Allow me, if you please.”

Indicating the Gardiners, he smiled and said: “This is my niece and goddaughter, Mrs. Miriam Gardiner, and her husband, Mr. Emmet Gardiner.”

All nodded their heads, and Mr. Gardiner made the final introduction. “I am sorry to say, this young woman is my niece Miss Lydia Bennet, formerly of Longbourn, Herfordshire.”

Miss Lydia growled against her gag in protest, but nobody paid her any mind.

“It appears my wife and I know only a very little of this whole sorry affair,” Mr. Gardiner continued. “We were apprised by letter this morning, that my foolish niece had eloped with an officer, after having stolen from her hosts, a Colonel Forster and his wife. My niece Jane, who wrote to ourselves and to her younger sister Elizabeth this morning, indicated that Colonel Forster wished to have our niece punished to the full extent of the law.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted. “I am well acquainted with Forster. Foolish, proud man. Terrible officer. Many of his men died in foolish maneuvers, while the man himself got injured while he was tending to his horse, of all things, rendering both of them unfit for battle. He never was one to admit failure, he will not like to have been fooled by a mere girl.”

After directing a look of disgust to Miss Bennet, he continued with some surprise and considerable interest: “Do you mean to say Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here as well? This is her sister?”

The Gardiners looked at each other in some surprise. Mr. Gardiner decided to douse this man’s possible interest in his niece immediately. “Lizzy joined us on our trip,” he replied. “She is currently out walking with Mr. Darcy, who requested a private interview earlier today.”

While Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed to deflate a bit, Mrs. Reynolds sat up with a smile. “My dearest boy, you have done well for yourself,” she mumbled.

Brigadier Younge decided to intervene at this point. “All that is correct,” he agreed. "However, Wickham’s trail of destruction started long before this. Your niece is only the latest fool to fall in with his schemes. She is also, I am sorry to say, likely to pay very dearly for her foolishness. As did many women before her.”

All nodded, aware of the realities of what was likely to happen.

“Well,” continued Brigadier Younge, “Wickham here has left a veritable trail of debts, bastard children, ruined maidens and diseased women all over England. His story started right here, on Pemberley grounds, and I am sure Mrs. Reynolds could tell you much of his early years. My own interest in this man, dates back to the time he seduced my wife, while I was on the continent.”

“She bloody well asked for it,” sneered Wickham. “It’s not like you could ever satisfy a little vixen like that.”

“Be that as it may,” replied Brigadier Younge, “she paid the ultimate price for her treachery. She contracted the French disease,” here he looked pointedly at Miss Lydia Bennet, “and she died in a poorhouse, giving birth to another one of your bastard sons. He too was likely diseased and without his mother, I am told he succumbed very quickly.”

All sat in stunned silence, Lydia Bennet’s eyes almost as large as saucers.

“Having charmed my wife and wasted most of her own inheritance, the two of them seem to have hatched a scheme to have my wife, presenting herself as a widow, employed as a companion to Miss Darcy,” continued Brigadier Younge.

Here all assembled gasped, while Mrs. Reynolds looked positively murderous.

“Whatever their plans, they appeared to have failed, as my wife was dismissed without reference, and Wickham here soon after joined the Militia. This seems to have left him in a prime position to create more havoc, and I am sorry to say, your niece seems to have wasted her life on him as the latest in a long and sorry line of similarly stupid women.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam picked up the tale. “As I heard the Brigadier’s tale, and once I realized it was Wickham he was trying to locate, I brought him to Pemberley. Like a bad penny, Wickham always turns up here again and again, trying to gain some advantage off my cousin Darcy. We agreed to have him remain here for a few months, while I keep in touch with a few fellow officers in Brighton, who had eyes on him. It was not unexpected that he would end up here after deserting. I would bet, if we were to search his pockets now, we will find contraband he took at Pemberley.”

Mrs. Reynolds got immediately and demanded Wickham’s pockets be emptied. Colonel Fitzwilliam was happy to oblige and found a small fortune in silverware.

Mrs. Reynolds than proceeded to Lydia Bennet and searched her person. Apart from a squished bun she recognized as being taken from Pemberley, she was unsurprised but rather disappointed to find old Mr. Darcy’s pen knife and his treasured little horse statue with the girl. Both Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner felt the shock like a hammer blow. Their niece truly was beyond redemption, if she entered Pemberley to steal from it just hours earlier. Both felt the shame of it acutely.

“Wickham will be put in front of a firing squad, as soon as we get him court martialed,” the Brigadier continued relentlessly. “Your niece will likely be tried for theft, and if convicted, may be hung. Else she may be transported. It doesn’t matter in either case, as she will likely start showing symptoms of the French disease soon enough. Her life is forfeit, no matter what.”

Mr. Gardiner squeezed his wife’s hand. There was nothing they could do. Lydia had made her bed and now must lie in it. His main worry was the preservation of the reputations of his remaining family.

“It would be best,” Mr. Gardiner finally said, mainly to his wife, “if we were to spread word the foolish chit did in fact marry the bounder over the anvil. She will never return home because she will likely be sentenced and her mother should never hear of that. Nor should her mother ever find out if she has the French disease.”

“We might be able to wed them properly,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “There is a church in Kympton after all, where the parson would not be unwilling to assist. My cousin might be able to arrange it, if he is willing.”

“Then the girl will be tried at the next assizes, and Wickham will be shot,” he continued, “and both may be forgotten in time.”

None of those present had any better ideas, and truthfully, none felt like troubling themselves too much on behalf of either of the unlucky couple. While Lydia’s crime may have started no worse than juvenile foolishness, she did steal a considerable amount from her former hosts and again from Pemberley. Wickham’s crimes were too many to tally.

As all agreed how to proceed, the Brigadier’s batman was applied to open the door, and the military men and Mr. Bagaley escorted their prisoners out. Miss Lydia Bennet would be locked in the local goal until she could be tried. Lieutenant Wickham would be stripped off his commission, face a court martial and then likely face a firing squad. Whether or not there was to be a wedding in their future, was not yet decided.

Mr. Bagaley had arranged for two carts to take away the prisoners, separately.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner followed them out, heavy heartedly.

Once those in the drawing room had departed, the Bingley family assembled. Miss Bingley was only barely awake, her sister had only just realized the identity of this ‘creature of the streets’ and had to be consoled by her husband. Mr. Bingley asked for the Hurst carriage to be prepared and the family departed the inn as quickly as possible.

Behind the Bingleys, Miss Darcy and her companion stepped out. They were still debating the benefits of waiting for Mr. Darcy’s return versus returning to Pemberley, when the decision was taken out of their hands.

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Mr. Darcy felt possibly the proudest he had ever felt, escorting this wonderful lady through town, clear for all to see. He knew pride was a failing indeed, yet he could not help himself. She had chosen him, HIM, in spite of all he had done wrong. He vowed he would never again allow her to be hurt, if there was any way he could prevent it.

When he saw his cousin dragging a bound Wickham out of the inn, just as they turned into the street, he had his first inkling that he may be called to prevent his ladylove from hurt much sooner than anticipated. Both Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth heard Hannah hurrying her steps behind them. They also her heard whisper: “Finally, somebody’s caught the lecher.”

Mr. Darcy stiffened and Miss Elizabeth squeezed his arm. As they observed Wickham being hauled onto a cart, Miss Elizabeth’s attention was drawn to the door. She gasped as she saw, inconceivably, her own sister being escorted out after Mr. Wickham. What on earth had brought Lydia here? And in the company of Mr. Wickham? And both seemingly arrested?

She gasped and tried to wrench herself loose of Mr. Darcy as the reality of it all suddenly hit her. There was no respectable explanation and she must preserve the Darcy family from scandal.

Mr. Darcy’s thoughts had followed the same pattern, and he had drawn the same conclusion as regards Wickham and Miss Lydia. He came to a very different resolution as to Miss Elizabeth’s future though, and therefore grabbed her arm before she could slip away. “We will weather this” he indicated the perplexing scene outside the inn, “and we will weather it together. Do not leave me. We are strongest together.”

“But the scandal!” protested Miss Elizabeth.

“It matters not,” replied Mr. Darcy. “We will do what we can if there is a way to preserve your sister’s reputation. You will be protected by the Darcy name soon enough, and that in and of itself will silence much gossip. We Darcy’s are known for our respectability. Nobody would dream I would marry a lady if there were even a whiff of scandal. Likely, we will be able to direct at least part of the gossip, as soon as we know what happened here.”

They had stopped walking, neither interested in being any closer to Lydia or Wickham. As they watched both carts departing, they moved forward again. Next they were surprised by the Bingleys exiting the inn. “What on earth happened to Miss Bingley?” gasped Miss Elizabeth.

As she spoke, that lady’s head suddenly swiveled towards their little party and upon spying Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley started shrieking again, and struggled to get free. Mr. Darcy stepped in front of his lady, watching as Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley held on to their raving sister. That sister looked, well, unlike anything Mr. Darcy had ever seen before. She looked like a wild madwoman. All were thankful when the Hurst carriage appeared. The family entered their carriage quickly and drove away without looking back.

As Miss Elizabeth grabbed Mr. Darcy’s hand, they once more started towards the inn. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were still outside, watching the couple approach. Then Miss Darcy and her companion strode out of the inn, followed by Mrs. Reynolds. “What on earth..?” mumbled Mr. Darcy, hastening his steps.

As all of those remaining met with the new arrivals in front of the inn, Mrs. Annesley curtsied to her employer, observed his rapidly growing scowl and made her decision. Therefore she said: “Well met, Mr. Darcy. We are just returning to Pemberley and we hope to see you there soon. Mayhap you will bring some guests? We will arrange for dinner for all.”

With those words, the three ladies hastened towards the hostler’s and their curricle, leaving the Gardiners to acquaint Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth with everything that had occurred in their absence. Many times during the recounting of the story, did Mr. Darcy or Miss Elizabeth feel thankful they had known nothing about any of the happenings, and thankful they had already promised to weather the circumstances together. Both felt, even circumstances as outrageous as the ones presented to them, would not be allowed to mar the beginning of their very happy lives together.