~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Any thoughts George Wickham had that he would be able to escape his prison were dashed when he was placed in the tiny room that would be his. There was a thin bed, more of a cot than a bed, and not much more. The space was windowless. Worst of all, there was a chain bolted to the wall with a leg manacle at its end. It seems that the diabolical woman had thought of everything. He would not have minded working for her if she were to pay him, but he was essentially in indentured servitude to her.
George did understand that if he were arrested then his life would be over and that he would swing for causing the two deaths. He believed that he had killed the hated mongrel until he was hauled in front of the mistress of the house a few days later.
“You could not even kill the foundling; now you have made my plans come to naught!” she screeched as she slapped him hard.
“B-but I saw, I hit her,” George pleaded.
“No ya did na’,” one of the footmen informed him,“ya‘it the‘orse, not‘er, an’she survived!”
“This one,” Mrs Fitzpatrick pointed at one of her men, she did not bother to remember their names,“could not get close to Pemberley; it is like an army camp, and it is all over the area that you murdered your father and tried to do the same to the foundling.”
“He was not my father,” George said sullenly as some blood dribbled down his chin from the newly split lip.
“That is correct, that honour belonged to my dear late husband. Once I turned him out of my bed, he found solace other places, and your mother was one of his conquests,” she told him maliciously.“You look like him you know,” she added.
“Sir Louis was my father. That means that I should inherit Rosings!” George felt excitement building that made him forget the pain in his lip. The lady cackled at his statement, and he could not understand what she found so amusing.
“I must thank you boy; it has been some time since I have had reason to laugh thusly,” all mirth gone from her voice.“Rosings was supposed to be mine, but I did not know when I dispatched that disappointment of a husband of mine that he had other copies of his irrevocable will that leaves all to my daughter, and if she does not marry and produce a son, then it will all go to Richard Fitzwilliam! It should have all been MINE!
“Besides the will, you are a by-blow; you have no rights. Since when has there ever been a bastard that was able to inherit, unless the father legally recognised and adopted him? Did my husband ever do that for you, stupid boy?” George shook his head in defeat.
“My mother told me that I was George Darcy’s natural son,” the sullen young man reported. This caused another cackle from the woman.
“That is the second time your ridiculous utterances have made me laugh. I was leaning toward having one of them,” she indicated the two men standing close by,“slit your throat and dispose of you for spoiling my plans and not achieving anything, as the foundling lives. Mayhap I will keep you as I planned, to amuse myself from time to time.
“You stupid boy! How could you live all of your life close to the Darcys and not see that honour is everything to those prigs? He would no sooner take up with a servant, and that is all your mother was at Snowhaven regardless of the fantasy she wove for you, than pigs would fly.” She turned to her men,“Take this stupid boy back to his quarters; I am done with him, for now!”
George was half dragged back to the room that had become his prison cell and the manacle was locked.“Mama, nothing you told me was true,” he thought bitterly,“I was born of a noble father, but how am to use that knowledge? The old crone says I cannot get what is rightfully mine, so I will have to find a way, one way or the other!” After he exercised his special talent to hear only that which pleased him, George ate the insipid gruel and then curled up on the bed, pulling the inadequate covering over his body and fell into a fitful sleep.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Caroline Bingley was livid. On their departure from her uncle’s house, she had been ordered to the servants’carriage. How dare they! For the last three days she had not tried to scream. She was saving her voice so that she could vent her spleen at her family that had used her so ill. Her fourteenth birthday had come and gone a day previously. There had been no cake, no presents, no acknowledgement of any kind. The offences against her which she was cataloguing was growing ever longer. She sat in the corner and feigned sleep; she would not lower herself to speak to a servant.
In the family carriage no one repined Caroline’s absence. It was the most pleasant journey that any of the Bingleys could remember for a number of years. Martha thought back to their departure, how the family on both sides had been there to see them off, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
Her reconciliation with her parents and siblings had been long and tearful but, in the end, they had welcomed her back into the family fold with open arms. At the departure, she had tried to apologise again and had been told to hold her breath to cool her porridge as there was no need to prostrate herself again and that all had been forgiven.
Martha mourned the years that were lost to her folly and vowed that she would be the best mother and wife that was possible. She knew that she still had a big hill to climb with their neighbours around Meryton, but she was determined that she would not shy away from humbling herself, admitting her faults, and begging their forgiveness.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Family members took turns sitting with Lizzy. Her mother would sit with her for hours, having to be cajoled by her husband to leave the sickroom to take care of her own needs, sleep, and take nourishment. So far, by the Grace of God, no fever had been detected. Elaine would feed her daughter broth drop by drop from the invalid feeder, accomplishing the twin goals of hydration and nourishment, ignoring her own needs.
Reggie had eventually convinced her that she needed to take care of herself.“How will you be able to care for our daughter if you make yourself ill?” he asked pointedly.
“Oh Reggie, I am so afraid that something bad will happen to our girl if I am not here,” she could hear that her excuse was a weak one.“I will take care of myself.” Elaine sat up straighter.“Lizzy will need all of us at full strength to assist her in her recovery.” Reggie saw the determination in his wife’s eyes and was thankful that she seemed to turn a corner and pull herself out of the depths of despair.
It was later that evening that William and a maid were sitting with Lizzy when she started to thrash about with her good arm and leg. Thankfully, Mr Finch had secured the injured appendages in a way that made it almost impossible for her to move. William heard her mumble:“Help me‘aney, help me!”
Chapter3
William was not sure what to do. He leaned forward, placed his hand on Lizzy’s forehead and felt the heat; she had a fever. Luckily, Mr Finch was in residence that evening so he sent the maid to summon the surgeon and the Earl and Countess. Finch was the closest to the room, so he was tending to his patient within less than a minute. Not long after, a very worried Uncle Reggie and Aunt Elaine almost ran through the door.
“She has a fever,” Finch confirmed,“but it is not so remarkably high as to make me concerned enough to take drastic action like dousing her with very cold water. Under normal circumstances I would recommend submerging her in an ice bath but moving her would cause too much damage to her bones, which I suspect have not knitted properly yet.”
“What should we do in the meanwhile?” Elaine asked as she took her daughter’s good hand.
