My apologies for the wait, besides work intrusions (how dare it!), I wanted to get this right. I hope I have succeeded. Thank you again for all the lovely follows, favorites, and reviews. You cannot know how much they mean to me.

Now, on to London!

Chapter 26—The Worst Happens in the North and Arrival at Gracechurch Street.

November 14, 1811

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam slammed the packet of orders onto the table while emitting a string of oaths in multiple languages. The corporal standing in front of him did not visibly flinch but was hoping being the messenger bearing obviously bad news would not reflect badly on him. The colonel in front of him was well-known and powerful both inside and outside the Regulars. He continued to stare at a point above the colonel's head, maintaining his stance at attention.

Richard recovered himself and dismissed the grateful corporal to refresh himself at his expense and strode over to the table on the other side of the private parlor. The coaching inn was little more than a day's travel outside of Liverpool and ultimately, the ship where he could have finally deposited Wickham. He dearly wanted to personally ensure that Wickham was on the ship when it left England's shores for Van Dieman's Land, even though Wickham believed he was traveling to Australia. He would give orders and hope to heaven that his men would be able to fulfill them. He had to leave the party for London to comply with the orders the War Office had sent him.

"Lieutenant," Richard spoke formally. The lieutenant rose from the table and stood at attention, "I have received orders from the War Office and will be leaving at first light for London. I hereby turn responsibility for the prisoner to you." Here he was interrupted by Wickham.

"I say, Fitzwilliam, that's harsh, isn't it? I'm not a prisoner, I have committed no crime!" Wickham protested.

"Yes, you are, Wickham," Richard growled. "You are traveling to Australia as an alternative to serving many years as a prisoner in Marshalsea. If you are not on that ship and out of the country you will be taken up as an escapee and tried in court. If you try to return, there will be a warrant for your arrest for the thousands of pounds of your debts that Darcy holds. Yes, you are a prisoner." Richard turned to the lieutenant and the other three soldiers at the table, "If Mr. Wickham attempts to escape custody, you are required to bring him back under your control using whatever force is needed, even if he must be shot and killed to foil an escape from the King's justice. Am I clear?" Richard looked each man in the eye as all stood up while the soldiers on either side of Wickham each placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him seated in place.

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

"I will tell the coachmen to be prepared to leave at first light for Liverpool. If the weather holds you should make it by dark. Stop only to change the horses. Lieutenant," here Richard pulled the packet containing the note to the ship's captain and the 100 pounds Darcy was providing Wickham for a fresh start. He explained what it was and noted where the lieutenant stowed it on his person. So did Wickham.

November 15, 1811

Richard Fitzwilliam sat upon his horse and watched as the carriage carrying his men and Wickham left the inn, turning towards Liverpool. Once it was out of sight, he turned his horse in the opposite direction and started the nearly four-day journey to the War Office. He was very uneasy with the change in plans but he had to trust his men to finish the mission. Unfortunately, this was a mission he was not happy delegating to someone else, no matter how well he thought of their competence.

It began to rain when the horses were changed at midday, not heavily, but annoyingly for the two coachmen sitting outside. They had covered themselves with oiled canvas cloaks and hoods and simply hunkered down as always. Weather did not often keep them from doing their jobs. The five men inside the coach were packed tightly but it aided in keeping them warm and served to give the prisoner little room to move, always a good thing. The rain did not stop as they travelled but the coach was starting to bog down. It had rained much harder ahead of them earlier in the day and which had affected the roads.

When it happened, it seemed to Wickham to happen slowly. The coach began to slide and the horses began to squeal while the coachmen called out to them. What saved Wickham were the men packed so tightly on either side of him. As the coach slid and began to topple over, the two soldiers on the other seat were thrown toward him and the coach rolled over, not once, but twice down the steep roadside toward a stream. When it stopped, Wickham was stunned for but a moment. The soldier on one side was moving feebly under water as were the two across from him, either unconscious or soon dead from injuries or drowning, he cared not. His own head was supported out of the water but he was held fast by the body of the soldier next to him whose neck was at an unnatural angle. Pushing him off, Wickham assessed the situation and blessed his luck to see the lieutenant was either unconscious or dead but in no position to object when he quickly slid his hands in his coat to retrieve Darcy's packet and the lieutenant's own purse. Ignoring the sounds of the horses outside, he searched the other three soldiers and retrieved their purses as well. He was going to need every shilling he could get. He stood on the bodies, pushing them further under the water and opening the door, climbed out onto the side of the carriage to see what else was happening. Feeble sounds emanated from the interior of the coach but he ignored them.

The coachmen were not with the horses. One horse was down, dead, and the other was nervously separated from the coach but not the dead horse. Good, he need only calm the horse and he would have transportation into Liverpool. As he looked down at the water he noticed it seemed to be rising quickly, so he scrambled out of the coach and pushed his way to the muddy bank. As he moved away from the coach and the water toward the road, he heard a loud creaking as the coach was pushed by the water further down the creek. Unconcerned about its passengers, he turned away and saw that the road was farther away than he had thought. He came upon two satchels that must have belonged to the coachmen and then the body of one of them. It looked like the coach had rolled over the man. Wickham rifled his clothing for any purse he might have had and smiled with his success. A short walk further on and he found the body of the second coachman and relieved him of his purse, as well. Satisfied everyone was accounted for, Wickham returned to the horses. He separated the living horse from its dead companion and soothed it as he led it away from the area with the smell of blood in the air.

Wickham found a stick to remove most of the mud from his boots and after calming the horse, grabbed its mane and mounted. He headed towards Liverpool. He needed time to consider his options. Damn Darcy. This was not the way things were supposed to go.

The coach and its unlucky occupants were not found for another week, having washed up onto pastureland when the stream flooded it. The farmer was making his rounds to survey damage from the storms when he discovered it and the bodies inside. He dutifully rode into Liverpool and notified the Port Commander who in turn, notified the regiment billeted in town. It was another two days before the bodies were recovered and identified as well as they could be. The lieutenant had orders on his person that were eventually dried and read well-enough to divulge his name. The Colonel of the regiment sent the information to London and a search provided the names of the other men assigned with him.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam remained in ignorance of this as no one thought to notify him until he saw Colonel Foster at his wedding in late December. The men were under his command and he had notified their families. To say he was shocked was probably an understatement. The part which worried him the most was that George Wickham was unaccounted for in the dispatches from Liverpool. He didn't like it, not one little bit. There was no certainty when the accident had occurred. Had Wickham been delivered to the ship before or after the accident? He could be anywhere and where ever he was, Wickham was plotting; he knew it. He would have to tell Darcy. The blackguard could even be in London by now. This should be a happy time for his cousin, courting the woman he loved. Damn Wickham.

Wickham used the time he allowed himself in Liverpool to acquire a new wardrobe suitable for the gentleman he knew himself to be. His regimentals were cleaned and sold. Some other poor sod who was paid to do the duty of a property owner as a substitute would welcome the clothing. He was meant for a better life. Casually, he wondered if the gentleman who had paid for him to serve in his place would be required to serve now that Wickham was gone or if he would simply find another to take Wickham's place. It did not matter. His time as a military man had served its purpose. Now his path was to London and his work was to concoct a suitable revenge on Darcy that was years in the making. Being the Darcy heir would not help him now. To London he would go, he had friends there. Damn Darcy.

November 19, 1811

In her home in Wayfair, Lady Annemarie, daughter of the 5th Earl of Tinton, sat at her writing desk in her room and fumed. The invitation to the engagement ball on December 23 for the Viscount Rasdale lay on the desk before her as her fingers drummed angrily on it. No, it was not Rasdale's engagement that was the problem. It was the information her mother had related after having tea with Countess Westdale where Lady Matlock was in attendance. Her information about Fitzwilliam Darcy would be highly accurate and just as devastating to her long-held plans. He was courting. Not only was he courting but it was the no-name country chit sister of Rasdale's betrothed. The uncatchable Fitzwilliam Darcy was willingly, and according to his aunt, joyfully, courting a woman who had well and truly caught his attention.

November 22, 1811

The afternoon of November 22nd found the three Bennet daughters at their Aunt Gardiner's front door. When answered, many exclamations and hugs were exchanged as maids and trunks were unloaded. All three bent down to receive the hugs and kisses of their three cousins who demanded their attention before greeting their aunt with the same.

"Oh my, girls, this is such a wonderful time for all three of you! Two weddings, a ball, and a courtship are so exciting. How is your poor mother handling all of this?" Madeleine Gardiner asked the three smiling young women in front of her.

Mary answered first. "Well, Mamma doesn't get to plan my wedding as it is to be at Jack's family estate but she does get to plan an engagement ball instead, which pleases her very much. The Countess was kind enough to send a list of the things I will need for my trousseau to Madame Durand. I have been told it is extensive. I am not certain I agree that I will need as much as Mamma believes. She did speak to the Countess about it but still..." Mary stopped uneasily.

"The list Mamma gave me is rather daunting, too, Mary. But Charles and I will not be in the first circles so I will be able to limit my purchases until I see what my needs will actually be. Lizzy, however, will be courting Mr. Darcy among those same people and her needs will be almost as extensive as Mary's and mine." Jane added.

"I have brought the dresses Madame created for us earlier this year, Jane. I am only willing to add two or 3 three more. The important ones are for Mary and Jane. They are the brides. I am not even in love, yet."

"Truly, Lizzy?" Aunt Gardiner asked.

"Yes. Mr. Darcy and I have become friends but I do not know if it is anything more, or can be. I will only marry for love, respect, and mutual happiness. Mr. Darcy is of the first circles and a very important man. I may not fit into his life at all." Lizzy answered firmly.

Jan looked at her quizzically. "Mr. Darcy does not seem to have any doubts, Lizzy."

"We don't know that. That is what a courtship is for, Jane. It is the time to find out if you will suit. He only knows me from a country town. In some respects, Miss Bingley was right. Despite our access to a fine London modiste, we have spent no time in London society. Lady Matlock may find my manners wanting. Her friends and relatives may not approve, all of which will affect the progress of a courtship. Part of who Mr. Darcy is comes from the society he inhabits. When I am amongst his peers, he may find me to be…" Lizzy paused, "unacceptable."

"Do you believe you are unacceptable, Lizzy?" Aunt Gardiner asked, taking her niece's hand and leading her to the settee in the front parlour.

"No, yes, I don't know." Lizzy looked at her sisters and her aunt. "What I am afraid of is not a parlour or a ballroom full of Caroline Bingleys. I am afraid that when I am no longer in my world he will see I should not inhabit his." She closed her eyes. "I am afraid I will come to love him only to discover that it cannot be and my heart will be broken."

"Well, Lizzy, if anyone should be nervous it should be me." Mary announced. "Just look at me! I am not quite eight and ten! I will be a viscountess soon and I can promise you, I have absolutely no idea what that means. The only way I have survived it so far is to think about Jack and believe the rest will come later. I cannot let the first circles or the nobility consume me. If Jack is happy, then that is all that matters." The seventeen, not quite eighteen-year-old sister knelt in front of her older sister. "That is what you should do, Lizzy. Just concentrate on Mr. Darcy. As long as he is happy, then you should be."

"You are right, Mary. My courage always rises with any attempt to intimidate me. I will concentrate on deciding whether or not Mr. Darcy and I can be happy together. The rest doesn't matter." Lizzy smiled. "Now it is still some hours before dinner in the nursery, we should take the children for a walk." She turned around to see the governess seated quietly in the corner, keeping a watchful eye on her charges.

"Mrs. Younge, will you accompany my nieces? Or would you like to take a cup of tea and enjoy the quiet for a little while?" aunt Gardiner asked her.

Franklin, Stephen, and Mary Margaret were ages 8, 5 and 3, respectively. They adored their older cousins and deserted their governess immediately for competition for their attention. Franklin greeted everyone before seeking out Lizzy to explain how his tutoring was going in preparation for school. Stephen just pushed himself into Jane's side after giving all of his cousins a kiss on the cheek. He would not fight for Lizzy's and Mary's attention now. He was content to let Jane pet and cosset him until his other cousins moved to distribute their hugs and kisses equally among his all three of them.

Sarah Younge was frantically thinking. Of all of the disasters that could befall her, this was not even remotely foreseen. The nieces of her new employers had connections to the Darcys! She had to stay out of sight when HE called or she would surely lose this position. One of them was actually courting Mr. Darcy. Knowing she needed to answer, she arose and replied, "Thank you, madam. I would love to take a few minutes alone, if you do not mind. You are very kind."

As the three girls bustled into the hall and children and adults were bundled for the cold, Sarah Younge retreated to the nursery floor and rang for a tray. The children would need warming drinks along with their supper. She wanted brandy. God, this could not be worse. Georgiana Darcy's brother could call at any time. She would have to be very careful to stay out of sight. If the children were called she could send them downstairs with the nursery maid. She needed a plan. She wondered if any of the nieces knew of Miss Darcy's near ruin from the conspiracy of herself and George. She could only hope not. Sooner or later her name would be mentioned.

She needed a plan.

George Wickham road past Westbourne House and turned into the alley which led to the mews for the townhouses on this street. Noting that not only was the Darcy coach in the yard, but riding horses were being cooled down along with the coach horses. He smiled in satisfaction. Darcy was home. Now to start taking from him everything he loves. It was going to be a supreme pleasure. No one would be safe. Not servants, not friends, not family, and not anyone else Darcy valued. He was going to chip away at his life one person at a time.

He noted a maid exiting the kitchen door with a bowl of scraps. Whoa! He forgot Darcy's dogs! He would start there. Darcy was soft and loved his dogs. He turned his horse and made for the Spitalfields District where he could buy just about anything he needed and today he needed to poison some dogs. Yes. His dogs, he would kill all of Darcy's dogs. What a great beginning. Perfect.

No one paid any attention to the well-dressed gentleman on his fine horse as he threw his head back and laughed heartily.