Follies and Vices Read online

  Follies and Vices

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Emily Russell

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 1

  Wickham sauntered away from the group of ladies, aware of the admiring looks they cast after him. How sympathetic they were to his plight. Nothing tugged at a woman’s heartstrings more than a tragic hero who had been wronged but was still so very handsome and charming even in the face of his despair.

  Ahead of him, he spotted the familiar figures of the Bennet sisters. Wickham scanned them, eager for a glimpse of the only one worthy of his notice. He felt an unfamiliar pang when he realised Elizabeth Bennet was not among them. It would have been an excellent addition to his day to converse with the lively, playful lady and enjoy her bright eyes and charming smile. Even greater would have been the enjoyment of tearing down Fitzwilliam Darcy and watching Elizabeth hang on his every word and add some insults of her own. Their shared dislike of Mr Darcy was one of the things that brought them together.

  But if she were not there, he would not be stopped by the party. He had no room in his day to listen to Lydia Bennet’s empty-headed prattle and hints that he should ask her to dance at the Netherfield Ball. Especially when Wickham intended to claim Elizabeth’s hand for as many dances as he could before moving on to the wealthier ladies. He looked forward to seeing the admiration in Elizabeth’s eyes and her easy laugh. He would derive even greater enjoyment from seeing her scowl in outrage on his behalf when he told her even more tales about how Darcy had mistreated him. Whether they were quite true was irrelevant. Darcy had refused the living his father had planned for him. If he did it after Wickham had already rejected it and been financially compensated, that made no matter. Besides, after seeing Darcy cried up so much as the best of men and brothers, it would do him good to be finally taken down a peg or two.

  Eager to avoid being spotted by the younger Bennet girls, Wickham turned away toward the Red Lion Inn and started to make his way there before he paused.

  No, considering how much he owed after his previous games there and how keen the players are for their money, perhaps that was not the wisest destination. Wickham was in too good a mood to be troubled with silly questions such as when he would pay them the money he owed. Seeing one of the fellows emerge blinking into the sunshine, Wickham darted away from the main street into one of the little lanes circling the outskirts of the town.

  The Bull Inn. That might be the very place to go. Wickham had not yet gambled there, and it was unlikely anyone would give him any trouble. He had the appearance of a gentleman thanks to being raised with Darcy so he would easily convince the innkeeper to allow him to drink on credit. He deserved it after a long day in the chilly November weather.

  Wickham had not gone many steps before he heard footsteps behind him. Feeling anxious it was the man from the Red Lion, he paused and half-turned his head, not wanting to give him the impression he ran away from him.

  The footsteps stopped. Perhaps they had left? Wickham began walking again, his ears straining to hear. As he feared, the footsteps started again. The lane was dark and narrow, and there was no one else here. Anyone might do what they wanted with him, and he would be helpless. Damn him for not bringing his pistol. He should have known he might have stretched the goodwill of certain people.

  Keeping his head down, Wickham picked up speed, walking so fast he was almost ready to break into a run. He swallowed and tried to keep himself from breathing too heavily as the footsteps came faster. Sweat trickled down Wickham’s forehead, making him itch, but he told himself to resist the urge to run. If he did, he would lose all plausible deniability that he was not trying to escape his pursuer.

  A metallic scraping came to his ear.

  Never mind.

  Wickham broke into a run, his thick uniform weighing him down and making him breathe harsher as he tried not to lose his footing over the uneven cobbles. The sound of heavy boots thumping on the stones behind him made him weak with fright and almost lose the ability to breathe. The cold air tore at his throat. Would this lane ever end? Where were all the people? Sweat stung his eyes as the footsteps grew closer and closer, gaining on him…

  There it was! The turn that would take him out on the main street where there were people; lovely, kind people, who would scare away his pursuer. Wickham would bless the first person he saw…

  A man stepped around the corner and into the lane, directly in front of him. Wickham ran so fast, he did not have time to register his presence until he slammed right into him. The man gripped his shoulders to prevent them both from falling over.

  “Thank God,” Wickham panted. “There is someone…”

  His words trailed away as he looked up into the grinning face. Merry eyes twinkled at him in a way that did not fool him. The footsteps behind him came to a halt, trapping him completely.

  Wickham swallowed. “Good morning, Jerry. What a surprise to see you in Hertfordshire.”

  Jerry beamed at him and flung a friendly arm about his shoulder.

  “How curious you were running away from Jameson. Or at least that is what it looked like. But you have no reason to run away from old friends, eh?”

  Wickham glanced over his shoulder. Jameson stood with his arm folded. His chest still heaved from the pursuit, but he was far less winded than Wickham. He glowered at him as Wickham gave him a rather sickly smile.

  “Of course not. I did not know it was you. I thought it was common footpads or thieves, or…” Hearing his words out loud, he thought it best to stop speaking.

  Jerry patted him on the arm in a companionable gesture.

  “Just two old friends who have been searching everywhere for their lost friend.” He ruffled Wickham’s hair as though he were a boy in short pants. “Come, let us sit down together. We have much to discuss, do we not?”

  Of course they did. Wickham had been eager to escape London where Jerry and his crew could find him around any corner. He had grown tired of looking over his shoulder every time he left his lodgings. He’d dreaded the sound of heavy footsteps behind him and a firm hand on his shoulder. When he met Denny, an old acquaintance, who suggested he join the militia in Hertfordshire, Wickham had jumped at the chance to escape. And he thought he had done it. He should have known better. Jerry knew the counties around London like the back of his hand.

  Jerry led Wickham to the very coaching inn where Wickham had been walking. The Red Lion at the other end of town was the one most likely to be used by the Bennets, the Bingleys, and Darcy. The Bull attracted less savoury clientele,
and, for that, Wickham was glad. It would not do for Darcy to see him in his present company and start asking questions.

  “So, Wickham,” said Jerry lightly as the ales he had smilingly suggested Wickham buy them were placed before them, “Why did you leave London so quickly? I was rather hurt you did not say goodbye. We would like to have seen you before you left, would we not, Jameson?”

  “Oh, definitely,” said Jameson. He was picking at his nails with a knife. If Wickham had been braver, he might have laughed at such obvious theatrics, but as it was, his throat was far too dry.

  Wickham wiped at his mouth and dried his damp hands on his lap. He gave a little laugh though it was higher than he would have liked.

  “The opportunity came up rather suddenly. I had no time to write and inform anyone. I would have written to you once I settled in. I have not been here all that long.”

  Jerry sucked his teeth and shook his head. “Long enough to run up debts the length and breadth of the county, old boy. Long enough to have more than one father complaining about his daughter being meddled with. You appear to have gotten stuck in right away when you arrived. And yet you did not have time to write to old friends?” Jerry shifted in his seat; an imperceptible movement but one that somehow brought him much closer to Wickham.

  Wickham took another sip of beer to give himself time to think. His mind raced as he considered what to say.

  “I will get you what I owe you,” he said. “I have a steady income now. I will pay you off. You know I will.”

  Jerry exchanged a look with Jameson who snorted and leaned back in his seat, tipping on the back legs. Wickham hoped they would snap.

  “See, that’s the trouble,” said Jerry. “I do not know that. You say you’ll pay me back, and then you leave town without a word. You come here, and without writing to me, you run up other debts. I know what a soldier in the militia earns, and it would not keep a cat alive. So I do not see how you will pay me unless you mean over a lifetime and that will not do at all. No, I think you can do much better than that.”

  Wickham’s stomach dropped. He glanced between the two men, his neckcloth suddenly feeling too tight.

  “But I cannot,” he insisted.

  “I think you can.” Jerry took a long draft and wiped his mouth. “See, I happen to know the town is all in a flurry about a ball at that fancy house on the hills. Netherfield, is it? They say the whole town is going. Including you, I take it?”

  Wickham nodded slowly, his mind racing as he tried to see where this was leading.

  Jerry nodded in satisfaction. “Of course they would not throw a ball and forget to invite the most charming newcomer in town. The ladies are all in a flutter. I even overheard one say she was determined to dance with you as often as she could.”

  “You should not eavesdrop on ladies conversation,” said Wickham, all pious outrage.

  “I did not need to eavesdrop. She spoke so loud everyone in London could hear her. Right outside the milliner’s.”

  That could only be Lydia Bennet.

  Wickham shrugged.

  “And so?”

  “And so, I am afraid you will have to disappoint the ladies.”

  Wickham frowned. “You do not wish me to dance? What purpose would that serve?”

  Jerry’s smile broadened. “I do not wish you to attend at all. See, a ball filled with newcomers coming and going will keep the whole town occupied. The servants will rush around trying to keep everyone happy and will not notice if a face or two is there when they should not be especially if one of the faces is a familiar one from around town. You will let us in, and you will help us take what we can. If we succeed, you may consider your debt to us paid.”

  Wickham’s heart pounded. He looked down at his mug as he considered Jerry’s idea.

  “Why do I need to not be at the ball?” he asked. “Surely it would be better if I were there and could then slip away?”

  Jerry burst out laughing and clapped Wickham on the back so hard he almost chipped a tooth against the mug.

  “If it were any other man but you, I would agree. But not the most charming man in town. No, the ladies are wild for a dance with you. They will not let you out of their sights if you are there. If you disappear from the ballroom, they will come in search of you. We cannot have that.”

  Wickham could not argue with that. Lydia Bennet would certainly hunt him down if he disappeared. She was the most determined, irritating little nuisance he had ever encountered.

  But even Elizabeth Bennet would wonder. She was as sharp as a tack in some ways. If he disappeared for an hour or two, she would notice and ask him about it, and what excuse could he possibly give her? No, if he did not attend, he had the perfect excuse; one that would tug even more firmly at Elizabeth’s compassion. He would tell her he chose not to attend for fear that Darcy would cause a scene that would be unpleasant to everyone. She would be even more set against him than she already was and feel even more sympathy for Wickham.

  “I think we are taking a huge risk,” he said. “The house will be filled with people. What if they catch us?”

  Jerry sighed and looked at Jameson as if Wickham was an idiot.

  “It is precisely because it will be filled with people that makes it so perfect. The servants will have their hands full, making sure everything goes perfectly. If you are caught there, you can easily say you decided to join them after all. But most of the attention will be drawn away from the rest of the house, leaving us free to move about. The ball is a perfect distraction.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Jerry smiled. “We both know you will not. You have the perfect chance to repay your debt in one move and have us go our separate ways afterwards. I think I am generous to offer you such an opportunity. Because if you do not, well, I will grow impatient and I would rather that did not happen.”

  Wickham leaned back in his chair as his mind raced. How dangerous could it be? Jerry was right. Everyone would be focused on the ball. The servants would all be in demand in that part of the house. If they found him, he could say he decided to join after all but wandered away from the noise because of a headache. Bingley was an amiable, not very bright sort who would believe him at once. Darcy would not, but he would not be able to prove Wickham was up to anything if he was careful enough. He had been invited, after all, so he had a right to be there. And within a few days, he could be free of Jerry forever. Who knows; he might even find an extra few pieces for himself that would allow him to pay off his other debts or sell to create a handsome little annuity for himself? The more he thought about it, the harder it was to keep the smile from spreading.

  “Very well.” He reached forward and offered his hand to Jerry to shake. “What is the plan?”

  Chapter 2

  Netherfield Park had never looked more magical than it did that night. Elizabeth Bennet gazed around the gleaming ballroom in wonder, admiring the glow from hundreds of candles that picked up the gold and silver in the ladies gowns, making them gleam. The delicious scents of lavender and orange blossom filled the air. Men stood tall and proud in their coats and trousers. How different William Lucas looked when he took the time to dress like a gentleman. And what a difference smart regimentals made to a man’s appearance. Elizabeth craned her neck to see the crowd of scarlet near the window. Her eyes scanned from face to face, eager to see Mr Wickham. She had high hopes for him this evening. She had dressed with more than usual care, selecting her best gown and making sure her hair was curled until it fell about her face in soft ringlets; a far cry from its usual tangle. Even her mother had commented on it — with the caveat of assuring her that no matter how pretty she looked, she would never look as well as her older sister, Jane.

  There was no sign of Wickham. Elizabeth felt a fleeting pang of disappointment before reminding herself he might be anywhere. The room was large and filled with people, and more arrived all the time. Wickham might arrive at any moment. She might turn to see him smiling at her, that handsome face l
ighting up to see her as it always did.

  With that reassurance, she could even endure the sight of Mr Darcy as she saw him moving in her direction. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked over the room with that arrogant, bored expression that always irritated her. No doubt he was offended at having to tolerate so many country nobodies in the place where he stayed. The handsome face glanced over the crowd as if he measured everyone and decided no one good enough to be in his presence. Elizabeth resolved she would spare him no thought that night and had just turned away when to her dismay, she realised he had stopped beside her. She wondered if she could pretend she had not seen him, but there was no chance of that. She suppressed a sigh and stared directly before her. She would not take it upon herself to start a conversation. Let him work to come up with a topic.

  “I hope you are well, Miss Bennet,” he said after they stood beside one another in silence for some moments. Elizabeth replied that she was. Mr Darcy cast about as though searching for something else to say.

  “And Miss Jane Bennet is well? She has suffered no relapse of her illness?”

  “Not at all, sir. I am sure you can see for yourself she is in excellent health.”

  The two of them looked across the room to where Elizabeth’s older sister, Jane, was deep in conversation with their host, Mr Darcy’s friend, Mr Bingley. Their heads were close together. Mr Bingley said something and Jane laughed and looked away shyly. Elizabeth smiled. If matters developed as well as they appeared, Jane would almost certainly be mistress of Netherfield Park by spring. It was just a shame Elizabeth’s potential brother-in-law, for all he was so charming, should have such unfortunate friends.