Win, Lose, or Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  As the last servant left the room, the butler appeared. “Mr. Gordon is here, sir. Shall I see him in?”

  Father shook his head, clearly not wishing for company. However, Mother’s reaction was quite the opposite.

  “Take him to the parlor for a few minutes while we freshen up. We will await him in the drawing room,” she said, smoothing her hair and straightening her dress.

  Chapter 29

  Mother ushered them into the drawing room as efficiently as a hen does her chicks.

  "Jane, smooth your hair. Lydia, wipe the jam from your mouth. Kitty, pinch your cheeks. You're dreadfully pale. Lizzy, do try to smile. You look much too grave, and we do not want Mr. Gordon to think that his call is unwelcome…" The instructions continued as Mother centered her focus on her life's goal— that of marrying her daughters. It was good to see her act decisively, though Elizabeth knew that their chances of making a good match once it became known that their fortune was gone were slender at best.

  Arranging them to their advantage, Mother circled about the room to make sure that each daughter looked her best. Even Father was positioned by the fireplace, where the embers of the fire sparked and smoldered.

  They sat waiting until the door opened, and Mr. Gordon entered the room.

  He bowed, his usual smile suggesting that he was unaware of their troubles.

  "You will never guess what my coachman had to pass to get here. It is all over the papers, but there is an angry mob destroying what was once Mr. Andrich’s bank."

  Father's eyebrows shot up. "Did the people manage to get past the gates?" Then he looked awkwardly around the room. "I rode out this morning on urgent business and chanced upon it myself," he added.

  Mr. Gordon thought nothing of it. He answered, "Some of the stones are charred, as if they had attempted to set the building ablaze. All of the windows are shattered. I do not understand why they bothered to enter. It is not as if Mr. Andrich left a pile of money inside, and there was precious little else to destroy."

  Mother interjected. "Do you not think that my daughters are looking lovely, Mr. Gordon? You know, they are all out in society."

  Poor Mr. Gordon did not know how to react at the brusque change of subject. All eyes were on him, and Elizabeth's sense of humor was restored at watching how uncomfortable he was.

  After several false starts, he cleared his throat and said, "The daughters are merely a reflection of the mother, Mrs. Bennet. I wish you all success in your endeavors during the Season. It is a diverting time of year, and I declare that I shall dance with each of you in the balls to come. Will you be attending Lady Guthrie's ball? I believe that it is the first of the Season."

  Mrs. Bennet answered before anyone else could. "We received our invitation some time ago, and she expects us. It is tomorrow evening, is it not? Would you like to claim the first dance of one of my daughters?"

  Mr. Gordon uncrossed his foot from his knee and shifted his weight in his chair. "I would be honored to claim Miss Elizabeth's first dance," he finally said.

  "Lizzy?" Mother asked. "I had thought that you would prefer to dance with Jane. She is by far the handsomest amongst my girls."

  Elizabeth had long ago accustomed herself to the thoughtless comments her mother made, but Mr. Gordon was not. He looked appalled and looked between her and her mother with his mouth open.

  Her humor dispelled, Elizabeth said, "Our plans are not so certain as Mother lets on, Mr. Gordon. However, should our schedule permit it, I would be honored to dance with you. I would not do you the disservice of accepting the first dance when it is uncertain that I shall even be there to dance it."

  His relief returned the smile to his face. "That is gracious of you, Miss Elizabeth. However, what circumstances could possibly prevent you from missing the opening ball of the Season? You must not allow that to happen lest others withdraw their invitations. You would miss out on a great deal."

  Mother spoke again. "I have often wondered why gentlemen wait until the Season to profess their attachments? I have always thought it more sensible for a gentleman to propose before the most eligible young ladies are snatched up by others." She looked between them, clearly expecting him to propose that moment.

  Father stepped closer to Mr. Gordon's chair. "Perhaps it is more sensible, my dear, but we cannot read hearts to know for whom it quickens. I have found that all attempts to predict such an important event prove fruitless and can even cause what regard there is to shrivel up and disappear into the air."

  Mr. Gordon nodded his head vigorously in agreement.

  When Mother asked for tea to be brought in, Mr. Gordon scrambled up to his feet. "You are too kind, Mrs. Bennet, but please do not let me trouble you any further. I was merely passing by and did not intend to stay for long." He looked at his pocket watch. "In fact, I fear that I am late for an appointment."

  Father put his hand on Mr. Gordon's shoulder and steered him to the door. "Thank you for calling, Mr. Gordon."

  "I hope to see you all tomorrow evening at the ball," Mr. Gordon said, bowing his farewell to the occupants of the room. His eyes rested an extra second on Elizabeth, and she wondered if his call had served any purpose. She doubted that he had counted on Mother's advertisements of the availability of her daughters. Had he held any interest toward her before, surely it was gone now. Not that she minded much. He was handsome and kindhearted, but he would have to marry someone other than her. She did not love him just as surely as she was certain that he did not love her.

  As the gentlemen disappeared out of the door of the drawing room, Mother crossed her arms and huffed. "So much for that," she complained. "Our only hope is that one of you marry a man with fortune enough to cover our debts, but I see that the task falls completely into my hands." Turning to Elizabeth, she said, "You ought to encourage him more. How do you expect him to propose if you do not show him that you would accept him were he to ask?"

  A loud pounding at the front door sounded before Mr. Gordon could leave. Elizabeth ran to the doorway to see who it was.

  A crude accent said, "We are here from Merritt’s Music Emporium. Mr. Merritt himself sent us to collect the instruments."

  The butler said in a pompous voice, "Perhaps you may wish to call when Mr. Bennet is home. At this moment, he is unable to attend to you."

  Elizabeth applauded him for trying, but it was to no avail. Father stood next to Mr. Gordon in the entrance hall.

  The laborer who served as a spokesman for the group of men accompanying him said, "Aw, come on, sir. We know as well as you do that the master is home. If he knows what is good for him, he will leave us to see to the task for which we were sent. Mr. Merritt does not take kindly to folks who do not pay what is owed."

  He emphasized his purposeful intent by nudging on the door, an act which the butler was quick to respond to by shoving the door in the opposite direction.

  The laborer merely laughed. "Do you see this man, gents? He thinks that he alone can keep all six of us from completing our work."

  Father moved closer to the door. “Mr. Gordon, thank you for your call. We hope to see you again soon,” he said, pushing the astonished gentleman toward the door and past the laborers.

  The men stood taller and quit bothering the butler by shoving on the door.

  Once Mr. Gordon had departed, he asked, "What is this?"

  "We have come to collect what is no longer yours, sir. Your account has not been paid, and we have been sent to collect the instruments."

  Father sighed and relaxed. "Very good. I assume that once the items are returned to their proper place, I am no longer indebted to your master?"

  The laborers guffawed in unison. Their spokesman said, "You may think that if you wish, but Mr. Merritt would sooner see you in debtors’ prison than allow it to be known how easily he forgave a debt. You rich families are all the same— free enough to spend your money, but tight-fisted when it is time to settle."

  Father stepped back as if he had been hit, and the men proceede
d inside, walking toward the drawing room.

  Elizabeth, who had been observing in stunned silence until now, stepped forward. "Will you not allow us another day to speak directly with Mr. Merritt? Perhaps we can come to an agreement."

  The men did not slow down.

  "How are we to pay our debt if we are not given a chance to make arrangements?" she asked.

  That caused a halt when the spokesman turned to her, his face full of scorn. "You have not been given a chance? Miss, these men here with me help craft the instruments your father has refused time and again to pay for. We have families of our own to feed, and we do not take kindly to folks who buy fineries for which they refuse to pay."

  Elizabeth's shame spread over her, but she could not allow them to leave with their goods unless she knew that her family benefited in some way. "Will our debt be absolved if we allow you to take the instruments and give you no further trouble?"

  Mother stood in the doorway, Lydia and Kitty leaning against her back and peeking over her shoulders. Their eyes grew wide as they listened.

  Whether it was being surrounded by frightened females or Elizabeth's desperate plea, the man relaxed his stance. "Listen here, miss, we mean you no harm. We are only doing the work we have been sent to do. I am in no position to speak for my master. He is not known for his forgiving nature. He will not listen to anything I tell him. However, if you were to go to him soon and arrange for payment to be made, it cannot hurt, can it?"

  "What if he demands full payment even after his instruments are returned?" she asked, her worry intensifying. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Kitty and Lydia dart out from behind Mother, whisk past the laborers, and run up the stairs.

  "We must hide our trinkets before we are stripped clean!" said Lydia to Kitty, too loudly in her shortness of breath.

  Mother looked about in confusion, bumbling in her tears.

  "It is true then," said the laborer.

  "What is true?" Elizabeth asked. Could word have spread already?

  The laborer clenched his jaw. "It is our business to know if our master's clients fall on hard times and are unable to pay. I am sorry for your loss, but we have work to do." With that, he turned to one of his helpers. "Where did you say you delivered the harp and pianoforte?"

  "Down the hall and to the left in the drawing room," the helper answered.

  They continued down the hall. Mother tried her best to stand her ground in the doorway, but the closer the men drew to her, the more she crumbled. Father placed his arm around her shoulder while she wept against his chest.

  Elizabeth understood the men’s arguments for intruding into their home, but she could not prevent her anger from rising. Tightening her fists and standing tersely, she decided that she had no time for solitude. She could sort her feelings later. Now was a time for action.

  Running upstairs where she passed by her younger sisters' rooms to see them shoving gowns into trunks and hiding jewelry under their beds and behind cushions, she paused as she heard low voices speaking in the direction of Jane's room. Of course! Charlotte! In the commotion of the morning, Elizabeth had forgotten about her friend. Of course, Jane would see that their guest was made aware of their situation and would see to her comfort in the kindest way. She wished more than anything to join them, but there was no time.

  Dashing to her room, she donned a pelisse, bonnet, and gloves. She would have to tell Father where she was going and hope that he would join her. The proprietors of the many businesses she must visit that day would hardly listen to a mere female negotiating her family's debts. They would take more kindly to his presence— if she could convince him to join her.

  Buttoning her coat as she hopped down the stairs, she went to him. "Father, we must act now. Once word spreads about our situation, it will be difficult to arrange any kind of negotiation."

  He nodded and scratched his chin. He tilted his forehead to Mother, who fanned herself on a couch. "I cannot leave her here alone with these men. She is convinced that they will take more than what they came here for, so I have been instructed to stand guard right here." He indicated the precise spot he stood in.

  "As soon as they leave, then?" asked Elizabeth.

  Father bunched his lips together and exhaled through his nose. "Yes, as soon as they leave."

  Four of the men came in their direction with the pianoforte wrapped in a cloth. The roughness of their hands stood in stark contrast to the gentleness with which they carried the instrument, carefully guiding it through the room and out of the door without the hint of a bump against anything which could scratch it. Mother fussed, seemingly forgetting that they were there to carry the instrument away and not merely move it to another room.

  “Take more care with the harp! It has never been played, and I do not want to see a scratch on it,” she called out to the men who wrapped up the instrument.

  They made it down the steps and outside where a cart waited.

  Elizabeth, with nothing else to do but wait until they departed, watched them arrange the instrument in such a way that it would come to no harm, tying it with ropes carefully padded with wads of fabric all around the sides and between the ropes.

  A figure approached who Elizabeth hoped would continue walking past their home. But she did not. Nor did she turn around and re-enter her waiting carriage. She slowed, looking about her as if she could determine from her surroundings why a cart was outside the Bennet residence with a pianoforte on it.

  She walked up the steps, craning her neck forward to peer inside.

  Unable to avoid the inevitable, Elizabeth walked forward and greeted Sophia at the open front door. They had to step aside as the harp, carried by two men, passed them on its way out of the house.

  "Good morning, Sophia," said Elizabeth.

  "What is this? This day has been most unusual. You will never guess what my poor coachman had to drive through on our way here and now this." She motioned after the men.

  There was no sense delaying in the telling. "We lost everything in the bank you drove by. These men have come to collect what we can no longer afford to keep."

  The men secured the harp and, with the crack of the leather reins against the backs of the horses, they were gone.

  "Sophia, I regret that I must leave the house to attend to some matters of business with my father. I would gladly receive you at a later hour, or perhaps tomorrow."

  Sophia wrung her hands. "You will not be able to show your face at the ball tomorrow, and when word spreads, nobody will extend you an invitation. You must keep this secret as long as you can."

  Elizabeth wished it were possible. Stepping out over the threshold, she looked up and down the street. Maids paused on the footpath, gawking at them. Curtains parted across the lane. "It is too late for that. All of London will know by the end of the day."

  Chapter 30

  Elizabeth sat in silence with Father as the carriage conveyed them to the shop where Mother had bought a considerable amount of furniture.

  "Mr. Merritt was not completely unreasonable," Father said.

  Elizabeth snorted. "If you think that a man who demands full price when he agrees that the instruments were returned in perfect order is reasonable."

  "It was more entertaining listening to you argue with him than the debates at my club."

  Elizabeth smiled. Mr. Merritt had been difficult to convince, but she had managed to reduce the amount they owed him. "Anything to help our situation so that we may hold our heads high and stay for the Season." Although, in reality, she doubted if they would be able to keep their reputation untarnished. They may manage to stay in town, but she did not hold out much hope that they would be welcomed as hospitably into homes as they had been only the day before.

  She breathed deeply and prepared herself for another confrontation with an irate shopkeeper. She went over arguments and reasonings in her mind, trying to find the best way to approach what would prove to be another challenge. It was better than suffering over what Mr. Darc
y would think of her once he found out.

  Sure enough, the gentleman at the furniture shop did not appreciate their bad news. However, he did prove to be more reasonable than Mr. Merritt, agreeing that once the furniture was returned and inspected to be in perfect condition, he would only demand that they covered the cost of the time spent in making the goods. It was a relief for Elizabeth, though it meant that they would have to take their meals without a table and they would have precious few chairs to sit on. Before that evening, their house would be an empty skeleton.

  They went to one more shop before Father declared that they had accomplished sufficient business for that day. The sun began its decline over the chimneys on the rooftops, and Elizabeth's stomach grumbled. They had not eaten since their late breakfast.

  When they arrived home, a cart bursting with the furniture which had once been theirs waited in front of their house. Again, servants paused on the footpaths whispering to each other and collecting information which they would share with their masters, whose wives watched passively from the safety and comfort of their windows. Elizabeth was sorely tempted to stick her tongue out at them.

  They swerved around the sideboard which had adorned the wall of their dining room on their way up the stairs and into Father's study where he kept a neat ledger in which they would write down the negotiations they were able to agree to.

  Cheerfully, Father dipped his pen into the ink stand and made his annotations in the ledger. Then, he turned the book around for Elizabeth to see. There was still so much they needed to do. They owed five thousand pounds.

  "We need to talk to Uncle Gardiner. We have made some progress today, but there is still too much. Even if we were to convince all of these people to allow us more time, we will not be able to pay them when the time arrives." She hated to put a damper on Father's positive outlook, but she did not want him to end up in debtors' prison either.

  Father sat down heavily in his chair, a chair which not five minutes later was taken out from under him to be returned along with its matching desk to the shop from whence it came.