Trouble With Wickham

Copyright Page

Dedication

Cast of Characters

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

A
t Bennington Park, Hertfordshire

Lord and Lady Radcliffe: Owners of Bennington Park, a fine estate, twenty minutes out of Meryton.

Hugh Radcliffe: Their eldest son and heir.

Charles Radcliffe: Second son, married to the daughter of a Marquess. He lives far away, causing his mother grief.

Charlotte Radcliffe (Mrs. Lancaster): Their daughter, who sought to marry a man who lived nearby in order to stay close to home.

Guy Lancaster: Charlotte’s husband and the family’s former tutor who unexpectedly inherited a large estate called Ludlow Lodge.  Upon visiting the family after a seven-year’s absence, he fell in love with Charlotte.

Hastings and Mrs. Holmes: Trusted staff.

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A
t Buckland House, Hertfordshire

Earl of Buckland: Recent widower and former owner of Buckland House who sought to take Charlotte as his second wife, for her money, in order to settle his gambling debts. Killed a man in a duel. Loses Charlotte to Guy Lancaster at the Meryton Assembly in a moment of public humiliation.

Duke of Rutleigh: Bought Buckland House from the Earl of Buckland to settle a gambling debt.

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A
t Pemberley, Derbyshire

Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett: Now married.

Miss Georgiana Darcy: Younger sister of Mr. Darcy who at one time planned to elope with George Wickham, causing her brother much consternation.

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A
t Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Mr. and Mrs. George Wickham: Lydia Wickham, Elizabeth’s younger sister, who ran away with George Wickham before properly engaged. George Wickham, godson of the elder Mr. Darcy, raised alongside Fitzwilliam and Georgiana. Tried to elope with Georgiana for her money and lately forced into marriage with Lydia.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet: Parents of five daughters, neighbors of the Radcliffes.

C
harlotte poked her head out the open doors of her father’s library and breathed in the lovely scented air of her beloved Hertfordshire. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the familiar scents of chestnut, flowering crocus, dogwood and moist autumn earth. It seemed as if it had been forever since she was back home at Bennington Park, now that she was happily married to Guy Lancaster and living at Ludlow Lodge—in Bedfordshire, of all places—which, she admitted to herself,  was a county possessing its own peculiar natural beauty.

“Although I have been gone from home for only a few months it feels much longer. However, I am glad to attest that the countryside appears just as unspoiled as when I was a child.”

She sighed in contentment then furrowed her pretty brow in confusion. “Honestly I cannot remember why I felt compelled to only marry a man from Hertfordshire, when Bedfordshire is just as pleasing a place to rest one’s head at night.”

She pondered for a moment, trying to remember what possessed her to entertain the idea of actually marrying the Earl of Buckland, recoiling when she remembered his red face breathing down on her and his beefy hands around her waist.

And all the while my darling, beautiful Guy was there for the taking!

Her mother, Lady Radcliffe, sighed in contentment, gazing across the room at her happy daughter, the new Mrs. Lancaster. It brought true joy to her heart to have Charlotte back in the nest, even if only for a short visit. Lady Radcliffe always felt in the best of spirits when she had her children at home with her. She too had difficulty remembering why she had thought limiting her unmarried daughter to local Hertfordshire suitors was a good idea.

“The folks in Hertfordshire have proven themselves to be a most unforgiving lot. Who knew when I was happily living amongst them that they would turn on me so easily! Where neighbors are concerned, I must declare Bedfordshire to be the superior county,” she cried, raising her handkerchief to her eyes and dabbing away a singular, self-indulgent tear.

Lady Radcliffe was still nursing her wounds from the perceived cuts and snubs she endured in the weeks following the Meryton assembly when Guy rescued Charlotte from an unpleasant future as the second wife of the immoral Earl of Buckland by kissing her in front of the assembly. The bored old bitties of Meryton gladly seized upon the episode with a death grip, analyzing the couple’s moment of impropriety from every angle, convinced that their public embrace signaled the end of polite society as they knew it.

Lord Radcliffe, however, thought the whole escapade delightfully entertaining, dismissing his wife’s worries with a wave of his hand and dutifully encouraging her to move on.

“Now, now. That whole terrible business with Buckland is in the past. It will not do to dwell on those events anymore, especially when Charlotte’s present circumstances are so enviable! And the Duke of Rutleigh is a most excellent new neighbor, a much better steward for Buckland House than Buckland himself. We owe Rutleigh a debt of gratitude for buying out the Earl and facilitating his departure from the neighborhood,” Lord Radcliffe exclaimed. “I cannot imagine how unpleasant it would have been for us to continue to be in Buckland’s society on a regular basis after Charlotte’s change of heart towards him.”

Despite his prodigious wealth, Lord Radcliffe appreciated a good bargain as much as the next man. He deeply admired the Duke of Rutleigh’s purchase of Buckland House at a bargain price in exchange for erasing the Earl’s debts.

A masterful move
, he thought, as he shifted comfortably on his well-worn chaise.

“I hear through the Meryton grapevine that the Earl found an unsuspecting widow with a great fortune and an even more tattered reputation than his, in Scotland, who was more than happy to become the Countess Buckland,” Lord Radcliffe said. “Now close those doors Charlotte dear! Winter is coming and I do not wish to catch my death from a cold this year!”

Lord Radcliffe raised his eyes to his ancestors’ imposing gilded portraits, and shook his head in befuddlement at his daughter’s disregard of the drafty air. That morning he had noticed a small tickle at the back of his throat, and he prayed it would not advance into a greater affliction. He feared that this would be the winter he went on to his great reward; his presence in his own home reduced to nothing more than a portrait at the top of the staircase landing.

Charlotte shut the doors as her father requested and then strode to the hearth, warming her hands over the small fire lit there. She twisted her thick gold wedding band happily around her finger and daydreamed. It felt like only yesterday when she and her parents had gathered in the library to consider her future and draw up a list of suitable suitors from the neighborhood. Back then, she was so terrified of letting her heart carry her away from her home in Hertfordshire that she convinced herself she would only marry a man who lived less than 45 minutes driving distance from Bennington Park.

As a result, she found herself rashly connected to a most unsuitable rogue, equal parts adulterer and gamester, whose only recommendation to her was his geographical location ten minutes down the road from her home.

On that fateful day in the library Charlotte could never have guessed that the Radcliffe family’s former tutor, Guy Lancaster, would be the man to steal her heart completely. At that precise moment in time his existence was beyond their notice, having left his post with the family seven years earlier. She had not seen Guy since she was twelve years old, and in her memory he was no more than an annoying instructor who steadfastly blocked her attempts to stave off boredom by interrupting her brothers’ lessons.

Nay, back then she had no idea that he had grown to be as handsome as he was, with a fine tall figure, a head of wavy brown hair, and a face composed of perfectly orchestrated features. She did not know that he had unexpectedly inherited what he modestly called a farm, but which was in truth a vast estate numbering over 2,000 acres, boasting both a large income and a charming, rambling, old home.

It was her brother Hugh who had brought Guy back into their lives, reconnecting at a London club and becoming fast friends. Immediately upon his reentering their society at Bennington Park, Charlotte found herself immediately attracted to him. She was unable to resist engaging with Guy in all manner of teasing and flirtation, which his lively countenance encouraged, all the while convincing herself that he was the last person in the world she was suited to.

At that time she had no way of knowing that her heart would eventually betray her whenever his expressive eyes happened to meet hers—and she had not failed to notice how often his eyes seemed to rest on her. One would have to have been blind not to notice his attentions! As a result she doubled her efforts to convince herself that she was in no way partial to him, insisting to herself and to everyone around her, Guy included, that the beefy and uninspiring Earl of Buckland was the spouse of her dreams.

How wrong she had been!

Charlotte sighed unconsciously. She was lost in her own thoughts, and those thoughts were firmly focused on her handsome husband, sitting one room over in the drawing room. In her mind’s eye she could picture him—he most likely had his long legs stretched out comfortably before the fire, happily settled into a chair, his head resting on his hand, completely immersed in his Plato or Newton or Voltaire or other equally highbrow work that his active mind so eagerly sought out.

She often found him similarly situated in his own library at Ludlow Lodge; so deep was his concentration when he was reading that she had to practically jump up and down to get his attention when it was time to...

“Charlotte, are you even listening to us?”

Charlotte looked up to see both her parents staring at her with bemused expressions.

“We have asked you three times if you are ready to write down the names for the final guest list and you have not acknowledged us,” her mother stated, a slight tone of irritation edging her voice.

That was a surprise to Charlotte, as she was sure that her parents had only been speaking to each other the whole time, while she merely spent a few quick moments reflecting on her own good fortune.

“I am sorry Mamma. I was not aware that I was thinking so deeply of my own thoughts to the exclusion of the company around me!”

Lord Radcliffe, who knew his daughter well, had become accustomed to her tendency to drift off into such a reverie. In fact, he could trace the beginning of this habit to the exact time and date of Guy Lancaster’s arrival in their family home. From his vantage point, since the moment Charlotte and Guy laid eyes on each other, their eventual union was a foregone conclusion. And Lord Radcliffe could not be happier.

“I hope I never fail to impress on you, my dear Charlotte, how delighted I am with your choice of husband,” he said, correctly guessing the cause of his daughter’s distraction. “Life has a way of working itself out despite our best efforts.”

“Oh, Pappa! Do you believe my mind incapable of resting on any subject other than that of my own husband? You misjudge me greatly.  And pray do not feel you must always compliment Guy whenever you speak of him, especially when he may stumble into the room at any minute and overhear you. I do not want him to become puffed up with pride and therefore impossible to manage.”

Lord Radcliffe dismissed his daughter’s warning. “I hardly believe him capable of doing so for a more humble disposition I have yet to meet in all my years.”

“Shhh! Pappa!  He might hear you!” she whispered, cutting off the conversation as she crossed the room and sat down at the library table. She straightened a fresh sheet of paper on its polished mahogany surface, dabbed her sharpened quill in the inkpot, and wrote neatly across the top of the paper
Guest List for the Bennington Park Hunt.

“I am ready now, Pappa,” she announced.

“Let us return to the subject of the list,” Lord Radcliffe said.

The family was reviewing the final guest list for the hunt party that would assemble there the next day. Lord Radcliffe had been forced to employ his considerable powers of persuasion to convince his wife that the traditional Bennington Park hunt, with its attendant ball and familiar guest list, was a safe and easy way for her to integrate back into Hertfordshire society. Lady Radcliffe, however, was not so sure.