Chapter Text
It is never easy coming face-to-face with one’s past, especially when it is a past one would much rather forget. Louisa Bingley made just this experience when, upon walking in a fashionable London Park one morning, she encountered a man whom she had not seen in nearly a decade, and attempted to forget for almost as long. Nevertheless, upon his lifting his hat, her good manners dictated that she acknowledge the acquaintance, and she stiffly curtsied.
She had already passed him, and continued on her walk, when he cried out to her.
‘Excuse me, madam!’
She turned around to face him.
‘You appear to have dropped your handkerchief,’ he said and bent down to pick up a handkerchief that Louisa knew perfectly well not to belong to her, for all that it looked just like one of hers.
He had pressed it into her hands and was gone before she could clear up the matter. When she pocketed the handkerchief, she noted that something stiff was enclosed in it and unfolding it, she saw a slip of paper on which a note was scribbled.
When you leave the park by its western exit and continue on the left, you shall find a small tea-room run by a Mrs Miggins. Sit down and order and I shall join you there in fifteen minutes. Lose your maid. C.
Why she did as she was bid, Louisa could not say, but she went to Mrs Miggins’ tea-room as outlined in the note and, upon entering it, recalled that she was in dire need of some ornament for her new shoes, and sent her maid away with very precise instructions. True to his word, the gentleman arrived precisely a quarter of an hour after the encounter in the park and immediately found her table, which was situated in the darkest corner of the room.
‘Lieutenant -’ Louisa began, but he cut her short.
‘Mr Hurst,’ he said. ‘Algernon Montgomery Hurst, Esq.’
Louisa raised her eyebrows and mustered him. He looked every bit the gentleman of leisure, from his recently cut hair to his polished riding boots. His clothes were cut after the latest fashion and had obviously been expensive. It was a marked difference from the young, carelessly dressed lieutenant she had known. His manner was curt and his tone betrayed confidence, and yet, Louisa could not help but notice a certain stiffness in his bearing that signaled tension. She wondered briefly if he maybe was as uneasy as she was, but dismissed that thought when her gaze fell on the stern, passionless lines of his face. It was difficult to find the lieutenant with his youthful awkwardness in those lines.
‘Not quite what I recall,’ she said.
‘I am aware of that,’ the gentleman calling himself Mr Hurst said. ‘However, we all have our little secrets, have we not?’
‘I fail to understand you,’ Louisa said.
‘Let me refresh your memory,’ the gentleman said, helping himself to one of the scones she had ordered. ‘You recall that you attended a Seminary for Young Ladies situated in Weymouth for a term or two?’
‘Of course,’ Louisa said. ‘It was there that we met, if my memory does not fail me.’
‘Quite,’ the gentleman said. ‘As a matter of fact, we were introduced to each other by a young man whose acquaintance you had but recently made. We need not mention his name, I dare say, for it has been widely publicised in the newspapers lately.’
Louisa only nodded.
‘You may wonder what happened to our mutual friend after his, shall I say, share of the general attention,’ the gentleman continued. ‘I know it for a fact that he left England to begin a new life in an area he calls Indiana, which is, as I understand it, somewhere west of the former colonies.’
Louisa nodded again, more out of a necessity to indicate that she was listening than anything else.
‘I surmise he did not apprise you of his plans,’ the gentleman said, ‘which strikes me as odd, considering how close your friendship once was. Tell me, though, did you ever introduce him to your family?’
Louisa weakly shook her head.
‘I had guessed something of that kind, yes,’ the gentleman said. ‘How rude of you. But as I was saying, he left England earlier this year with the intention never to return. Unfortunately, he was not able to take all of what was left of his possessions, so he left some of it in my care to be seen to as I saw fit. It just so happens that among his possessions, I found a couple of very interesting items, among them letters of a rather delicate nature, shall we say -’
‘How much?’ Louisa whispered.
‘I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley?’
‘How much do you want for the letters?’ Louisa asked.
‘Oh, my dear Miss Bingley,’ the gentleman said. ‘The letters as well as the other tokens of affection were evidently given to our friend from the heart. The cost of a life may be thirty shekels, but who can put a price on love?’
Louisa was silent.
‘Dear me,’ the gentleman said, ‘is that the time? I am afraid I must be going. It was very pleasant to chat about old times with you. With your permission, I shall call on you one of these days. You reside with your brother, I presume? If you wish to see me, you should instruct the butler to admit Algernon Montgomery Hurst, Esq. You could of course refuse to see me, but I flatter myself that you will love such an opportunity to talk about old times.’
‘I find you alone,’ the gentleman said, when he entered the parlour in Mr Bingley’s house two days later. ‘How disappointing. Not, of course, that I do not value your company, my dear Miss Bingley, but I had so hoped to make the acquaintance of your family soon.’
‘You can talk freely, Lieutenant,’ Louisa said when the door had closed behind the footman. ‘There is no one overhearing us. What do you want?’
‘First of all,’ the gentleman said, and all the pleasantness had disappeared from his voice, ‘it were better if you recalled that I am not, nor ever was, a Lieutenant in His Majesty’s or any other Army. My name is, as I told you, Algernon Montgomery Hurst, Esq., son of Gilbert Hurst, late of Hurst Hall, near Thrompton in Warwickshire.’
‘I cannot see why I should bother to remember that,’ Louisa said coolly, with more bravado than she had thought she could muster.
‘Because, my dear,’ the gentleman said, ‘you are soon going to be Mrs Hurst.’
The epithet that escaped Louisa’s lips was wholly undignified for any lady, but seemed not to irritate the gentleman.
‘Now that I have caught your attention,’ he continued, ‘will you allow me to explain?’
‘Please do,’ Louisa said steely.
‘The facts as I see them are the following,’ the gentleman said. ‘First, that there are certain incidents in your past which you would rather not have referred to by anyone.’
Louisa agreed.
‘Second, that currently, you and I are the only persons in this kingdom aware of these incidents having taken place and of your connection with a certain person.’
Louisa agreed again that unfortunately, that was the case.
‘Third, that I am in possession of certain documents and other items which would prove that you were connected to that certain person and that the incidents I mentioned did indeed take place.’
‘I was but fifteen!’ Louisa exclaimed.
‘A very unwise age to make such major decisions,’ the gentleman agreed, ‘and yet you made them, Louisa.’
‘Miss Bingley to you,’ Louisa hissed.
‘If you insist,’ the gentleman said, unmoved. ‘Having thus established the facts between us, let me now come to what I propose we do.’
Louisa gesticulated for him to continue.
‘It is now May,’ the gentleman said. ‘Am I correct in assuming that you plan to remain in London until August, at which time you and your siblings are invited to spend the rest of the summer at Pemberley, in Derbyshire, in the company of Mr and Miss Darcy?’
Louisa indicated that this was indeed the case.
‘It would then be wise if we were married in July,’ the gentleman said, ‘retreat on our honeymoon for a couple of weeks – I leave the choice of place to you – and then join your family at Pemberley for the summer.’
‘I will most certainly not -’
‘Let me continue, please,’ the gentleman said. ‘If all goes as is intended, my association with you shall be over by November at the latest. At that time, a dreadful accident shall befall me and leave you my mourning widow. Amidst my things, you shall find the deeds to Hurst Hall in your name as well as a letter to my solicitor, signed by myself, in which I instruct him to deliver a certain locked box to you in the event of my death; the key for which you shall also find among my effects.’
Louisa said nothing.
‘You will then, of course, never hear from me again,’ the gentleman said. ‘I will be dead to you as much as I will be dead to the world.’
Louisa still said nothing.
‘Moreover, I can assure you now that our marriage will only ever be a marriage in name. There need to be no sacrifices on your part other than taking my name and bearing my company over the summer. I will not force myself onto you or dishonour your wishes simply because it would be my right to do so.’
‘And if I do not agree?’ Louisa asked.
‘Then, my dear, I am afraid, that certain box might accidentally make its way to one of London’s larger newspapers,’ the gentleman said.
‘I know your real name,’ Louisa said, ‘and I know whose son you are. I could choose to make that public.’
‘You could,’ the gentleman conceded. ‘But in what way would that help you? The very name to which you allude would protect me and the box would still be in my possession.’
‘I do not understand, though,’ Louisa insisted. ‘Why me? Why do you want to marry me?’
‘My dear,’ the gentleman said. ‘There can be no question of wanting. I am as averse to the idea as you are. However, it must be done, for reasons I cannot divulge to you, so you had better get used to it.’
‘I – I am not sure -’ Louisa began.
‘Very well, let us settle it this way,’ the gentleman suggested. ‘I will begin calling on you, with the appearance of courting you. In due course, I will propose marriage to you. If you still think you would rather not marry me, you can always refuse me. In the meantime, until you refuse me, the letters are safe in the box where they are.’
‘But that is blackmail!’ Louisa cried.
‘Of course it is,’ the gentleman said pleasantly. ‘Now, if you could let me know at which social occasions I would be most likely to meet you during the next two weeks, that would save me the trouble of having to bribe your servants.’
‘I do not like him one bit,’ Caroline Bingley said to her brother after Mr Hurst had called on them for the second time in as many days. ‘I do not like him at all.’
‘Louisa seems to encourage his attentions,’ Charles Bingley said.
‘Are you blind?’ Caroline said. ‘I would be prepared to bet a considerable sum of money that she detests him. Have you seen the way she looks at him?’
‘Nevertheless,’ Charles pointed out, ‘she particularly asked me to be allowed to include him in the invitations for our dinner party next week.’
‘Lord, that will be the most dreadful evening of my life,’ Caroline said. ‘I do not know what Louisa sees in him.’
‘Have you tried asking her?’ Charles suggested. ‘Do you two not normally talk about everything?’
‘I tried!’ Caroline said. ‘Several times, in fact, but she simply will not talk about it. Actually, that is what worries me most – she used to tell me everything.’
Caroline looked down and examined her hands.
‘I feel as if the Louisa I thought I knew was slipping through my fingers,’ she said. ‘Sorry, that sounded stupid.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Charles said and patted her hand.
‘If only she would tell me why she behaves that way,’ Caroline said. ‘Then maybe I could understand her.’
‘I am sure she will tell you when she is ready,’ Charles said reassuringly. ‘And maybe Mr Hurst will turn out to have some hidden value.’
‘I cannot believe it,’ Caroline said. ‘And he cannot be rich enough to make such a sacrifice on her part worth it. Have you any information regarding his finances?’
‘Not yet,’ Charles said, ‘but I could ask Darcy if he knows anything, if you think it needs to be done.’
‘I do think so,’ Caroline said. ‘I think Louisa is about to do something foolish, only I cannot tell why.’
‘It is very sudden,’ her brother agreed, ‘especially considering I only ever met the fellow last week. Did you know him previously?’
‘Not at all,’ Caroline said. ‘I never heard a word of him. Do you know how they met?’
‘At a ball, was it?’ Charles asked.
‘That is what she said,’ Caroline said, ‘and it certainly looked like that at the Whittington’s ball – but the whole affair was rather staged, if you ask me. Mrs Whittington told me she did not even know Mr Hurst, so I have no idea how he got there.’
Charles was silent, rubbing his chin, lost in thought.
‘Do, please, ask Mr Darcy if he knows anything about this Mr Hurst,’ Caroline insisted. ‘I would feel better if I knew that at least he was not a fraud.’
‘Your sister seems intent upon making a catch of Mr Darcy,’ the gentleman known as Mr Hurst observed to Louisa on one of their by now customary walks in the park.
‘That is hardly your business,’ Louisa hissed.
‘On the contrary, it is very much my business,’ Mr Hurst said. ‘I like this development immensely.’
‘But Mr Darcy does not care one jot about Caroline,’ Louisa cried, ‘and I believe she is on a good way of seeing that as well.’
‘Then, my dear,’ Mr Hurst said, ‘you will see to it that she does not.’
Louisa shook her head.
‘You will make sure that she thinks she might succeed,’ Mr Hurst insisted. ‘You will encourage her in every possible way, and you will drop hints to your friends that you think she might be proposed to.’
‘I will most certainly not do that!’ Louisa cried.
‘You will, dear, you will,’ Mr Hurst said ‘And now smile. Your brother is looking at us. I have just complimented you on your beautiful eyes, so you could also blush, if you like.’
‘You have what?’ Caroline asked her brother. ‘You have what?’
Charles took great care in selecting an apple out of the fruit bowl before he answered.
‘I have given Mr Hurst leave to marry Louisa,’ Charles explained.
‘Yes, I understood that,’ Caroline said. ‘But why? Did we not agree that they would not suit, and that he was a very shady character?’
‘Yes, you might have said that,’ Charles said through a bite of his apple. ‘But Darcy reckoned there was nothing I could actually do.’
‘But – but – but he is horrible!’ Caroline said. ‘He is a great bore! He thinks about nothing but food, and cards -’
‘Then it is all for the better that you need not marry him,’ Charles said, continuing to eat his apple.
‘But Louisa hates him!’
‘She accepted him, though,’ Charles said.
‘Charles, how could you give them your consent?’
‘Well, as Darcy pointed out, Louisa is of age,’ Charles said, ‘and does not need my consent, so I could not give it. All I did was give them my blessing, and I dare say they would just as well get married without it.’
‘But such a man!’ Caroline exclaimed. ‘He is vile!’
‘I do not particularly like him either,’ Charles said, ‘but Darcy has made enquiries about him, and his finances and his reputation appear to be sound. Louisa is certainly old enough to make this decision, do you not think so, Caro?’
‘Yes, but, Charles -’ Caroline said. ‘I think Louisa is doing something very stupid, and perhaps even dangerous!’
‘She is old enough to decide that for herself!’ Charles said hotly.
‘I do not think she is acting out of her own free will,’ Caroline snapped. ‘What if he has some sort of hold over her and forced her into marriage?’
‘That – that is very far-fetched,’ Charles said. ‘I mean – you do not think that possible, do you?’
‘Lord, Charles, I do not know,’ Caroline said. ‘All I know is that I no longer know my sister.’
She sank onto the sofa next to him.
‘I feel as if I lost her, Charles,’ she said and tears rose into her eyes, ‘as if I lost both my sister and my best friend.’
Charles carelessly tossed the half-eaten apple onto the table and placed his arm around Caroline’s shoulders.
‘There, now, there,’ he muttered and allowed her to cry into his shoulder. ‘I am sure it is not quite that bad.’