A Spring Sentiment: A Pride and Prejudice Novella Variation (Seasons of Serendipity Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Younge and the maid she was instructing to flinch. Mrs. Younge dismissed the maid to continue her duties, and with a frown, she approached the young rake now helping himself to brandy in her sitting room.
    Swiping the bottle from him, she gave him a stern glare and placed the bottle on a side table. As she approached him, George Wickham collapsed into an armchair, gulping the brandy he’d managed to pour into a glass lest she take that away, too.
    “So? What information did you find?”
    “It’s useless. The young girls were spirited away to Matlock House just as I grew close enough to weasel my way in. Darcy is out in Hertfordshire. Can’t lurk out there. Too many would recognize me.” Wickham finished his drink and carelessly let the cup drop from his hand to the floor with a clatter.
    With a swish of skirts, Sally Younge snatched the glass from the floor and shoved his legs off the table where he had reclined them. “You ain’t quite current on the bill here. Have a mind not to consider yourself too comfortable like.”
    “I’m ruined. Throw me out tomorrow. Throw me out tonight. There’s no difference, madam.”
    Returning the brandy and glass to its proper place, Sally took a moment to consider the situation. She’d seen Wickham fall into his depressive moods before. He was in such a state last summer when she’d coaxed him into trying to elope with Georgiana Darcy. This time the revenge was for both of them.
    “You’ll just have to think of another way to get at him. You’re always so clever, there must be some way. . .,” she trailed off.
    “It’s useless. My only hope was to grab one of the girls, either Georgiana or that scripture speaking Mary, as collateral. But with Lydia out of reach, they’ll never have her marry me now.”
    Sally Younge frowned as the young maid returned from answering the door and handed her mistress a card. The widow laughed as she read and turned her eyes back to the bounder in her parlor. “Looks like you can earn your keep while we figure out a new plan. Mrs. Clayton finds she has need for a companion this evening.”
    “Not the fat one, Sally girl! Her dogs yip and yap something awful.” Wickham continued his pout from the chair, and Mrs. Younge dismissed the maid.
    Taking one finger to run up his arm to his shoulder and to finally rise up and caress around the edge of his ear, she felt his body tense at the attention. “Come now, Georgie. You give Mrs. Clayton some friendly attention, and I’ll only keep half of what you take in.”
    “A quarter.”
    “Half, and that only be beginning to make a dent in what you owe me.”
    Realizing he had no choice, George Wickham took the card from Sally and bowed. She clucked her tongue, and he replaced his dour expression with his normal charming demeanor. Giving her a peck on the cheek, he grabbed his hat and left the house, on his way two blocks over to earn his keep.
     
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    After a week of sleeping in a strange bed, Mary Bennet’s eyes popped open in the darkness for the seventh night. The initial panic of wondering where she was abated within a moment, but this time she wasn’t still groggy. Allowing her eyes to adjust, the coals in the fire and moonlight spilling in from her window overlooking the courtyard granted her enough illumination to light the candle on her bedside table. Gingerly, she tested the floor boards and sucked in her breath as her bare feet objected to the coolness until she could find her slippers.
    Donning her robe, she felt confident she could find the library. She hated to admit it, but the novels Georgiana was introducing to her were far more enjoyable than the sermons she used to read. She mostly enjoyed passing moral judgment on the heroines in the novels and determining the exact moment when their decisions led to their folly.
    The dark wooden door to the library was ajar and light seeped out into the hall. When Mary pushed the door open, she saw the fire was still