Besting the Worst

By Bethany Delleman

The Jane Austen Fan Club Facebook Group voted John Willoughby and Fanny Dashwood as the worst man and woman in Jane Austen’s collected works. Here is their just reward…

Fanny Dashwood was already sitting in the lobby of the London law office with a small bundle of papers when John Willoughby arrived, “Hello Mr. Willoughby, I’ve been expecting you.”

      “Really? I had no notion that you were also a descendant of Mr. James Snow, Mrs. Dashwood.”

       “Had not you? I should not be surprised; you hope for success without any effort, I am sure of it. How very like a man.”

        “I have done very well thus far,” he said, with a charming smile.

         “And I plan to do better.”

          “Do you know then, who is the executor of the will?” he asked.

          “I will not say,” Fanny said. She had in fact been unable to discover his identity and was greatly bothered by it. If there was a person to be flattered, she liked to have all the relevant information.

          “I will admit to not being at all worried,” Willoughby laughed, “unlike yourself, I have actually made a point of visiting dear Uncle Snow.”

           “You have?” Fanny frowned.

           “I do not put all my trust in one inheritance,” Willoughby smirked, “you rely on your mother’s fortune. Before I married, I visited seven different relations with private fortunes every year. I made a nice circuit of it. Mrs. Smith of Allenham, whom I know you have heard of, she is only one of many.”

           “If you did do so, it is only because your own home is not fit to dwell in,” Fanny sneered.

           “I assure you, with my wife’s fortune, we are quite comfortable. Have you heard of my improvements to the stables?”

           “My mother’s fortune is worth twice that of your wife.”

           “And you will only see it if you remain in her favour. A dangerous game.”

           “You know, Mrs. Brandon is expecting another child,” Fanny said, she saw Willoughby’s face fall.

           “You mean to discompose me, but you shall not succeed. I expected something better from the second favourite child of Mrs. Ferrars. That lady has a true way with words.”

           A young clerk appeared and ushered them into a small office. At one end of the table was a young man, about five and twenty years old.

           “James! How delightful to see you again!” said Willoughby and the men spent a few moments talking in such an easy manner that it was obvious that they were intimate friends. Fanny was mortified.

           “Mrs. Dashwood, please be seated,” the man said, noticing her.

           “Thank you, I am sorry, I do not believe we have been introduced.”

           “No, though I lived with my late uncle for ten years; I do not believe you have visited in all that time,” James said, “Mr. James Williams, your great uncle’s nephew and executor of his will.”

           “I have been so busy with the education of my child and the improvements at Norland. It was a pity I could not bring little Harry today,” Fanny smiled.

           “I am sure the deceased would have loved to have met him.”

           Fanny did not like to begin behind; but neither did she have an adequate response to such a charge. Instead she said, “My husband has entrusted me to act in his stead, he is indisposed. But allow me to say; Mr. Snow was a dear relation, one of the best of men.”

           “Yes,” Willoughby added, “Like a second father to me. I shall cherish the memories of my visits to North Hall.”

           James nodded, “Thank you. Now, let me begin this sad business. As you know, Mr. Snow and his wife were childless and he has named me the executor of his will. The house, lands, and associated plantations have been bequeathed to myself, but there remains a fortune of nearly sixty thousand pounds which my uncle wished to have divided between his three remaining descendants, myself of course, your husband, Mr. John Dashwood, and Mr. John Willoughby.”

           “We are then to have twenty thousand each?” Willoughby could not disguise his glee.

           “No,” said James, “The sixty thousand is to be shared, but the amount given to each party is entirely left to my discretion.”

           Fanny looked at Mr. Williams skeptically for a moment. If the decision was hers, she would have announced the outcome without hesitation: one pound for each man and the rest for herself. Yet he did not speak.

           “Come James, tell us the whole of it,” said Willoughby in a joking manner.

           “That is the whole,” he said seriously, “it is for you to convince me of what you rightly deserve.”

           “If we were all to have an equal claim,” Fanny began, “then I would say divide the money in three portions of twenty each. However, I looked into the matter. Do you realize that Mr. Willoughby’s great-grandmother, Mrs. Maude Clark (nee Snow), was only the half-sister of our honoured uncle? You must know that a half-sister is almost no relation at all, but certainly the offspring of this half-blood should not be worthy of a full share.”

           James looked Fanny in the eye, “I am also a descendant of Mrs. Maude Clark.”

           Fanny frowned deeply and looked down at her notes.

           Willoughby began his pitch, “You know I was always so attentive to our uncle, I would have visited this year, but dear Mrs. Willoughby is in a delicate condition.”

           “Of course, of course, but is this your first child?”

           “Yes, the first.”

           “What a blessing.”

           “There is no greater gift than a child.”

           “Have you entirely forgotten your daughter then?” said James.

           Willoughby started, “I have no daughter.”

           “Is there not a Beth Williams living under the protection of Colonel Brandon? Was I mistaken?”

           Fanny smirked, Willoughby was undeterred, “A youthful indiscretion! But she is well provided for. Miss Eliza Williams is the natural daughter of the Colonel, or so I have been told. Her child should be in his care.”

           “How proper it all sounds,” said James coldly.

           Fanny looked up, “You cannot be the descendant of Mrs. Maude Clark. John Willoughby is the only one living! Maude and her husband had only one son who lived to marry: Mr. Clark. He had two daughters. One married Mr. Willoughby and the other Miss Clarke died at fifteen without issue. John is the Willoughby’s only child, just as my husband is the only living descendant of Mrs. Janet Moore (nee Snow). We should end this now. You must be an imposter of some kind! I will return with my mother’s lawyer.”

           “No, he was always with our uncle, he must be named as heir,” said Willoughby, “but Mrs. Dashwood is right, you said three living descendants. There are but two.”

           They both looked at James. He began gravely, “James Snow was a man of vicious propensities. His wife was barren and he hated her for it. He despised his half-sister Maude and cheated her out of her fortune. They never met again after her marriage. When James was an older man on a trip to Weymouth, he seduced a girl of gentle birth and when his three months leisure was over, he abandoned her. Miss Clark, the granddaughter of his own sister, died in childbirth and her son; Philip Williams was placed in school and raised to think he had no father.

           “Philip grew up to be a respectable attorney, married, and had a son. When that son was ten years of age, James Snow made Philip’s true parentage known and requested that the boy, his grandson, come to live with him and be named as his heir. Of course, my father could not refuse. My grandfather never regretted anything, never cared that he destroyed his own grand-niece! I do not think he ever bothered to find out Miss Clark’s parent’s names. Only my father knew the truth and we were entirely in the old man’s confidence.

           “I have hated my grandfather these last fifteen years and I shall not mourn his passing. I see that each of you have followed in the honourable traditions of the family. When my father helped my grandfather write the will, and he is a very excellent attorney, I made certain that everything was under my power. I learned everything I could about both of you. I have to say, a certain Mrs. Edward Ferrars proved to be extremely helpful.”

           Fanny gasped.

           “And so Mrs. Dashwood, I shall give you exactly what you gave your half-sisters: six months room and board.” he handed her a small stack of notes. “And for you, Willoughby,” James took up again the pages of the will, “’The amount is to be paid to Mr. John Willoughby or the heirs of his body’. I shall thereby bequeath your share of the twenty thousand pounds to the young Elizabeth Williams.”

           Both Fanny and Willoughby cried out in protest but they each knew that nothing could be gained by it.

           “I really ought to thank you both, if I had not spent so much time at Delaford, I never would have met my wife. Be assured, Mr. Willoughby, that Eliza and her daughter will be safe forever.”

           Fanny cried, “So this is all a cruel joke, every pound remains under your control?”

           James smiled as he stood and began to walk from the room, “I would never do less for my poor little girl.” And with a mocking bow he added, “Good morning cousins, I have done what I can and must await a juster appointment for you hereafter. Give my warmest regards to Mr. Snow when you join him.”

FINIS

For more literary revenge, check out Prideful & Persuaded, by Bethany Delleman, where six minor or villainous characters find their happily ever after or their just reward! Available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited!

For more short stories, go here

For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught