Darcy sat perfectly still. A gamut of emotions crossed his face. “It is a solid plan,” he said flatly. “And better than any I have devised. I suppose you should see to Lieutenant Wickham’s release. I will contact MacBethan regarding the journey.”
“Permit me to reason with the lieutenant. Once I have his agreement, I will write his superiors.”
Darcy sighed heavily. “I will be pleased to wash my hands of the man. Lieutenant Wickham has haunted my peace of mind for too many years.”
“Elizabeth?” Darcy asked eagerly as he stood mesmerized by his son’s antics. “Have you seen what Bennet has accomplished?”
His wife joined him in his sitting room. “What would that be?” Her voice betrayed her amusement.
Darcy turned his head to glare at her. “I suppose Bennet’s turning from his knees to his back is not a recent achievement?”
Although she attempted a sympathetic countenance, Elizabeth’s smile widened. “If it is of any consequence, your son has only mastered the rotation in the last week.”
Darcy threw up his hands in frustration. “That settles it! I refuse to be away from my family ever again. Bennet grows too quickly as it is. Each day brings a new triumph. I will not miss the special moments when my children first experience the joy of exploring their worlds. It is the last time, Elizabeth. Hear me well. If I am to travel from Pemberley for any extended period, so will you and the children. You will learn to adapt to journeying. I will have it no other way. When I depart for Drouot House, you and Bennet will accompany me. We will tarry with the Bingleys until my business is complete.”
Elizabeth gently massaged his temple as she said, “Wherever you are, Fitzwilliam, that is the place our children and I shall call home. You are the strength upon which we depend.”
With just the touch of her fingers, his frustration dissipated. She had that effect on him. “Then you will stay at Newton Stewart while I see to the railway proposal?”
“Of course, Bennet and I shall remain with you.” She caught his hand. “Come. Let us enjoy our son while he is still young enough to require us in his life. Soon enough, he will be off to school and to new adventures.”
“Do not remind me,” Darcy grumbled. “How will I ever part with him? I still grieve with the knowledge that I have lost Georgiana forever.”
Elizabeth slid her arms about his waist. “Oh, my darling.” She rested her head upon his chest. “We in this family are blessed by your loyalty. And you must know that even if our sister and, eventually, our children do spread their wings, they shall always fly home to Pemberley. The shades of Pemberley tie each of us to the land and to you.”
“Then you agree to this venture?” Darcy had cornered Munro MacBethan outside the Edinburgh courtroom where the initial hearing would occur for Lady Wotherspoon and several of her former employees.
Munro carefully watched those who entered the governmental hall. Only his hand displayed the agitation he felt. MacBethan repeatedly worked a colorful glass marble through his fingers. “It be best for me to disappear from this part of Scotland for a spell,” he remarked. “Islav’s welcome in Crieff will disintegrate after I give me testimony today. Even Lord Carmichael, Lilias Birrel’s husband, intends no longer to call me friend.”
“I grieve that you have lost the goodwill of Lord Wotherspoon’s siblings. I am certain His Lordship will welcome you to Normanna upon his return,” Darcy observed.
Munro shifted his weight nervously. “It may be many years before me cousin knows Scottish soil.”
“That is true,” Darcy reasoned. “Then this offer comes at a fortuitous time. When next you arrive on Scotland’s shores, you will possess a small fortune to begin anew.”
“For that, I be grateful. Perhaps this Mr. Buckley will have a position for a man who be not afeared of hard work.”
Darcy thought of Beauford Buckley’s deviousness. “Although I have the highest respect for your ability to prove useful to Mr. Buckley, I would prefer to see you increase your fortune with people of your ilk. There is a large Scottish settlement in the mountains north of Charleston. You might find happiness among those who have ties to your homeland.”
“I will consider it.”
They remained in companionable silence until Edward motioned them to join him. “You will come to Alpin Hall on Saturday. The Major General should have everything in place by then.”
“Aye, Mr. Darcy. I be there.” He gestured to the open door. “We best we getting’ this over.”
“May I approach, Mrs. Darcy?” Elizabeth played with Bennet on the Alpin front lawn. Georgiana had taken to her bed for a restorative sleep, and Elizabeth had decided to enjoy the mild weather with her son.
She debated on accepting Lieutenant Wickham’s company. Her doing so would not please Darcy, but she wanted to know if the man would accept the “punishment” that she and Darcy’s sister had designed for him. If so, Elizabeth would write her father to prepare Mrs. Bennet and Lydia for the upcoming journey. She disliked the idea of separating her mother from her youngest sister, but Elizabeth could conceive of no other solution. Lieutenant Wickham must be sent away from Darcy’s notice, and although sending Lydia away would create chaos in her father’s household, it would be far better than having Lydia in a state of perpetual widowhood.
“It is acceptable.” She nodded to the Alpin footmen who flanked the lieutenant, and they withdrew to a respectful distance. Under the major general’s order the footmen permitted Lieutenant Wickham two daily half hour sessions out of doors. Yesterday, they had walked the lieutenant toward a distant loch, but with Darcy’s and the major general’s departure for Edinburgh, the Alpin staff had chosen to escort their prisoner toward a nearby orchard.
Elizabeth lifted the boy to her and fell into step with her sister’s husband. Instead of the orchard, they turned toward the lower gardens. They walked in silence for several minutes before Elizabeth said, “I should not spare you even one second of my time, Sir. You played at God with my husband’s life. I feel nothing but contempt for your presence in my family.”
They paused beside a high wall, and Elizabeth shifted the child to her other hip. Surprisingly, Lieutenant Wickham reached for the boy. “Would you permit me to carry young Master Darcy for you?”
Elizabeth stepped back and stared suspiciously at the man. “I think it best that I decline your offer, Lieutenant Wickham. Mr. Darcy is quite particular regarding the interactions of his heir. I doubt he would approve of your association with his son.”
Wickham blinked away her insult. In a cool, matter-of-fact voice, he said, “I shan’t taint Pemberley’s anointed son with my touch, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth could not keep the scorn from her tone. “Nevertheless, I insist that Bennet remain with me.”
His eyes narrowed, but Wickham gave her a curt nod. He gestured to a nearby arbor. “In that case, perhaps we should sit.”
Elizabeth permitted him to assist her to a seat on a wooden bench. She adjusted her grip on the child and began to rock the boy in the way of mothers. Finally, she said, “Have you considered the Major General’s proposal?”
Wickham said bitterly, “Do I possess another choice?”
“Of course, you have always had choices, Lieutenant. When you and Jonathan Lowell caroused your way through the Derbyshire countryside, it was of your own choosing. When you refused the Kymptom living, the choice belonged to you. And when you persuaded my youngest sister to flee Brighton as your companion, it was an act of your design.”
“You sound very much like your husband,” Wickham accused. “I recall a woman of more discerning tastes.”
Elizabeth fought the urge to recoil. “I am ashamed of how easily I once misinterpreted my dear husband’s goodness. When Mr. Darcy’s actions proved honorable multiple times, I could no longer hide behind a veil of innocence. From the very beginning, I was unwilling to admit the painful truth: the man consumed my every thought.” She forced a smile to her lips. “Why do you suppose that I f
ound him so disagreeable? Mr. Darcy’s opinions mattered, and I feared to be found wanting.”
Wickham reached out to brush one of Bennet’s dark curls from the boy’s cheek. “Darcy will never be able to deny this child,” he said softly. “The boy is the image of his illustrious father.”
“A fact that pleases both of Bennet’s parents,” Elizabeth said with a note of satisfaction. She shooed a pesky bee from a nearby flower.
Wickham continued to stare at the boy’s countenance. “I have often wondered how it would be to have a family of my own.” His lips curved into a wistful smile.
“It is not too late,” Elizabeth encouraged. “Use this opportunity to start a new life—one for you and Lydia.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “Have you ever…” he began and then looked away.
“Say it,” Elizabeth demanded. “Whatever rests heavy on your shoulders must be whisked away if you are ever to be free of this continual struggle with Mr. Darcy.”
Slowly, he returned his gaze to the resting child. Eventually, he said, “Have you ever considered how it might be if I had not sought my fortune with Miss King?”
Elizabeth chose her words carefully. She would not fuel the jealousies between Lieutenant Wickham and Mr. Darcy. “There was a time I might have welcomed your addresses, but those early points of interest had cooled long before your defection for Miss King’s dowry.”
“Then you truly held me with no regard?” he asked with a note of irritation in his tone.
Elizabeth’s ire rose, as well. “You inquired of my feelings, but you refuse to accept my response. Your denial speaks of a man who will not accept that I could care more for the one person he considers his inferior.”
“I consider Darcy my inferior?” he asked incredulously. “Should not that fault lie at your husband’s feet?”
Elizabeth motioned one of the waiting footmen forward. “Would you return my son to his nurse?” She handed Bennet into the man’s awkward grasp. “Have Mr. Jacks send Weir to replace you in your duties.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” After she caressed Bennet’s dark curls, the man rushed away to do her bidding. Then she turned her full attention on her sister’s husband. “Mr. Darcy has a multitude of faults, but a lack of compassion is not one of them.” Although a head shorter than Lieutenant Wickham, she now seemed to loom over him. Elizabeth jabbed Wickham’s shoulder with her index finger, punctuating each of her points. “The Darcy family welcomed you and provided for your future, but your greed overcame reason. If Mr. Darcy views you as his inferior, it is because you have placed yourself in that position.”
“I object…” he said with a smirk, but Elizabeth’s hands fisted at her waist.
“Did I indicate that I was finished?” she asked brusquely.
Wickham’s frown lines met. “Not of which I am aware, but a woman…”
“Has a mind,” she interrupted. “You forget yourself, Lieutenant Wickham. I am Elizabeth Darcy, not my sister Lydia. I am permitted my thoughts. My opinions are respected.” She sighed heavily. “I would like to think that you truly held me in affection, but as your apparent partiality subsided, I could see it and write of it without material pain. My heart had been but slightly touched, and my vanity was satisfied with believing that I could have been your only choice had fortune permitted it. I was never much in love; for had I really experienced that pure and elevating passion, I should have detested your name, and wished you all manner of evil. But my feelings were not only cordial toward you, they were even impartial toward Miss King. I continue to think her a good sort of girl. I cannot say that I regret my comparative insignificance. Importance may sometimes be purchased too dearly. Kitty and Lydia took your defection much more to heart than did I. At the time, they were young in the ways of the world and were not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on, as well as do the plain ones.”
Wickham countered, “Lydia is still ignorant in the world’s ways.”
“My sister is but eighteen. I am four years Lydia’s senior; you married a child barely sixteen and then complained of her lack of maturity. Instead of seeing Mrs. Wickham’s youthful exuberance as an anchor about your neck, gently teach Lydia what you require of her.” Elizabeth resumed her seat beside the man. “In America, you will be introduced to Mr. Buckley, a man with an eye on the American marketplace. Learn from the man and carve out your own destiny.”
“And what of Lydia?” he asked dejectedly.
Elizabeth sympathetically instructed, “As you apprentice with Mr. Buckley, permit Lydia to renew her acquaintance with Mrs. Buckley. You will recall Mr. Bingley’s sister Caroline from your time in Meryton. Miss Bingley became Mrs. Buckley last December.” Thinking of the debacle of the woman’s sorted elopement, Elizabeth smiled with some satisfaction. She should not have taken such great pleasure in the former Miss Bingley’s shame, but such remained her one great sin. She could forgive Lieutenant Wickham his many perfidious acts, but Elizabeth could never quite muster a welcoming thought for Caroline Buckley. “Mrs. Buckley possesses a fine figure and is rather handsome, and she comes from a very respectable family in the North of England. The lady received her education in one of the first private seminaries in London. Mrs. Buckley could exercise a great influence over Lydia. You could have the Society wife you have always desired,” she said pointedly.
“Yet, Lydia is not you.” Wickham reached for Elizabeth’s hand, and she snatched it away.
She was on her feet and pacing before him on the graveled path. “Why is it that men always want what they cannot have?” She growled in frustration. “Admittedly, while you were in Meryton, we developed a camaraderie, but did you not hear me say not ten minutes prior that my attraction to Mr. Darcy overruled my good sense through much of that time? Fortunately, I recognized the draw between Mr. Darcy and myself before I committed myself to another. What misery would I know to marry elsewhere while loving Fitzwilliam? I am persuaded that the obstinacy in your speech lies in your need to best Mr. Darcy. As Elizabeth Darcy, I am no longer the prize you seek.”
“Perhaps,” Wickham said softly. “Or perhaps not. I shall never convince you otherwise, so my tongue will offer no further protest. I pray, Mrs. Darcy, that you have not designed a punishment that will bring your sister more sorrow.”
Elizabeth could not hide her anguish. “Promise me that you shall accept Lydia’s childlike qualities and treat her with a placid hand.”
“I will practice the utmost patience with my wife,” he said contritely. “Mayhap Mrs. Wickham and I will one day return to England richer than Croesus.”
Without allowing herself time for consideration, Elizabeth said, “If a fortune would permit you to know happiness, I shall pray daily for such an outcome.”
“And it is your contention, Mr. Darcy, that Lord Wotherspoon was unaware of his mother’s actions?”
Darcy had not expected the courts to question him regarding Domhnall MacBethan’s state of mind. “As Lord Wotherspoon was in England throughout the time these crimes occurred, I do not see how he would have had knowledge of Lady Wotherspoon’s actions. Nor, from what I know of the man, would I believe that he would have approved of these heinous crimes. As my cousin and I discovered, Wotherspoon had made efforts to nurse the prisoners to health and to offer restitution for Dolina MacBethan’s misdeeds.”
The court official asked, “Why, in your opinion, would Lord Wotherspoon leave behind a woman that he initially protected?”
Darcy settled his eyes on the defiant figure of Dolina MacBethan. She sat proud and disdainful, daring anyone to judge her—although judge her the courts would. “When confronted by her eldest son, Lady Wotherspoon admitted that she had delivered a fatal dose of poison that killed Lord Wotherspoon’s former wife and his heir. Domhnall MacBethan expressed the fear that his mother would attempt a similar assault on the current Lady Wotherspoon. I assume from his actions and words that he no longer felt an allegiance to a woman who would be
tray his heart. As the newly minted Lady Wotherspoon is with child, the Earl removed his wife from his mother’s influence.”
“The child not be a MacBethan,” Dolina MacBethan declared. “I saw an end to Coll MacBethan’s line. “
“I be a MacBethan,” a man that Darcy did not recognize said emphatically.
“As am I,” Munro said flatly. “Ye tainted the name, but ye did not destroy the line. It survived Sawney Bean’s madness, and it will survive McCullough’s influence.”
Lady Wotherspoon shot to her feet as the judge tried to restore order. “Coll died slowly as I took me great delight in describing the shame I practiced on the family name,” she shouted above the melee.
“Be quiet!” The man Darcy recognized as the lady’s brother, Oliver McCullough, warned. The village butcher’s voice had silenced the turmoil. The man faced charges of complicity in the court action.
Dolina turned on the man. “Do not shush me, Oliver,” she hissed. “Ye know what Coll did to me. How he thought himself superior to anyone Lars McCullough sired.”
“It not be that way, gel,” McCullough murmured.
The woman extended her bound hands in supplication. “How be it, then?” she pleaded.
Before anyone could respond, a youth in dark clothing rose to his feet. “You killed my father.” The soft coldness of the young man’s words stilled the courtroom.
Then Darcy saw the gun in the youth’s hand. “No!” he shouted, but he was too late. The room filled with the pungent odor of gunpowder as Dolina MacBethan stood tall for one beat of the heart before she crumbled onto the courtroom floor.
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery Page 37