Darcy saw the major general wrestle the gun from the youth as onlookers scattered toward the exit. He sprang from where he had given his statement to reach the MacBethan matron. Turning the woman over gently, he knew immediately that Dolina MacBethan had breathed her last. As he cradled her in his arms, Oliver McCullough broke away from his jailers and fought his way to the lady’s side.
“Speak to me, gel,” he pleaded as he pressed his large hand to the gaping hole in the woman’s chest. “Ye kinnae leave me, Dolina.”
“She is gone, McCullough,” Darcy said softly.
McCullough’s eyes remained on the bloodied gown. Fresh blood seeped between his fingers as the Scot continued his useless ministration. “How will the sun rise tomorrow?” he asked the silent room. “From the first moment I laid eyes upon her, she has owned me heart.”
The way the man grieved aloud spoke of something more intimate than what Darcy knew of Dolina MacBethan’s relationship with her brother. Unable to control his curiosity, Darcy asked, “What was your true connection to Lady Wotherspoon?”
McCullough’s eyes finally met his. “I suppose there be no reason for others not to know.” After a long pause, the Scot added, “Dolina be me daughter. I be but fourteen when Lars McCullough’s whore invited me into her bed. My stepfather never knew the truth.” Tears misted the man’s eyes, and he turned his head to hide his shame. “Lars claimed her, but Dolina be mine. Me daughter. Me sister. Me…”
“Your what?” Darcy encouraged.
The Scot glanced to where Islav MacBethan held his younger brother in a tight grip. Dolina’s favorite son fought to be by his mother’s side. “Mam!” he cried repeatedly. McCullough shook his head in disapproval, and Aulay ceased his struggle.
Darcy carefully watched the exchange before he asked, “Your lover?”
“She be everything. Beautiful. Magnificently defiant. Dolina refused to speak the more cultured tongue of her husband’s family because she known it wud irritate Coll. At first, she be tryin’ to be what the man wanted, but MacBethan tired of her before Domhnall be born. Then Coll, he drives me away. Although her husband placed many a woman in her stead, he wud not be denied’is husbandly rights. Yet, Dolina be havin’ the final revenge. She saw Coll to ’ is deathbed. Me gel cleverly ground glass into the smallest fragments and added them to her husband’s meals—to ’is sauces, to ’is sausage, to ’is meat pies. Slowly, she cut out ’is heart from the inside—one small nick at a time.”
Darcy lowered the woman to the floor. One of the jailers had joined them to retrieve McCullough, and the court attendant opened a large handkerchief to cover Lady Wotherspoon’s wound. Darcy handed his own linen to McCullough for the man’s bloody hands.
“He hit her, you see,” McCullough continued. “Coll MacBethan often used his hand to discipline Dolina for her boldness, but he cudnae break her. In fact, me gel broke ’im. She destroyed the one thing Coll placed above all others: she exacerbated the scars on ’is family name. It be Dolina who delivered the final blow. She finds a means to bring scandal to Domhnall’s front door. She loved her eldest son, but she hated him, both at the same time. Domhnall had escaped to England, ye see. Lars be placin’ her in Coll’s bed because he be wantin’ the connection to the neighborhood’s largest family. Lars wud have sold his own mother for the right price, and Domhnall be the result of Dolina’s lying with Coll MacBethan. Her eldest be proof that she cud never escape Coll MacBethan’s influence in this world.” He glanced at the quiet figure lying at his feet. “Perhaps she be knowin’ peace in the next.”
Darcy doubted that Dolina MacBethan’s soul would ever know peace—more likely the hell fires of which the Fundamentalist ministers preached. “How could a woman hate so deeply as to destroy her own children to spite a man?” Darcy asked incredulously.
McCullough shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “When Dolina decided on a path, she rarely veered. Aulay comes by the tendency honestly.”
“The youngest MacBethan will never call you father, but he is yours, nonetheless.” Darcy’s voice spoke of his uncertainty.
McCullough said softly, “The boy must never know. Promise me that no one will tell Aulay the truth.”
Darcy glanced at the court official who remained by his side. The man nodded his agreement. “Only those who must know the truth will be apprised,” Darcy assured. “Now, you should go with this gentleman.” He gestured toward the bailiff. McCullough stood slowly and offered his hands in surrender. The court attendant led the butcher away.
Darcy looked up to see Edward advising the attorneys regarding the youth who had killed Dolina MacBethan. Exhausted by the exertion, he staggered to his feet. This journey had taken its toll on his sense of right and wrong. “Pray tell me Edinburgh will not prosecute the youth,” he said with great effort.
Edward nodded to where the jailers escorted the young man through the door leading to the cells. “At least, they have listened to my plea in the youth’s behalf. We will see to his reform. I have warranted a position at Alpin for the him and his mother if the authorities agree to release him into Mr. Jacks’s care. Losing their father has plunged the family into penury. The government has sent his brothers and sisters to two separate homes.”
“I despise this system of punishing those who are already suffering with the worst that society can bring them. How is it justice to sentence a man whose family is starving to transportation when he steals a loaf of bread for his children? There must be a better way.”
Edward shook his head in disbelief. “Will this madness upon which we have stumbled never end? Too much grief. Too many deaths. No resolution.”
“Despite your desire to create a memorable beginning for your joining, I fear the details of this case will forever cloud our thoughts of Galloway,” Darcy observed.
“If I am to assume the duties of the Countess’s familial inheritance, I would imagine there will be multiple instances when the outside world intrudes on my marital bliss. Our seeing through the twists and turns of this most unfortunate excursion into the Scottish Uplands will be a good test of my wife’s mettle,” Edward rejoined.
Darcy said grimly, “Yet, life should never presume precedence over the time you and my sister share. Promise me that Georgiana and your children will always take prominence.”
There was a quiet dignity about his cousin. Darcy had always recognized Edward Fitzwilliam’s integrity, but this convoluted race across southern Scotland to save Georgiana had proved the man’s real worth. His cousin would never compromise his beliefs.
“I promise to cherish Georgiana above all others. Your sister and the child she carries remain my priority.”
“Then you will do well, Cousin. Everything else will either fall in line or fall to the wayside.” The sound of heavy footfalls drew their attention. “Let us finish this. I am suddenly in great need of holding my wife and child. A man can never know when God will call him to his heavenly home. Therefore, he must cling to each moment of earthly joy.”
“I, personally, have tempted Fate for the last time.” Edward averted his face, and Darcy suspected his cousin fought his personal grief. “Give me the contented life of the landed gentry.”
Epilogue
HE AND ELIZABETH, along with the Reverend Mr. and Mrs. Winkler, waited on Pemberley’s main steps for Georgiana’s traveling coach to appear. It had been seven weeks since he had held his sister in his arms and bade her farewell at Alpin Hall. On that day, his wife had played light with him because he had embraced Georgiana three times before finally settling in his coach to travel to Newton Stewart.
“From a man many consider too staunch to bend,” Elizabeth had teased, “that was an exceptional display of your emotions, Mr. Darcy.”
He had ignored the taunt because he had observed how she had fought to keep her tears in check. She disliked leaving Georgiana behind as much as he.
They had returned to Pemberley a month prior, after he and Mr. Joseph had concluded their business in Scotland. With
Bingley’s multiple connections in trade, they had quickly secured the railway rights and had fostered negotiations with businesses to supply the building of the line and to maintain it afterwards. Parnell had objected to Darcy’s adamant refusal to seek a monopoly. “Competitive markets will increase the line’s growth potential,” he had insisted when Parnell had made an unexpected call on Pemberley.
Matthew Joseph had recovered from his wounds, and he and Mary had found a house on Newcastle’s outskirts where Mrs. Joseph could enjoy her garden. Their most recent letter had indicated that a law apprentice had taken an interest in Ruth Joseph. The young man called on the girl several times per week, and Mary had entertained Elizabeth with delightful missives describing the couple’s awkwardness.
Bingley and Jane had returned to Marwood Manor a week prior to this time. Mrs. Bennet’s retreat to Hertfordshire had presaged a safe return to the Bingleys’ home estate. Elizabeth’s father had escorted his wife to Longbourn. The good lady had grieved greatly at the loss of her youngest child to the “wilds of that dratful country.” Mr. Bennet had assured Elizabeth of her mother’s resiliency, but privately he had informed Darcy that he was uncertain when his wife might recover. “I pray Mr. Grange does right by Mary and gives Mrs. Bennet a new source of pride by presenting my wife with a grandchild upon whom she can dote. As that does not appear to be part of the couple’s foreseeable plans, I shall know no quiet.” Upon receiving the letter, Darcy had immediately issued an invitation to Elizabeth’s parents to rejoin them at Christmastide.
They had heard nothing from Munro MacBethan, but Edward had personally escorted Mr. Wickham to Stranraer, where MacBethan had met them with Mrs. Wickham in tow. The Major General had booked passage on a ferry to Northern Ireland. From there, the trio would depart for America. Edward had written of Mrs. Wickham’s subdued nature. “The lady has, at last, assumed the mantle of a demure genteel lady. I have, likewise, lectured Mr. Wickham regarding the opportunity presented him, but the man remains inscrutable,” Edward had written.
“Munro MacBethan was an appropriate choice to shepherd the couple. I discovered from the former lieutenant that he had encountered MacBethan previously and possessed a healthy respect for the Scot’s lethal intensity. As for MacBethan, he presented his typical granite resolve, but he betrayed a bit of anxiety by constantly palming a colorful glass disc. I found the contrast quite amusing.”
If Darcy had known of Mr. Wickham’s connection to MacBethan, he might have had second thoughts about hiring the Scot for the journey, but he trusted Edward’s evaluation of the situation. Darcy had other things on his mind regarding his former foe. Something odd had occurred in Scotland. Elizabeth had yet to share the events with him, but on more than one occasion, he had overheard his wife offering God the following prayer: “Dear Lord, please permit Mr. Wickham and Lydia to return safely to the bosom of their family, and allow them to arrive in England richer than Croesus.”
“She is here,” Kitty Winkler announced as Georgiana’s coach rolled into view.
Elizabeth murmured, “Thank God,” and Darcy silently seconded her sentiment.
And then the coach came to a halt not twenty feet before them. Jasper scrambled to lower the steps before the Major General unfolded his large form and reached into the coach for his wife’s hand.
Darcy’s heart lurched with the familiarity of the moment, but he had not expected the woman heavily laden with child who emerged from the coach’s darkness. She possessed the countenance of an angel—the same countenance that had welcomed his return to Pemberley over the years—but there was a difference, something in her eyes that proclaimed that she no longer belonged to him. His sister’s heart had changed allegiance; she treasured the man who competently lifted her to the ground more than she did her elder brother. He was now second in her heart, just as she had become second to Elizabeth. It was a sobering realization for the Master of Pemberley.
Next to the moment he had first laid eyes on Elizabeth Bennet, it was the most poignant moment of his life. From the instant he had held Georgiana in his awkward twelve-year-old arms, he had cherished the swaddled infant as Pemberley’s most impressive treasure. He had taught her his values: independence, freedom of choice, honesty, and integrity. He had given Georgiana the gifts of music and art and the finest education that Pemberley’s wealth could afford. He had offered his sister his unconditional love and the confidence to be her own person. Yet, even with all those things, he…
“You have not lost her,” Elizabeth interrupted his thoughts. “Georgiana will never disappear from your life. Our sister esteems you above all others,” she whispered softly.
“How can I be certain?” He had not questioned his wife’s ability to read his thoughts.
“Watch,” she said with amusement.
As soon as the Major General placed Georgiana’s feet on solid ground, she turned her head to him. Immediately, she rushed into his waiting arms. Darcy lifted her to him. Despite her increased girth, his sister still fit perfectly into his embrace. He inhaled instinctively to savor her essence—to fill his senses with her.
“I have missed you terribly,” she murmured as he kissed Georgiana’s temple.
“As I have you,” Darcy whispered. “More than words may express.”
Tears misted her eyes, so he permitted his sister to escape his embrace to rush into Elizabeth’s welcoming one. He thanked God daily for bringing Elizabeth Bennet into his and Georgiana’s lives. If his mother truly had served as the Darcy family’s guardian angel, he was certain that Lady Anne Darcy had had a hand in leading his steps to the Bennet’s door. He smiled genuinely as the two women in his life spoke over one another—each communicating as well with a nod, a tut, or a groan of delight.
“Welcome, Cousin.” Darcy extended his hand to Edward. “I pray your journey was uneventful.” If he must lose Georgiana to someone, Darcy was thankful it was to Edward Fitzwilliam.
“Your sister has fidgeted in her seat for the last hour—so anxious to return to her home,” Edward said as he gave Darcy a back-slapping male hug.
“Mrs. Darcy has worn a groove in the hardwood of her favorite drawing room. She has glanced out the window every few minutes,” Darcy declared.
“Were you not looking over the lady’s shoulder?” Edward asked good-naturedly.
“I admit to no such anxiousness,” Darcy responded.
From where she patiently waited for her turn to greet Georgiana, Kitty declared, “Well, I wholeheartedly confess to the act. We have counted the days until Georgiana’s return.”
Edward bowed to the waiting couple. “I am pleased to find you among our welcoming party, Mrs. Winkler. It has been too long since we have been in your company. I hope married life brings you as much happiness as it has me.” He brought Kitty’s hand to his lips for an air kiss.
Elizabeth, with her arm encircling Georgiana’s waist, joined their group. “You have not heard, Edward. Mr. Winkler is to be knighted for his efforts in educating the Lambton children. He and Kitty shall travel to St. James next week. That Kitty is to receive the title of Lady Winkler has bolstered my mother’s spirits after Mrs. Wickham’s departure.”
“I am gratified by your success, Mr. Winkler, and for your wife’s newest distinction. The honor is well earned.” Darcy noted that Edward winked at Kitty as if they shared a delicious secret, and his wife’s sister blushed prettily. Darcy had not thought that his cousin shared any intimacies with Elizabeth’s sister, but something had certainly passed between them.
Kitty and Georgiana exchanged exuberant welcoming embraces. “You are a pleasant sight,” Georgiana said through happy tears. “I am dreadfully sorry to have missed your wedding.”
“It is of little significance,” Kitty assured. “What matters is that you are once more at Pemberley.”
Darcy placed Georgiana on his arm and turned toward the still-open doorway. “Yes. What is important is that my sister will rest under Pemberley’s roof this evening, and that wherever she
may place her roots, the road from there will lead to Pemberley.”
Historical Notes
NAME HISTORY
In The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy, I have taken the liberty of giving Fitzwilliam Darcy a possible connection to the real Fitz William family. However, a fictional character cannot be actually related to that renowned family, and I do not purport that Jane Austen named her character after the Hall clan, or those who found their roots at Greatford Hall in Lincolnshire, the direct descendants of Wentworth, Earl of Fitz William.
By 1340, the Halls had migrated first to Cheshire and then northward to Scotland. Having accepted the invitation of Earl David of Huntingdon (later King David II of Scotland), they settled in Berwickshire, specifically the lands of Glenryg in the barony of Lesmahagow.
MOUNT TAMBORA
Mount Tambora is an active stratovolcano in the Indonesian archipelago, which erupted in April 1815. With an estimated volume of 160 cubic kilometers, Tambora’s 1815 eruption is one of the largest in history. Besides the number of deaths created by the heavy ash fallout in the neighboring islands, the Tambora eruption led to the phenomenon referred to as the “volcanic winter.” In North America and Europe, 1816 became the “Year Without a Summer.” Widespread agricultural famine and the loss of livestock met many of those living in the Northern Hemisphere. This was especially devastating to those in Europe and North America, who were recovering from the demoralizing effects of both the Napoleonic War and the War of 1812.
KILMARNOCK AND TROON RAILWAY
To carry coal between the Duke’s pits near Kilmarnock and the Troon Harbour on the Ayrshire coast, the Duke of Portland opened the KTR in July 1812. Authorized by an Act of Parliament in 1808, it was the only Scottish line for fourteen years and was the first to use a steam locomotive, as well as to have the first railway viaduct, which still stands. It also was the first to have fare-paying customers. It is now part of the Glasgow South Western Line.
The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery Page 38