by Elaine Owen
Darcy and Georgiana both smiled, amused, but their smiles changed to looks of concern as a single rider on horseback came into their field of vision, his hat low on his head to shield him from the rain. Elizabeth’s eyes followed their gaze. “A messenger from town,” Darcy commented, his curiosity piqued. “He must have something in particular to share, given these conditions.”
“He will certainly have need of drying off, lest Mrs. Reynolds scold him for making a mess in the entry,” Elizabeth answered.
“I will see that he is let in right away,” Georgiana offered, and rang the bell to have the butler alerted.
It was not long before the rider had entered the house and been made comfortable, and then he was shown to the study and presented to Darcy. Darcy paid him while Elizabeth and Georgiana stood anxiously by, and then swiftly opened the envelope. He was mildly surprised when not one but two letters fell into his hand.
“One of these is from my solicitor and the other from Mr. Gardiner. They are both addressed to me.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Which one will you read first?”
Darcy hesitated, and then took up the envelope with the oversize letter G on the seal.
“Shall I leave?” Georgiana asked.
Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged a look, and then Elizabeth smiled at her. “Of course not. This concerns you as well as us.”
Darcy read aloud:
My dear sir,
I am happy to report that everything has gone just as you hoped it would when you left the matter of my niece Lydia and Wickham in my hands. Following the information you gave me, I located them in the boarding house of Mrs. Younge, a disorderly, slatternly woman in a neighborhood that matches her appearance.
“He has found them!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Are they married?”
Lydia is well, and not at all concerned for the disgrace she has caused herself and others. She and Wickham are not married—nor can I find that there was ever much intention of being married—but if you will agree to the arrangements that I have ventured to make on your behalf, I hope that the ceremony will be carried out soon. All that is required is the surrender of Lydia’s dowry, the payment of Wickham’s debts, and the purchase of a commission in the army.”
“Her dowry, his debts, and a commission?” Elizabeth repeated, shaking her head. She was overcome by the greed and general want of decency on display.
“I am not surprised,” was her husband’s cool answer. “I would be astonished if he were to ask for anything less.”
Georgiana’s eyes filled with pity. “He is still seeking women to make his fortune. Your poor sister.”
We have already purchased a license, and the ceremony can take place as soon as we hear back from you that these arrangements are to your satisfaction. Lydia will be married from our home, and then they will be sent to join his regiment in the north, unless you object. I am including the pertinent documents for your review and signature.
I am also including a communication from your solicitor, whom I saw yesterday in the course of my negotiations with Wickham. When he heard that I was sending you an immediate message he begged me to include a letter from him as well, saying that you will benefit from the information it contains. I hope that it will prove to be as helpful as he seems to think it will be.
Trusting in an immediate response from you, I am your obedient servant
Edward Gardiner
“To think that marriage to Wickham is the best that can be hoped for Lydia!” Georgiana exclaimed. She was struck by the disgrace and helplessness of Lydia’s position, even if Lydia herself was not. “He will spend every farthing she has in a fortnight, and then he will abandon her once the money is gone. And yet they must marry!”
“Yes, they must marry; there is nothing we can do about it,” Elizabeth answered, wishing herself wrong. “By law all that a wife has is her husband’s as soon as they are married, and he is free to spend it as he likes. There is no way to stop Wickham from doing what we know he will do. I never thought one of my father’s daughters might end up the victim of a fortune hunter!”
Darcy sat back down at his desk, frowning thoughtfully as he considered the pages before him. “There actually could be a way around it,” he said, speaking almost to himself. “We could have her dowry transferred to a trust, one managed by a reliable, discreet administrator sworn to spend it only on Lydia’s behalf. Such things are done sometimes, you know. It would not stop Wickham’s gaming and wasteful spending, but at least he would not be wasting her money.”
“I have heard of such trusts before, but I am not overly familiar with them. Protecting ourselves from fortune hunters was never a concern before now. But trusts, I believe, take time to set up, and Wickham and Lydia have to marry right away.”
“They do indeed. There is no delay possible on that point.” Darcy mulled this over in silence for a few more seconds before looking at his sister. “Georgiana, do you happen to know where the colonel is?”
“No,” she said, surprised. “But I can ask Mrs. Reynolds.”
“If you would not mind,” he answered, and Georgiana left the room to find her cousin at once. Darcy turned to answer Elizabeth’s inquiring look.
“If the colonel is willing to help, I believe we can put Lydia’s dowry out of Wickham’s reach with a much simpler solution.”
She raised one eyebrow. “I am curious to hear what you have in mind.”
He told her briefly, earning an approving nod.
“An excellent plan. I will almost feel sorry for Wickham, once he realizes the trap laid for him! I am glad you thought of involving the colonel.”
“So am I.” They exchanged an amused look before Darcy took up the other letter. “It might be better to read this while Georgiana is out of hearing.”
Elizabeth waited impatiently while her husband unsealed the envelope and then watched as his face registered his reaction to the first few lines. The look in his eyes changed rapidly from curiosity to shock, from shock to disbelief, and finally to something like hope. Quickly he perused the other pages of the letter, his eyes lingering for a moment on certain lines, and then he looked at Elizabeth. “I think you should read this, my dearest.” Elizabeth did not need a second invitation.
“It appears to be a copy of a church register—nothing terribly interesting,” she said after a minute, disappointed. “I do not understand.”
“Read the first page,” he urged her. “And then here,” he said, pointing, “and here.”
As she read the parts he indicated, understanding began to dawn; she looked at her husband with eyes that were widening by the moment. “Can this be true?”
“I do not see how it can be denied.”
Dazed, she looked at the words on the page again. “If this is true—” she began, hardly daring to hope.
“If this is true,” Darcy finished, a smile beginning to cross his face, “then we have found a way to stop Lady Catherine speaking against you, once and for all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Five days later, in the midafternoon, a chaise and four made its way swiftly up the driveway of Pemberley and came to an abrupt stop before the front doors. The regal lady inside took her time about leaving the vehicle, forcing the footman to stand at rigid attention for several long minutes before she finally descended the carefully placed stairs. Once on the ground, she looked down her nose at the surroundings—the stream, the trees, the wide steps leading inside, and even the house itself--and sniffed. Then she lifted her chin proudly and extended one arm.
“Attend to me, John,” she commanded, waiting until the footman took his place behind her and a little to one side. “I am expected inside.”
There was certainly no sign that she was expected; the front door of Pemberley remained stubbornly shut even as she approached it. With great dignity the footman rapped on the door for her, and the door swung solemnly open. Lady Catherine crossed the threshold with all the ceremony of a king on royal tour.
The butle
r inside the house took her hat and spencer, and then Mrs. Reynolds appeared and curtsied before the august visitor. “If you will, madam,” she said, and turned away with no further communication.
Lady Catherine followed the housekeeper through the halls of Pemberley, looking from side to side as she went, keeping up a running monologue as she went.
“I can write my name in the dust on that pianoforte; such shoddy housekeeping would not be tolerated at Rosings for one instant! The wallpaper will do for now, I suppose. The lamps appear not to have been trimmed for months! At Rosings we make our help earn their keep, not sit idle and gossip all day. I see that it will take some time to remove the marks of vulgar taste that have been afflicted on this home. Anne will remedy all this when she is mistress!” Mrs. Reynolds, ahead of Lady Catherine, managed not to roll her eyes as she announced the visitor into the parlor, but it was only because of her years of training as a discreet employee.
Darcy was waiting in his study when Lady Catherine came in, his face grim. He did not rise as courtesy demanded, and she took a seat across from him without waiting to be asked.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” said Darcy, although she certainly needed no invitation. “We may be here for some time.”
“I came as soon as I received your message,” Lady Catherine answered. “I am, I suppose, relieved that you are finally willing to honor your obligations to your family, although it would have been easier if you had not been entrapped by that Miss Bennet first.”
“Elizabeth is Mrs. Darcy now,” Darcy answered, his lips tightening almost imperceptibly.
“For the moment, perhaps,” his aunt said, coldly.
Darcy made an impatient motion with his hands. “Let us come straight to the point. It is time that we resolve the matter of your interference with my marriage.”
“Excellent. I assume you have already made the proper overtures to that woman’s mother and that you will soon be free to marry Anne.”
“On the contrary. I asked you to come to Pemberley so that we could resolve our impasse. I did not give any indication how I thought it would be resolved.”
Lady Catherine frowned at him. “You led me to believe that a settlement was imminent! I did not travel all the way from town simply to hear you say that you are determined to continue on this course! If you are not willing to do the right thing, my trip here has been a waste of time.”
“Matters will indeed be settled, but perhaps not in the way you expected.”
Lady Catherine fixed him with her most intimidating glare. “Tell me, Darcy--is that woman gone from your house yet? For if not, then we have nothing to speak of. Have you managed to send her back to Longbourn?”
Darcy met her eyes evenly. “No.”
Lady Catherine’s face began to flush. “Will you promise me that it will be done as soon as possible?”
“I will not.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes grew wide as Darcy leaned forward in his chair, placing his hands on the desk for emphasis.
“Why should I do as you ask, Lady Catherine? Why should I set aside my wife, a woman with the finest character and disposition, merely to take up one of your choosing? Do you truly believe your status as my aunt gives you the right to dictate my behavior?”
“I claim such rights as your elder, Darcy, and as your mother’s only sister. Besides this, I am the widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, of the S----- shire de Bourghs, and now the holder of the de Bourgh fortune!”
“The de Bourgh fortune that you hold in trust.”
“Of course.”
“For Anne.”
“Naturally, who else?”
Darcy sat back in the chair again, appraising his aunt with a keen, shrewd look. “I have always found it curious, Lady Catherine, how much you like to emphasize your distinction of rank, your connections in society, and your title. My mother, though she was your older sister, did not find such self-promotion necessary. In my experience those who insist on their superiority the loudest are those who are least sure of owning it.”
Lady Catherine did not answer, looking back at him with her lips pressed tightly together. It occurred to her that Darcy had a very different agenda than what she had assumed when she received his message.
Without taking his eyes off his aunt, Darcy said, in a somewhat louder voice, “Elizabeth, would you please bring me the letter which Wilson sent to me the other day?”
“Certainly.” Elizabeth had been sitting quietly in a chair a little behind the door that Lady Catherine had used to enter the room. Now she rose and came into her field of view, and as she did so, Lady Catherine’s mouth opened wide. She nearly sputtered in outrage.
“What is the meaning of this? Why have you allowed that woman to be present, and why was I not informed that she was in the room?”
“Wilson is my solicitor in town,” Darcy explained, ignoring her outburst. “The documents he sent me earlier this week inspired me to ask you to come to Pemberley. I think you will find them most enlightening.” Elizabeth laid the pages on the table and pushed them across to Lady Catherine, who looked at her suspiciously. She frowned, and then reluctantly picked them up. Darcy and Elizabeth remained motionless, silently watching as she began to glance through them.
“I fail to see what you think I ought to read here. This is a recitation of births and marriages from decades ago, in some parish I have never heard of.”
“They are from a small parish in Scotland,” Darcy told her, “in a town of little consequence to anyone. I asked my solicitor to look into some rumors I heard years ago, and this is what he found.”
Lady Catherine glanced quickly, sharply at him, and then more intently at the pages in her hand, squinting slightly as her finger traced down the line of entries. Elizabeth heard her breath catch as her finger suddenly ceased its motion. “What is the meaning of this, Darcy?” she demanded.
Darcy took a deep breath before answering. “Anne is not the heir of Rosings Park,” he announced calmly. “Nor are you the guardian of its fortunes.”
“What!” Lady Catherine exclaimed, looking in disbelief between Darcy and the names on the page.
“Sir Lewis had a son before he married you. Despite his last name, that man, Lewis Beaufort, is the natural son of your husband, as I am sure you already know. I had heard talk once or twice before of a liaison between Sir Lewis and a low-born woman, but I had no idea of there being a child born from that union.”
Lady Catherine angrily dropped the pages from her hand. “Yes, I knew of my husband’s failing before we met. He gave in to his baser urges and fathered a child out of wedlock. Sir Lewis arranged for the mother and child to go live with relatives, and that was the end of the affair. What of it?”
“That child was not born out of wedlock,” said Darcy, with preternatural calm. “Sir Lewis married the girl. My solicitor found the marriage recorded in Scotland, where the couple had fled in order to avoid the interference of his parents. Some months later, their son was born.”
Although Elizabeth had known this information was coming, she still felt the shock of the words reverberate throughout the room. Lady Catherine gasped. “I do not believe it.”
“I think you do. I think that you already investigated the matter and found out how Sir Lewis’s parents pressured the girl to give up the match, since her family had no fortune. You discovered that her family accepted a bribe and swore there was a flaw in the marriage contract, and that is what inspired you to try the same with my marriage.”
Lady Catherine stared, open-mouthed.
“This means, of course, not only that Anne is not the heir of Rosings, but that you yourself were never married to her father.”
Lady Catherine found her voice again, gasping out, “You cannot prove any of this!”
“I do not have to. My solicitor had the pages from the register copied out for me, and that is all that we need. You can see the wedding date for yourself.”
Lady Catherine slowly took up the pages of the regi
ster from the table again, her eyes fixing on the line in question. Her face now bore a look entirely different from the haughty, arrogant expression she had worn moments previously. Elizabeth could see her mind working furiously, trying to comprehend this new information.
“It may interest you to know,” Darcy added, with feigned casualness, “that Lewis Beaufort is no longer living. He passed away of a fever several years ago; his mother is also gone.”
His aunt’s hands had begun to tremble. “Did he ever marry? Were there any children?”
“I do not believe so. Fortunately for you, as long as that remains the case, there is no one to step forward and dispute the inheritance.” Lady Catherine closed her eyes and sighed with relief. Then she opened them again and looked at Darcy again as comprehension began to dawn. An awkward silence ensued, which Elizabeth broke.
“Your poor cousin Anne,” she said, laying a hand on her husband’s arm. “It would be quite a shock for her to realize that she had a brother she never knew. I do not think there is any reason to disturb her with such information now that he is gone. She cannot mourn for someone she never met.”
“I tend to agree. Besides which, finding out about the occurrence of another marriage before that of her parents would be upsetting in the extreme for her to discover.”
Lady Catherine looked from Darcy to Elizabeth and then back to Darcy again, her eyes battling his. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me and see.” Darcy’s voice was stern, inflexible. Lady Catherine looked at the parish records again, and then licked her lips before trying another tack.
“There is still the matter of Lydia Bennet. Her living with an officer without the benefit of marriage has become generally known.”
“I wonder how the news spread so quickly,” Elizabeth said, with an arch look for the noble lady, “but it is no matter. Mr. Wickham and my sister are married.”
“Married!” Lady Catherine exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Heavens and earth! Are the shades of Pemberley to be so polluted?”