Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  Darcy tensed as the room gasped at the announcement and turned shocked eyes from Francesca to Darcy and back again. Darcy’s hands clenched, and his face was frozen in a fury. Francesca wrung her hands and stood. “Forgive me. I had to do it. I had no other choice. They threatened to harm my child if I did not go along with their scheme!” She looked at him with desperate eyes and tears streaming from them. She reached her hand out and took a step toward him only to let her arms flop to her sides as Darcy flinched, and his eyes shot fire at her.

  “What have you done?” Darcy asked, his face twisted, but his voice terrifyingly calm.

  Francesca’s shoulders drooped as she dropped back into the chair. The weight of her perfidy and the insanity of the scheme weighing like a ton upon her. She no longer cared that this was not a private conversation. Her shame was intense.

  Limp, Francesca spoke in a flat, slow voice. Her tears disappeared as suddenly as they came, trained away through years of disappointments. “My father, who had gambled away my dowry, sold me to Giles Waters, who at fifty and six was older than my father was. I was ten and seven. My father did it to pay his debts. Giles was cruel, a meaner husband I could not imagine. Everything had to be perfect, myself included. He reigned over every detail of our household, even the roles traditionally left to the mistress; I was allowed no say. The cook discussed menus with him, and the housekeeper discussed curtains and bedding.” She shook her head in disbelief, “But he saved his greatest scrutiny for me. He chose my clothing, my coiffure, and he instructed me on how to walk and talk.”

  Francesca shivered at the memory. “If I laughed too much in company or too little, if I smiled too openly at his friends or I was not friendly enough, he would punish me. Occasionally he would slap or push me, those were the merciful ones. His worse was when he would deny me food for days.” Lady Sarah gasped. “He would lock me in my room and forbid anyone other than the chambermaid to enter. When I was so starved, I would have gladly eaten the food reserved for his hounds, he would allow my lady’s maid to clean and dress me and invite me to dinner, just him and me. He would sit me down and devour his meal before me, carrying on polite dinner conversation, while I stared at an empty plate, starving. He called it ‘discipline.’ I was only ten and seven.” Francesca’s voice hitched for the fearful young girl who had never been loved.

  “After those lessons, I learned quickly to please where I could, to say, smile, behave the way he wanted, even while dying inside.” Francesca’s flat tone became animated, “A few years into our marriage, we entertained the son of a friend for some weeks in our home. He was young, amusing and kind, and he treated me like, well, he spoke with me as if he were interested in my thoughts. It was as heady as a fine wine. He was well traveled, and I was cloistered. We spoke about everything. One day while Giles was out, we…” Francesca cleared her throat, “I was only twenty. I was trapped, unwanted, and frightened. When he finally returned to his home county, I found I was breeding. Giles had ceased to come to me, it was always rare, but by then it was nonexistent.

  “I was forlorn. I stopped eating. I left my chambers only when summoned, which fortunately was not often for Giles had strangely become less attentive. I presume now that he suffered the beginnings of the illness that took him. At any rate, I digress. I thought to drink a bottle of laudanum, but I already loved the child within me. I thought to run away, but I had nowhere to go. Only my lady’s maid, who had become my friend, knew. I was on tenterhooks, worried that Giles would come to me one night and discover my changing form. My lady’s maid began to sleep on a pallet in my room by the door. One night we heard Giles’s footsteps pause near my locked door, and my lady’s maid, Ada, pulled me into the servant’s corridor until Giles moved away. By the time he had left, I was so afraid; I could not walk. Ada helped me to bed and in the morning presented me with an old letter I had from cousin Lilly. Though never warm to me, she was the only family I had. I wrote to her for a visit.

  “I waited until his sons came. When they were about, Giles ignored me. I asked if I could visit my ill relation. Thankfully, he agreed. I stayed with Cousin Lilly and Cousin Hayden for four months until I was delivered of a baby girl.” Her years of hiding her pain were insufficient to stem the flood of tears that followed. “She came early. She was so tiny but so perfect.” Her words came in whispered gasps now. “I was only able to stay with her for three weeks before I was summoned home,” she continued between gasps. “The only thing I ever had to call my own, and I had to leave her into the hands of my maid, who I knew would love her, and my cousins who promised her shelter but little more. I named her Cassandra, after my mother, who I had never known.” The gasps were now stealing her ability to speak, and the whole room listened to the sound of a heart shattered.

  Someone placed a handkerchief in her hand, and she dried her eyes and breathed. “When I returned home, Giles was ill. Even though he declined quickly, he lingered for months. I was turned out of his home with nothing, a month after he died. I gladly traveled back to my little Cassandra. It was only a few months before I realized that my stay there would be untenable, for Cousin Lilly expected me to find a protector after my year of mourning. I dreaded the prospect of my life in the hands of another, but I had no choice. I was passed to several before I met you at a ball.” She looked up at Darcy with soft eyes and the ghost of a smile, “You were a true gentleman, thoughtful, kind.” Darcy blanched and looked away. “I was giddy that you had been kind to me. I made the error of telling Cousin Lilly that I had met you,” Francesca shook her head. “That is when their plan began.

  “They wanted me to capture you. They knew a compromise would not do, for you would not be honor bound to marry a widow. They wanted me to become with child and force you to marry me so that they could have access to Pemberley, what my Cousin Lilly thought should have belonged to Ellen and then by extension to Hayden. Having raised Ellen as her daughter, in some ways, Cousin Lilly was more affronted than Cousin Ellen by George Darcy’s defection. Lilly doted on Ellen and believed her flawless. It was madness, but I believe she would have received sick satisfaction in manipulating your marriage to me, perhaps she even thought to gain some control over Pemberley. At any rate, you were just emerging from mourning, and she contrived to throw me in your path. I went along for Cassandra to have a home. I was given an indifferent education, and there were few options for me but to decline into degradation and poverty, and to take my perfect little girl with me. You were good and decent, and I wanted you and the life I knew you would give, not so much the riches, but the safety and respect.”

  Darcy turned away from the eyes that asked for understanding. Her story was tragic, but it was no excuse for what she attempted to do. “Who is Alexander’s father?” Darcy asked with his back toward her.

  Francesca sighed and lowered her head, grateful that she had been unable to eat that day, for she was certain she would have tossed up anything she had consumed as she prepared to tell the most devious part of the horrid tale.

  “When I returned, my Cousin Lilly, who had traveled under the guise of my companion, was furious at my failure.” She glanced quickly at Lord Matlock, “And at you for thwarting the plan when you forced us to leave. I feared that Cassandra and I would be turned out with nowhere to go. Lilly decided that my co…”, she cleared her throat, “that my cousin, that Ellen’s and Mr. Darcy’s son,” her voice faded to a whisper and she blew out a harsh breath, “that I would bear a child by your brother and trick you in to making Alexander your heir.” The room gasped, shocked to hear the suspected scheme voiced. Francesca reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow and spoke rapidly. “Hayden felt that Pemberley should have been his. And if he could not have it, he would take his revenge on you and his father by knowing that it would one day belong to his son as would have happened naturally if he had been acknowledged as the heir.”

  “How do we know you are telling the truth now?” Richard asked. “My man saw the birth record which has Alex
ander’s birth seven months after you left Pemberley.”

  “Hayden paid for the records to be falsified. I have proof, in my trunk. Letters from the vicar to Hayden.” She spoke quickly and disjointedly. “Alexander was born, 2 November 1808.”

  “When we have concluded here, we will see your proof,” Lord Matlock spoke.

  Francesca nodded, and all eyes now turned toward Darcy. Darcy turned back around; his face was fierce, but his voice calm. “Did you expect that I would never find out? Did you think that if your scheme had succeeded that my brother would not have eventually confessed for revenge? Or did you have a scheme to rid yourself of him as well? What was your plan, Francesca! And how could you use your son as nothing more than a pawn?”

  Sorrowful eyes, awash with tears and determined not to flinch, met Darcy’s eyes. I deserve this. She swallowed the sob that threatened to erupt and blew out a long breath. “I have no excuse, Fitzwilliam. I have participated in treachery of the lowest kind. I can only say that I was desperate. You were so very good, and I have never felt safe until then.”

  “And this is how you would repay my ‘goodness,’ Darcy asked sarcastically.

  Tears streamed now down blotchy cheeks and a quivering chin. “I fooled myself into thinking that I could make you love me, and that you would never know. It was madness, utter madness. And I cannot hope to gain your forgiveness, but for what it is worth, I would never let any harm come to you, Fitzwilliam.”

  Darcy raised his eyebrow sardonically, and Francesca flushed and looked away. “I know what I planned was harmful, but I thought I could make up for it by caring for you. However, I meant no harm to your person.” Francesca toyed with the handkerchief in her hand. “Which is why this next part is so difficult.” Francesca took a heaving breath and looked at Darcy with a furrowed brow. “Hayden plans to kill you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “What!” Lord Matlock yelled as he lurched to his feet.

  “Oh!” Lady Matlock gasped, her hand to her mouth and eyes wide.

  Darcy stiffened, and Hardston leaned forward like a tiger, eyes roaming to each person in the room.

  “What do you mean he plans to kill Darcy!” Richard bellowed as he leapt from his chair.

  “Since the plan did not succeed, it is how he has consoles himself,” Francesca answered.

  Darcy and Richard exchanged a glance, and then both sat in chairs close to Francesca. “Tell us exactly what you know,” Darcy said.

  “Leave nothing out,” Richard warned, leaning forward.

  When Francesca completed her tale of Hayden’s threats, Matlock, who had paced slowly while she spoke, stopped and rubbed his chin, “I had not thought him so bad.”

  “Have you known him to be vicious enough for murder?” Richard asked.

  Francesca shook her head. “He, he can be volatile; he yells and screams and threatens, but when his rage evaporates, he is more reasonable. I have learned to appease him, so I have never suffered physical harm. He is not an attentive father, but he is not cruel, either. When Cousin Ellen was alive, he was loving to her if a bit acerbic to others. It is just when it comes to the Darcys that he loses all reason. His hatred toward Fitzwilliam leaves me unable to predict his actions.”

  “When did you leave London?” Darcy asked.

  “Monday.”

  “So, he could have left right after you and traveling alone, he could be here by now,” Richard looked at Darcy and then at Lord Matlock.

  “I do not think so.” All eyes turned to Francesca. “I, um,” Francesca cleared her throat. “When he returned in a rage, he was already three sheets to the wind. When he told me what he planned, I knew I had to not only to get Alexander to safety, but I had to warn you also. I put a sleeping draught in Hayden’s brandy. I am certain he slept for quite some time.”

  “Yes, and he would have awoken with quite a headache. I think we can safely say he did not leave on Monday,” Hardston smirked.

  “No, but traveling alone still means he could be here at any time. We must plan,” Richard stated.

  “I presume you will want to continue this in your study?” Lady Matlock asked, and Lord Matlock nodded. “Very well, you will inform me of your plans,” she stated, looking pointedly at the men. When all nodded, she rose and smoothed her perfect dress, “Mrs. Waters, you will want to refresh yourself. I will have the housekeeper show you to a room.”

  Francesca looked up, her brows creased, “But…”

  “I insist,” Lady Matlock answered her unspoken question.

  “I, I had not thought, after what I have done, to impose upon your hospitality.”

  Lady Matlock sighed, “What you have conspired to do was unconscionable. And I do not tolerate those who seek to harm my family.” Francesca lowered her eyes. “However, you have come forward, at some cost to yourself, to warn my nephew; therefore, I will allow you a place of rest, especially as you may be needed for further information.”

  “You are generous. I thank you.” Lady Matlock nodded and moved toward the door. Francesca rose and followed, her usually erect posture slackened from the weariness of body and soul.

  “Let us get to work,” Hardston spoke as the ladies exited. Shocked that the aggressive and determined command would come from Hardston, Darcy, Richard and Lord Matlock turned to him with nearly identical raised-eyed expressions.

  “What?” Hardston shrugged, throwing his hands in the air.

  Later that day, Francesca looked out the window from her comfortable guest room. It was small, and as far away from the family wing as it could get, and they had posted a footman at her door, but the room was pleasant. The adjoining room had been arranged to keep Alexander and Nurse near. The family had not been warm to her, but they had not been cruel. And considering her perfidy, she could not complain. The men had summoned her when new details were needed, but mostly, she kept to her room. As she looked out the window, her mind turned to her Cassandra. She smiled as she thought of the last time she had seen her. Bright eyes and smiles, so loving and kind. She wondered how such a perfect creature, how two such perfect creatures could come from her. Francesca placed her head upon the pane, still warm though the sun was waning. She surmised that Hayden would react in anger when he found her missing, and he would run off to intercept her and harm Darcy. However, it was a gamble, there existed a small chance that he would ride to Creston Hill and spirit her Cassandra away. Francesca exhaled, “I cannot allow that. I have done what I could to warn Darcy,” she spoke to the vacant room. Francesca mentally calculated her funds and nodded. With what I have saved and taken from Hayden, I can find a small cottage and live for two, maybe three years if I sell Hayden’s carriage and horses after I relocate, but I must return to Cassandra before he does. She turned from the window, glad that she had not unpacked her trunk and entered Alexander’s room to inform Nurse. They would leave tomorrow.

  The next morning, Francesca stood outside the breakfast room and marveled at the good-natured banter coming from within it. The sunlight from the windows streamed into the hall, and the breeze carried the warm laughter like a breath exhaled. Francesca closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as if she could absorb the joy and acceptance within it. Failing, she opened her eyes, smoothed her dress, and walked forward.

  The laughter ceased as she entered, and four pairs of eyes turned toward her. They had been accommodating, and she would not leave without notice, but if ever she knew she was a foreigner, it was here, amid their familial love, and it was the last place she wanted to be.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Waters,” Lady Matlock greeted her coolly. “Please be seated.” Two chairs scraped the floor as Darcy and Richard belatedly rose to bow. One chair made no noise at all as Hardston only partially lifted his bum and quickly sat again, rolling his eyes at the unjustified respect the other two had paid to the treacherous woman.

  Lady Matlock nodded at the footman, who placed a plate before Francesca. For a while, only birds chirping outsid
e the window interrupted the silence. “I trust you slept well, Mrs. Waters,” Lady Matlock finally spoke.

  “Indeed, thank you for your forbearance. I have come to tell you that I must leave today. I must return to collect my daughter as soon as may be.”

  “Do you fear they may harm her?” Lady Matlock asked.

  “I do not. I fear they may take her away. I cannot allow that.”

  “That may be, but you cannot possibly leave until we have apprehended Hayden. He is unlikely alone, and he and his men may be lying in wait. Your carriage would be accosted and you and the lad in danger,” Richard spoke.