Page 21 of A Heart’s Secret (In Want of a Wife #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY

E lizabeth looked through the newspapers the morning immediately after her altercation with Lord Fulford, but there was no mention of him.

“Is it not strange?” Elizabeth asked her aunt when they were sewing together. “Why is his indiscretion not in every paper? All the servants knew he was in the intimate company of a woman who was not his wife, to say nothing of what else occurred, and yet, there is no hint of it anywhere. Why is it that some people can behave atrociously and are never publicly censured, and others are considered fair game?”

Mrs Gardiner regarded her with sympathetic eyes. “I do not know. The foundations of this world are built upon a great many injustices, and it would take more than just you and I to understand them.”

She rose from seat and went to her aunt’s writing desk. “I would like to visit Lady Fulford today at her parents’ house.”

“I hope she is feeling better. From what you have said, she has been treated abominably ill.”

“Her husband is not worthy of her, but her parents are truly heartless. Her mother in particular does not give her the affection or the support she deserves.” She gave her aunt a grateful smile as she thought of the Gardiners’ unwavering assistance.

“Why did Mr Darcy take her to their house? Was there no better alternative?” her aunt asked.

“I am afraid not, especially since Miss Darcy and her companion have returned to Pemberley. If we were married, he might have chosen a different course of action.” Heat washed across her as she recalled the sensation of his body against hers.

Mrs Gardiner’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “On that subject, may I say how much I like him? When you first revealed to me the nature of your engagement, I feared for your happiness, but Mr Darcy’s behaviour has been nothing but courteous. He is a little quiet, but that is nothing that a lively wife may not change. Ernest adores him, and, as you know, my son is not easily in awe of anyone.”

Elizabeth suddenly pictured a younger Darcy being followed about by his cousin Dominic; her heart swelled with compassion for Darcy. What sadness this world brings. What pain he has known . She returned her attention to the writing desk, the little drawer scraping as she opened it and retrieved her diary. She opened it, searching for a particular page. With a pencil, she made a note before ripping the paper from the book and folding it neatly.

“What are you about?”

She gave her aunt a resolute smile. “An idea is beginning to form in my mind. I cannot be sure of its usefulness, but I am hopeful that something will come of it. I must do something to end this dreadful situation.”

“Will you tell me? I would be glad to offer my assistance.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know how to explain it, and it may amount to naught.” Elizabeth’s gaze rested on the stack of newspapers. “I promise I shall tell you if it turns out as I pray it will.”

Darcy paced his study and addressed Mr Andrews, who was sitting in front of the desk. “What news do you have?”

“It appears that the editors—junior editors might be a better descriptor—of the gossip column receive its articles by post. They are instructed to print them verbatim in a given edition of the paper.”

“Without question from the editor-in-chief?”

Mr Andrews shifted in his chair. “From what we can deduce, the man, Mr Calvert, is something of an absent figure. He is never seen in person. All contact with him appears to be through correspondence alone.”

“And this is duly accepted?” Darcy leant against the mantelpiece, his brows drawn together. “It sounds most irregular.”

“The newspaper is popular, especially the gossip column. I imagine the sub-editors are paid well enough to not ask questions.”

“But Mr Calvert replied to my letter demanding an end to the gossip.”

“You have a reply from someone purporting to be him. Truthfully, we have found precious little with regards to his real identity.”

Darcy sat behind his desk. On it were several copies of the Morning Gazette . Elizabeth’s assertion that he bore too much alone returned to him. He found the recent article referencing Dominic, Cheapside, and Ramsgate.

“Do you know,” he said, “I am beginning to wonder if these stories and the demands for money are connected.” Mr Andrews regarded him expectantly, and Darcy decided that when it came to his family, no line of enquiry should be left unexplored. “It began shortly before I went to Hertfordshire…”

The drawing room at Lord and Lady Matlock’s house was empty when Elizabeth entered it. She sat on a small settee and looked about, trying to imagine what it must have been like for Dominic Fitzwilliam to arrive as a small child, unwanted and unloved. The door opened, and Elizabeth did not rise, expecting it to be a servant. To her great surprise, she was greeted by Lord Matlock.

She rose swiftly and curtseyed. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord. I came to enquire after your daughter.”

Lord Matlock gestured for her to sit. “Lady Fulford remains abed.” He regarded her steadily from under his brows, and Elizabeth was struck by his resemblance to Darcy. She wondered how she had not noticed it before. After a moment, he took a seat near the fire.

“I am sorry to have called upon you at an inconvenient time,” she said. “I had hoped I might see her.”

He waved a hand. “Do not apologise, Miss Bennet. Your concern for my daughter does you credit.” He paused, and said delicately “As we are alone, will you tell me what you interrupted yesterday? I do not need a detailed account. The most pertinent facts will do.”

Mortification caused Elizabeth’s cheeks to burn. “I-I—that is to say,” she stammered. Clearing her throat, she did as requested. The earl ought to know, and she hoped it would lead him to better protect his daughter. As she spoke, Lord Matlock’s expression grew darker. She ended her narration with Darcy’s arrival.

“I have done you a disservice,” Lord Matlock said, his shoulders drooped. “I had feared you sought to gain personally by your marriage to my nephew. From the morsels of information he relayed to me yesterday, I know you have made light of your involvement in the whole affair. Without you, Cecilia would have been quite alone, and for that I thank you most sincerely.”

“I am afraid she has been alone in her suffering for months,” Elizabeth said, unable to remain quiet on the subject.

A wry smile passed across his lips. “Are you ever afraid, Miss Bennet? You give your opinion most decidedly for one who has scarcely lived in the world.”

“A great number of things frighten me, but I cannot help speaking my mind when the happiness of another is at stake.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I should take better care of my daughter?” There was a hint of affront in his tone.

Elizabeth shook her head. “It would not be my place to do so, my lord.” Although you should have.

“A diplomatic answer, Miss Bennet.” He gave another tight smile. “It might please you to know that I am resolved to change my will. Not far from Pemberley, I own a small house. Currently, it goes to my heir, to keep the estate intact, but I have decided to give it to Fitzwilliam so that he might leave the army and use it to support himself.” Lord Matlock must have noticed Elizabeth’s confusion, because he added, “Of course, he will need a lady to manage the house until he is married.”

“Lady Fulford?”

“It would be unusual, perhaps, but it would ensure my daughter’s safety.” Lord Matlock raised an eyebrow. “I am sure Fitzwilliam would agree to the arrangement. I do not like dividing my estate, nor do I do it easily, but to protect my daughter, I shall. Naturally, I cannot give the property to my daughter directly, as it would become her husband’s. I shall not permit one of my ancestral homes to be polluted with filth from the streets.” His expression hardened. “Too often, I have turned a blind eye to the misdeeds of others. I did not defend people I care for when they needed it the most. I have but one daughter. I will not abandon her.”

Briefly, Elizabeth wondered if he was speaking of his brother Mallory. She stood.

“For what it is worth, I like your scheme. Does Lady Fulford know of it?”

He shook his head. “I wish to change my will first. I do not want Fulford to learn of my plans, for fear that he might take action to prevent Cecilia from leaving London. I want her safely away from him, as much as I can arrange it.”

“I am relieved she will soon be in a happier situation.” There was an awkward silence, and she fiddled with her reticule. As she did, the piece of paper she had carefully torn from her diary earlier fell from it and fluttered to the floor, opening as it did.

Lord Fulford stooped to pick it up. As he gave it to Elizabeth, he said, “What is this? I see my nephew Dominic’s name.”

Elizabeth decided it was easiest to tell the truth. “It is a list of initials from the gossip column in the Morning Gazette . I added his name to it this morning. I wished to ask Lady Fulford if she had any notion whom they might refer to. I speculate that they are well-known members of society.”

“What would you do with this information?” Lord Matlock regarded her with curiosity.

Elizabeth wished she could refuse to answer, certain he would demand she give up her plan. She had no choice but to say. “I hoped she might introduce me to them. Then, I would ask whether the gossip was true.”

“You wish to talk to every philanderer and gambler mentioned in that contemptible paper?” His eyebrows arched in disbelief.

“No, not everyone. But in studying the articles, I have noticed that some people are more targeted than others. I would like to understand why.”

Lord Matlock held her gaze for a long moment, then said, “Give me the list.”

With astonishment, Elizabeth watched as he scanned the page, murmuring to himself, apparently trying to recall names and places that might be of relevance. As he reached the end, his eyes widened in recognition. He tapped the paper lightly with his forefinger and read aloud.

“Mrs F-G of P-n Square will be interested to know that her son has accumulated debts of enormous proportions. It appears that a weakness for horses is hereditary.”

“Do you know her?” she asked.

“Mrs Fitzroy-Grey of Portman Square. She is a widow. Her husband was a prolific gambler and died in a carriage race. Her son attended Eton at the same time as my own.” He returned the list to Elizabeth. “I remember her as a very soft-spoken, respectable woman.”

“I thank you for your assistance.” Elizabeth took the note from him and tucked it into her reticule.

“Will you attempt to speak to her?”

“I think I must. For months, doubts about my character have been repeatedly published in this newspaper, and in vain I have struggled to overlook it. There must be a reason why I have been subject to this harsh treatment. When I studied past editions, I see the same people mentioned again and again. I would like to discover why.”

There was a heavy pause. “Very well. I shall introduce you to Mrs Fitzroy-Grey.”

Elizabeth gaped. “ You will, my lord?”

He gave a firm nod. “My daughter is in no state to do it, and I find myself quite at leisure this morning. Let us see if there is anything to your suspicions.”

“I do not understand why you would do such a thing for me. I shall not bother Lady Fulford?—”

“Because I wish to,” the earl interjected, and a shadow passed over his face. “Consider it as repaying my debt of gratitude for the service you did my daughter.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Elizabeth could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “I am at your convenience.”

Mrs Fitzroy-Grey was a petite woman, her appearance made smaller still by the enormous portraits of a young man, presumably her son, on the wall behind her. Elizabeth and Lord Matlock’s arrival apparently discomfited her, causing Elizabeth to feel guilty for questioning her. That she was very much in awe of Lord Matlock was evident. She barely spoke to him, but she nervously glanced in his direction again and again.

The teapot shook in Mrs Fitzroy-Grey’s hand as she served them, and Elizabeth felt a tug of sympathy for her. It seemed that, despite her large house, there were hardly any servants. One could not ignore the swathes of dust on the furniture.

“I suppose you must be wondering why we are here,” Elizabeth said kindly. “I am sorry that we came so unexpectedly.”

Mrs Fitzroy-Grey’s lip quivered. “You will always find me content to receive visitors, especially one of your distinction, your lordship.”

Lord Matlock nodded in reply.

“I understand you have a son?” Elizabeth said. “One that attended school with Lord Matlock’s children.”

“Y-yes. My dear Clarence.” She glanced nervously at Lord Matlock. “Is he the reason for your visit? Oh, what scrape has the poor boy found himself in now?”

Not wanting to draw out this meeting any longer than was needed, Elizabeth decided to be direct. “I have come to ask for your help. You may not know it, but my name has appeared in the Morning Gazette on several occasions.” At mention of the newspaper’s name, Mrs Fitzroy-Grey started, her face turning the same colour as her name. “I do not know how to express this delicately, so I will just say it,” Elizabeth continued. “I am here because I wish to meet others who I believe have had their peace and their reputations similarly challenged. Am I correct that you are such a person? Please believe me when I say that I truly mean you no harm. I am trying to discover who is behind my suffering and that of other innocent people.”

The older woman drew a trembling breath. She looked at Elizabeth, then at Lord Matlock, her expression imploring, like a child wishing to be forgiven. When she spoke, her voice was faint. “It all started when he returned from university. I was not to treat him as a boy any longer, he said. But what is a mother to do? With his father gone, he is all I have.” She dabbed a delicate lace handkerchief over her watering eyes. “Forgive me, I am so silly these days. I do not wish to cry in front of you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Elizabeth said gently. “Please tell me what happened. When did his name begin to appear in the Morning Gazette ?”

“The first was not long after his return. I do not typically read that paper, and so I was unaware of what was being written until my friend Mrs Hankinson showed me. I refused to admit it meant my son, but it did not matter. If she could guess it, then so could everybody else. Soon, everyone I knew turned their back on me, apart from Mrs Hankinson. She has been very good to me, as has my other dear friend, Mr Bull.”

For a moment, it seemed that the world stopped. Mr Bull. Elizabeth’s heart raced. It cannot be. It is a common enough name. It must be a coincidence.

“Did I hear you correctly? Did you say Bull?”

Mrs Fitzroy-Grey nodded. “He is such a wonderful young man. So charming and worldly. It is a shame he had to go away on business.”

“Does he have a scar?” Elizabeth gestured to her top lip. “Here?”

Mrs Fitzroy-Grey looked at her in surprise. “He does! Do you know him?”

“I-I think I might.” Glancing at Lord Matlock, she saw that he was looking intently at her.

Mrs Fitzroy-Grey said, “He took pity on me during a ball, and we struck up a conversation. It is so lonely, you know, when you are a widow. He did not mind what the papers said about my dear boy, and he was of great assistance when I needed to make those payments—” She clamped her lips shut, hurriedly pressing her fingers to her mouth.

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. “Were you asked for money to stop the articles from being published? And Mr Bull helped you to make them?”

Mrs Fitzroy-Grey nodded and buried her face in her hands. “I did not know what else to do.” She started to cry, a pitiful, heart-wrenching noise.

Elizabeth watched helplessly. “I am so sorry for upsetting you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Through her sobs, she stammered, “P-Please leave. Before my son returns.”

Elizabeth looked at Lord Matlock, who was shifting his weight uncomfortably in his chair.

“We are sorry to have troubled you,” he said. “Allow me the honour of giving you my card. You are welcome to call upon me.” He gave Elizabeth a stern look, leaving her no other choice but to acquiesce to his command.

To Mrs Fitzroy-Grey, she said, “I do not have a card to give you, but I shall send you one if you do not mind. Indeed, I would very much enjoy seeing you again.”