Page 31

De Bourgh House

The Next Morning

Lady Catherine glared out the window as she passed, then spun on her heel as she approached the wall to stalk angrily back the other way. The pacing was not helping her irritation much, but sitting still was intolerable. Last night's short missive from her brother Matlock still sat on the table. It curtly informed her that Anne had been discovered safe here in Town, and that Anne and the earl would arrive at ten.

When Lady Catherine had taken the note from her butler the previous evening and read the contents, she had found herself collapsing onto a chair, her knees weak with relief. By this morning, all such concern had melted away, giving way to maternal fury. How dare Anne jeopardize her ever indifferent health in such a way? What had possessed her to leave Rosings without her mother's permission? Did she not realize she was far too delicate for such foolhardy nonsense? Her mother would be sure to ask her each and every one of those questions this morning .

Lady Catherine turned again and scowled as her thoughts shifted toward another area of concern. She should have heard from that useless Mr. Wickham by now. How long did it take to abduct one hoydenish female? He had two hundred pounds at his disposal that she had already paid him, and she expected quick results!

She paused by the window at the sound of a carriage in the road outside, and frowned to see that it was only a hackney. A glance at the clock revealed that it lacked but a few minutes until ten, and she resumed her pacing. She would be seriously displeased if Matlock and Anne were late!

The door opened, and Lady Catherine turned as the butler entered with her brother, daughter, Mrs. Jenkinson, Mr. Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam in his train. The butler announced the visitors and retreated out of the door, shutting it behind him, and Lady Catherine glowered at her daughter and demanded, “Anne, how dare you leave Rosings without my permission?”

“How dare you hire George Wickham to abduct Elizabeth Bennet?” Anne retorted.

Catherine de Bourgh stared at her in disbelief. It was beyond comprehension that Anne would dare reply in such a disrespectful way, and how could she possibly know of the arrangement with Wickham ?

As she struggled to comprehend the situation, her mouth not completely closed, her eyes shifted away from her daughter to her nephews and brother, and she belatedly realized that all three men were glaring at her.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said with an imperious lift of her chin, though even in her own ears, she did not sound convincing.

Her nephew, who was one of the taller men in England, took a step closer and said, “Do not bother prevaricating, Aunt. We captured Wickham, and he confessed that you paid him two hundred pounds to arrange for Elizabeth’s abduction, with the promise of three hundred more when he succeeded. In truth, he did not succeed, though Elizabeth was struck hard on the face by the villain, and Wickham slapped Georgiana as well.”

Lady Catherine goggled and said, “Why was Georgiana there? You ought to know better than to allow your innocent little sister near that … that hussy!”

“So you admit it, Catherine?” Lord Matlock demanded, his countenance dark with rage. “You confess that you plotted with a scoundrel to abduct Elizabeth Bennet?”

She drew herself half an inch taller and said, “I confess to no such thing. I know nothing about it. ”

“If you truly did not wish us to know the truth, you ought not to have written Wickham a receipt for the remaining three hundred pounds,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said drily, holding up the betraying piece of paper.

Lady Catherine clenched her hands and decided that it was time to express herself with all the sincerity and frankness for which she was celebrated.

“Very well,” she said, her eyes blazing, “I did hire Wickham to deal with that conniving coquette, and you ought all to thank me for it! By honor, Darcy is engaged to Anne, and…”

“He is not and has never been,” Anne interrupted, “and if he had ever asked for my hand in marriage, I would have refused him. We are not suited.”

Lady Catherine turned incredulous eyes on her daughter and wondered, briefly, whether she was in the midst of some nightmare. Anne had always been a compliant, obedient daughter. What had gotten into her?

“You will do as you are told,” she said in her most authoritative tone.

An odd silence fell for ten seconds, and then Lord Matlock said, “It appears you are correct, Darcy. It is a great pity.”

“It is,” Darcy agreed .

Again, there was silence, and Lady Catherine found herself staring at her brother. There was an odd expression on his face and sadness in his eyes, which was both perplexing and disturbing.

The earl shook himself a little and said, “Darcy, Richard, Anne, I think it is time for you to leave. I will arrange for Lady Catherine’s return to Kent.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Anne replied, walking over, rising to her tiptoes, and kissing him on the cheek. “I am grateful for your assistance in this matter.”

“You cannot leave!” Lady Catherine ordered. “Anne, I insist that you stay here so that you and Darcy can be married by special license in the next few days. Even with the failed abduction, Miss Bennet’s reputation is a bad one, and she…”

“Lady Catherine,” Darcy interrupted, “I doubt that I will ever lay eyes on you again, so let me say this; if it was my choice, I would have you committed and confined to Bedlam.”

“Bedlam? Confined? You must be mad!”

“I am inclined to think that you are given your recent behavior,” the earl said, his eyes narrowed. “You have proven yourself either insane or genuinely evil in plotting against Darcy’s fiancée. I will be living here for the next few days with some of my own servants as we determine how to best manage this dreadful situation, and you will not be permitted to leave the house without my permission.”

This was so shocking, so distasteful, that the former mistress of Rosings did not even know what to say. She watched in silent stupefaction as her younger relations, plus Mrs. Jenkinson, left the room, and when she turned back to her brother, it was to observe him gazing at her mournfully.

“Whatever happened to you, Catherine?” he asked wearily. “How has it come to this?”

***

Parlor

Bennets’ House

Curzon Street

Two Hours Later

Elizabeth felt comfortably warm and content. Her face throbbed, but a deep restorative sleep overnight had done much to restore her equilibrium. Her looking glass had not painted a pretty picture that morning, with the entire side of her face swollen and all the skin around her eye a deep blackish purple. She had examined her own reflection wryly before deciding to cancel all her engagements for at least the next week and then donned a day dress.

She now sat before the fire with a shawl about her shoulders, a blanket over her lap, a cup of tea beside her, and a good novel open in her hands. It felt good to rest, though she had slept far better than she had anticipated. No nightmares had plagued her overnight, her faith in her Fitzwilliam and, consequently, the three additional men he had sent over to guard the house, strong enough to keep her repose untroubled. As for other concerns, well, the Earl of Matlock would deal with Lady Catherine, and Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam would see to the fate of the miscreant Wickham.

Elizabeth turned a page with a slight rustle, and Jane, seated nearby with a copy of As You Like It , looked up.

“Do you need anything, Lizzy?” she inquired in a concerned tone.

Elizabeth glanced up as well and smiled reassuringly.

“I am quite well,” she told her sister, sipped her tea, and returned to her book. Either Jane, Mary, or their mother was sitting with her at all times, seeing to her every need and constantly offering new comforts. It was strange, and Elizabeth, who relished her freedom and independence, did not altogether enjoy it. But it showed her family's concern for her, which was touching, and was not likely to last long, so for the time being, she accepted it graciously.

The two sisters read in contented quiet for a time, with only the crackling fire for company. Voices from the corridor brought both girls' heads up, and the two shared a look. Elizabeth tilted her head, listening. It only took a few seconds before she heard the deep rumble she hoped to hear. As her dear Fitzwilliam spoke, her heart sped up in excitement. Elizabeth hastily marked her place and put aside her blanket, watching the door eagerly as the voices drew nearer.

Again, she did not have long to wait. The door opened, and she smiled involuntarily to see Fitzwilliam, with Bingley behind him, the latter having recently returned from Hertfordshire. There was an unknown visitor with them, a lady, middle-aged, dressed in silk, a neat lace cap on her dark hair, which was streaked with silver. She must have been very lovely in her youth, and her looks had not faded much.

Elizabeth grabbed the arms of her chair to rise, but the lady said, “Please do not stand up, Miss Elizabeth. You obviously need to rest. ”

She was quite certain she could stand with ease, but Jane and Bingley and Darcy were all glowering at her reprovingly, so she relaxed and said, “Thank you.”

“Lady Matlock, my fiancée, Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy said. “Elizabeth, my aunt, the Countess of Matlock.”

Elizabeth, now that she knew her visitor was noble, felt even worse about staying seated, but she merely smiled and nodded her head. “Lady Matlock, it is an honor to meet you.”

“I am very pleased to meet you as well,” her guest said, walking over to sit down on a chair by the fire. “Darcy, take that chair and stop looming over us. Mr. Bingley, Miss Bennet, would you be willing to allow us to speak privately?”

The couple, who had been gazing at one another longingly, looked startled, and Jane said, “Yes, of course. Fitzwilliam, you will let someone know if Elizabeth needs something?”

“I will,” Darcy promised as he took a seat near Elizabeth, whereupon he held out his hand and took hers in his own warm grip.

Jane and Bingley departed, and Elizabeth turned to face the countess.