Page 38 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet

The Adair House

Later

The outside air had cooled with the setting of the sun. Duncan Adair sat in his favorite wingbacked chair across from his guests, Mrs. and Mr. Stowe. Dinner had been at five o’clock, as Adair preferred country hours, and to his relief Mrs. Stowe had kept the conversation light, while young Harold had eaten his food with enthusiasm and largely remained quiet.

Once Mrs. Stowe had left to allow the men to drink their port, Mr. Stowe had starting complaining about his half-sister, who had died more than eighteen years previously, and whining about the horrible old man who was seeking to steal his rightful inheritance.

Adair had not bothered to argue, but he had not lingered over his drink either. Within fifteen minutes, the gentlemen had joined the lady, and as soon as the men had taken their seats, Mrs. Stowe said, “Mr. Adair, I would like to see the letter from Mr. Bennet now.”

“Of course,” Adair said, glancing at his watch on its chain. It was almost six o’clock now, and he hoped the Darcys were on time. “It is in my study, and I will… ”

A loud knock on the door interrupted him, and he looked hopefully toward the open door into the corridor.

No one was yet visible, and Adair glanced again at his watch, just as he heard the sound of voices from the front vestibule. A moment later, Adair’s butler entered the room, followed shortly after by a gentleman whose appearance was so unexpected that both Stowes gaped in disbelief.

“Wickham!” Harold finally cried out. “What are you doing here?”

“An excellent question, Stowe,” Wickham replied, his lips curling upward, but his eyes were watchful and fixed on Moira Stowe.

“This is most surprising,” Moira said, lifting her chin. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company here in Scotland?”

Wickham shrugged insouciantly. “I am, in fact, here to unmask you as the villainess you are, Mrs. Stowe. But come, there are several more members of the party whom you need to meet.”

The Darcys appeared in the doorway, arm in arm. He was tall, dark and handsome, and she was dressed in a green gown with a lace overdress with an elegant hat on her head. Mr. Bennet, walking in their wake, wore a cool expression, his eyes sharp and keen as he took in the group already in the room .

“May I introduce you to Mrs. Moira Stowe and Mr. Harold Stowe,” Wickham said, gesturing grandly at mother and son. “Mrs. and Mr. Stowe, Mrs. Darcy and Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Bennet. Mrs. Darcy was, until some eight months ago, Miss Elizabeth Stowe, daughter of Bradley Stowe, stepdaughter of Mrs. Stowe, and half-sister of Harold Stowe.”

There were no bows or curtsies, and Mrs. Stowe took a furious step forward, her eyes narrowed and flashing.

“I see what is happening!” she hissed. “You have been working for Bennet all along in an attempt to trick the world into thinking that my stepdaughter is alive.”

Wickham looked both startled and impressed, and said, “You have a truly remarkable ability to adapt to the situation, Mrs. Stowe. I am confident that you were taken entirely by surprised when I marched in here, but you have already managed to recover sufficiently to accuse me of treachery.”

“You are the one who is treacherous,” Mrs. Stowe snapped, her bosom heaving and her eyes filled with tears. Adair thought dully that his cousin was an excellent actress, to summon tears with such swiftness and ease. Even the vibrating distress in her voice was entirely flawless. “You are in league with these dreadful people in an attempt to take away my son’s inheritance! ”

“Greymere is your son’s inheritance,” Darcy said coolly, stepping forward to loom over Elizabeth’s evil stepmother. “Ravenswood was Isobel Stowe’s estate, and was always meant to go to her only daughter.”

Mrs. Stowe tossed her head and cast a venomous look at Elizabeth, whose own eyes were fixed on Harold.

“Elizabeth Stowe died in the smallpox epidemic which took her father,” she grated out.

“And yet, you did not bring any proof of that, did you?” Adair said, feeling sick.

Now both Stowes turned their attention on the solicitor, and Harold’s mouth, already hanging open, opened more.

“You … you are part of this!” he sputtered indignantly. “You knew that Bennet and this imposter were here!”

“Mr. Adair is indeed part of all this,” Darcy said, fixing the young man with an intimidating stare. “But that is because he is now aware that your mother has been lying to you for many years, as your half-sister did not die as a toddler.”

Harold turned a bewildered look on his mother, who actually ground her teeth as she yelled at Adair. “Of course she died! This is nonsense! It is bad enough that a stranger would seek to cheat us, but you, Adair? We are cousins!”

“We are indeed, and it grieves me that you could possibly behave in such a despicable way,” the solicitor replied heavily.

“We are leaving,” the woman snapped. “Come along, Harold. We will spend the night in the inn!”

“You are not going anywhere,” Darcy intoned icily. “Wickham, shut the door.”

“You cannot be serious! How dare you … I will have you arrested for unlawful detainment!”

“I think that it would be fine for Mrs. Stowe to leave,” Mrs. Darcy said, speaking for the first time since entering the room, “but I Mr. Stowe needs to talk to us ... to me. After all, we have been separated for eighteen years, and I wish to speak to my brother.”

“You are not his sister!” Mrs. Stowe snapped, looking both outraged and offended. “And Harold will come with me!”

Elizabeth reached up, removed her hat to better display her bright hair, and stepped closer to Harold. “I am his half-sister, and I think the family resemblance is obvious, is it not? We look very much alike. ”

Harold, who had been staring at his mother, now turned his attention on the young woman a few feet away from him. Adair watched as his younger cousin’s brow furrowed, and he said, with apparent uncertainty, “We do look quite similar.”

“Nonsense,” Moira Stowe said irritably. “You merely share the same hair color. So Mr. Bennet found a woman with hair like ours. It is nothing.”

“Mrs. Stowe,” Wickham said, “it is evident that you have no intention of admitting the truth about Mrs. Darcy’s inheritance. But I think you are forgetting something.”

“And what is that?”

“I have letters from you, in your handwriting, wherein you admit that you knew that Elizabeth Stowe was alive. Moreover, you made it plain in one letter that you wished for me to murder her.”

Harold squeaked in astonishment, and his face turned toward his mother, the very picture of appalled confusion. “What?!”

Moira Stowe had paled noticeably in the light of the candles, but she tilted her chin and said, “Nonsense.”

“We have the letters,” Darcy said icily, “not only to Wickham, who has been working with us this entire time, but we also have the letter you sent to Captain Denny, who shot my wife last autumn with the intent of killing her.”

“ What?!!” Harold screamed.

“My wife was the subject of an assassination attempt,” Darcy said, and now his voice trembled. “She was struck in the shoulder, and if she had not moved unexpectedly at the last second, she would have been killed. Your mother convinced a Captain Denny of the 9 th militia regiment to shoot her and promised him a lavish reward if he succeeded. He failed, and was arrested and is currently being held on a prison hulk on the Thames.”

“Denny? Albert Denny? Of Claybourne?” Harold demanded.

“Perhaps?” Darcy replied. “Shorter than I am by two inches, thin, with dark hair and blue eyes, and a scar above his left eyebrow?”

“That is him,” Harold said, staring at Mrs. Stowe with a pale face and quivering lips. “Mother, is this true?”

“Do not be absurd!” Moira Stowe exclaimed, visibly gathering wounded dignity about her. “This is all a trick! They are trying to cheat you of Ravenswood!”

“I have seen the legal documents proving that Elizabeth Darcy was formerly Miss Elizabeth Stowe,” Adair said gravely, inwardly marveling at Moira’s command of deception, “and, since she turned one and twenty earlier this month, she is now the owner of Ravenswood.”

“Moreover, I signed a will on my birthday, and if I should die, Ravenswood will go to my husband,” Elizabeth said defiantly.

Silence fell, and Moira Stowe actually swayed slightly in place. She stared at the Darcys and then turned a furious look on Wickham, the heat of which could be felt across the room.

“How could you betray me like this?” she demanded.

“Is it true, Mother?” Harold whispered. “Is it true that you … that you…”

“Of course not,” Moira replied in an exasperated tone. “Do not be ridiculous. You cannot truly imagine that I would try to have my own stepdaughter murdered!”

“Given how seriously you are in debt, I think it is quite a reasonable solution for a woman without so much as an iota of decency and morality,” Wickham said drily. “Stowe, I am aware that you do not know me exceptionally well and have no particular reason to trust me, but I beg you to read the letters I received from your mother. Not only did she offer me money to kill Mrs. Darcy, she also more or less invited me into her bed. ”

Harold shuddered and put his hand over his mouth. “That is … that is…”

“Hardly appropriate conversation in the presence of my wife,” Darcy said sternly.

“My dear,” Elizabeth said, turning an amused glance on her husband. “I think this is certainly not the time to worry about social niceties.”

She turned back to Harold and said, “Brother, I have longed to know you for so long. Please, I realize this is all confusing and distressing, but will you not allow us to at least show you the documents?”

Harold stared into the face of the young woman who looked so much like himself and then turned his eyes again to his mother.

“Do not be a fool, Son!”

“I wish to see the documents,” he rasped. “Now.”