Page 83 of Lizzie’s Spirit

“Darcy, you are avoiding me.”

“Not at all, uncle. My business takes me to Whitehall, yours to Westminster.” They were meeting at Brooks’s and took a private dining room away from the prying eyes of members.

Naturally, Lord Matlock ordered an expensive wine—from Madeira—together with oysters, mussels, and jugged hare. The meal was to Darcy’s account.

“So, have you come to ask for Felicity’s hand, for I cannot think of another reason for your invitation?”

“Sir, I am in mourning—six months, at my father’s request. ‘Tis now February; therefore, some two months remain. Until then, please leave me be.”

“Not too long, for we need a resolution of the matter. This is Felicity’s third season. People are asking why I haven’t settled her yet. She has excellent connections, the daughter of an earl—you couldn’t do better.”

“For whom? The Fitzwilliams or Darcys? Mayhap Anne would be the better prospect. Next month, at five and twenty, she inherits Rosings. After moving Lady Catherine to the dower house and installing a good steward, with some repairs, I could rent the place. But the marriage could never be consummated, and there’s the risk it could be annulled. ”

His uncle eyed Darcy with suspicion. “And why is that?”

“I’m sure you know, Uncle, that Lewis de Bough died of the pox, the French disease. He was syphilitic, had been before his marriage and, of course, afterwards.”

“Those are dangerous words, Darcy, to imply my sister, the daughter of an earl, married such a man… ”

“Come now, sir, you already knew.” It was a statement of fact , the clay that Darcy, as a lawyer, used to mould his arraignments and depositions.

Matlock growled. “Indeed, I see why Bathurst and others speak so well of you. You were Judge-Advocate for New South Wales; you apply those same skills here. By what authority?”

“Blunt. Silver is preferred, for it is easily exchanged. Gold begs too many questions.” In the colony, the threat of incarceration, flogging, or the stocks was sufficient to loosen tongues; in England, thanks to Darcy wealth, he achieved the same with bribes.

“Sir Lewis’s physician, I found, had been paid three hundred pounds to remain silent. I paid him four hundred, and he described the symptoms and the treatment with mercury.”

“A long time ago, what relevance does it have now? Surely, you wouldn’t expose Catherine to ridicule when Lewis died fifteen years ago?”

“Of course not. Contrary to your current opinion, I still believe in family and duty. But tell me honestly, would you have me consummate marriage with Cousin Anne?”

His uncle looked away and gave a dismissive laugh. Darcy felt exhausted, hiding his true feelings. When had his uncle begun to disgust him, putting reputation before all else?

“So, you’d have me marry a woman infected with congenital syphilis, contracted in the womb.

Undoubtedly, Lady Catherine is also infected.

She’s not the same lady she was before she married—the disease has driven her mad.

Oh, not so much, but her delusions, irrational behaviour, and the wig she wears hides her loss of hair. ”

Matlock stared at Darcy, comprehension dawning.

It was clear he had never thought about his sister’s condition.

But then, when Lady Catherine had married, he was not head of the family—that was the old Earl, Darcy’s grandfather.

Darcy continued his exposition, the truth of it corroborated by months of diligent research by his clerks and investigators.

“Anne was poorly from birth, but over the years her lung inflammation and weak heart have continually worsened, despite the best physicians. And her teeth, the incisors are deformed—a characteristic, I’m told, of syphilitic infants.”

Reginald Fitzwilliam—now Lord Matlock, then Viscount Milton—had returned from his grand tour accompanied by Sir Lewis—for they were at Cambridge together—to see the marriage of his sister, Catherine, to his friend.

It appeared a good match. He buried his head in his hands. Realisation dawned on him.

Darcy felt no compassion for the man—did he really care for his sister?

“At Cambridge, did you not visit The Crooked Staff, a tavern with good ale and buxom wenches? Away from the prying eyes of the proctors.”

“Still there? Of course, a hundred years before, and will be, most likely, a hundred years after.” The earl’s eyes lost their focus. “There was a lovely girl, Betsy Smith , though I suppose that wasn’t her real name, poor thing. I would ask for her. She was clean, though I always used a Johnnie.”

“There was another Betsy Smith ,” said Darcy, “but not the same girl, for mine could have been no more than five and twenty. Like yourself, I was careful; and, to speak of the devil, I never contracted the disease. But what of Sir Lewis?”

“He spent much of his time in the tavern. Always above stairs with a different girl. And then, picking up some floozie from the street and smuggling her into his rooms—silly man, the proctors could have had him expelled. Then on the tour… I had been warned off continental women by my father. I was already thinking of the earldom. And politics, sitting in my father’s place in Parliament—catching the pox would ha ve ruined me. ”

“And, Sir Lewis?”

“Looking back, the man was addicted. After a time, as I recall, they banned him from The Crooked Staff —I thought it was because of his wild behaviour, for he was a raucous drunk. But, of course, they must have seen the lesions. Afterwards, he would only tup street girls.”

“And in town, after he had married?” Darcy wished to expose the whole of the matter, for this secret had been kept hidden away for far too long.

“We no longer moved in the same circles…”

“But you knew what he was about. Being family, you wished to avoid any scandal affecting your ambitions in Parliament.”

“You are relentless, Darcy.” His uncle took a deep draught from his glass, poured himself another.

“I did keep oversight on Lewis. As I said, he was a poor drunk, and, yes, his compulsion continued. He was never a gamester or rake—he didn’t seduce women.

His predilection was prostitutes, particularly from Moll King’s establishment in Covent Garden, less than a mile from de Bourgh House, but also Charlotte Hayes’s in Berwick Street and King’s Place, and other similar establishments.

‘Twas one reason why Catherine never visited town.”

“My poor aunt, to have married such a man.” And my poor cousin to have been sired by him.

“She wished for a title. Of course, Sir Lewis was never a peer, just a baronet. My father could find no one of superior rank who would wed her; there were very few eligible peers. After four seasons, she reluctantly accepted him. The deal was done between his father and mine; we returned from Paris to an engagement ball.”

“My apologies, Uncle, these are distasteful revelations. ‘Tis strange, is it not, that he was refused entry to The Crooked Staff but not to the higher-class brothels in London? The latter are usually scrupulous about keeping their girls clean.”

“Enough, Darcy; I would almost think you were scouting the place.”

“No, sir, I learnt more than enough about prostitution in the colony, where men outnumber women five to one—and a woman’s virtue is less valued than here in England. It is not illegal, but Macquarie and I kept it well regulated.”

Darcy paused; a most peculiar, perhaps outlandish, thought came to mind—maybe the clue to this whole sorry mess.

He must obfuscate, terminate the conversation.

“My interest is solely to avoid an imprudent marriage.

‘Tis likely Anne is barren. My duty to Pemberley and my father is to sire an heir; as such, I could never offer for Anne.”

“Ah, Felicity…”

“As I have said many times, Lady Felicity is a delight. But I mourn my father…” But not my Lizzie, for she and Bumper will come home to Pemberley. He pushed away the doubt.

Darcy looked directly at Matlock. “Before we part, my lord, think about your niece, Anne. She inherits next month. You should tell her the truth about her inheritance—that Rosings is bankrupt. And, also, the disease bequeathed to her by her mother and father. She is an intelligent woman; perhaps she would plan a different future than what her mother proposes.”

And I should tell him the truth about Elizabeth. This pretence that I could ever offer for Felicity. Even were he to annul our marriage, Lizzy will always be my wife. Wherever you are—be safe, my darling.

That evening, he knew another sleepless night. He was losing the will to fight the doubt that assailed him—if he lost that battle and fell into the swirling pit, Lizzie would be lost to him—for his only comfort was looking forward, to holding her in his embrace.

** *

The streets of Douglas, on the Isle of Man, were very irregular and, in some places, extremely narrow.

Darcy, with his broad shoulders, found them difficult to navigate; the local population continually pushed past him, uncaring about the casual contact.

The houses themselves were low and ill-constructed, crowded together without regard to convenience and uniformity.

By mischance, he missed Duke Street, which was paved and newly constructed, and found himself lost in the winding laneways.

Asking directions, he finally succeeded in locating the office of Asquith, Badeley and Chaffers.

“Mr. Darcy, how may I assist you?” Mr. Chaffers, senior partner of the firm, was nervous. He looked speculatively at Darcy, a large, physically intimidating man, his countenance displaying a confident, natural authority.

“Before we commence, sir, here are notarised copies of my commission as Judge-Advocate for His Majesty’s territories, dominions and colonies. As you can see, my commission gives me the powers of investigative magistrate here in the Isle of Man, a dependency of the crown but not part of the union.”

Chaffers took the documents and perused them very carefully. They were signed by Lord Bathurst under Royal Seal and were certainly valid.

“What brings you to my office, Mr. Darcy? We are proud of our probity. Our reputation is very important to us.”

“Certainly, sir. There is no imputation that you are at fault. The matter concerns trusts you administer; the main beneficiary is Miss Anne de Bourgh of the Rosings Estate in Kent. Her father, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, set up the trusts some fifteen years ago. He has since passed. His daughter, Miss de Bourgh, has inherited under his will, having reached, this month, the age of five and twenty years. The will, which has been proved by Canterbury, leaves all of his properties and investments to her.”

Darcy paused. Mr. Chaffers was showing signs of some distress, but the gentleman quickly regained his equanimity. Darcy continued,

“I am here to untangle the web of trusts and other devices that Sir Lewis left to his daughter. The two gentlemen who accompany me, Mr. White and Mr. Erickson, are my clerks. They are authorised to act for me in any capacity required to search the rolls and other records of trust transactions.”

White and Erickson stood and bowed to Mr. Chaffers.

“It will take time, as you must know, to find where these transactions are recorded.” Chaffers disliked the idea of outsiders trawling through their files. There was much that should remain confidential. Many lords and lesser peers alike used their discreet services outside of English law.

“Of course. That is of no concern, since these gentlemen are very thorough—our investigation could take several months. By my reckoning, there will also be records of investments, interest payments, and the like. Mr. Erickson is my expert on such matters and will be following the financial receipts most assiduously. Mr. White is similarly an expert on titles and deeds.”

Darcy smiled, not unsympathetically. Clearly, Chaffers had never thought to be subject to such an investigation.

Manxmen, bankrupts, and others living here thought themselves beyond English law, which does not apply on the island.

Both Mr. White and Erickson well deserved the bonuses they were awarded for reviewing the mortgages, on his suggestion, and noting each had been lodged under Chaffers’s hand, therefore subject to Manx law, which placed them under his jurisdiction.

Certainly, it would be difficult to prosecute without a detailed knowledge of the law, but he was here as magistrate, not prosecutor.

Uncovering the truth behind the Rosings mortgages would free him from Matlock’s thumb and, perchance, enable Cousin Anne to break away from Lady Catherine’s tyranny.