Page 16 of The Making of Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Chapter sixteen

A s it was, Catherine did, in fact, require a sleeping potion. And she hoped it would do more than help her rest—she wanted it to erase the events of the past week and settle her into Kent before—before she had made the worst decision of her life.

First her sister had made a fool of her, and now Mr de Bourgh. She had been gravely mistaken, and as it happened, a proposal of marriage had not solved all her problems or brought her any happiness—only misery.

She was wrong to trust him. She was wrong to not confide in her aunt. She was wrong to not delay her answer and await the earl. She was wrong to make her own choice.

The only person who did not make her feel additional shame had been Sir Lewis. To her unmitigated surprise, she had felt comforted and even relief from a man she had incessantly cast aspersions on. He had not scolded her, only his cousin. He had even taken the burden of fault.

Catherine’s conscience reproached her. Remarkably, the world was a much scarier place than she had once thought. She had led a sheltered life, indeed. Every tutor and governess and even her mother’s advice could never have prepared her for the life-altering ordeal that was Mr de Bourgh’s deceit.

She had no idea how to move forward now. She had thought only the morning before that marriage would solve everything. But she saw now that a proposal was nothing to a partnership that could bring stability and trustworthiness and steadfastness. It was not promised. The pain of her self-reproach seeped into every inch of her being. She could find no interval of ease.

And even she could admit that a little voice inside had told her to run.

That feckless dolt had her convinced that everything she believed about the world was upside down. When Dawson brought her some tea and a tray of food around ten, she was no closer to any solution that might save her reputation and punish Mr de Bourgh as she hoped.

“Lady Rosamund will see you in the morning room,” Dawson said as she stirred Catherine’s tea and placed it before her.

Catherine ate quickly, for she had little appetite. Walking down the stairs to her aunt, she felt the squeeze of anxiety in her chest.

“Catherine,” her aunt called to her. “Come sit here with me.”

Catherine did as told and took a seat next to Lady Rosamund.

“I am sorry, Aunt—” Catherine began.

Lady Rosamund raised a hand, halting her apology.

“No. Pray pardon me. This is as much my fault as yours.” Her aunt loosed a frustrated sigh. “I had not realized you had been much in company with Mr de Bourgh—certainly not enough to be entertaining such an attachment. Had I realized, well, that is to say, I might have warned you that he would not be an ideal partner for you.”

“His ghastly ways have become known to me. That is why I requested we leave the ball early last night. I overheard him—” Catherine could not finish the sentence. Tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes, and a sob bubbled up in her throat.

“I am aware,” Lady Rosamund said, patting her hand in a comforting manner. “Sir Lewis told me all when he came to me last night.”

“I can assure you I had no idea that his attentions were motivated only by my fortune.”

“I am at fault as well. Mr Allison recently discovered a scheme with my coachman. It seems Mr de Bourgh was paying Harold to track our movements. Even after Harold was dismissed, I could think of no reason why Mr de Bourgh would desire to learn information about my household. It had not even occurred to me that his efforts were about you. I did not think you had been much in company! I should have gone to Sir Lewis. Their dislike of one another is well known, but he is still family to my friend. I did not know how my concerns would be received,” Lady Rosamund continued. “Mr de Bourgh was a favourite of Sir Lewis’s brother, and he continues to have many acquaintances in the neighbourhood who are more than happy to welcome him into their homes.”

“I see. Sir Lewis did tell me some of the same . . .”

Lady Rosamund cleared her throat and turned to Catherine. “We must talk about your future.”

Catherine nodded.

“Your father has by now received my summons. Because of my misunderstanding, I wrote to him that it was Sir Lewis that you had received a proposal from. I have no notion if he knows of Mr de Bourgh or what Mr de Bourgh has to offer you—I cannot say what my brother’s reaction will be when he arrives. But, know this, dear: the earl is a compassionate man. We shall tell him all, and he will not force your hand—not for a scoundrel. He is too protective of the Barringer name and especially his beloved daughters. He will not allow you to be taken by a rogue gentleman and whisked away to an unknown life without protections.”

Catherine hoped her aunt was right.

“You look as if you need rest.”

“I do, Aunt.”

“I will not take more of your time. Return to your chambers, and we shall await the earl.”

Dawson sought Catherine at half past three, telling her that the viscount had just arrived.

“My brother! It was supposed to be my father,” Catherine thought aloud.

What would it mean that Ashby had come in her father’s stead? Her future was looking bleaker and bleaker still. Her own father could not be bothered to travel to Kent on her behalf? Not even for a marriage proposal? Perhaps it was better that she knew now how little she meant to the earl—for her distress was now absolute.

“The footman overheard the viscount telling your aunt that he carries settlement papers on the earl’s behalf. He will take them back to London for his father’s signature post haste,” Dawson explained.

A sickening feeling crawled through her stomach and almost had her calling for a chamber pot. If she could keep her breakfast down, it would be a great feat.

“Has my brother asked for me?”

“He has not. I came as quickly as I heard,” Dawson said. “I knew you would want to be prepared.”

Her aunt was informing him of her dreadful choices now. What would he think of her? Would he carry word of her stupidity to Elinor? Would she too ridicule her?

Would he possibly force her to marry Mr de Bourgh? Ashby had shown no compassion for Anne only a few short months ago. And she felt certain, in that moment, that he would not want his time wasted and could possibly insist on her following through with this marriage to preserve the Fitzwilliam name and avoid a scandal. And what of her brother’s friendship with Mr de Bourgh? Did that exist or was it another falsehood? The latter was more likely, but the thought of Ashby knowing his true character, and perhaps reacting with indolence, frightened her. His quickness to boredom bordered on distasteful. And now she would be the recipient of his lassitude.

That thought spurred her into action.

She grabbed Dawson’s shoulders and spoke quietly, checking the door to ensure she heard not another soul nearby. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

“Yes, my lady,” Dawson replied, evidently surprised by Catherine’s fervour.

“I need you to find Sir Lewis de Bourgh.”

Her lady’s maid’s eyes grew into large saucers.

“No one else should be informed. You will leave without telling Mr or Mrs Allison where you are going.” The butler and housekeeper would no doubt interrogate her if they thought she was up to no good. “And if anyone stops you, you tell them you are on a private errand for me. Do you understand?”

She nodded in agreement.

Heart hammering wildly, Catherine wondered if this would be the next unpardonable decision she made in a lengthy list of recent poor choices.

“Find Sir Lewis—not his steward and not his housekeeper—you find the gentleman himself , and you tell him you have a private message for his ears only. Do you understand? No one else must hear you.”

“I understand.” Dawson nodded emphatically.

“You tell him that the viscount is here with settlement papers and might mean to make me go through with a promise I made last night. He is here to determine consent, you see. And you tell him that I need him to honour a promise he made last night.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Catherine made quick work of going to her escritoire and tearing a new sheet of paper from the stack. She wrote only “You pledged your fealty,” and folded the note quickly before handing it to Dawson.

“Go at once—make sure he understands that I need assistance directly .”

“Of course.”

“Go now.”

Catherine watched Dawson quickly disappear out of the servant’s door.

He promised. He said he would help her out of this mess. And even if she had never liked the man, at this very moment, he seemed her only hope.

Not an hour passed before the housekeeper, Mrs Allison, came to Catherine’s room and asked her to join Lady Rosamund and Lord Ashby in the drawing room.

Her hands could not stop shaking, and she nearly tripped over her own skirts as she made her way downstairs. She hoped Dawson would find Sir Lewis in time, because her fate was riding on this upcoming interview with the most mercurial member of her family. She hoped dearly that Lady Rosamund remained with her. Her brother had no appetite for emotions, and she was unsure if she would be able to keep hers under regulation.

“There you are. It took you long enough,” the viscount said in place of a greeting.

His cold demeanour increased her agitation.

“Is our aunt correct in telling me that you have attached yourself to the neighbourhood scoundrel? How could you ask this of me?” he roared. “He is known in London for being a fortune hunter with less than savoury acquaintances. No one of quality would call him friend. Although I have never made his acquaintance, even I have heard of his brazen past. Of what were you thinking?”

Catherine could not stop her shaking and saw that her aunt, too, was agitated. Lady Rosamund’s hands were tightly wound in her skirts, and her look of disappointment was heartbreaking. Lie upon lie upon lie was compounding, and an exceedingly unladylike sob was begging to be released from her chest.

“Speak now!” Her brother demanded. “I have little patience for theatrics.”

Catherine could not find it in her to answer him. Her shame was immense, so large it felt as if it swallowed her whole. She swayed on her feet, reaching for something to hold and found a ready hand at her side, grasping her fingers tightly and squeezing her hand.

When she looked to her right, she found Sir Lewis. When did he arrive?

His grip felt like a steady promise. He had come! He would help her, she knew it. Surely he would not press his cousin’s suit. She felt fortified with his presence. In her desperation, he seemed the only haven for safety. He can call it off—he is the man’s relation, after all. He could hush up Mr de Bourgh, could he not? He could send him away and beg his silence on the matter.

“Lord Ashby, Lady Rosamund,” Sir Lewis greeted the others in the room. “Catherine.”

His look was intense. He looked resolved about something, and she knew not what.

“I hope you will wish us joy,” he said to the viscount and her aunt.

Everyone’s confusion was great, especially Catherine’s. She looked at Sir Lewis for a clue as to what he was saying, and he simply lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“We hope to marry within the month. Is that not right, my dear?”

Catherine nearly fainted outright. The alarm of his statements shocked her into silence. Stunned, but also for the first time in weeks, she felt some relief pass through her. He would make sure this is all righted. They need not go through with the deed. He was only helping her remove herself from his cousin’s hold. She pressed her lips tightly together to repress her own physical reaction to his statements. Whatever his objective, she must go along until they were able to plot in privacy at a later time.

“Where is that cousin of yours?” Lady Rosamund asked.

“What need have we for my wayward cousin? I saw him off myself, just this morning. He caught the morning post and is bound for London.”

There was a silent conversation that was passing between Lady Rosamund and Sir Lewis. Her aunt seemed satisfied with him and nodded her agreement; but no one was looking to Catherine for hers.

Sir Lewis addressed her aunt. “Can you be happy for us, old friend?”

Lady Rosamund smiled and curtseyed. “I am overjoyed.”

Lord Ashby looked amongst the others in the room and finally settled on Sir Lewis. “You have proposed marriage to my sister?”

“I have.”

“And she has accepted?”

“She has.”

Lady Rosamund intervened for a moment, “Lord Ashby, it appears I was under the wrong impression when you arrived. Is this not happy news? It is just as I said in my letter to the earl. Sir Lewis has offered for Catherine.”

Lord Ashby looked to Catherine for her assent, but Catherine was too astonished to respond.

“You must forgive my forwardness in joining this conversation without an invitation,” Sir Lewis addressed her brother. “Catherine sent for me as soon as she heard of your arrival, and I knew it was best to rush over and inform you of my intentions.

There it was again—her Christian name. Solidifying to all in the room that he must be her betrothed.

Ashby appeared sufficiently more relaxed. “The ladies ought not stay for this conversation. Sir Lewis and I will handle the contract from here.”

It was done. Not only was she safe from Mr de Bourgh, but her future was again her own.

Mrs Allison found Lady Rosamund and Catherine in the library to inform them that the viscount had departed. Lord Ashby quit Whitmore without even saying goodbye. Not the earl, not her brother—no one in London cared about her well-being.

Lady Rosamund thanked her and turned to Catherine, “You deserve a private audience with Sir Lewis, I should think. I must go dress for dinner. You will not find me interfering.”

And with that, she led Catherine back to the drawing room.

Sir Lewis was standing by the fireplace staring into the flames. When he faced her, he looked tired. Dark circles revealed he had slept as poorly as she had.

“I cannot thank you enough for coming,” Lady Catherine said to him.

“You need not thank me for that which I would happily do.” For the first time since meeting Sir Lewis, the gentleman appeared skittish and apprehensive. He moved his hands from his pockets to clasp them behind his back and then rested them on the back of a nearby chair. Was he nervous? Did he fear she would hold him to this promise?

“Nevertheless, I am eternally grateful to you.” She sought to reassure him.

“Are you? I had thought you might enter this room and rip me to shreds.” The uncertainty in his smile endeared him to her.

“How could I? You have saved me from a terrible fate. I had no idea what a scoundrel your cousin was. I am ashamed of myself.”

“I am glad you see it that way. I had not thought you would appreciate me tying myself to you without your consent.”

“I do not see why that would be necessary. We both know that a marriage between us would be a great folly. We shall wait a couple of days, or weeks if necessary, and then I shall tell my brother that we have decided against the match. No one will be the wiser. It is only the two of us who know about today’s interview. My aunt will not press the issue.”

Sir Lewis looked weary. “Lady Catherine, my friend, I hope. We must marry.”

Catherine gasped. “We shall not!”

He eyed her warily. “We shall. And soon. Your brother has my word that it will be within the week.”

“The week! What authority has he over you?”

“He has my signature on the settlement papers, Catherine. Your dowry will be released by early next week. It is done.”

The room began spinning as it had done earlier that day, and this time, Catherine could not stop the inevitable from happening when her vision departed swiftly, and the world went black.

When Catherine came to, she found herself lying on a nearby sofa with Sir Lewis kneeling at her side. He looked at her with such pity that she was forced to cover her face with her hands. She could not have him see her in this vulnerable state. Not again. She must ensure some dignity prevailed.

“Are you well?” Sir Lewis asked delicately.

“I shall be. Do not worry overmuch. I slept little last night.”

He smiled at that and took one of her hands in his. “I, too, found little rest. I shall find Lady Rosamund and bring her to you. And I will return on the morrow. We can discuss more details then.”

“I beg you, no. I shall see you to the door and take myself upstairs for a rest. I have no desire to speak to my aunt at length about my stupidity.”

Ah! Another truth divulged to Sir Lewis.

He seemed unsure but agreed shortly.

In the entry, the butler handed him his hat and she bid him goodbye.

Once he departed, she raised her chin and returned to her chambers where she would spend the afternoon in tears, comforted by little, and feeling all alone in the world.

After taking a tray at dinner and again for the morning meal, Catherine was resigned to join her aunt in the drawing room for morning callers. She could not avoid her any longer.

Lady Rosamund rose at her entrance, relief apparent on her sympathetic face, and greeted her with a kindness she did not deserve.

“My dearest, I hope you are well. I know you have had quite a scare.”

“I am not certain how I feel today. Could we not pretend none of this has happened?”

Her aunt chuckled at that. “We could, but it would not last for long. I have had the knocker removed. Only Sir Lewis shall be admitted. I am not certain how many people were told of your engagement to Mr de Bourgh at the ball. In that vein, I fear what guests might say if they were admitted. It is more important that you and I and your future husband come to a decision about how we might further protect your reputation ahead of the wedding. Sir Lewis is to visit this afternoon, and once you two have had a chance to speak, we will set the date.”

Catherine felt a sinking feeling about her life once again being out of her control. She was a prize fool.

“Perhaps we can marry from Oakley this autumn?”

Lady Rosamund’s expression was one of sincere pity. “No, my dear. I am sorry to say that you shall be wed by the end of the week.”

“Sir Lewis spoke the truth,” Catherine murmured as her heart began to pound in her chest.

“Yes, my dear. I suggest that we decide upon a date this afternoon once Sir Lewis arrives. Naturally, he shall have to travel to London for a license. He can visit Mr Sedgwick before he departs to secure a morning for the ceremony.”

Catherine’s mind was swimming in the many details she had not yet considered.

“Once the rector and he choose a date, we shall call on our neighbours to begin sharing the good news of your engagement.”

“And what if they have heard it was Mr de Bourgh and not Sir Lewis?”

“Well, then,” Lady Rosamund said, a conspiratorial look gleamed in her eyes. “We shall do what ladies always do. We shall laugh and titter and appear amused by their confusion. And then we shall graciously invite them to a luxurious wedding breakfast at Whitmore.”

Catherine hoped her aunt was correct—that it could be that simple.

“No one shall desire to upset Sir Lewis, nor you, once you are his bride. They will go along.”

Catherine examined the lace on her sleeves, finding a study of the fabric far easier than forming a response.

Her aunt’s encouragement continued. “We could visit a modiste in a neighbouring village to begin choosing some of your wedding clothes. We will not have time to make all your purchases for a trousseau, but you can send to London for more—perhaps your mother would be so kind as to make some acquisitions for your wardrobe on your behalf.”

Catherine could hardly keep track of all that must be done.

“You shall be married from Whitmore by the week’s end, and then you shall go to Rosings after the breakfast.”

Silence was her dearest friend in that moment. She had nothing to offer and no hope of her own—but this time, she could blame none but herself. It was she who had sent for Sir Lewis yesterday morning. In her desperation, she had determined to accept whatever choice he made in order to save her from a life with Mr de Bourgh. She had trusted him, and now she wondered how dearly she would come to regret it.

Sir Lewis looked especially handsome upon entering the drawing room. He had clearly had more sleep than she, and he was dressed impeccably. His beard was trimmed, and his hair oiled. If she were not so angry at his high-handedness, she would say he looked quite spectacular.

Lady Rosamund left the two alone and departed with a warning that she would return within the half hour.

Catherine herself was to blame for sending the note to Sir Lewis, but he had decided her entire future without her input.

“How do you do?” Sir Lewis asked.

“Do not play nice with me now.”

That appeared to amuse him. “How should I behave?”

“Be honest, just as you have always asked of me. Are you not pleased with yourself? I would be. You have secured the hand of the daughter of an earl. What a lark! And without ever having to court her or even ask.”

His expression betrayed his mortification. “Catherine—”

“I do not give you leave to call me by my Christian name,” she said abruptly and rather harshly.

“My lady, I am sorry if you are upset—”

“Upset?” She laughed almost maniacally at that! “You think me upset? I have ruined my entire future. I am certain there is a stronger word for the way I feel, only I cannot think of one just now.”

“I see that you are— not upset —and I would not dare assign a word to your temperament without your permission, but I would have you tell me the truth. Are you angry with me?”

“Angry is also not a powerful enough word. You have forced me into a marriage I never asked for!”

“And what would you have had me do when your maid found me, out of breath and begging for assistance?”

“I know not, only that I had no say—”

“Should I have let you marry my cousin? Could you be contented living in his rented rooms in London? Many miles from the comforts of Mayfair, I should add. Or would you rather be the mistress of Rosings Park? I could see no other option as I rode as quickly as I could to Whitmore. And when I heard the viscount’s stringent set down—”

“And now you shall have my dowry, shall you not? It seems this has all worked out rather well for you.” She eyed him with contempt. Her hubris knew no bounds.

He looked at her aghast. “Obstinate, headstrong girl! Arthur pursued you only for his purse. Is that what you would have preferred?”

“Certainly not!”

“He has not a farthing to his name!” His tone was laced with astonishment at her ongoing fervour.

He came closer and stood before her—looking deeply into her eyes. “Would you like to be the mistress of Rosings Park or follow my cousin to London? I shall give you this choice while we have not yet announced our engagement. But I offer it only one time. And I shall assure you that while the chimney piece at Rosings cost me 800 pounds to rebuild, my cousin has not seen 800 pounds in his lifetime. And he will swindle away your fortune at his earliest convenience. Do you not remember what he said about you in the garden?”

“I would never elect to tie myself to that man. I only wanted some choice in my future. You took that possibility away from me.”

“And when, pray, did you imagine we would have had time to come to a decision together?”

That she did not have an answer for.

“Listen to me,” he said more gently. “I shall not be heavy handed. You shall be my wife, and I will ensure you are afforded everything that comes with that position. I will not make any future decisions that affect our lives without consulting you. I have faith in you and respect you. But you must put some trust in me now.”

Catherine was once again against the wall with no place to run. First Mr Darcy, and now Sir Lewis. She was tired of men choosing for her. But they could not take away her agency. She would be mistress of Rosings Park, and no one would force her hand ever again!

He continued when she did not respond. “I have married for fortune once before, and I have no need for it this time around.”

“What need have you this time, sir?” She asked apprehensively.

“Only your happiness, my dear girl.”