Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A fter Darcy’s departure, Elizabeth returned to her uncle’s study and scoured the Morning Gazette . She read and reread the articles mentioning her and Darcy as well as some of the other stories. There were lists of gambling debts and hints of people being where they should not be. Few details were given, but she made note of the initials and observed that several appeared repeatedly, keeping to her task all afternoon.
The next day, she received an invitation from Lady Fulford to accompany her and Lady Matlock to the British Museum. To support her friend, and since the countess would soon be her aunt-in-law, Elizabeth accepted. Given her past encounters with Lady Matlock, she approached the outing with no small amount of trepidation.
“Make haste, Miss Bennet, for we do not wish to be late,” the older woman called from the carriage when they arrived to collect her for their excursion.
Elizabeth refrained from observing that she was not the cause of their tardiness. She had been awaiting their arrival for at least twenty minutes.
Once at their destination and walking towards the entrance of the impressive, French-style house, Elizabeth whispered to Lady Fulford, “What are we late for?”
“We are meeting one of my mother’s oldest friends,” Lady Fulford replied. “Lady Hadland is something of a tyrant, but she has weathered many scandals unscathed. Indeed, she has managed to turn her scandalous past into a glorious present, and I believe my mother wishes for her assistance.”
The colour drained from Elizabeth’s face. “You cannot mean the articles regarding Mr Darcy and myself?”
“No, not you. I am the subject of my mother’s concern.” She touched Elizabeth’s arm to stop her walking, and in an even lower voice, added, “My husband is seldom home, preferring the comfort of fallen women. I was visiting Mama yesterday and, unfortunately, Thorpe was present. My delightful brother made a joke about Fulford’s indifference, and I was overset with a tremendous rage. I declared a wish to live a separate life to my husband. My mother said nothing, but she insisted I come with her to the museum to see Lady Hadland. I accepted on the condition that you were also invited. Forgive my presumption, but I found myself in need of your courage.”
“But why meet in public?”
Lady Fulford shrugged her shoulders. “I understand Lady Hadland did not want to change her plans to accommodate Mama.” Her mouth tightened. “I do not know what she thinks her friend can do. Convince me my life would be miserable if I cause such a scandal, perhaps. My mother would rather I be wretched than separate from my husband.”
“You have done nothing wrong,” Elizabeth replied. “I shall do whatever I can for you.”
Her face pale and drawn, Lady Fulford gave a weak smile. “We should try to enjoy the museum. It is wonderful, and I always feel very tranquil when I wander the galleries.”
“What of Lady Hadland? You mean to keep her waiting?”
Before Lady Fulford could respond, her mother called, “Make haste, Cecilia!”
Lady Fulford sighed, but she and Elizabeth followed the countess inside and towards a woman at the far end of a gallery. Elizabeth presumed she was Lady Hadland. She wore an outlandish outfit, a heady mixture of patterns, fabrics, and feathers.
Lady Matlock greeted her and said, “Thank you for agreeing to see us at such short notice.”
“I own I was curious.” Lady Hadland made no effort to speak discreetly. Turning to address Lady Fulford, she continued. “Your mother tells me you wish to establish a home separate from your husband.”
“I do,” she said, her tone firm.
“You will do no such thing.” The feathers in Lady Hadland’s hair quivered as she spoke.
“You do not have the power to prevent me,” Lady Fulford retorted.
“But I do have the experience to counsel you against it.” Lady Hadland narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth and asked Lady Matlock who she was.
“This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, whom my nephew Darcy plans to marry.”
“ You are Miss B?” Lady Hadland peered at Elizabeth, who bore the woman’s appraisal with all the forbearance she could summon. “You are not what one might call classically beautiful, but your face has some merit.”
“I am delighted to hear it.” Elizabeth’s amusement must have been evident for Lady Hadland gave her a sharp look before returning her attention to Lady Fulford. “I urge you to think very carefully before you embark on this foolhardy enterprise. Fulford is not the first man to chase petticoats all about London, nor will he be the last. Every man has spent a guinea or two in the company of these women. You may think of it as an investment, for when he is with them, you do not have to suffer his company.”
“But he drinks and gambles to excess. Soon there will be no home to return to.” Lady Fulford spoke quietly to ensure the other visitors to the gallery could not overhear. “His behaviour is oppressive and unbearable.”
Lady Hadland shrugged. “Take a lover.”
Lady Matlock gaped. “I must protest!”
Lady Hadland continued as though the other woman had not spoken. “It would distract you, add pleasure to your life. But I urge you to be discreet. Do not fall in love with another man, and if you believe yourself to be with child, make sure you engage in relations with your husband so that he will believe it is his. Lack of discretion was my downfall,” she said, flicking at a feather on her gown. “My husband divorced me, and I was left with nothing. It did not matter that he had many lovers, and I had but one.” She leant towards Lady Fulford, whose eyes were brimming with tears. “My first husband demanded my baby daughter remain with him, even though he knew she was not of his bloodline. It was my punishment for loving someone else. Would you care to know what I did?”
Lady Fulford shook her head, her countenance suggesting she was too overcome with emotion to answer.
“Well, I shall tell you anyway.” Lady Hadland’s eyes swept scornfully over Elizabeth. “And I do not care who hears, for it was in every paper at the time. I told him my daughter had died. I said she was ill and had succumbed to a fever. There was even a funeral for her in Italy, where I had gone to live. For several months, little Henrietta stayed with one of my maid’s sisters. Eventually, I told everyone that I wished to adopt a girl the same age as my darling lost little daughter. My scheme worked, and we had four blissful years together. And then Sir George, my husband, found out and took her away from me again. She lives with his sister, but I have not seen her in years. He taught her to despise me. Your husband will be equally as vindictive. Spare yourself the misery.”
Elizabeth stole a glance at Lady Fulford. Her friend’s bottom lip trembled in an effort to contain her tears. Elizabeth resolutely took her arm and curtseyed at the two older women.
“Thank you for your advice. I believe Lady Fulford and I should take a turn about the room to reflect upon the wisdom you have imparted.”
“So, I am to stay with my husband,” said Lady Fulford once they were far enough removed. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I am to be forever unhappy.”
“Lady Hadland’s experiences are unique. I would not let them influence you,” Elizabeth said, but she was not sure Lady Fulford was listening.
“Would it trouble you if we left? My mother can remain with her abominable friend. She is far more important to her than my insignificant problems. We can take a cab to my house, and I shall send you to your uncle’s in my carriage.”
Elizabeth agreed and went to inform Lady Matlock of their departure; the countess merely said it might do her daughter good to rest and consider her choices.
As Elizabeth and Lady Fulford were leaving the museum, she heard heavy footsteps and someone rushed past her, knocking against her shoulder and causing her to lose her balance. It was a man, thickset and dark-haired, and when he turned to her, she presumed to apologise, she felt a jolt of recognition. Mr Bull. His scarred lips twisted into a mocking smile, and Elizabeth saw contempt in his eyes. Had he struck her on purpose? In a moment, he was gone. She could not move; her limbs were weak with shock. What was he doing there? Was he following her? Lady Fulford’s voice echoed in her ear, asking if she were well, but she could not answer. Instead, she hurried down the steps in the direction that he had disappeared, her heart pounding as she reached the bottom stair. She looked about. There was no sign of Mr Bull. He had vanished.
Catching her breath, she approached a porter in the vestibule and said, “Pardon me, but who was the man that left, the one with a scar upon his lip? I believe he is a friend of my father’s. Do you know where he was going?”
The porter knew nothing, and she, disappointed but not knowing what more to do, asked that he procure a cab for her and Lady Fulford.
“Did you recognise that man, the one who ran into you?” Lady Fulford said once she had joined Elizabeth and the porter had gone to fulfil Elizabeth’s request.
“He was a friend of my family’s,” she prevaricated. “We have lost contact, and I dearly wish to know where he lives so that I might inform my father.” It was a lie, of course, but a necessary one.
When the porter returned, he announced not only that a carriage was waiting for them but also that he had spoken to the coachmen waiting for fares. From them, he had learnt that Mr Bull, who had claimed his name was Lennox, was going to Denzell Street.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said with sincerity. “I am ever so grateful.” She pressed a coin into the man’s hand before following her friend outside.
Every window on the ground floor of the Fulfords’ house was open, and raucous laughter could be heard from the street. As Elizabeth descended from the carriage, she stole a look at her friend. Her countenance was pale and her lips were pursed.
“It appears my husband has returned home,” said Lady Fulford.
“Do you wish to return with me to Gracechurch Street?” Elizabeth asked. “I do not think it wise for you to remain here without support.”
“No, this is my home. All my beloved possessions are within. I will not let him destroy it.”
“Very well,” Elizabeth said, her tone resolute. “Let us go in.”
Lady Fulford shook her head. “I shall not be able to look Darcy in the eye if I expose you to… that .” She gestured to the house.
“Darcy is not here,” Elizabeth stated and began to climb the stairs.
Lady Fulford hastened to catch up with her. She linked arms with Elizabeth and said unsteadily, “Thank you.”
The door was opened by an ashen-faced footman. Elizabeth took in the destruction in the corridor—splatters of mud on the floors and walls, pictures hanging askew, articles of clothing that evidently had been carelessly discarded.
“Where is my husband?” Lady Fulford asked.
“Many of his lordship’s guests are playing cards in the drawing room,” the footman replied, adding after a pause, “But I believe others are…elsewhere.”
Lady Fulford’s expression was thunderous. She marched towards the drawing room, Elizabeth following closely behind. In the centre of the room was a group of four men sat around a table laden with notes, coins, and half-full wine glasses. Clouds of foul-smelling smoke filled the air. A woman was in an armchair by the fire, her skirts lifted warming her stockinged feet. In another corner, a man sat with a girl on his lap; his collar and shirt were open. Her clothing was askew, and she was brazenly stroking the bare skin of his neck.
Elizabeth’s cheeks burnt in horror at the scene, but she refused to look away or reveal her discomfort.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Fulford demanded, her voice deathly cold. “You are to leave at once, or I will see to it that you are removed.”
The guests viewed her with surprised amusement, and one of the men said, “Fulford invited us to make what use we liked of his house.” He grinned, displaying his yellow, chipped teeth.
“He owes us a great deal of money,” another man added. “We are not going anywhere without it.”
“Where is Lord Fulford?” Elizabeth asked, aghast at the dirt smeared on the expensive furniture. It was beyond careless; surely it was her husband’s deliberate attempt to injure Lady Fulford, knowing how proud she was of her home.
“Entertaining his special guest,” said the woman on the chair, pointing a finger towards the ceiling.
Shocked that Lord Fulford would encourage such wanton behaviour in his marital home, Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open.
“You shouldn’t talk so in front of young women,” said the man with the girl on his lap. Elizabeth might have appreciated his assistance if he were not giving her a lascivious stare. “Especially not ones of such quality.”
Gathering her senses, Elizabeth pulled Lady Fulford to the next room, away from these strangers and the danger they presented. She was about to beg her friend to leave and come with her to Gracechurch Street when Lord Fulford staggered through the doorway. Evidently, he was intoxicated; his coat was removed, and his dark hair was in disarray. A raven-haired woman was close on his heels. He stopped and swayed alarmingly, glaring at Elizabeth and Lady Fulford.
“What in God’s name do you want?” he said, stumbling over the words.
“What I want is for you to remove these miscreants from my home!” Lady Fulford stepped forward, her hands clenched by her sides.
“I will be damned before I do what you say!” Spittle flew from his mouth, and a vein bulged in his neck. “You always censure me! Since the day we were married, it has been complaint after complaint. If you were quiet once in a while, I might stay at home. All this is all your fault!” He gestured wildly at the disorder that surrounded them.
“Your wife is to blame for your gambling debts and life of vice?” Astounded by his audacity, the words burst from Elizabeth. “ You are the only one to blame for your poor choices!”
Lord Fulford scowled at her. “This is none of your concern. You have no right to question me!” With a look of pure loathing, he lurched towards her, and the smell of dirt and sweat filled her nostrils. For a terrible moment, she thought he would strike her, and she held her breath, ready for the blow.
Lady Fulford swiftly put herself between Elizabeth and her husband. “You are not to lay a hand on her. If you do, you will have Darcy to answer to.”
“I am not afraid of that oaf.” He gave a disbelieving snort, but he stepped back from Elizabeth, nevertheless.
Lady Fulford did not move. “Remove your guests from this house.”
His mouth twisted into a mocking smile. “Give me your pearl earrings and it shall be done.”
Lady Fulford glanced over her shoulder at Elizabeth, her face shockingly white. “I am sorry you should bear witness to my husband’s shameful conduct. I promise I will return as quickly as possible.” Without looking at her husband or the woman standing next to him, she swept out of the room. With a snarl of anger, Lord Fulford followed, a torrent of vile abuse aimed towards his wife echoing in the passageway beyond.
“Are you in need of wine, Miss Bennet?” the woman asked.
With all that happened, Elizabeth had not taken proper notice of her. Presently, she stared at her in shock, although her identity should not have been such a surprise. “Mrs Wilder?”
The woman inclined her head in acknowledgement. She did not seem taken aback that Elizabeth knew her by sight.
“You should take care, Miss Bennet,” she said, seemingly amused. “No man likes to be belittled by a woman, and Fulford’s temper is especially ugly when roused.”
“I am well aware of his explosive moods,” Elizabeth said, her voice reflecting how disgusted she was by all that she had seen.
Mrs Wilder smoothed her dress and held Elizabeth’s stare.
“Remove that look of indignation from your pretty face. Those who do not inherit money must earn it.”
“I cannot agree with your method of doing so,” Elizabeth replied with forced calm.
A shadow passed over Mrs Wilder’s face. “I have made it my business not to judge how others conduct their lives. I would thank you not to judge mine.”
Hers was such a commanding presence that Elizabeth almost apologised, but she caught herself.
“Considering the scene my dear friend was met with on returning home, I find myself wondering at your judgment in conducting your distasteful liaison with Lord Fulford here, of all places. Why would you take part in injuring a woman who has done you no wrong?”
Red spots formed on Mrs Wilder’s cheeks, but Elizabeth believed they were ones of anger at being spoken to in such a fashion rather than ones of embarrassment. She donned a haughty expression and moved towards the door. Passing by Elizabeth, she leant in closely and through gritted teeth said, “ Adieu , Miss Bennet, I do wish you well in your forthcoming marriage.” She stepped back enough to look her in the eyes, her mouth curved into a thin-lipped sneer. “ I should not want to be married to a man who was responsible for his own cousin’s demise. Poor Dominic deserved better. But a man’s character can change, I suppose. I cannot tell if Mr Darcy’s has, because it has been such a long time since I had the pleasure of his company. Please give him my regards.”
With that, Mrs Wilder left the room, calling to the young women that they were departing. Elizabeth stared into the empty room, tears falling down her cheeks.