Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
SUNDAY, 24 NOVEMBER 1811
T he residents of Darcy House attended church, arriving just as the service began and discreetly taking seats near the back. Their entrance did not go unnoticed, but they managed to leave without engaging with any acquaintances. Georgiana Darcy’s presence was noted, as was the unfamiliar couple accompanying them. Yet, most of the congregation paid little attention to anyone beyond the Darcys themselves.
However, the unknown couple caught the eye of two individuals. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, attending the service with her brother and his wife, had come with her mind far from worship. It had been several weeks since she had last seen her daughter—not since the girl had defied her, disappearing from Rosings and taking the outrageous step of locking her own mother out of the estate.
Seeing her daughter beside a man, free from her control and with the Darcys, was more than Lady Catherine could bear. The realisation was like a blow—her daughter had apparently married in secret, without her knowledge or approval. The evidence was clear in her confident stance, suggesting independence. The thought of this betrayal, defying her by refusing to marry her cousin and claiming the inheritance, was intolerable.
Her chest tightened with the force of her anger, each breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts as she fought to maintain her composure. The rage threatened to spill over, but before she could act, her brother, noticing her distress, leant towards her and hissed, "Catherine, control yourself! We are in a church in Mayfair—this is not the place for one of your outbursts."
His words, spoken in a low but firm tone, cut through her fury. Lady Catherine stiffened, forcing herself to regain her composure although the resentment simmered just beneath the surface. As soon as the interminable service ended, she turned to find the party but was met with disappointment when she saw them quickly moving from their pew and out the doors of the church.
Once they had arrived at Matlock House, Lady Catherine moved to begin her tirade. However, her brother cut her off before she could start. “In my office, Cathy. You have never learned to speak of these matters in private, which is why your servants were so free with their gossip.”
Lord Matlock stalked into his study, heading straight for the sideboard. Without a word, he poured himself a drink and downed it in a large gulp before refilling the glass. “Sit,” he commanded his sister sharply, not bothering to look at her.
Lady Catherine stood rigidly for a moment, her face tight with indignation, before complying. “Silas, I cannot believe the nerve of Darcy, allowing Anne and that man to stay in his house after the disgraceful way they have treated me. To parade that hussy he married at church—it is simply too much! The audacity of my daughter and nephew to defy me so openly. I will not stand for it. I will make sure they both?—”
“Enough!” Lord Matlock cut her off, turning an enraged glare towards her. His voice dropped to a venomous hiss. “You will do nothing of the sort, Cathy. Are you even aware of the trouble you have already caused? Or are you truly that blind?”
Lady Catherine’s mouth fell open, but before she could retort, her brother continued, his tone seething. “It has been nearly a month since you sent that idiotic letter to Wickham, instructing him to kidnap Darcy’s wife. Have you heard from him? Of course not. Even if the fool had succeeded, how did you expect him to deliver the woman to you, seeing as you no longer have control of Rosings? Do you not realise Wickham has likely taken whatever funds you gave him and disappeared, if he has any sense at all? And Darcy? Darcy would never let that man, or anyone else, come near his wife or sister. You, Cathy, are far too inept for the subtlety required for such a scheme.”
Before Lady Catherine could interject, her brother spoke again, his voice cold. “You need to accept reality—your daughter is married , and she has claimed her inheritance. Rosings is no longer yours, nor will it ever be again. You have no funds left at your disposal to carry out your ridiculous plans. I am sick of your endless whinging and scheming since you returned from Kent after learning what Anne had done.”
He paused, letting his words sink in before delivering his final blow. “Tomorrow, you will go to Matlock, and you will stay in the dower house there. I have business in London until Parliament is finished, and I do not have the time or patience to watch over your every move. But hear me clearly, Sister: if you dare defy me and seek retribution, I will have you thrown out of Matlock altogether. Since Anne will not have you at Rosings, and Darcy refuses to recognise you as family, you will be completely on your own. Sir Lewis’s will left you only your dowry as jointure, and you have already squandered most of it on your foolishness. If you disobey me, you will be left homeless . Make no mistake—I will know if you do.”
His words hung in the air, cold and final. Lady Catherine sat stunned, her defiance momentarily silenced. Lord Matlock downed the rest of his drink as he continued to stare at her.
“Very well, Silas. I will do as you bid,” she replied, her tone brittle as she clearly attempted to hold back the words she wished to say. Even as a child, Lady Catherine had not liked being told what to do and liked it even less when it was her younger brother doing the telling. But since Matlock was the head of the family and the only one still willing to house her at present, she truly had no choice but to do as he commanded.
A servant knocked on the door, and upon hearing the call to enter, asked if the pair intended to join the mistress for the meal.
Lord Matlock addressed his sister. "No, thank you, Silas. I will request a tray in my room as I begin packing," she replied, holding her head high as she stood and left the room. Lord Matlock shook his head and followed her before making his way to the dining room.
“Did you see Darcy at church this morning?” his wife asked as he entered. “He was with Anne. She wrote to us about her marriage, but I did not recognise the young man accompanying her. Did you?”
Lord Matlock merely grunted in response.
“Silas, I am sure you meant that to mean something, but I cannot interpret that response. Did you see Darcy and Anne or not? Did you recognise either of their spouses?” Lady Julia asked again, raising her brow at her husband.
“Yes, I saw our nieces and nephew, but, no, I did not recognize either the woman with Darcy—though she certainly must be his wife—or the man accompanying Anne. Have you received any correspondence from either of them? Or from our own children? I have not heard from Richard lately, although Andrew writes often enough to request funds,” Lord Matlock replied.
Lady Julia let out a huff of breath. “What do you intend to do about your son, Silas? I know you arranged for the sale of his townhouse, but neither his estate nor ours can be sold. What will he do when he gambles so much that he can no longer pay?”
Closing his eyes and propping his head on the palm of his hand, Lord Matlock thought about how to respond to such direct questions. “He needs to marry well, but then his reputation is so poor that it might be difficult. He will need to do something about his habits, however, or he will run through his wife’s dowry as quickly as he has run through his own funds.”
“I have heard rumours that Matlock is in trouble, Silas. Should I be worried?”
“All will be well, Julia.”
“So, our son has not nearly bankrupted our estate as well? Matlock is not in danger of ruin without a substantial influx of funds?” Lady Julia asked, her voice sharp, her brow raised in accusation as she fixed her husband with a scathing look.
Lord Matlock’s eyes narrowed as he set down his fork. “What have you heard?” he demanded, his tone cold.
“Only whispers,” she replied, never breaking eye contact with her husband, “rumblings of bills that were not paid on time. It seems Andrew’s management of Ashburn is not quite as steady as you would like to believe. He would have done well to marry Anne, had Catherine not been so fixated on gaining Darcy as a son and keeping Rosings in her control—not that Darcy would have allowed that to happen. Richard would have been a better match for her, of course, but at the very least Andrew might have learned how to work had he had someone watching over his shoulder to check on him. Richard might not possess Darcy’s skill in estate management, but he certainly would not have squandered funds the way your son has done.”
“ Our son,” Lord Matlock corrected, his voice stiff with indignation. “Andrew is as much your son as Richard is.”
“Do not pretend that you treated them equally,” Lady Julia snapped, her eyes flashing. “You left Richard to Darcy and his father, allowing him to spend more time at Pemberley than he ever did at home. Meanwhile, you kept Andrew under your roof, indulging him at every turn. Instead of teaching him how to manage Matlock, you taught him how to spend the money it brought in. Now, he is as good as useless and a continual drain upon our income.”
She paused, her mouth tight with frustration, as a footman entered, silently setting down the next course. Lady Julia waited for the servant to leave before continuing, her voice lower but no less cutting. “Do not act surprised, Silas. This is as much your doing as it is Andrew’s. You made him into this—a man who is incapable of fulfilling the role he should be preparing to step into.”
Lord Matlock’s grip tightened around his glass. “Andrew is not beyond redemption.”
“Not beyond redemption?” Lady Julia scoffed. “Tell me, how do you propose to redeem him when the estate he was meant to manage is slipping through his fingers? He has neither the skill nor the discipline to make things right. The damage has already been done. His habits are too ingrained.”
Her husband’s face darkened, and for a moment, there was a tense silence between them. Then, in a strained voice, he replied, “I will not see Matlock fall into ruin. I will do what is necessary.”
“What is necessary?” she repeated bitterly. “It is too late for ‘necessary,’ Silas. We needed action years ago, when you first noticed the growing bills, when you saw Andrew’s recklessness. Now you will have to make sacrifices.”
Lord Matlock’s eyes flicked up sharply. “What kind of sacrifices?”
“Either you sell some of the land that is not entailed, or you will have to seek help from Darcy,” she said, her tone as cold as ice. “You need his funds for he has not wasted his on women and gambling. I do believe Pemberley is rather better off than Matlock, and it is certainly better off than Rosings. Catherine is nearly as bad as you and your son at spending money without thought. Do you think Darcy already suspects something? All of society whispers about Andrew’s failings, even if they are too polite to say it to your face.”
Lord Matlock’s face twisted in a mixture of anger and pride. “I will not beg Darcy for anything.”
“No, of course not,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Better to watch your precious legacy crumble to pieces than swallow your pride and ask for help from the man who has made Pemberley stronger. A man who, unlike your son, understands the value of wealth and how to maintain it.”
Clenching his jaw, anger simmering just beneath the surface, Lord Matlock bit out, “I will not let Darcy interfere in our affairs.”
“I suggest you think of something,” Lady Julia said coldly. “I do not think marriage will be enough to save Ashburn, not so long as Andrew is managing it, and you, Lord Matlock, are hardly better.”
Lord Matlock said nothing, but the fury in his eyes betrayed the storm brewing within. Lady Julia, satisfied she had made her point, took a slow sip of tea, letting the silence linger.
The two were silent for several moments. Finally, Lord Matlock broke the silence between them. “Julia,” he said slowly, his voice laced with a calculated calm, “you are right about one thing. Action must be taken, but perhaps not in the way you imagine.” He paused, measuring her reaction, and continued, “I have my own plans in motion.”
She raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into her expression. “What do you mean?”
“I have made arrangements,” he said, keeping his tone neutral.
Lady Julia’s expression hardened. “What kind of arrangements? I trust that you are not as foolish as your sister, but what can you possibly do that will prevent your ruin from being made public?”
“Will it not be your own ruin as well?” he asked, chuckling darkly.
“If it becomes known, I will go to my father’s house. I still have my dowry, and there is nothing you can do to take those funds from me. I will be well provided for, regardless of what happens to Matlock,” Lady Julia informed her husband with a sardonic grin.
Scowling, Lord Matlock dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I will yet salvage this situation. But I will remember how unwilling you were to do anything to help the name you bear.”
With that, he turned his attention back to his glass, leaving Lady Julia fuming at the dismissal. The two finished the meal in silence, each contemplating their own plans to save themselves at the expense of the other.