Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
A fter arranging for Ashburn’s body to be transported to Matlock, Fitzwilliam and Darcy began the grim task of writing to those who needed to be informed of what had transpired. The knowledge they had uncovered was too dangerous to commit to paper, but they both knew a decision about how to handle it could not be delayed for long.
“If Matlock is truly in a hopeless situation, cousin,” Darcy began, his voice steady but firm as he set down his pen, “I will do what I can to help restore it. But let me be clear—my assistance is contingent on you being the one to oversee the estate. I will not pay a single coin to anyone connected with the vile practice of trafficking human lives. Those dealings must end entirely.”
Darcy’s tone left no room for argument, his expression resolute as he met Fitzwilliam’s gaze.
Fitzwilliam nodded slowly, his own features shadowed with guilt and weariness. “You have my word. I could not stomach such actions myself, let alone condone them. If Father truly is complicit in any way….” His voice trailed off, the enormity of the implications weighing heavily between them.
They returned to their letters in silence. Fitzwilliam took on the painful task of writing to his mother, his regret evident in every line as he struggled to find words that could soften the blow of her eldest son’s death. Meanwhile, Darcy composed a terse, straightforward missive to Lord Matlock. The note was factual, devoid of any sentiment, and delivered the grim news with as much decorum as he could muster.
At least the winter’s cool air would ensure the funeral did not need to be rushed and they could wait for others to arrive for the ceremony.
By mid-morning, they were on their way back to Pemberley. Darcy had decided to travel there first, as he wanted his wife to accompany him to Matlock for the funeral.
The letters bearing the news were dispatched. Darcy had arranged for the messenger to deliver the letter to Lady Matlock first, allowing her and her father time to reach Matlock before Lord Matlock received the news. This approach, he hoped, would ensure she was prepared and supported when her husband learned of Ashburn’s death.
Additionally, it would provide Fitzwilliam the opportunity to speak with his mother about what he had uncovered and to determine whether she had any knowledge of it. Their conversation a month prior had revealed that Lord Matlock had kept his wife uninformed about many matters, particularly those concerning his business dealings.
Not long before they reached Pemberley, Darcy broke the silence that had descended over them since they left the inn. “Are you well, Richard?”
Fitzwilliam shook his head as though he were startled. “I was lost in thought, Darcy, and nearly forgot you were here. Yes, I suppose I am well enough for the time being, but I am glad that we will have several days to discuss matters before I am once again forced into company with my father. I am astounded that he could have kept this a secret all these years and that no one was aware of his involvement until now.”
“We will discuss it in greater detail at Pemberley. I have an inkling of an idea for what we can do about your father, but I need time to flesh it out,” Darcy paused for a moment before continuing. “You know you are now the viscount, do you not?”
Fitzwilliam huffed out a breath. “The thought had occurred to me, Darcy, little though I like it. I was merely the ‘spare’ so little thought was given to my education and preparation for such a role. What I know about managing an estate has largely been learned from you or your father; I would not be as successful in the Army as I have been without your father’s influence and guidance as a lad.”
Darcy simply nodded, unsure of how to respond. Memories surfaced of how often Fitzwilliam had spent time at Pemberley as a boy and how frequently Lord Matlock had overlooked him in favour of his elder brother. The remainder of the journey to Pemberley passed in silence, each man lost in thought, reflecting on how drastically their lives had shifted in what felt like an instant.
Elizabeth greeted the pair at the door nearest the stables, her relief evident as soon as she saw them approach. The moment she received word that their horses had been spotted, she had been waiting anxiously, her focus fixed particularly on her husband. Since their elopement three months earlier, they had spent little time apart, and the prospect of seeing him again filled her with anticipation.
However, her eagerness was not solely rooted in affection. An express rider had arrived just hours before with urgent instructions to deliver a note directly into Fitzwilliam Darcy’s hand—and no one else.
“It is from Rosings,” she said after telling him about the messenger. “Did you and Richard find the viscount?”
“We found him,” Darcy replied darkly. “Where is Georgiana, and your sisters? Your mother?”
“My sisters are in the music room. Mama has been enamoured of the conservatory of late and has been spending quite a bit of time there. She said she intends to get your stillroom in proper order,” Elizabeth said, nearly rambling as she attempted to make idle talk while keeping up with the long strides of her husband and his cousin.
“Will,” she called after a few moments, using the name she reserved for their private moments—one that never failed to capture his attention. “Slow down, my love. Your legs are longer than mine.”
Her words drew him from his distraction, and without hesitation, he paused and swept her into his arms. Elizabeth let out a startled gasp, quickly followed by a laugh at the unexpected, impulsive gesture—so unlike his usual reserved nature.
“Forgive me, love,” he murmured, though he made no move to set her down until they reached his study.
“Richard, give me five minutes,” he commanded sharply, his tone brooking no argument. Without waiting for a reply, he stepped inside and shut the door firmly in his cousin’s face. The abruptness of it startled a laugh out of Fitzwilliam—the first he had managed all day.
Precisely five minutes later, Fitzwilliam rapped sharply on the door. The messenger, having been summoned in the meantime, now stood beside him.
The door opened moments later, revealing Darcy. Whatever trace of a smile might have lingered on his face vanished as soon as he saw the two men waiting outside.
“Come in,” he ordered.
Immediately, the messenger held up the note. “Fitzwilliam Darcy?” he asked. At Darcy’s nod, he handed him the letter. “Mrs. Hargrove said I was to give this directly to you and no other. I do not believe she knew you were here, Colonel, or she would have directed me to give it to you as well. She did ask me to apologise to Mrs. Darcy, but she wanted her cousin to see it first.”
Elizabeth waved his comment away as insignificant. “What does it say?” she asked, her hands twisting anxiously.
Darcy scanned the note with a furrowed brow before passing it to his cousin. With a measured calm, he guided Elizabeth to a settee and sat beside her. He took her hands gently in his, his expression sombre as he began to recount what had transpired.
“We found Ashburn in dire circumstances, Elizabeth,” he began. “Before he succumbed, he revealed much. Anne has also uncovered damning evidence implicating her mother in these abhorrent schemes. We have suspected Lady Catherine was supplying her brother with significant portions of Rosings’ income under the guise of keeping the estate solvent. However, we believed he had deceived her regarding the nature of his dealings. Anne’s findings paint a far graver picture. It appears Lady Catherine was not misled—she was a knowing, if silent, accomplice.”
Darcy paused. When he continued, his voice was low and deliberate. “Anne wrote to inform us of her discovery and, worse yet for Lord Matlock, of the meticulous records Lady Catherine kept. She maintained detailed notes of every discussion concerning the venture and kept a ledger tracking every penny spent. This evidence could prove ruinous should it become known.”
He looked at Elizabeth, his eyes filled with concern. While Elizabeth was aghast at such news, she was not discomposed.
“Does Anne say how far the records go back?” she asked, still reeling as she attempted to digest all that her husband had just said.
Fitzwilliam responded, “To just after Sir Lewis’s death. Rosings was in a bit of trouble after he died, or at least Lady Catherine felt it needed an influx of funds. Somehow, she learned what Father was doing and wanted a part of it. At the time, Matlock was flush, so she began investing an increasingly larger amounts into the venture. Anne mentions there are letters, written in an easily deciphered code, between the two. Lady Catherine was upset that Father spoke out against slavery, all the while actively taking part in it. She demanded a larger portion of the profits in return for keeping silent. I wonder whether those profits were kept separate from the money earned from Rosings or if Anne might discover where they were kept.”
Darcy nodded his agreement with the plan. “That might be enough to pay off whatever Lord Matlock owes to his business partners and prevent them from coming after any of the rest of his family. While I do not condone what was done, since the money was earned from such an abhorrent practice, I cannot imagine using it for any other purpose. Perhaps whatever is left over could be sent to aid the abolitionist movement in other places.”
Fitzwilliam turned towards his cousin. “You mentioned you had a plan, or at least part of one, to deal with this. What are you thinking?”
“Your father can no longer be trusted,” Darcy said gravely. “The truth is, he has committed numerous illegal acts—acts that could very well see him imprisoned in the Tower for treason. While that might be a fitting consequence for his actions, the fallout would not stop with him. Your mother, you, and even Anne could face disgrace or, at the very least, be branded as complicit in his schemes. Such a scandal would serve none of us.”
He paused, his expression tight with determination. “For that reason, we cannot allow his actions to become public knowledge. It might not seem entirely just, but exposing him would have far-reaching consequences—consequences I am unwilling to inflict on the innocent parties involved.”
Fitzwilliam nodded in agreement, prompting Darcy to continue. “I suggest we inform your mother and grandfather of what we have uncovered when she arrives for Andrew’s funeral. Together, we can impress upon your father that it is in his best interest to withdraw from society entirely. Publicly, we can circulate a story that he has been rendered unwell by the grief of Andrew’s death—some plausible fiction to explain his absence.”
Darcy’s tone grew firmer as he continued to outline his plan. “Your father has a hunting lodge in Scotland, does he not? He can live out the remainder of his days there, under strict supervision. His funds will be limited, and we can… encourage him to adopt a suitable surname that allows him to blend into his surroundings. He will no longer be the earl, nor have the influence he once wielded.”
He glanced at Fitzwilliam. “The servants sent to attend him will be handpicked, doubling as bodyguards and watchmen to ensure he does not involve himself in any schemes ever again. This arrangement will protect the family’s name and prevent further harm. Of course, one of us will visit at least annually to ensure all is as it should be.”
For a moment, no one spoke as they thought through what Darcy had said. Fitzwilliam was the first to speak. “I cannot imagine Father easily agreeing to that. It will take quite a bit to convince him.”
“Will the threat of death not be enough? If these men killed your brother with no compunction, will Lord Matlock not believe them capable of doing the same to him?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not if they do not know of these funds, which, if they exist, could be used to pay off his partners,” Fitzwilliam offered.
“We do not know they exist, so we say nothing of it to him. If the funds exist, we use them to pay off the men, but otherwise, they will believe he has disappeared or has died, depending on the story that we make known in London,” Darcy stated. “Of course, if your father is believed dead, Richard, then you will inherit the earldom.”
Fitzwilliam closed his eyes as he considered that. “I never wanted that role,” he breathed. Louder, he said, “As soon as the funeral is over, I will need to travel to London. First to resign my commission, and second, to discover with Anne if the ledgers show any additional money set aside from these ventures. We can also begin to spread the word of Father’s ‘illness’ so his death will not come as a surprise. How will we explain Andrew’s death to those outside of our family?”
“I think we will need to wait for your mother to arrive before we make those decisions. She is more seasoned in dealing with these matters,” Darcy replied.
Elizabeth agreed. “The entire family will have to mourn for your brother for a time. It is just three months for a brother, Richard, and at the end of that time, you can begin to take on more of your father’s former role,” she said to their cousin before turning to her husband. “Fitzwilliam, how poorly has Matlock been managed these last few years and is there anything that we can do to help Richard more quickly recover the estate?”
For several minutes, Fitzwilliam looked on in surprise as Elizabeth and Darcy discussed how to get both Matlock and Ashburn back on their feet. “We will need to consult with the stewards on both estates, but I think it is has been a few years since either have had the oversight they have needed. It is possible that neither is in as bad a shape as believed, but with some careful attention, can be restored quickly,” Darcy replied.
“Of course, we will need to consult the books on both before we do anything,” Elizabeth interjected. “Is the steward at Matlock competent, Richard, or have you not had any dealings with him? I will not even ask you about Ashburn since I somehow doubt you have been at that estate in a number of years.”
Fitzwilliam was uncertain how to respond to either question since he did not recall the last time he had visited Matlock. More often than not, when he saw his parents, it was in London.
Almost as if she had forgotten the question she asked, Elizabeth continued. “You will need to speak to the steward when we arrive at Matlock, Fitzwilliam. If he will not speak to you, then we will need to add a new steward to the list of positions to fill. You mentioned only a few servants are presently at the estate; we should send some ahead of us. That way, they can assist whoever is there and ensure that anyone who visits the estate to pay their respects will not see that anything is amiss. Do you suppose we should send foodstuffs ahead as well? I will consult with Mrs. Reynolds, perhaps she knows something that we do not.”
With that parting comment, Elizabeth exited the study, leaving both men momentarily speechless.
“I must say,” Fitzwilliam remarked after a pause, a hint of amusement in his voice, “your wife seems more than capable of managing Pemberley, Matlock, and Ashburn all at once—and without any help from us. Perhaps I should hire her as my steward until everything is set to rights.”
Darcy chuckled softly. “You have often said your mother could outmanoeuvre any general you ever served under. I believe you just witnessed my wife doing much the same. While I have always trusted in her abilities, even I am taken aback by how meticulously she addressed every detail. Between her and your mother, I suspect Lord Matlock will be steered towards the proper decision before he realises what is happening. He will not even see it coming.”