Chapter Twenty-Eight
The day before his wedding, Richard took the stage to a small town near Rosings, where he planned to collect Anne and Lady Catherine for the trip back to London.
Lady Catherine wished to make a ceremony of signing a contract which would both give him half of Anne’s dowry and guarantee she had the use of the income from the other half.
He was not in a position to reject her whims, so he took the stage, even though he’d be returning to London that very afternoon.
A carriage ride back, a final night at Matlock House in London, and then his wedding. After which, he would move into Lady Catherine’s London house with Anne. He grinned, pleased by that.
He’d left his valet, Harper, in London, overseeing removal of most of his possessions from the Earl’s London house and into Lady Catherine’s townhome.
Even though the Fitzwilliam family home belonged to Richard’s adopted father and hopefully would for years, him residing there always caused tension with Thomas.
And that without the Viscount even knowing of Richard’s true parentage.
If Thomas ever learned the truth, Richard expected not only to be completely unwelcome, but would likely see his belongings sold or burned.
As much as he resented Thomas’s constant grubbing for the Earl’s possessions and power and enjoyed tormenting his brother by residing under the Earl’s roof, it was a relief to be able to move out of the Fitzwilliam townhome.
Since accepting his proposal, Anne had warmed considerably to him, discussing everything from her preference in roses to her view on the alliance with Portugal while they took long, meandering walks.
While away inspecting the de Bourgh London home and coordinating his move there, Richard had missed her.
He looked forward to a pleasant ride back to London, and a long evening beside the fire, talking with Anne, and to their wedding.
Unaccountably, though he’d written to his aunt of his plans, no one waited to collect him from the stage stop.
After waiting some time, he picked up his bag and started walking.
It was only about three miles, and he knew the way.
When he reached Rosings, Richard jogged up the broad front steps, trying not to worry.
The door opened to Simms, Lady Catherine’s butler, who wore a deep frown and blocked the doorway.
“Simms, is everyone well? Do you know why I wasn’t collected?” Richard asked, wondering at the man’s grim countenance.
“You are to remain here, Colonel, while I inform Lady Catherine of your arrival.”
Richard frowned. “Here? In the entrance hall?”
“Here. Outside. Do I require footmen to ensure your cooperation?”
Richard matched Simms’ grim expression with one of his own.
“Certainly not, but what’s this about? Where is Anne?
” Worry shot through him. In their youth, Anne had often been ill, but she’d been healthier for years and recently, since learning to stand up for herself more, even put on some much needed weight.
“I will fetch her ladyship.” Simms swung the door closed.
Richard stared at the closed door, wondering if he should enter and seek Anne, but he’d told Simms he would remain.
Worry ate at him, and fear for Anne, but before his agitation could build to the point of breaking his word to Simms, the door opened to reveal Lady Catherine stormed down the corridor, four footmen behind her.
Lady Catherine barreled up to Richard, lion headed cane in one hand and flapping a thick page in his face. “How dare you,” she screeched.
Richard couldn’t read a word on the page with her waving it about, but he noted the Earl’s seal. “How dare I what?” Was that Thomas’s signature above the seal? “Aunt Catherine, what’s happened?”
“What has happened?” Her screech intensified. “What has happened? I’ve learned the truth, that’s what.” She shoved the page at his face. “How dare you lie to me.”
Richard shook his head, seeking any lies, and dreadfully afraid he knew to what she referred. “Aunt Catherine, has something happened to my father?”
“He is not your father, and I am not your aunt. Call me so again and I will have you removed from my property, you snake in Colonel’s clothing.”
Richard drew in a steadying breath. He’d always been able to calm his aunt. “Please, Lady Catherine, what has happened?”
“What has happened is that the Earl of Matlock is dying, and Viscount Wilmington wrote to inform me of such, and of your treachery in trying to marry my Anne, and you are no longer welcome in my home.”
“My father is dying?” Richard gasped, rocking back on his heels. “I must go to him.”
“He is not your father,” she reiterated.
“I am legally the son of your brother,” Richard said with a touch of heat. “He is my father, and I am your nephew.”
“You are nothing. Your father was a commoner and your real uncle died in disgrace. You are not fit to marry the granddaughter of an earl.”
Richard looked up the broad staircase again. “Anne.” She knew the truth and accepted him, but was her affection strong enough for her to go against her mother?
“Anne will not marry you. When Thomas wrote to inform me that you are an imposter, he offered a much better solution.”
Richard shook his head, dumbstruck. For all that he knew his brother’s views, had thought he was prepared for Thomas’s rejection if the truth ever came out, it still stunned him. “I must go to my father.”
“You must remove your possessions from my London home and never set foot there again, or here.”
The fastest way to reach his father was through London. The stage wouldn’t do. It would be fast, but he’d no idea when it came or if he could secure a seat. Riding would be best. “I will see my possessions are removed, but now I must go to my father.”
“He is not your father,” Lady Catherine spat out again.
“And yet, I love him as one.” Calm washed over Richard, for he’d settled on a course. “I am taking your best horse. I will see him returned to your man in London.”
“I do not give you permission to take anything of mine.”
“I didn’t ask. I’m informing you out of politeness.
” He gestured to the array of nervous young men clustered at the far edge of the entrance hall behind Simms. “And before you order them to stop me, consider that I am still engaged to Anne, until I hear from her mouth that I am not, and that my father, a man who loved me enough to adopt me and raise me as his own, still lives and is an Earl.” At least Richard prayed his father yet lived.
If he arrived too late to say goodbye because of Lady Catherine’s pomposity, he would never forgive her. Not that she would care.
Lady Catherine stared at him, lips pressed closed into a hard line. Finally, she snapped the tip of her cane to the marble floor in a loud smack. “Take any horse you like, but see it’s returned.”
Richard bowed with all deference. “Thank you.” He pivoted and jogged down the steps in the dreary afternoon light.
A sympathetic groom saddled a horse. Richard grabbed a couple of items from his luggage and handed the rest to the groom, telling him to use them or sell them, then leapt into the saddle.
He wanted to gallop but knew the horse wouldn’t last if he did.
Trotting and walking, with a stop to allow the horse to eat and drink, brought him to London.
Richard left the horse, without explanation, with the caretaker of Lady Catherine’s London home, then stood on the cobblestones trying to sort out his next move and praying his father still lived. Should he hire another horse? A carriage? The stage?
Darcy would be in London, Richard realized. He’d be there because he expected Richard and Anne to marry tomorrow. Richard grimaced, praying Anne still wanted him and understood why he’d left without seeing her. He had to reach his father in time.
Richard went to Darcy House, where he found his cousin fortuitously both at home and alone, except for Gavin Murphy.
After a hurried explanation, accompanied by much appreciated sympathy and indignation on Darcy’s part, Richard was on the road again, using Darcy’s carriage and with enough money to change horses as often as necessary.
In his usual efficient fashion, Darcy provided two coachmen.
One to drive and one to sleep in the carriage with Richard and be reasonably fresh when they changed horses.
Worry weighed on Richard, a constant unwelcome companion to the ride.
Would he arrive in time to see his father?
Would he lose Anne, whom he’d rapidly come to hold in both esteem and affection?
If the Earl remained alive but unconscious, would Thomas let Richard in to say his goodbyes?
That, at least, the man who’d called him brother for thirty years must permit him, for Richard loved their father.
The one thing that did not worry him was any confusion come morning. He’d no doubt Lady Catherine had sent out numerous letters. No one would arrive at the church expecting a wedding, or at Lady Catherine’s London house for the breakfast. Of that, Richard felt certain.
Darcy’s carriage reached the Matlock ancestral seat in the dark of night, well past the dinner hour.
Richard had sat with the coachman for the last leg to help him navigate, familiar with the roads even in the dark and the dead of winter, and felt frozen.
A groom came forward, face neutral, which, along with a general lack of obvious chaos, Richard took as a good sign.
After giving orders for the horses and coachmen to be seen to, Richard trotted up the steps and Pickney opened the door. Richard tried to be reassured at finding the household still awake, but no doctor’s cart in evidence. He definitely took heart at being allowed through the front door.
“Pickney,” he greeted with a nod. “Is the Earl…” Richard couldn’t ask that most terrible of questions, and so settled on, “…is he awake?”
“I will ask, Sir, if you will wait here.”