Chapter 16 #2
Parker approached quietly and spoke so that only the colonel could hear. “I have searched the house, sir. There is no immediate danger inside. The only armed men are the guards outside, and they have no orders to enter. But I fear they may try to stop us when we leave with my master.”
The colonel’s countenance hardened. “I know they have rifles. I saw them when we arrived. Do not concern yourself, Parker. No one will prevent me from taking my cousin away tonight. If it comes to it, we shall deal with them ourselves.”
Despite everything, Parker almost smiled. The colonel was already thinking like a soldier on campaign.
“Aunt, unless you intend to murder every one of us, stand aside this instant!”
“You shall not take him!” Lady Catherine cried with the last of her strength.
Then she noticed Parker and instinctively searched for her cane, which had been placed well beyond her reach.
“What are you doing here, Parker? Have you lost your senses? Turn these people out at once and attend your master!”
But no one paid the slightest attention to her anymore.
“Leave my house, all of you!” she cried again, her voice growing weaker. “And you, Collins…” Even now she found the strength for cruelty. “Traitor. I gave you a position you never deserved, and this is how you repay me.”
“Parker, help me lift Darcy,” the colonel ordered, brushing everyone aside without ceremony.
With Bingley’s help, they tried to raise him from the bed, but his body remained completely limp.
The uproar in the room became indescribable.
The colonel and Lady Catherine shouted over one another.
Elizabeth gently stroked Darcy’s forehead whilst speaking softly to him.
Georgiana clung to his hand, weeping openly.
In the passage outside, servants gathered, unable to resist listening to the unimaginable scandal unfolding within.
Suddenly Lady Catherine rose from her chair and came to stand beside the bed.
“Darcy forced himself upon my daughter. He has slept in Anne’s room for the last week.
The servants have seen it. Collins has seen it.
Her reputation is destroyed, and you expect me to allow him to leave?
He will remain here and do his duty. When he wakes, his conscience will compel him. There is nothing any of you can do.”
With every word she uttered, the truth became clearer.
She had lured Darcy to London, drugged him, and continued to administer the potion day after day whilst arranging for his engagement to be broken, leaving him free to marry Anne.
Collins and anyone willing to sell themselves for her money had become accomplices.
Through no fault of his own, Darcy had been placed in a position from which, in the eyes of society, only marriage could preserve his honour.
“You are completely insane,” the colonel said, dismissing her with a contemptuous wave of his hand. Then he turned towards Anne and Mrs Jenkinson. “And you? How could either of you consent to such madness?”
“What did you give Darcy?” he demanded. “Parker, search the room. See what you can find.”
Inside a cabinet Parker discovered several bottles, one of them half empty.
“You cannot seriously imagine you will escape the consequences of this,” Mr Bennet said in utter astonishment. “His friends, his club, all of London society will learn what you have done.”
Lady Catherine laughed, a harsh, chilling sound. “I care nothing for London society. They will hear only one thing. He spent a week in my daughter’s bed.”
Unfortunately, she had imagined an impossible trap. Darcy had been caught in a scheme from which there appeared to be no honourable escape.
“How could you?” Elizabeth asked at last. “You are his aunt. How could you do this to him?”
“Foolish girl,” Lady Catherine cried. “I am securing his future. A proper future. A wife of his own rank instead of some insignificant girl he met at a country ball. And he has no choice.”
Mr Bennet, who had perhaps been the calmest person in the room, finally lost his composure and said sharply, “Lady Catherine, you will not address my daughter in that manner.”
Yet Lady Catherine did not even turn towards him.
Mr Bennet’s protest was useless. Lady Catherine had devised her scheme with frightening cunning.
To society she would appear entirely justified.
Few would believe that a lady of her rank could conceive so elaborate a plot, still less carry it through successfully.
He pitied Elizabeth and Darcy with all his heart.
Neither had done anything wrong, yet both would suffer.
Worse still, he feared the scandal would damage Elizabeth’s reputation and destroy her prospects of marriage.
They had succeeded in finding Darcy, but perhaps not the man Elizabeth had hoped to marry.
Mr Bennet sat beside Elizabeth on the edge of the bed and gently covered her hand with his own, reassuring her that he would stand by her, whatever happened.
It was Bingley who finally gave voice to his outrage. “This cannot continue,” he cried. Anger vibrated in every word. He felt the same helplessness that weighed upon Mr Bennet and everyone else who loved Darcy.
“It shall continue exactly as I intended,” Lady Catherine replied, her confidence returned.
At first she had believed their arrival in the middle of the night had ruined everything.
Now she saw that, despite their intentions, they had merely strengthened her case.
Darcy’s friends, his cousin, and his sister had all witnessed him in Anne’s bed.
In her mind, nothing could serve her purpose better.
Remembering her daughter, Lady Catherine looked about the room until she found Anne in Mrs Jenkinson’s arms. She felt no pity for the poor girl, convinced that everything she had done had been for her daughter’s good.
Anne would thank her one day when she became mistress of Pemberley.
It was never a question of money, for Anne was already a wealthy heiress, but of pride.
Darcy was the husband her daughter deserved, and no sacrifice was too great to secure such a future.
She recovered her cane and once again began shouting and threatening everyone around her.
“Out! Out of this room at once! Darcy and my daughter are to be left alone!”
No one moved.
Elizabeth still held Darcy and had no intention of releasing him until he awoke.
She remembered the torment of the past week, her own suffering, Georgiana’s grief and despair.
They had endured days of torment because Lady Catherine, his aunt, believed she could force Darcy to marry his cousin.
Holding him in her arms, Elizabeth felt she could not live without him.
He was her betrothed, the man she loved, the father of her future children, and no power on earth would take him from her.
They did not need the approval of a society capable of believing monsters like Lady Catherine.
They could build their own happiness at Pemberley, far from all that madness.
She raised her eyes and met Lady Catherine’s gaze with a contempt she had never imagined herself capable of feeling.
“We shall not leave this room until my betrothed has recovered and is able to speak for himself. It is my right to hear from him what he intends for our future. I care nothing for your schemes. I shall accept only his decision. Whatever may have happened whilst he was drugged, I choose to disregard it. As far as I am concerned, I am still the woman he intends to marry.”
Hope stirred once more among them. Elizabeth was right. They had only to wait until Darcy recovered and spoke for himself.
“Miss Elizabeth is perfectly right, madam,” the colonel said with the same undisguised contempt. “You cannot compel him to marry your daughter.”
“Out!” Lady Catherine screamed again.
Once again nobody obeyed.
“I shall send the servants to throw every one of you out!”
Her cries still echoed through the vast room, but her hold over the situation was slipping away.
Darcy was beginning to recover, whilst she had no idea how much he would remember.
She looked bitterly towards Anne. Poor Anne.
She possessed none of the charms that might have persuaded Darcy to surrender himself willingly.
Without that, he might refuse to accept any guilt or obligation to marry her.
“He has spent a week in her bed!” Lady Catherine cried.
“That is no proof that Miss de Bourgh was forced by Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, looking round the room as though seeking support.
The subject was one never mentioned in polite society, yet she no longer cared what weapons she used.
“When he regains his senses, he will tell us exactly what happened. Your daughter must prove that Mr Darcy forced himself upon her.”
Lady Catherine visibly choked with rage, something that, in ordinary circumstances, would have intimidated everyone present.
Yet amidst the drama unfolding in that room, she had suddenly lost almost all her hold over them.
“Wretched girl!” she cried. “What monstrous words are these? A de Bourgh required to prove she was assaulted? My daughter’s word, and mine, are sufficient.
She is the injured party, yet you dare to speak as though she were to blame! ”
“No, my lady,” Mr Bennet said in a tone of unexpected courtesy. “There are only two victims in this room. My future son-in-law and my daughter. This plot was yours. Mr Darcy merely fell into it.”
To everyone’s astonishment, another voice broke the silence. “Enough. Enough!” It came from the far side of the room, where Anne stood beside Mrs Jenkinson.
They all turned.
“You speak of Miss de Bourgh as though she were not even here,” Mrs Jenkinson said. “As though she were no more than a piece of furniture.”
Even Lady Catherine remained silent, believing, for one brief moment, that Mrs Jenkinson would defend her.