Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Lady Matlock sat in a chair near the window, embroidery ignored in her lap while she studied Elizabeth with maternal concern that felt genuine and therefore painful.
She had been nothing but kind since Elizabeth arrived at Matlock House.
Had treated Anne with respect and affection, had intervened to reduce Mrs. Jenkinson’s overprotective hovering, had created space for Elizabeth to breathe.
“Miss Anne should take her evening tonic,” Mrs. Jenkinson said, moving to the dressing table where several bottles stood in neat array. “It will help her sleep and restore her strength for tomorrow’s exertions.”
Elizabeth’s stomach clenched with alarm.
The tonic. The same draught Mrs. Jenkinson had been administering ever since Elizabeth woke up in Anne’s body, the one that sent her straight to sleep and left Elizabeth fuzzy and compliant when she woke.
She could not afford that tomorrow, not when she needed all her wits about her.
“I do not think I require it tonight,” Elizabeth said carefully, keeping Anne’s voice soft but adding firmness she hoped would not seem out of character. “I feel quite settled already. I will sleep well enough without it.”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s expression tightened fractionally, her hand remaining on the bottle. “Forgive me, Miss Anne, but you know the tonic is essential for managing your delicate nerves. Your collapse at dinner demonstrates how overwrought you have become. The tonic will calm you and ensure proper rest.”
“Anne said she does not want it,” Lady Matlock interjected, her tone carrying gentle reproach. “Surely if Anne feels well enough without it, there is no need to force medicine upon her.”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s jaw tightened further, but she inclined her head with stiff acknowledgement. “Of course, my lady. I merely wish to ensure Miss Anne’s comfort and wellbeing. That has always been my sole concern.”
She set down the bottle but remained near the dressing table, her posture suggesting she had not given up the battle entirely.
Elizabeth watched her through lowered lashes, saw the calculation in the companion’s eyes, the weighing of options and strategies.
Mrs. Jenkinson knew something was wrong.
And Mrs. Jenkinson was loyal to Anne above all else, devoted to protecting her charge even when that meant enabling her worst impulses.
If Mrs. Jenkinson realised Elizabeth was planning something, if she suspected any threat to Anne’s stolen happiness, she would act.
Would simply drug Elizabeth thoroughly enough that she could not possibly interfere with tomorrow’s wedding.
Or perhaps tell Anne, who would carry out her threat to poison Elizabeth to ensure she could never be a threat again.
Elizabeth could not afford to have Mrs. Jenkinson free to sabotage their plans.
Which left only one option, risky though it might be. Much as she despised the notion, she was going to have to repay Lady Matlock’s kindness with manipulation and half-truths.
But she had no choice. Mrs. Jenkinson represented a threat that Elizabeth could not afford to ignore, not when Jane was brewing the reversal potion and tomorrow’s wedding loomed like an execution date.
“Aunt,” Elizabeth said, giving Lady Matlock a pleading look. “I wonder if I might speak with you privately. There is something I need to tell you.”
Lady Matlock’s expression shifted to one of immediate concern mixed with curiosity. “Of course, dear. Mrs. Jenkinson, would you give us a moment?”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s face went rigid with affront. “Surely anything Miss Anne needs to discuss can be said in my presence. I am her companion. Her confidante. There should be no secrets between us.”
“Nevertheless,” Lady Matlock said, her voice taking on steel beneath its courtesy, “Anne has requested privacy. Please leave us.”
For a moment, Elizabeth thought Mrs. Jenkinson might refuse outright.
The companion’s hands clenched at her sides, her expression cycling through emotions that ranged from outrage to calculation.
Finally, she executed a stiff curtsy and moved towards the door, but her backward glance carried warning.
The door closed behind Mrs. Jenkinson with more force than strictly necessary. Lady Matlock waited until the companion’s footsteps faded down the corridor before turning her full attention to Elizabeth.
“What is it, dear? You look quite serious.”
Elizabeth took a breath, steeling her nerves for what came next.
This was a gamble. If Lady Matlock did not believe her, if she dismissed the accusation as the delusions of an overwrought invalid, the consequences could be disastrous.
But Elizabeth had watched Lady Matlock these past days, had seen her kindness and intelligence.
If anyone would believe the truth, it was this woman.
“Aunt, I need to tell you something about Mrs. Jenkinson,” Elizabeth said, keeping Anne’s voice steady. “Something I have been too frightened to speak of before, but I can no longer remain silent.”
Lady Matlock leaned forwards. “Go on.”
“Mrs. Jenkinson has been drugging me,” Elizabeth said, the words emerging with quiet conviction. “That tonic she gives me every evening. It is not simply a sleeping draught or a tonic for my nerves. It makes me foggy and compliant, unable to think clearly or assert my own wishes.”
Lady Matlock’s face had gone very still, her eyes hard with building fury. “That is a serious accusation, Anne. Are you quite certain?”
“I am certain,” Elizabeth replied, putting every scrap of conviction she possessed into Anne’s soft voice. “Please, Aunt. Look at the bottles on the dressing table. I think you will find that what she has been giving me is far stronger than any simple sleeping draught.”
Lady Matlock rose from her chair immediately, crossing to the dressing table where Mrs. Jenkinson’s carefully arranged bottles stood in neat array.
She selected the one Mrs. Jenkinson had reached for earlier, pulling the stopper and bringing the bottle to her nose.
Her expression transformed as she inhaled, her features going rigid with an anger that made Elizabeth’s heart stutter.
“Good God,” Lady Matlock breathed, setting down that bottle and reaching for another.
She smelled each in turn, her fury mounting with each inhalation.
“This is laudanum. Concentrated enough to fell a horse. And this one contains valerian mixed with something else I cannot identify. Anne, how long has she been giving you these?”
“Every evening for as long as I can remember,” Elizabeth said, which was technically true. “She says they are for my health, for my delicate nerves. But they make me so fuzzy I can barely think, barely remember one day from the next.”
Lady Matlock set down the bottles with hands that shook with suppressed rage. She moved to the bell pull and yanked it with enough force that Elizabeth worried it might separate from the wall entirely.
A maid appeared within seconds, her eyes widening at Lady Matlock’s expression. “My lady?”
“Fetch Mrs. Jenkinson immediately,” Lady Matlock commanded. “And send Lord Matlock to me as well. This matter requires his attention.”
The maid fled with visible relief. Elizabeth remained in the bed, her heart hammering with a mixture of triumph and anxiety. She had set events in motion that could not be reversed. Had gambled everything on Lady Matlock’s willingness to believe her and act decisively.
Mrs. Jenkinson appeared in the doorway with Lord Matlock close behind her, the companion’s expression showing wariness mixed with affront. “You sent for me, my lady?”
“I did,” Lady Matlock replied, her tone cold enough to frost glass. She gestured to the bottles on the dressing table. “Would you care to explain what you have been giving my niece?”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s face went carefully blank. “The tonics prescribed for Miss Anne’s delicate constitution by her doctors. Sleeping draughts and nerve soothers, nothing more.”
“Nothing more,” Lady Matlock repeated, her voice dropping to dangerous quiet.
“Mrs. Jenkinson, I have just examined those bottles. The concentrations you have been administering would render a healthy adult insensible. For someone of Anne’s frail constitution, these dosages are nothing short of poisonous.
You have been systematically drugging my niece into compliance. ”
Lord Matlock had moved to the dressing table during this exchange, examining the bottles with increasing alarm. His expression darkened as he smelled each in turn and examined the labels, holding them close to the candle to read them.
“This is unconscionable,” Lord Matlock said, his voice carrying the hard edge of someone accustomed to command.
“Mrs. Jenkinson, you are confined to your quarters immediately. You will not leave your room until after tomorrow’s wedding, at which point I will discuss your continued employment in my sister’s household. ”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s face had gone white, her hands clutching at her skirts. “You do not understand. Miss Anne requires careful management. Her mother entrusted her to my care, and I have only ever acted in her best interests.”
“By drugging her into submission?” Lady Matlock demanded, her fury breaking through her usual courtesy. “By rendering her too foggy to think or speak for herself? That is not care, Mrs. Jenkinson. That is abuse disguised as devotion.”
“The only reason I am not turning you out tonight is that you are my sister’s employee, not mine,” Lord Matlock added. “I will take the matter up with her after the wedding, but until then I will not have my niece subjected to such treatment under my roof.”
He gestured to the footman hovering in the doorway. “Escort Mrs. Jenkinson to her quarters and ensure she remains there until further notice. Post someone outside her door to ensure she does not leave. She is not to communicate with my sister, or anyone else, until I give the order otherwise.”
Mrs. Jenkinson drew herself up with whatever dignity she could muster. “Lady Catherine entrusted Miss Anne to my care specifically! She knows that I have always acted in her daughter’s best interests.”
“Then Lady Catherine and I will have words about that matter,” Lady Matlock replied, her voice still carrying that dangerous quiet. “Get out of my sight, Mrs. Jenkinson. Before I forget myself entirely and say things that cannot be unsaid.”
The footman took Mrs. Jenkinson’s elbow firmly, guiding her from the room despite her continued protests. Her voice faded down the corridor, proclaiming her innocence and devotion to anyone who would listen.
The door closed behind them, leaving Elizabeth alone with Lord and Lady Matlock. Silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the crackling fire.
Lady Matlock returned to the chair beside the bed, her fury giving way to concern as she reached out to take Elizabeth’s hand. “My dear girl. I am so sorry. How you must have suffered.”
Elizabeth felt tears gather in her eyes, genuine emotion breaking through.
Lady Matlock’s kindness, her immediate belief and decisive action, struck Elizabeth with unexpected force.
This was what protection felt like. What it meant to have someone in authority who actually listened and acted on one’s behalf.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered, letting tears spill down Anne’s cheeks. “Thank you for believing me, Aunt.”
“Of course I believe you,” Lady Matlock replied, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand with gentle warmth. “And I promise you, Mrs. Jenkinson will not trouble you again. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever if I have anything to say about it.”
Lord Matlock cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional display but moved nonetheless. “Rest now, Anne. My wife will stay with you tonight to ensure you are not disturbed. And tomorrow, you will attend Darcy’s wedding without fear of interference from that dreadful woman.”
They settled Elizabeth more comfortably, Lady Matlock arranging pillows with tender care while Lord Matlock attended to the fire. Elizabeth closed her weary eyes and felt something that might have been hope stir in her chest.
Jane had what she needed to complete the potion, and Mrs. Jenkinson was neutralised. Locked away where she could not warn Anne or sabotage Jane’s plan. One threat removed, one obstacle cleared from their path.
Tomorrow still seemed impossible. But perhaps, with Mrs. Jenkinson confined and unable to interfere, impossible might become merely extremely difficult.
Elizabeth would take those odds.
She had no other choice.