Chapter 18
Lady Catherine
Lady Catherine felt as if she had turned one hundred years old in the course of the bone-jouncing journey from London to Oakhaven. After all of that, to be forced to use a public retiring room—and to face Darcy’s accusations of her behaviour!
It was not to be borne!
During the endless carriage ride and the uncomfortable rooms at complaint-worthy inns, her anger had dulled into an ache. The pain was so great that she could barely eat or sleep, and something about the constancy of the ache, the heaviness of it, made it seem as if there was no action possible.
But now, having interacted with her nephews and met their choices of ladies—or, should she say, scheming women who would never be ladies—now her anger once more became white-hot and burning.
After an hour during which she refreshed herself and rested, Lady Catherine took on the task of finding the evidence for which she had paid handsomely—not just in coin, but in time, effort, and the endurance of discomfort.
She rang, and when the housekeeper arrived, she requested an interview with Darcy’s valet and his wife’s lady’s maid.
Of course, she hated to say “Darcy’s wife,” but she had no choice if she was to communicate with those who likely unpacked the evidence or at least watched Darcy discover the evidence.
The housekeeper had said, “Yes, my lady,” and curtseyed properly, but instead of the servants she had requested, Richard came to the room.
“I hope you are feeling better, Aunt. Obviously, I am not going to allow you to interview the Darcys’ servants without their knowledge or presence, and the newlyweds are touring the estate right now. But perhaps you can share with me your goal in speaking with the servants? Perhaps I can help you?”
“You heard Darcy’s chit speak of bedsheets, but I would call the bedsheets in question evidence. I paid dearly for that evidence and wish to see it.”
“If you bribed one of Darcy’s employees to steal something from him, on your own behalf, you did not ‘pay for’ the sheets.
Not only are you guilty of bribery, you are guilty of theft—actually, it would be termed larceny.
You could be transported. You could be sentenced to years in prison, with hard labour. You could even face execution.”
“Let me just see the sheets, then Darcy can have them back.”
“Darcy does not need to ‘have them back,’ because he has them now. He is the only one who gets to determine what to do with his own property.”
“If I could just know….”
Lady Catherine dimly realised that, no matter what the evidence showed, Darcy gave every indication that he would not be shuffling his mistake off to some far-away estate.
Still, she had sunk so much time and effort into knowing whether or not her suspicions of the Elizabeth creature were true…
and after all these miles, she deserved to know!
Richard was looking at her with pity, and she despised being the object of pity. But perhaps she could work on him…. “Please, Richard, I have been suffering so much for our family, and if you could just show me the sheets….”
He said, “First of all, Aunt, I know for a fact that no servant here at Oakhaven, nor any of the Darcys’ servants, have seen the bedsheets that you stole by proxy. Second, I am equally positive that no servant knows what he did with the sheets.”
Lady Catherine felt her face flush. Darcy could have had the sheets washed, or burnt. He could have thrown them into the ocean, weighted down with stones. She felt that all of her goals were being destroyed along with the evidence she had counted on.
She should scream—or at least complain bitterly—but she felt like she was losing the will to continue fighting against this awful mésalliance.
Richard was quiet for a few moments. Still regarding her—her! Lady Catherine de Bourgh!—with pity, he said, “Darcy dearly loves his wife. She is of equal importance to him as Georgiana, and she is far, far more important to him than you, me, Anne, any of the rest of the family, put together.”
Still feeling deflated, she asked, “He will not give her up, will he?”
“No, nor should he.”
Sanctimonious man! Nor should he? What did Richard know about should’s?
She was relieved to feel her rage reignite. Without it, she felt so diminished.
“Very well,” Lady Catherine told Richard. “I shall know how to act.”
Finally, his pity seemed to change to fear. That was far more gratifying to see in her nephew’s eyes.
“What are you planning to do?” Richard asked.
“Just wait and see,” she said. She did not wish to face the fact that she had no actual plans—not even the smallest idea—of how she could punish Darcy, and perhaps Richard, without also hurting the rest of the family.
Whatever she said, whatever she did, it was more likely to hurt her own daughter than either man.
Nevertheless, though she could not come up with actions she should take, she so strongly despised being pitied, she deliberately cultivated her fury, she nursed her wrath, she stoked her anger.
She rang for Howards to attend her. Even if her rooms were not yet ready, presumably Howards could access her bags and bring the cordial that would help her stay calm but that would most certainly not lessen her ability to feel and act on her outrage.