Chapter 30
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” the butler of Lucas Lodge announced loudly to his master.
Sir William Lucas, who had been dozing by the fire in his library, leaped to his feet as if stung by a hornet. His daughter Charlotte, who was reading a book in a nearby chair, also rose to her feet, though more composedly. The lady who stood behind his butler was tall, thick, very finely dressed, and wore a regal look of disdain on her sharp features.
“Lady Catherine,” Sir William managed to stammer out. “Please sit down. What an honor this is, Madame, what an honor! What can I do for your ladyship? Your wish is my command!”
The lady sat down on the office’s most padded chair, cast a disdainful look at her surroundings and lifted her nose, “I understand that you are the magistrate in this region?”
Sir William’s expression of enthusiasm shifted to one of wariness, “Yes, that is correct.”
Lady Catherine brushed an invisible speck off the arm of her chair and continued inexorably, “Do you know of a family by the name of Bennet?”
“Yes, Lady Catherine. Mr. Bennet and his family are very well known to me. They live at the Longbourn estate only a short distance from here.”
“Very good. I order you, as the justice of the peace of this bucolic region, to immediately charge Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, his second daughter, with the murder of Mr. William Collins, my former rector.”
Charlotte choked at these words, and Sir William gaped like a fish. The lady’s disturbing statement rendered him speechless for a full minute, which did not please his visitor.
“Do you plan to catch flies with your mouth hanging open so foolishly? Get moving, man, get moving and do what I command!”
Her host shook his head to clear it, “Lady Catherine, I ... I confess to being confused. Mr. Collins died from being thrown from a horse.”
“That is what you think,” she continued disdainfully. “I assure you that I have it on good authority that the man was murdered.”
“May I ask the identity of your authority?” Sir William inquired feebly.
“A Lieutenant George Wickham of the militia,” she announced grandly.
Charlotte waited ten seconds to see if her father would speak, but he was obviously too discombobulated to say a word.
“Lady Catherine,” she spoke up in a courteous tone, “I fear there must be some mistake. Lieutenant Wickham is well known in the area as a spendthrift and a rogue who has already, in his short time with the militia, run up a number of debts. He is not well thought of here.”
The lady glared at her, “I do not believe we have been introduced, Miss ...”
“Lucas,” her father managed. “Charlotte is my elder daughter. What she says is quite true. Mr. Wickham has a poor reputation in this area.”
“Nonsense, that must be due to the slanderous words of the murderous Bennets. George Wickham was godson to Mr. George Darcy, the husband of Lady Anne Darcy, my sister. My brother by marriage thought a great deal of young Wickham, and paid to send him to Cambridge. He is not a gentleman by birth, of course, but I trust his word over that of a grasping set of schemers like the Bennets! I insist that you interview the Bennets immediately and determine which of them struck down Mr. Collins!”
Sir William actually whimpered in distress, and Charlotte, realizing that her poor father was quite unable to handle the situation, gestured toward the darkening skies outside the window, “Lady Catherine, might I suggest my father wait until tomorrow and interview Mr. Wickham himself? If the lieutenant has evidence of such a foul deed – though it seems entirely impossible – would it not be wise to obtain that evidence? In any case, the weather feels rather uncertain, and it would be quite dreadful if you were caught out in the rain or snow tonight.”
Lady Catherine frowned but, after a moment, nodded reluctantly. She was indeed quite fatigued after a long day, and she had a healthy distaste for driving around on unknown roads in the darkness.
“Very well,” she agreed loftily. “Pray show me to your best bedchamber and send a maid to assist me. My own private maid, who is waiting in my carriage, will guide your manservant to bring in my trunk. You will also need to provide accommodations for my coachman and footmen.”
Sir William froze with bewilderment, but Charlotte spoke up again, “Of course, Lady Catherine. Might I have a maid escort you to the parlor and bring you some tea? We will have a tray of food available for you shortly.”
“Very well,” the lady allowed, sweeping regally out of the library. Charlotte summoned a maid and, as soon as Lady Catherine had disappeared, turned to her father, who was sweating openly.
“Charlotte, my dear, what must we do?”
“We must send a message to both Longbourn and Netherfield, warning them of this situation,” she said crisply.
“Thank you, my dear, that is quite sensible,” the man responded, sat down at a nearby desk, and pulled ink and paper to himself.
/
It was but two hours until midnight, and Lady Matlock, Anne, and Richard were preparing to retire to their respective bedrooms when the express arrived.
The colonel handed money to the express rider, tore open the letter from his cousin Darcy, and swore a minute later, provoking a cluck of indignation from his mother.
“My apologies,” he said absently, his eyes devouring the message again. “Darcy writes that Lady Catherine is wreaking all sort of havoc in Hertfordshire in the wake of Darcy’s marriage proposal to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Among other things, Lady Catherine is accusing the Bennets of murdering the former heir to the estate, a Mr. Collins, who was your mother’s rector, Anne.”
“Murdering him?” Lady Matlock demanded in astonishment.
“Yes,” growled her son. “It is absurd, of course; Darcy writes that the man was a fool who was thrown from a spirited horse which he insisted on riding in spite of several warnings as to her contrary nature.”
“I am so sorry for my mother’s ridiculous behavior,”Anne said contritely. “Anyone who spent any time at all with Mr. Collins would know that he was exactly the sort of man to obstinately cling to a notion and be killed for his stupidity.”
“You obviously did not care for the man, then,” her fiancé commented.
“He was very much like my mother’s other underlings. He groveled before her obsessively and apparently did not have a single original thought in his head. He was harmless enough, I suppose, but extremely tiresome. That reminds me that, if we marry quickly, we will be able to appoint the new rector at Hunsford.”
“That is yet another reason for a quick marriage, Anne,” Richard agreed affectionately. “But while I wish I could marry you tomorrow morning, I must rush to Hertfordshire to assist Darcy. Apparently Lady Catherine consented to stay the night at the home of the local magistrate, but she will be out for blood tomorrow; thus I must be off at dawn to Hertfordshire.”
“Surely Darcy can take care of himself?” his mother asked mildly. “He is a very competent and determined young man.”
“He asks for my assistance,” Richard returned. He would not, of course, burden his mother or his intended wife with the details of George Wickham’s attack on Elizabeth Bennet, but if Lady Catherine discovered anything about the horrific matter, it would be devastating.
“Let me come with you,” Anne suggested unexpectedly. “It will take the wind from Mother’s sails when she discovers that you and I are engaged to be married.”
The colonel blinked in pleased surprise, “That would be delightful, Anne. Are you quite certain you are prepared for her screaming? She will be outraged at yet another blow against her dearest hopes for your future.”
Anne let her gaze skip down from her cousin’s face to his strong form and powerful limbs, “I do trust you to protect me, dear Richard.”
/
“What think you of children, Anne?” Richard Fitzwilliam asked softly, gazing at his cousin in the soft light of dawn.
Anne turned toward her fiancé, and her usually pale cheeks tinged with color, improving her looks.
“I ... like children,” she responded carefully, her eyes lowered with maidenly confusion.
The colonel glanced out through the open door of the carriage where Mrs. Jenkinson, accompanied by a maid and a male servant, was marching toward them with Anne’s trunks in her wake.
“Do you personally wish for children?” he asked rather urgently, aware that his time alone with his prospective bride was short.
“I do,” she declared, lifting her gaze to his. “Very much. However, I wish to see a new doctor to see if my health can be improved because I have come to the reluctant conclusion that old Dr. Sutton is incompetent. I hope and pray and believe that something can be done to restore my vitality.”
Richard heaved a soft sigh of relief and pressed a kiss upon his cousin’s hand, “I will pray the same thing, and as soon as we return to London, we will consult a dozen physicians if necessary.”
“A dozen would perhaps be too many,” Anne returned, a dimple forming on her cheek. “They would no doubt disagree and argue so much that nothing would be accomplished.”
Mrs. Jenkinson stepped into the carriage along with Emily, the lady’s maid who had accompanied Anne from Rosings, and the vehicle jolted into motion, onward to Meryton.
/
“Mr. Darcy,” the butler announced, stepping into the breakfast room at Lucas Lodge with the master of Pemberley at his heels.
Lady Catherine, who had been vigorously disparaging the toast which she was eating, stared eagerly at her recalcitrant nephew, “Darcy! Have you come to your senses, then?”
“Sir William, Lady Lucas, Miss Lucas and Miss Maria, my apologies for my early arrival. It was kind of you to put up Lady Catherine for the night.”
“It was our honor,” Lady Lucas quavered. She had initially been pleased to have the daughter of an earl sleep in her best bedchamber, but a few hours of Lady Catherine were quite enough for a lifetime.
“Darcy! I asked you a question!”
“Lady Catherine,” Darcy replied frigidly, “if you are asking whether I am engaged to Elizabeth Bennet, yes, of course I am. Your opposition to the match means nothing to me.”
Catherine de Bourgh opened her mouth in protest, but was drowned out by the cries of pleasure from the assembled Lucas family. Darcy found himself, to his surprise, smiling broadly as Sir William exclaimed with joy over the engagement and Miss Lucas’s face grew bright with happiness.
Only when the hubbub died down was she able to make herself heard, “Stop this nonsense, I command you! Darcy is engaged to my daughter Anne, not to the murderous Miss Elizabeth!”
There were distressed gasps from the Lucases and Charlotte spoke quickly, her eyes on Darcy’s now thunderous countenance, “Lady Catherine, I am entirely confident that Mr. Wickham’s accusations about Elizabeth are ...”
“Mr. Wickham?” Darcy questioned angrily, taking a menacing step toward his aunt, who had risen to her feet.
“Yes, Darcy, Mr. George Wickham who was, I know, a playmate of yours. He wrote warning me that you are infatuated with the Bennet hoyden, and furthermore informed me that she was responsible for the death of my rector, Mr. Collins.”
Darcy clenched his teeth and flushed red as he struggled to retain control of his temper. “It is true that Wickham and I were once friends,” he finally stated, “but we drifted apart many years ago. The man is a liar and a spendthrift and a cheat.”
“Nonsense! I know your father thought well of him until the end of his life and I trust the judgement of Mr. George Darcy over a youth infatuated by a marginally pretty hussy. I insist that we speak with Mr. Wickham immediately; he will show you that the Bennets are vile malefactors.”
Darcy glanced at Sir William, who was clearly horrified at this titanic argument between two high ranked individuals, and inclined his head, “Very well, Lady Catherine. Let us indeed speak to Wickham. Sir William, are you willing to accompany us?”
“It would be my pleasure, sir,” the man quavered.