Twenty
Derbyshire
Darcy
A fortnight had passed since Darcy returned to Derbyshire, and he found little comfort in being home.
Leaving Elizabeth without a word had wounded him more deeply than he had imagined possible.
He could not help wondering what she thought of his abrupt departure.
To Bingley, he had offered no explanation beyond the pressing business that required his immediate attention at Pemberley, nor had he ventured to say when he expected to return.
He knew Elizabeth would have gone to Oakham Mount. She would have waited for him, wondering why he had failed to appear. The thought had haunted him from the moment he left Hertfordshire, but he had seen no other course. Remaining had placed her in danger, or so he believed.
His duties at Pemberley occupied only a small part of each day. There was still much to be done following the losses sustained by the estate, and the tenants who remained required his attention. Yet once those obligations were discharged, his mind invariably returned to the same question.
Who was working against him?
Wickham or Lady Catherine.
It could easily be any of the two. Wickham possessed every motive to seek revenge. Yet his aunt could not be dismissed. Her rector’s behaviour in Hertfordshire, particularly towards Elizabeth, had been too deliberate to ignore.
Could Wickham be acting for Lady Catherine herself?
He considered the thought too severally.
He recalled the few occasions on which his aunt had encountered Wickham during her visits to Pemberley. She had considered him cunning, though hopelessly indulged by his father. She certainly possessed both the means and the influence to purchase a man's loyalty if it served her purpose.
If she had sent both Collins and Wickham to Hertfordshire, then she had deployed every weapon at her disposal.
He possessed no proof, only suspicion. Yet each coincidence seemed to build upon the last until they all pointed towards a single person. Was it possible his aunt believed that, once sufficiently brought low, he would at last consent to a marriage he had rejected all his life?
The notion would once have appeared absurd. Now he was no longer certain.
Although she had not seriously pressed him to marry Anne until the proper period of mourning for his father had elapsed, she had spoken of such a union for years.
Even when they were little more than youths, she would laughingly refer to Anne as his future wife.
Darcy had always answered with equal good humour that it would never happen.
If he considered all that had transpired in Hertfordshire, together with the possibility that Lady Catherine had long entertained such a design, it fitted the unhappy succession of misfortunes that had plagued him only too well.
Still, suspicion was not evidence.
Beyond Colonel Fitzwilliam's brief reply acknowledging the letter Darcy had dispatched on the morning he left Hertfordshire, he had nothing.
In that letter he had laid before his cousin every circumstance that had awakened his suspicions and requested that discreet men be employed to observe both Collins and Wickham before the latter, in particular, found reason to disappear.
He had no desire to repeat the mistake he had made after Wickham's attempted elopement with Georgiana, when every effort to locate him had proved fruitless.
He could do nothing now but wait.
Seven days after his return to Derbyshire, a letter arrived at Pemberley bearing the seal of Ashcombe Hall, the estate of Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley, situated near the village of Hathersage.
The Kingsleys had been no more than distant connexions of his parents.
During the first years after assuming responsibility for Pemberley, Darcy had received invitations to Ashcombe Hall with some regularity, though they had gradually ceased as the rumours surrounding his affairs spread throughout Derbyshire.
He could not recall receiving one in the last two years.
His first inclination was to decline. Society held little appeal whilst his thoughts remained fixed upon Hertfordshire, and the prospect of spending an evening amongst near strangers was far from inviting.
Upon reflection, however, he reasoned that refusing yet another invitation would only further damage his already declining reputation.
Moreover, perhaps a few hours away from Pemberley would provide a welcome distraction from thoughts that had become increasingly oppressive.
With that consideration in mind, he accepted the invitation.
The journey to Ashcombe Hall occupied little more than two hours. Upon his arrival, a servant relieved him of his greatcoat before another announced his name. The drawing room was already well attended, conversation flowing easily amongst clusters of ladies and gentlemen.
He was soon welcomed by the host. The gentleman, now in his sixties, greeted him with a warm smile.
"Mr. Kingsley." Darcy inclined his head before accepting the offered hand. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
"You have arrived just in time," Mr. Kingsley declared. "I had begun to fear Pemberley would keep you from us."
"I would not willingly disappoint so kind an invitation."
"I am delighted to hear it." Mr. Kingsley laughed softly as he gestured for Darcy to accompany him into the principal drawing room. "We have gathered a pleasant company this evening. Many old friends, a few new acquaintances, and enough music to satisfy my wife."
"I can already see the evening promises to be an agreeable one."
"I certainly hope so." His attention was called by another servant announcing fresh arrivals. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Darcy, my duties as host are never quite finished."
"Of course."
"Pray make yourself comfortable."
Darcy had scarcely taken more than a few steps into the room when the measured click of shoes upon the polished marble floor new him drew his attention.
"Darcy."
The authoritative voice admitted of no mistake.
He turned, a distinct jolt of surprise passing through him.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh advanced towards him with her customary air of superiority. Dressed elegantly in blue muslin, she carried herself with all the confidence of one who expected every eye to acknowledge her presence.
"Your ladyship." Darcy bowed, though his astonishment had not entirely subsided. "I confess, I did not think I would find you here so far from Rosings. I had not thought to see you within three hours of my own door."
"And why should that surprise you?" Lady Catherine's chin lifted.
"The Kingsleys and I have been friends these thirty years and more.
I visited Ashcombe regularly whilst your mother yet lived, and I do not intend to forfeit so old a friendship merely because you have made yourself so difficult to visit. "
Darcy inclined his head.
Of the three occasions he had attended entertainments at Ashcombe Hall, Lady Catherine had been present only once, and that had been whilst she herself was visiting Pemberley.
He had never doubted that the Kingsleys were amongst her extensive acquaintance, for his mother had once mentioned their connexion.
Yet the timing of her presence here, so near Pemberley and at an estate from which he had not received an invitation for several years, quietly unsettled him.
Another coincidence? Darcy did not think so.
"You were lately in Hertfordshire, I understand," Lady Catherine observed. "When did you come back to Derbyshire?"
Darcy regarded her steadily.
"I was not aware my movements were of such interest."
Lady Catherine gave a dismissive scoff.
"Interest?" she repeated. "Do not flatter yourself. My new rector was recently in Meryton. He wrote to me that he had heard you were in the neighbourhood."
"I have not had the pleasure of meeting your rector, madam," Darcy replied evenly, though he knew perfectly well who Mr. Collins was, and saw in the moment only an opportunity to probe further. "I wonder from whom he had his information of me."
"Darcy," she said impatiently, "you behave as though you do not know people have been talking."
Her eyes travelled slowly over him before she continued.
"I had wondered whether the reports were true."
"What reports?" Darcy asked, his tone giving nothing away.
"The unpleasant rumours surrounding your affairs." She regarded him with undisguised scrutiny. "One hears that the Darcy estates have suffered considerable reverses. It would appear, nephew, that matters have not been managed as successfully as your father once managed them."
Darcy met her gaze without replying.
"It is unfortunate," she continued, "though perhaps not altogether surprising. A gentleman cannot devote himself endlessly to business, travel where he pleases, and neglect the first duty of his station."
"And what duty is that?" Darcy asked, though he already suspected the answer.
"Matrimony."
The word was spoken with complete certainty.
"A wife brings stability to a great house. An heir secures its future. You have delayed long enough. Had you fulfilled your obligations years ago, many of your present difficulties might well have been avoided."
"I fail to see the connection," Darcy replied through gritted teeth.
"You fail because you refuse to see it," Lady Catherine replied, drawing herself to her full height. "The remedy remains precisely what it has always been. Marry Anne. The union of Rosings and Pemberley would silence every idle whisper presently circulating about your family."
For a long moment, Darcy simply stared at her.
Was this truly her object? Had every misfortune that had befallen him been intended to bring him to precisely this moment?
He shook his head slowly.
"I have already informed your ladyship," he said, his voice growing firmer with every word, "that such a marriage will never take place."
Lady Catherine's expression hardened. "Anne deserves better than endless delay."
"Anne deserves a husband who loves her."
"Love?" Lady Catherine repeated with open disdain. "You speak as though affection alone sustains a marriage. Duty has ever been of greater consequence than sentiment."
"My feelings on the matter have not altered," Darcy replied. "Nor will they. Anne is, and always shall remain, as a sister to me. But I shall never ask her to become my wife."
A flush rose in Lady Catherine's cheeks.
"Then you shall continue precisely as you are," she replied coldly. "You may wallow in these unfortunate circumstances of your own making. It is Georgiana for whom I feel the greatest concern. Your present reputation cannot fail to affect the poor girl."
A wave of heat surged through Darcy. He tried to still his hand, which had begun tapping restlessly against his breeches, but the composure he had maintained throughout the conversation finally gave way.
"Do not bring my sister into this."
The fierceness in his voice carried further than he intended. Nearby conversations faltered, and more than one head turned toward them before politeness recalled itself.
"Georgiana has nothing whatever to do with my decision whether or not to marry Anne," he continued, his voice carrying farther than he intended.
"My dear sir... my lady."
A calm voice cut cleanly through the tension.
Darcy turned to find a lady of perhaps five and forty approaching them. Elegantly dressed and possessed of a composed countenance, she carried herself with quiet confidence.
"I trust there is no difficulty?"
"There is none," Lady Catherine answered before Darcy could speak.
The newcomer regarded them both for a moment, as though unconvinced.
Lady Catherine adjusted the folds of her gown. "If you will excuse me." Without another word, she swept away.
The lady remained where she was. After watching Lady Catherine disappear amongst the guests, she stepped a little nearer.
"I hope all is well, sir."
Darcy released a slow breath, though the anger within him had scarcely begun to subside.
"It is merely a family disagreement, madam. My aunt has a remarkable talent for trying my patience."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I had gathered as much. Though I confess, it appeared rather spirited."
"I owe both you and our hosts an apology for disturbing the peace of the evening."
"I am only a guest myself, sir." She smiled kindly. "Families have disagreed since the beginning of time. Yours will hardly be the last."
"I am nevertheless obliged to you for your intervention." Darcy inclined his head. "I do not believe we have been introduced."
"I am Mrs. Vane."
"Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley."
"Pemberley?" A flicker of interest crossed her features. "Is that not the estate everyone speaks so highly of in Derbyshire?"
"The very same."
"It is a pleasure to make the acquaintance of its master."
"And yours, Mrs. Vane. Allow me once more to thank you for stepping between my aunt and me."
"It required very little courage," she replied with an easy smile. "Good evening, Mr. Darcy."
She inclined her head and quietly withdrew into the crowd.
Darcy watched her depart before his thoughts returned immediately to the conversation he had just endured.
Lady Catherine's renewed insistence upon his marriage to Anne, coming at the very moment his reputation stood at its lowest, could scarcely be ignored.
Whether she had engineered his difficulties, or merely sought to profit from them, remained beyond his power to prove.
Yet every clue now seemed to point toward her, and his suspicions strengthened accordingly.
If Lady Catherine truly lay behind what had befallen him, she had grown bold indeed, to seek him out and press her design upon him so openly, all but daring him to see it for what it was.
Darcy had no intention of allowing suspicion alone to condemn a member of his own family. Nor, however, would he stand idle whilst his life was quietly dismantled around him.
Upon his return to Pemberley, he would write again to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
There had to be a means of discovering the truth.