Lady Harriette, page 15
Harriette was far too adamant in her stance that all was well. Surely she must relish drifting carelessly along the river of denial. The last thing Elizabeth wanted to do was push or pry. She squeezed Harriette’s hand. “The only other thing I will say on this matter is should you ever feel the need to talk, you must not hesitate to call upon me. For now, I am grateful you and Richard are safe.”
As much as Harriette enjoyed seeing Elizabeth that morning, she was rather relieved when her friend took her leave. So much of what Elizabeth said was true. That is what worried—nay vexed, Harriette. Her bruises evidenced a fiercer struggle with her captives than she had first thought; her body ached from the pain of having being beaten, kicked, and punched. No amount of powder would disguise the fierce blows she had endured. The stench piercing her lungs, the rodents scavenging around her feet, were but two of the unshakable memories of her folly. Will they haunt me forever?
What was more disturbing was the recollection of having aimed a loaded gun at a man’s chest. Harriette was a skilled hunter, but the thought of ending the life of small prey was hardly to be compared to ending the life of another human being. Could she have pulled the trigger if matters had called for it?
In the well-appointed carriage on the way home, Darcy took Elizabeth’s hand and raised it to his lips. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You would never do anything as foolish as Harriette did this last evening.”
Elizabeth countered. “Richard took the law in his own hands. Please promise you would never do anything as foolish as that.”
Darcy pursed his lips. “Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures.”
Elizabeth drew back her hand. “Pray, be clear on this, Mr. Darcy. Are you suggesting Richard’s actions were appropriate, even laudable, whereas Harriette’s actions were reproachable?”
Darcy appeared as if he were searching for an explanation, but he said nothing.
Elizabeth said, “Take all the time you need to ponder your response.”
Moments later, he said, “You must admit Harriette’s behaviour was reckless. What could have possibly set her upon her course?”
“I believe this situation of her husband’s past looming in her face on a daily basis has taken more of a toll on her sensibilities than she cares to admit. I cannot say I blame her for being suspicious of his past, having lived through it myself.”
“Elizabeth, are we to rehash this subject of how I conducted my life before you and I were—before we accepted the possibility of a future between us, yet again?”
“Mr. Darcy, whether you care to admit it, this subject is as much a part of our lives now as it was before. It is only a matter of time before you cross paths with that woman again what with all the time you spend at Beaconwood.”
“I refuse to argue with you, Elizabeth. I have not seen her since the first time at Beaconwood. It is not as though I have a habit of noticing the servants.” Darcy rubbed both hands against his tightly closed eyes. He exhaled and looked purposely at Elizabeth. “You either trust me or you do not.”
Elizabeth blew a frustrated breath and diverted her gaze out the window. She really did not know what to think. The troubling fact was she and her husband had not shared a bed since they discovered the servant’s presence at Beaconwood. Elizabeth had started them along their current course. Who would blame her? The material point was he had not done very much to persuade her otherwise. He is all that is caring and considerate, but nowhere near as affectionate as has been his wont. Why is that the case?
Chapter 21 ~ Did My Heart Fly
Lady Catherine regarded her surroundings with disgust. There is but one person to blame for my finding myself in such a place as this! She did not intend to cause her second nephew any real harm—no, that was not her intention at all. She simply meant to throw as many ripples into the punch of his precipitous marriage to that young hoyden, Lady Harriette Middleton, as she possibly could conceive.
Her desire for vengeance had been borne out of the young lady’s betrayal last year in Matlock when Lady Catherine supposed she had successfully recruited the wanton young wench to interfere in Darcy and his new wife’s marriage. The scandal of a wealthy young gentleman such as her favourite nephew, Darcy, marrying a penniless woman who had served in his household as a paid companion to his sister—his own employee—had vexed her exceedingly to the point of distraction. It was too much to bear. That disgrace of a marriage had consumed Lady Catherine de Bourgh. That is, it had consumed her right up to the point Lady Harriette Middleton thought to betray her.
Not only did she betray Lady Catherine by refusing to take part in her scheme to separate the Darcys, but she married Lady Catherine’s consolation prize for Anne, her daughter and sole heir. If she could not have Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire be the one to marry her daughter, and thus inherit and control the vast estate of Rosings Park, then she very well intended—indeed, always planned, that the prize would go to her second favourite nephew, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
Lady Catherine used her cane to test the ability of the rickety stairs before her to successfully bear her loaded footsteps. Although her ladyship was rather thin and frail, the weight of her displeasure threatened to level the entire structure. Once inside the dark cell, she aimed her cane at its sole occupant. Her voice filled with indignation.
“How dare you summon me to a place like this with idle threats and scandalous falsehoods? Do you know who I am?”
“Yes. You are the reason for my being caught up in this mess in the first place.” Her ladyship’s mouth flew open. Bolton said, “You know it is true. You would not even be here if you did not fear the repercussions of my going public with your hand in the scheme.”
“You wretched creature, how dare you threaten me?”
Bolton stood straight and tall to face his co-conspirator. “I would not even be in this mess had it not been for you.”
Lady Catherine jutted her proud chin. To think she had relied on this fool to carry her point. “You came to me with complaints of my brother’s ill-treatment. I merely suggested a means of satisfying your grievances. No doubt you were siphoning funds long before you approached me, else you would not have been so easily tempted by the mere mention of the prospect. Be that as it may, my conscience is clear! Embezzling funds from the Beaconwood estate is one thing, but kidnapping and extortion—those are quite different. Though I would not have shed a single tear had you been killed, I assure you I would have been seriously displeased should something ill had befallen my dear nephew.”
“Yes, well, your precious nephew is safe and secure and once again basking in the lap of luxury, and unless you do something to intervene on my behalf, I will remain in this foul place for the rest of my days.”
“Your situation has nothing to do with me, you wretched fool.”
“You are the fool if you think I will simply let this matter rest. No, you will expend your considerable resources to see that I do not spend another day in this foul place. You know I have to care for my mother. I am all she has!”
Lady Catherine weighed her odds. What would be the advantage of lifting a finger to help this foolish Bolton out of his quandary? Let him go ahead and tell her brother or her nephew that it was she who had put Bolton up to his mischief. What would they do? Stop talking to her. Refuse to receive her? Slight her amongst friends and acquaintances? She could imagine far worse fates.
A measure of her omnipotence fled. She began to consider there indeed were worse things—gaol for one. She huffed in the face of her own musings. Why suffer any fears of the prospect of such retribution? It would be Bolton’s words against mine. Who would believe a wretch like him?
“You cast your die when you decided to place your bets with that low-life ruffian!” The old buffoon was a comedy of wretched circumstances. Her hands were clean.
“I will not suffer the aftermath of this failed scheme alone.”
Lady Catherine de Bourgh reared back her head. “What do you intend to do?”
“I shall appeal to your brother, the Earl of Matlock, to intercede on my behalf to quell the scandal that will befall your family should it be widely made known you played a heavy role. I know how much the old tight-fisted fool abhors scandal.”
“Please correct me if I am mistaken, but you find yourself in this position, not because of the embezzlement, but because of the kidnapping. With that being the case, you cannot possibly implicate me.”
Lady Catherine turned on her heels. “I shall never expect to be bothered by you again. Furthermore, I take no leave of you. Frankly, you are not worth it.”
He scurried to her side and tugged at her sleeve. Perchance she had been unwise in entering the depraved man’s cell unescorted.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh jerked her arm away. “Unhand me, you fool!”
Bolton dropped to his knees. His hands clutched together, he looked up at Lady Catherine. “Please, your ladyship, have some compassion—if not for me, then for the sake of my dying mother.”
Ah, pleading and begging on his knees, kowtowing at her feet was much more befitting than idle threats. This was something Lady Catherine lived for; thus, she was obliged to regard his request with the consideration it warranted.
Lady Catherine looked down upon him. Giving no indication that he should do anything other than to continue to regard her from a kneeling position, she said, “I have always considered it my duty to help those who are in no position to help themselves. As such, I shall see that your mother is not left alone during the precious, final days of her life—assuming of course that she has not already ascended to that better place to meet her maker.”
His clasped hands held high, Bolton said, “Your ladyship, how can I repay you for your magnificence?”
“Perhaps you are premature in your accolades, sir. For whilst I have promised to see that your mother does not die alone, I have said nothing of interceding on your own behalf. You might rot in this hell of a place for all I care.” Once again, she regarded him with deep disdain. “All I shall require from you, sir, is an address where your poor mother might be found.”
The two gentlemen stared at each other from across the room. Richard was seriously displeased. He would much rather be standing before the fire at his own home, not his father’s. Harriette had not recovered her former spirits since before the kidnapping. Heaven forbid that was the purpose in his being there. Has Father got wind of what happened in London?
“I do not appreciate being summoned before you in this manner, my lord. It is not as though you hold any sway over me anymore. I believe your efforts would be better served towards directing the affairs of your heir.”
“And I do not appreciate being the unhappy recipient of news of your latest failings,” said Lord Matlock.
“What have you to accuse me of now?”
“It has been brought to my attention that you are harbouring Darcy’s former paramour in your home—she is a servant at Beaconwood.”
So, that is what this is about! Richard did not know whether to be relieved or appalled. “Who would have told you such a thing?” Richard thought back to his last altercation with his brother. “Robert!”
“Yes, your brother told me. Did you suppose you could keep something like that a secret?”
Richard cleared his throat. “Were that the case, how might it concern you?”
“Then you do not deny it?”
“You have no say over whom I employ in my own home.”
“It all seems a bit too cosy for my taste.”
“Then it is fortunate the task falls to my lot and not yours, my lord.”
Lord Matlock slammed his fist on the desk. “This is just another instance of your lack of judgement in my opinion—another example of your callous regard for the sensibilities of others. I pray you are not sharing a bed with the woman.”
“Sharing a bed with the servants has never been my wont. Perhaps you are confusing me with your eldest son.”
“I say the two of you are more alike than not when it comes to such matters as the pleasure of the flesh.”
“When will you realise Robert and I are nothing alike? The man is beneath contempt in my estimation, having tossed Elise aside and returned to his mistress’s bed on the day Elise gave birth, merely because it was not a male child. Yet, you would continue to cast the two of us in the same lot.”
Richard combed his fingers through his hair. “No—it is worse than that, for you continue to coddle him and make allowance for his bad behaviour. And why? Is it because he is your heir, the next Earl of Matlock?”
“Neither of you is worthy of being the next Earl of Matlock.”
Richard had heard enough. He collected himself and headed for the door. Pausing, he regarded his father one last time. “Thank heavens I am not in consideration!”
Harriette and Richard sat on the terrace, enjoying a quiet sunset. He reached for her hand and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles. “As much as it will disappoint me to have to spend a single day apart from you, I begin to think it will be for the better if you seriously consider your mother and your father’s invitation to visit them for a month or so this summer.”
Harriette’s face took on a ring of distress. “Why on earth would I consider such an invitation? To do so would be fodder for speculation. Why would I ever give my father the satisfaction of believing there is some sort of trouble in paradise?”
Richard covered her hand with his. “I am sure it would not be like that, and if it were, then what of it? The fact is their invitation could not possibly have come at a more opportune time.”
“It sounds as if you want to see me go, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said with heightened emotion. “Is that what this is all about? Have you grown tired of me already? Are you now content to relegate me to the farthest ends of the kingdom so you might once again enjoy your care-free existence, unencumbered by a wife?”
Richard placed his fingers under her chin. Lifting it, he leaned forward and brushed his lips along the corner of her mouth. “My dearest Harriette, surely you know better than that. Since I have married you and made you mine, I do not desire any other woman.”
When he kissed her, she felt a frisson of pleasure. He spoke tenderly. “Since our first kiss, there has never been another woman for me. There will never be anyone but you.
“The fact is, my dear wife, I believe the events of the past weeks have taken their toll on your spirits even if you will not admit it. A change of pace will do you a world of good.”
“It is very generous of you to put my interests before your own, dear husband. However, how might I possibly find a measure of solace being separated from you, especially since you have yet to be completely forthcoming as to what led to all this trouble in the first place?”
Condescension crept into his voice. “Trust me; there is nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over. In such cases as this, all is well that ends well. I assure you our nightmare is over.”
“I refuse to be dissuaded with platitudes, Richard. I am your wife, not a fragile porcelain doll for you to put on the shelf and take down as your mood dictates. I insist you tell me everything as regarded Mr. Simon Bolton. I know that he was the steward of Beaconwood for many years before you inherited the estate.
“The two of you spoke of money. I confess I only heard enough to know I should be concerned over what transpired.” He was about to speak when she held out her hand. “Before you say this matter does not concern me, I suggest you carefully consider your words.”
Harriette watched impatiently as he stared into the distance as if pondering his options. She tugged at his arm to command his undivided attention. “Does Darcy know what occurred between the two of you?”
Richard frowned. He clearly did not want to be particularly forthcoming.
“I wager Darcy knows everything of what happened, and yet you will not tell me—your own wife. I declare I will not countenance your putting greater stock in your relationship with your cousin than you do in our marriage. It is unacceptable.”
“I confess Darcy knows every sordid detail of what happened with Bolton. It is only logical that I would tell him. I needed his help sorting through things until I could come up with a fitting solution and put it through to execution.
“But, I suppose it is time you learned the truth as well. To make a long story short, Bolton drained Beaconwood of the bulk of its financial wealth and made off during the middle of the night. For the past months, I have been negotiating with the tenants and doing what I can in appeasing them whilst I undertook my own investigation to find him and retrieve the stolen wealth.
“I happened upon him earlier that night in London’s seamy side, and I retrieved my money from him at gunpoint. Afterwards, I thought to have a drink at White’s before returning home for the evening.”
Richard regarded her intently. “This is where things took an interesting turn, my dear, and I am convinced you do not want to discuss it for it has to do with your ill-considered behaviour.”
“I suppose you are referring to finding me at the brothel. I further suppose I have this admonishment coming to me. However, in my own defence, my actions were not without warrant.”
“You think so, aye? Well, we shall see about that. When an old acquaintance approached my table at White’s and told me that he had just left Madame Adele’s establishment and he spoke of having seen Lord Harry there, I knew he must surely have been mistaken. I fervently wished it were no more than an uncanny resemblance to my brother-in-law whom I knew to be hundreds of miles away at the time.
“As soon as was convenient, I settled my tab and came home. My first thought was to check and see if you were safe and sound in your own bed. However, we know better than that, do we not?
