Lady Catherine’s bravado faltered for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she stiffened. “I handled Wickham the first time,” she snapped, but the hesitation in her voice was unmistakable.
“Did you?” Lord Matlock barked, stepping forward. “Because Darcy certainly seems to know something. Heknowsabout your involvement with Wickham’s attempt to elope with Georgiana, does he not?”
Lady Catherine gulped, a brief flash of uncertainty crossing her face. “Something about that might have come up,” she muttered, avoiding her brother’s gaze.
“Damn you, Cathy,” Lord Matlock swore, pacing the room in agitation. “If Darcy has even a hint of your role in those events, he will watch Wickham like a hawk. Since Richard did not find the couple in Gretna Green, it means Darcy likely married her elsewhere. Without proof of the marriage, we can do little to challenge it. If they wed over the anvil, it would be simple enough to bribe a blacksmith into losing the record. But if a minister was involved, that is a different matter entirely.”
He stopped, turning sharply on his sister. “You will return to Rosings, and you will stay there, Cathy. You have caused enough trouble already, and I will handle this from here. Do not speak a word of this to anyone—especially not to Darcy. If you are asked about his marriage, you will act as if you are pleased for him. Do you understand?”
Lady Catherine's mouth opened in protest, but Lord Matlock cut her off. “You are to remain silent. Darcy is an honest man, and he will not make the break between us public unless you provoke him by disparaging his wife or his sister. You will keep your mouth shut. You barely speak to anyone outside of Rosings as it is, so that should not be difficult. Do not make things worse for us, Cathy. Now go.”
His cold command left no room for argument, and for a moment, Lady Catherine stood rigid, her hands trembling slightly before she clenched them into fists. Without another word, she swept from the room, her fury simmering just beneath the surface. Despite how angry she was, she knew better than to cross her brother, especially when he was like this.
Chapter Seventeen
“That foolish woman,” Lord Matlock muttered, resuming his pacing in front of the fireplace. The shadows from the flames danced across his face, highlighting the lines of worry etched into his brow. “What is the last I heard about Wickham? We told him to disappear, but do we know where he went?” He continued his mutterings, his voice rising and falling as he wrestled with the implications of his sister's reckless actions.
As he paced, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, betraying his mounting frustration. The fire crackled ominously, echoing the turmoil in his mind. After several moments lost in thought, he looked up to find his son standing in the doorway. Fitzwilliam was dressed in full military regalia, his uniform crisp and polished.
“Richard, how are you, my son?” Lord Matlock greeted him, forcing a smile.
Fitzwilliam stepped further into the room, his expression carefully guarded as he eyed his father. He had heard enough of Lord Matlock's muttering to wonder just how deeply involved his father was in all that had transpired with the Darcy family.
Crossing his arms, standing tall and resolute, he replied in a measured tone. "I have just returned from Newcastle. As I told you, Darcy did not go to Gretna Green, and there is no record of his marriage in that town." It was not a lie, but Fitzwilliam did not mention that he had not actually gone to that particular town and that Darcy was well and truly married.
"Do you think he went elsewhere in Scotland then?" Lord Matlock pressed.
"It is possible," Fitzwilliam replied. "I assume you saw the announcement in the paper."
His father only nodded, so Fitzwilliam continued. "My general showed it to me nearly as soon as I arrived, wondering if I had seen it. It appeared in an issue last week, I believe. Do you know anything about his bride?" This last was said with a questioning tone, wondering exactly what his father might reveal through his comments.
"She is a nobody, and as I understand it, brings no dowry into the marriage," Lord Matlock said.
"Really? The amount of her dowry was not included in the announcement. How did you learn of it?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"From Catherine. She was here," Lord Matlock began, his voice still showing his frustration with his sister. "She must have seen the announcement and set off immediately to Pemberley. Of course, she returned with her tail between her legs, having failed to bend Darcy to her will. I sent her back to Rosings, warning her to keep her opinions on the marriage to herself."
He stopped pacing before continuing with a sigh. "You know how stubborn she is, still clinging to the ridiculous notion that Darcy would eventually marry Anne, despite all of us telling her it would never happen. She mentioned something about her rector being related to the girl's family—the man was apparently engaged to the same girl Darcy has married. Catherine had no idea of the connection until the minute she heard of the marriage, and I think that discovery has stoked her fury even more."
Lord Matlock shook his head in disbelief. "She is angrier than usual, and that is saying something, for my sister has never been pleasant when riled."
Fitzwilliam's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. "I did not know of the connection either," he said thoughtfully. "Does Lady Catherine have a new rector? Did Anne appoint him, or was it my aunt's doing? For, technically, Father, you know that Lady Catherine has no standing to make any decisions regarding Rosings. The estate is Anne's by right and has been for a few years, even if she has been unwilling to exert her claim."
Lord Matlock grimaced, his hands tightening behind his back as he resumed pacing. "Your aunt has clung to her authority far longer than is appropriate or necessary. Anne is either too timid or too ill to fight her, and Catherine exploits that. This new rector—Collins, I believe—is likely another sycophant, handpicked by Catherine to do her bidding. She might not have the legal authority, but she certainly acts as if she does."
"Anne is not nearly as ill as her mother believes—or claims—her to be," Fitzwilliam replied, his brow furrowed. "She has simply lacked the opportunity to exert her will. You know that even if Anne wished to take control, her mother would have found a way to silence her. However…” He paused, as if lost in thought.
"However, what?" Lord Matlock demanded sharply. "Do you know something I do not?"
Fitzwilliam hesitated, then shook his head. "Forgive me, Father, it was just an idle thought. Nothing of consequence. But at some point, Lady Catherine will have to bow to Anne's rightful authority as mistress of Rosings. Anne will not let her mother reign over her forever. When the time comes, I only wish I could be there to witness the confrontation."
Lord Matlock snorted. "It will be a battle, no doubt. Catherine will not relinquish control easily."
"Does she intend to remain in London?" Fitzwilliam asked, changing the subject slightly. "Do you know if she's opened her townhouse, or did she come straight here?"
"I do not know," the earl replied, rubbing his temples in frustration. "But, Richard, I suggest you steer clear of any family confrontations at Rosings. No one will win in that fight. Your aunt will ensure everyone is miserable unless she gets exactly what she wants. I suspect she will stop at nothing to keep her hold over Anne—no matter the cost.”
Fitzwilliam sighed, knowing his father was right. He thought about leaving, but his father called him back. "Richard, I wanted to ask you what you found when you travelled to Scotland. However, if he has announced the marriage, I suppose there is truly nothing that can be done about it now. He is well and truly married, however little good that will do."
