"Who did this to you?" Fitzwilliam demanded, his voice tight with urgency.
Ashburn struggled to respond, each breath laboured. Finally, he whispered, "It was… Father’s business partners."
Fitzwilliam stiffened, confusion evident on his face. "What do you mean by Father’s business partners? What sort of business is he involved in? I thought I knew everything he had a hand in."
A weak, bitter laugh escaped Ashburn's lips, followed by a cough. "You know little… of Father's dealings. He has always kept most of it hidden… even from me. I only know fragments of the truth." He gestured weakly towards a letter he had beenwriting. In it, he had explained more. The letter revealed that for years, Matlock’s wealth had relied heavily on the slave trade—exporting people from Africa to America and other parts of the world. Since the Slave Trade Act of 1807, this had become more difficult, and the Napoleonic Wars had made shipping riskier. Matlock had lost several ships recently, deepening his debts. Though he blamed Ashburn’s supposed vices for the financial troubles, the true cause was his failed investments and reliance on illegal trade.
Fitzwilliam’s face darkened as the weight of Ashburn’s written words sank in. "Father is truly involved in slavery? Even now?"
Ashburn gave a weak nod and spoke deliberately. "Yes. Despite publicly supporting it… he continued in secret… and smuggling. He cared more for profit… than principle."
Darcy stood back, stunned by the revelation. Of all the injustices he despised, slavery ranked among the worst. During his university years, he had aligned himself with abolitionist ideals, though he had hesitated to fully join the movement. His father had likewise supported the cause, but Darcy, knowing of his father’s illness, had thought it best not to get too involved, especially with Pemberley soon to be his responsibility.
Still, his upbringing had instilled in him a sense of duty to treat all people with dignity. His servants at Darcy House and Pemberley were both well paid and well cared for. To now learn that his uncle, a man he had once respected, was profiting from such a vile practice shook him to his core.
Ashburn’s breathing grew more laboured, each word a struggle. Fitzwilliam leant closer, his hands gripping the bedframe as he tried to catch his brother’s faint words.
“Father… always had plans,” Andrew rasped. “Even when… it meant sacrificing… everything. Do not let him… destroy you too.”
Fitzwilliam’s jaw tightened. “Enough riddles, Andrew. Tell me what you know. Who attacked you?”
Ashburn’s lips quirked faintly in what might have been a bitter smile. “They were hired… to make a point. One of his business partners—angry over the losses. I was a warning.”
Darcy’s stomach churned at the implications. “Do you know their names? Can we find them?”
Ashburn exhaled a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “It does not matter now,” he murmured. “You will not change him. Protect Matlock—protect what is left of it. But promise me, Richard… do not follow him.”
Fitzwilliam’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Andrew, stay with me. We will take you home. We will fix this.”
Ashburn’s eyes opened briefly, glassy with unshed tears. “No fixing this,” he whispered. “Just… stop him. Do better.”
His breathing slowed further, and his chest rose with one last shallow breath before stilling altogether.
Fitzwilliam stared at his brother’s lifeless face, frozen. Darcy stood behind him, resting his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, unsure what words could possibly suffice. The silence in the room felt heavy.
After a long moment, Fitzwilliam stood abruptly, his expression steely. “We will bring him home. Whatever Father has done, he will answer for it.”
“Richard,” Darcy began cautiously, “if what Andrew said is true, this is not just about your father’s debts. If you go after him directly?—”
“Do not try to stop me,” Fitzwilliam snapped. His tone softened almost immediately. “I cannot sit by while the man who raised me profits from human suffering.”
Darcy nodded solemnly. “You will not be alone in this. But we need to be careful. If he has hidden this for so long, there might be others willing to protect his secrets—at any cost. I wonder how much our aunt knew—or was her death entirely about the money he would get upon her death?”
For several moments, neither man spoke, each lost in his thoughts as they tried to make sense of what had just unfolded. While they had arrived there today seeking answers, they had instead unearthed even more questions. Darcy doubted that his cousin fully grasped the implications of his brother’s death. Given the circumstances, it was hardly surprising; Fitzwilliam’s focus was consumed by the immediate challenge of confronting his father.
Sighing, Darcy recognised that the greatest challenge in the coming days would be curbing his cousin’s impulsive tendencies. Yes, something had to be done about Lord Matlock, but what exactly that would entail was still unclear. Whatever action was taken, it would need careful consideration—something far more within Darcy’s capabilities than Fitzwilliam’s.
For now, the priority was to return to Pemberley. Decisions needed to be made, notices sent to those who should be informed of Ashburn’s death, and plans carefully laid for what lay ahead.
Chapter Forty-Four
After arranging for Ashburn’s body to be transported to Matlock, Fitzwilliam and Darcy began the grim task of writing to those who needed to be informed of what had transpired. The knowledge they had uncovered was too dangerous to commit to paper, but they both knew a decision about how to handle it could not be delayed for long.
“If Matlock is truly in a hopeless situation, cousin,” Darcy began, his voice steady but firm as he set down his pen, “I will do what I can to help restore it. But let me be clear—my assistance is contingent on you being the one to oversee the estate. I will not pay a single coin to anyone connected with the vile practice of trafficking human lives. Those dealings must end entirely.”
Darcy’s tone left no room for argument, his expression resolute as he met Fitzwilliam’s gaze.
Fitzwilliam nodded slowly, his own features shadowed with guilt and weariness. “You have my word. I could not stomach such actions myself, let alone condone them. If Father truly is complicit in any way….” His voice trailed off, the enormity of the implications weighing heavily between them.
