Chapter Forty-One

Elizabeth

4 th February 1812

T he morning sun streamed softly through the windows of Pemberley, casting a warm, golden light over the drawing room where Elizabeth and Mr Darcy sat the following morning, waiting in quiet anticipation. Despite the dreadful events of the previous night, there was an air of expectation. Her mother was due to arrive shortly, and Maggie, perched on the edge of her seat, was full of eager excitement. Her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her dress, though her bright eyes showed no sign of the worries that had plagued the household in recent days.

Indeed, while Elizabeth had woken with a dreadful sense of heaviness in her chest, it had lifted the moment she’d thought of the outcome – Mr Darcy’s proposal! She was to be married to the man she loved, and the danger that had brought them together had been banished. There was, she realised, only one thing hanging over their heads – the separation from Maggie which would come all too soon.

“I can hardly wait,” Maggie said, her voice filled with anticipation. “I want to see Mrs Bennet so much.”

Elizabeth smiled softly at the little girl, feeling a pang of affection despite the turmoil that had surrounded them. It was clear that the arrival of Mrs Bennet for all the upheaval it might bring, had rekindled some hope in Maggie’s heart.

“She will be here soon, Maggie,” Elizabeth said gently, kneeling beside her. “And I am sure she will be just as excited to meet you. And to hear you talk!”

“I learned a song to sing,” Maggie informed them, evidentially unconcerned about the previous nights’ events.

“Well, maybe you could sing it to us to practise?” Mr Darcy suggested and winked at Elizabeth.

Maggie nodded, her eyes shining. The past few days had been filled with strange twists, but there was no denying the excitement that now sparked in the girl’s gaze. Elizabeth, though deeply concerned about all that had happened, tried to hold her own fears at bay for the sake of Maggie.

The sound of a carriage clattering along the gravel driveway soon interrupted their quiet conversation. Mr Darcy, who had been standing near the window, turned to Elizabeth with a knowing smile.

“It seems your mother has arrived,” he remarked with a touch of amusement. “We shall have to hear your song when you perform it,” he said to Maggie who had jumped up and run to the window.

“It isn’t Mrs Bennet!” she complained. “It is a bald man.”

Elizabeth frowned and this, stepping to the window. And indeed, it was neither her mother nor her carriage, but a black carriage from which a short, bald-headed man had emerged. It took her a moment to remember who he was but then she turned.

“It is the constable,” she said.

“I suspect he has come to inform us of what shall be done with those scoundrels,” Mr Darcy uttered, as he smoothed down his waistcoat.

Elizabeth concurred, “I do hope this is the last we shall see of those men.”

Before Mr Darcy could reply, there was a knock at the drawing room door, and Hastings entered, accompanied by the constable, his face serious and filled with urgency.

“Mr Darcy I must speak with you both at once. The matter is urgent,” the constable said in a low, grave voice.

Elizabeth turned, her pulse quickening as she instinctively knew something was amiss. “What is it, Constable?” she asked, her heart beginning to race.

The constable’s eyes flickered between them, his expression full of concern. “I regret to inform you that I have new information that must be shared immediately. It concerns Lady Buchanan and her involvement with young Maggie.”

Mr Darcy rushed to the door at once and motioned for Mrs Reynolds. “Mrs Reynolds, would you take Miss Maggie to the drawing room while Miss Bennet and I talk to the constable?”

“Yes, sir,” his housekeeper said as she took Maggie’s hand and led her away.

Once they were alone, Mr Darcy took a step towards the constable. “What has happened?”

“I have just returned from questioning the three bandits who were involved in the attack on Pemberley last night,” the constable began, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of what he was about to reveal. “They’ve started to talk, though I suspect it’s only out of fear for their own lives.”

Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. “And what have they said?” she asked, her voice tight.

The constable took a deep breath. “They have named their employer—Lady Buchanan, the child’s aunt. It seems that she was the one who hired them to carry out the attack on Maggie’s family.”

Elizabeth’s face went pale as the constable’s words sank in. Mr Darcy’s jaw tightened, and he moved closer to Elizabeth. “What do you mean, hired them?” His voice was low but filled with fury.

“They confessed,” the constable continued, “that Lady Buchanan was the one who had orchestrated the entire scheme. She stood to gain immensely from Maggie’s inheritance. It seems she believed that by eliminating Maggie’s family, she could take control of the estate through her son.”

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief, her heart aching for Maggie. “But why would she want to harm her own niece?”

“Greed, Miss Bennet. Greed,” the constable replied grimly. “Lady Buchanan’s brother-in-law—that is Maggie’s father—was the Laird of Buchanan. With him and his family dead, the estate would pass to Lady Buchanan’s son Gordon. Since he is only twelve, she would be in charge of the estate until he reached his majority. She thought she could have the family made to disappear on the way to Wales.”

“The intention was to kill them all?” Elizabeth felt faint at the notion that anyone would hurt Maggie.

“No. The bandits tell me they were told only Miss Maggie’s parents would be in the carriage. They were rather surprised to find her there. They did not know what to do when they saw her, but the child ran off.”

“So why come after her if Maggie’s aunt got what she wanted?” Elizabeth asked.

The constable’s expression darkened. “While Buchanan had no sons, he had stipulated in his will that his eldest child should inherit the estate. Which meant that rather than her son inheriting the Buchanan estate, Maggie was the rightful heir.”

“So she sent them to kill the child?” Mr Darcy said, his voice laces with anger.

“The bandits say that their orders were to make the child disappear.”

Elizabeth’s mind was racing, processing the devastating revelations. “So Lady Buchanan is behind all of this,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “She was willing to go this far for money.”

“I’m afraid so,” the constable replied, his expression grim. “The bandits had been unsuccessful in their mission after they lost your trail in Nottingham. However, they told me that Lady Buchanan contacted them a fortnight ago to tell them that she knew the whereabouts of her niece.”

“Pemberley,” Mr Darcy said. “Of course. Because I wrote to the aunt to inform her that we had found her niece. I thought it strange she would delay her arrival here to fetch Maggie and instead go to Ireland first.”

“I thought it rather strange as well, though more that it spoke of the aunt’s lack of interest in the child and not that it was for any nefarious reason,” Elizabeth admitted. “So they were to take Maggie from here before her aunt could come, so suspicion would not fall on her?”

“That is correct. Franks – the leader – told me that he had suggested Lady Buchanan collect Maggie and then do away with her once they returned home, possibly in an unfortunate accident, but Lady Buchanan thought it inconvenient to have the child with her—and I suppose being a woman she didn’t have the heart to reunite with her only to dispatch her.”

The casual way with which Maggie’s death had been planned mortified Elizabeth and she gulped.

“So she wanted the child to be taken from here so she could play the grieving aunt?” Mr Darcy hissed, his rage obvious.

“Indeed. They’ve also informed us that Lady Buchanan is still very much involved, though the extent of her involvement beyond the initial hiring remains unclear. We are investigating further. They have given us evidence and contacts within Lady Buchanan’s circle to verify everything.”

A heavy silence filled the room, each person absorbing the gravity of the situation.

Mr Darcy spoke up, his voice cold with resolve. “What will happen to her now?”

“We’ve already sent word to the Scottish authorities,” the constable replied. “Lady Buchanan will be apprehended. The investigation is ongoing, but the evidence we’ve gathered from the bandits, combined with her motives, should ensure she is brought to justice.”

Elizabeth felt a sense of relief, but it was fleeting. The damage had been done, and Maggie’s life had been irrevocably changed. Mr Darcy placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his presence a steadying force.

“Thank you for bringing us this information,” Mr Darcy said, his tone firm. “Please keep us informed of any new developments.”

“Of course, Mr Darcy. I would advise you to also contact whatever other family the child has as I am certain none were informed.”

Mr Darcy nodded. “Naturally, I will write to her grandmother. I have the address.”

The constable nodded and left the room, the door closing behind him, leaving Elizabeth and Mr Darcy alone in the quiet aftermath of the terrible news.