Chapter 15

R ather than travel directly to Brighton, Lady Catherine decided she would go to Darcy House to acquire some information from the servants, as she wanted to make sure her nephew was not anywhere near the trollop who was tempting him away from his duty to her.

They departed Lucas Lodge, which in her opinion was barely better than a hovel, after breaking their fasts. Like she had at dinner the previous night, during the morning meal, Lady Catherine dispensed much incorrect and unwanted advice to Sir William and Lady Lucas. The latter wanted to put the termagant, who although wealthier than the Lucases, who had herself been married to a knight, which made them equal, in her place. Her husband had seen the anger building in his wife and had shaken his head. No matter how ridiculous the lady was, she had the power to make Mr Collins’s, and by extension, Charlotte’s, life miserable.

Therefore when the so-called lady had departed, the residents of Lucas Lodge had never been so pleased to see the back of a guest, especially one who had invited herself and demanded the master’s chambers for her own use for the night.

There was only so much she would do for her daughter, and not even the fact Charlotte would be the next mistress of Longbourn, would induce Lady Lucas to allow the virago to darken her doorstep ever again. After seeing his patroness and the way Mr Collins took every nonsensical pronouncement of hers as if it were gospel, Lady Lucas had the first seeds of doubt about the path she had encouraged Charlotte to take. Could it be Eliza Bennet had had the right of it when she had refused the dullard?

In the de Bourgh coach wending its way towards London, without knowing it, Charlotte was having similar thoughts to her mother. She was wondering if having her own home and one day having Longbourn had not enticed her into a very bad match. She had thought she would be able to direct her husband, and as long as Lady Catherine did not interfere, she could. The problem was, said lady, stuck her nose into everything.

Charlotte had come very close to asking Lady Catherine how much cleaning and polishing she had done, when one day the woman had made a particularly ridiculous pronouncement, which was supposed to be instructions on cleaning, which Mr Collins, of course, took as the word of God. One only had to look at the shelves in the closets in the parsonage to see evidence of the foolishness of his patroness and her husband together. Thanks to Lady Catherine’s nonsensical advice, Charlotte had nowhere to hang her gowns.

She had not been married to her husband for many months before she realised that of the two of them, Eliza had made the better decision. To add insult to injury, Charlotte was fully aware how much her friendship with her friend had cooled. Before she had acknowledged the rectitude of Eliza’s opinions regarding her husband, she had been angry with her friend. That was no longer true, Charlotte simply missed what used to be between them.

After a break to rest the horses between Meryton and London, the chase was back on the road again. In less than two hours the conveyance slowed as they approached Darcy House. As it had been for any other time they had been in a carriage with Lady Catherine, except for the brief respite when she nodded off, her ladyship kept up a steady stream of conversation to which she neither desired, nor needed, any response. While Charlotte feigned sleep, her husband sat listening with rapt attention as if his patroness spoke with the voice of God.

“Well, I never, how negligent of my nephew not to have a footman on duty to open my door,” Lady Catherine complained.

It seemed the fact the house looked closed for the summer, and there was no knocker on the door was ignored by the lady. “When your daughter is mistress here, I am sure you will bestow your excellent advice on the proper running of a home on her,” Collins bowed from his position on the rear facing bench.

Charlotte Collins had to fight to school her features. She had watched Mr Darcy and Miss de Bourgh when he had visited Rosings Park. For anyone who was willing to see the truth, it was obvious that neither Mr Darcy nor Miss de Bourgh had any intention of marrying one another. Charlotte suspected the latter was not healthy enough to be a wife in all ways to any man, regardless of Lady Catherine’s pronouncements to the opposite.

“Of course, I will! I will make sure Darcy House and Pemberley are running as well as my estate is,” Lady Catherine sniffed. As soon as her footman extended the step and opened the door, with her stick clicking on the stone of the steps as she walked, she marched up to the door and began to rap on it with the head of her stick.

Killion, who had not expected any callers with the master away did not hear the insistent banging on the door at first. When he finally heard the racket, he brought a brawny footman with him and cracked the door open.

“As soon as my Anne marries my nephew, I will have you sacked. How dare you keep me waiting! Open the door, you imbecile,” Lady Catherine demanded.

“My master is not at home, and I have strict instructions as to who I may admit in his absence. I am afraid, your ladyship, yours is not on the list of names of those I am permitted to allow entry to,” Killion drawled while the footmen stood and made sure the door could not be opened more than the butler had allowed.

“Do you know who I am? Step back and open the door! You are sacked, and I will provide no character!” Lady Catherine screeched.

“Do what my patroness orders,” Collins blustered in support.

“Mr Darcy gave me my orders, and he is the only one who may countermand them. If you want to dispute this then speak to him, he is in Brighton visiting his sister,” Killion stated, and then before the woman could say another word, he nodded, the footman pushed the door closed, and together they locked and bolted it.

“I have never been treated this way in the whole of my life,” Lady Catherine shrieked. “Did he say my nephew is in Brighton?”

“He did, your Ladyship,” Charlotte confirmed.

“This cannot be. Why would he be in the same city as that strumpet? We must away.” She turned her gimlet eye on Mr Collins, “Why did you suggest London first? You have made me waste precious hours.”

Collins knew he had said nothing of the sort, but he could not allow himself to contradict his patroness. “Please pardon me, Lady Catherine, I will atone for my error.”

Although she always knew her husband had no spine, this took it to a different level. To accept fault so his patroness’s overblown sense of self did not have to admit she had erred was a new height of sycophantic behaviour for her husband. Charlotte finally admitted she had chosen in haste, and now had the rest of their married life together to repent at leisure.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~ ~

A few days after allowing the horse to recover completely from his mad dash away from the scene of the aborted kidnapping in Brighton, Wickham decided it was time to leave the safety of the wooded area where he had been hiding. He was tired of foraging for food, and he needed money.

Robbing a carriage on the road was not an option. The damned baron had not allowed him or the other three to have firearms with them. He had said it was to ensure the hostage would be unharmed, but Wickham had come to realise it was to make sure he would not be able to defend himself in the case the baron’s men made a move to end him. With the horse restored to its former strength, his first option was to sell it. Although he had not heard or seen any signs of searchers yet, they could very well be looking for the horse because with his face hidden as it was, he was certain the only thing tying him to the failed attempt was the animal.

He mounted and slowly rode out of the stand of trees looking in every direction for anything which would give him pause. When he reached the roadway he had ridden during his flight, he turned in the direction he had been travelling—away from Brighton—and set off at a sedate pace so as to not draw attention to himself. To be safe, his scarf partially covered his mouth.

He had been riding in a north-westerly direction for about an hour when he saw a man driving a donkey driven cart in the opposite direction to him. He needed to find out where he was, so he hailed the driver, making sure to disguise his voice.

Being an affable fellow, the farmer stopped his cart. “Yers, ‘ow ken’a ‘elp ya?” he said in a heavy accent.

“Thank you for stopping to assist a lost traveller. Where am I and where is the nearest inn?” Wickham asked with all of his considerable charm employed. “I got turned around, and know not how to proceed.”

“Carry on ‘ow yer goin’ an’ in two miles, ye’ll reach Pig an’ Whistle Inn. From there only mile ta Clarendon,” the farmer explained.

“Is this Sussex, Kent, or Hampshire?” Wickham enquired.

“It be ‘Amshir,” the farmer replied. “Sussex be where I go, an’ Kent be other side o’ Sussex.”

“That is perfect, I needed to be in Clarendon. I thank you, Sir.” Wickham doffed his cap and was off before the man could ask him any inconvenient questions. Even had he a weapon, he was sure the peasant would have had nothing other than a penny or two in his pockets.

Wickham urged the horse into a canter, and just as the man had said, he reached an inn which according to the sign was the Pig and Whistle. Money was the first priority; he had nothing in his pockets. He was supposed to have been made flush when he delivered the girl to Smithington. He wondered how the baron’s man was enduring the interrogation, and how long it would take the Royal Guard to break him. That thought shook Wickham to the core. That meant they would know his name soon enough! He needed money in order to disappear for a while—at least until the fervour over the attempt in Brighton had blown over.

He decided his name would be Gregory Wright, that way he still retained his initials. In order to convince the landlord a horse of the quality of the baron’s mount was his to sell, Wickham adopted his persona of a gentleman who had had a run of bad luck and needed the funds to help feed his wife and son. The simpleton fell for his honeyed tongue, and he left the inn twelve pounds richer.

Walking the mile into Clarendon made Wickham think of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and how she loved to walk. If she had had wealth, he would have pursued her rather than Miss King, with her red hair and freckles. With everything which had gone wrong, he was still pleased with himself. He had been able to sell the supposedly intelligent young lady his story, painting Darcy as the villain. Luckily, Darcy had offended Miss Elizabeth, so all Wickham had had to do was feed the antipathy she already held for his former friend. It would not have been the same as marrying little mousy Georgiana, and gaining her thirty thousand pounds, but after noting the way Darcy looked at Miss Elizabeth, hurting him through her had been very satisfying.

It all came back to Darcy, if he had given Wickham his due, then he would not have been in this situation. It was all the prig’s fault and had nothing to do with decisions Wickham had made.

He would have been able to take the post from the inn where he sold the horse, but he did not want the landlord to be aware of the direction of his travel. He walked to another inn, and purchased a ticket to a town in Berkshire, and from there he would head in a different direction. Wickham intended to take posts to various towns in various counties and then when he was ready, he would make for a town where he would be able to disappear for the nonce.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Emery Weasley sat in his sparse cell in the Tower and still could not believe that not only was Smithington dead, but the idiot had kept every order he had put in writing, and they had been hidden on his person in a bloody secret pocket! Not so very secret. Prinny’s men discovered the evidence, and it had been enough to order him to hang more than ten times over.

As it was, there would be no public hanging, but in the morning, he would be led (dragged) to the platform in the middle of the courtyard he could see from his slit of a window during the day. It was surrounded by high walls which enclosed the whole of the area. The walls made a square of sorts, and they started and ended at the tower .

As much as he hated to admit he had erred, he saw he had overreached. Rather than be pleased with that which he had earned when dispatching the former baron and his sons, he had wanted more. He always rationalised it was perfectly normal for all powerful men to want to increase their land, wealth, and influence. In a moment of clarity, Weasley admitted his own avarice was about to kill him.

For the first time since he had been pushed into his cell, he began to feel fear. Yes, he would have preferred not to die, but there was no changing that now. His fear was of what would come next. Was the Regent correct that his soul would be damned to the fires of hell for eternity? He was about to kneel and pray for forgiveness when dawn began to break in the east. The key was turned in the lock. Two Beefeaters, otherwise known as the Yeomen of the Guard, entered the bare bricked room and marched Weasley out. Knowing that his time was now measured in minutes, Weasley forgot about asking forgiveness from God and tried to drag his feet. It did not work. Two more men assisted pushing him up the wooden steps to the platform.

He was bent over a block with a hollow in it for the neck, while two men held him, another two bound his wrists to the metal ring in the wood just in front of the block to which he was now secured. The last thing Emery Weasley saw in the mortal world from the corner of one eye was the hooded executioner, his hands back above his head, and his axe at the ready.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

“Lizzy, Mr Darcy has requested permission to come sit with you for a little while, what say you?” Jane asked her sister.

“Why would that insufferab…” Elizabeth stopped herself. Since she had started waking up, some memories were fuzzy. At first, she had thought of the Mr Darcy from the assembly, the one who had not apologised, from before Mr Wickham’s actions showed just who he was. The newer memories came flooding back to her.

She had realised he was not what she had thought him to be even before she had met Anna. The letter he wrote to her swam before her eyes, along with the unreserved and complete apology.

“You were about to say?” Jane asked with raised eyebrows.

“Now that I am able to see things clearly, as long as propriety can be observed, I would be glad to see Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth agreed.

“I have spoken to Mr Winthorpe, a light coverlet can be placed over your leg to preserve your modesty,” Maria Fitzherbert stated. “We can help you into a dressing gown, and the regular coverlet will be pulled up to just below your neck.” She made sure to spend at least an hour or two every day with this brave slip of a woman. That was what George called her. She would do anything for Lizzy.

“Mama, may I remain with Lizzy?” Emma asked keenly. As much as she and Mary Anne enjoyed the company of Anna and the rest of the Bennet sisters, Emma wanted nothing more than to sit and be with Lizzy. There was no repaying what Lizzy had done for her, but Emma had vowed to try to do that for the rest of her life.

“It is up to Lizzy,” Maria replied. “I am sure Anna will accompany William, and Lizzy,” she looked at her daughter’s saviour, “my friend Elaine, the Countess of Matlock, and Anna’s aunt, and her family would like to meet you, if you are willing to receive them.”

“Emma is welcome to stay, and now that I am remaining awake for much longer at a time, having more people visit me would not be a hardship. In fact, it would be the opposite,” Elizabeth allowed. As much as she was aware the broken leg precluded her from moving from the bed anytime soon, Elizabeth still chafed at the enforced confinement to bed.

Emma clapped her hands for joy. Not only would she remain with Lizzy, but she would see Anna now, not to mention Aunt Elaine, Uncle Reggie and their sons. It was only a pity Mary, Kate, and Lydia would not be joining them yet.

“Will all four Fitzwilliams join us?” Jane asked as she blushed prettily. So far she had spoken to Lord Hilldale only a few times. She felt a developing affection for him, even if she was sure he would have no interest in the daughter of an insignificant country squire.

“Yes, all of them,” Maria replied with a knowing smile. She and Elaine had discussed the budding relationship yester-night, and her friend was delighted Andrew was finally showing serious interest in a lady for the first time. The friends always suspected if he were to find his helpmeet, it would not be from among London society.

With assistance from Emma, Jane, and Mrs Fitzherbert, Elizabeth was prepared so that she would be able to receive single men in the sickroom. It did not hurt there would be a bevy of chaperones present.