Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (125 page)

“That is it exactly, sir!”

“And when did this romance begin?”

“I know!”  Sally spoke up.  “Right about when the Season was ending in June, the Prince had that enormous party?  Do you remember?   Mr. Darcy was gone again; he was in such a state!  Remember the post came and he was nearly wild to have the coach brought around.  Why, you went with him, Colonel!”

“I ran to bring you a note from the master!”  Robbie said proudly.

“I remember that.”  Richard said thoughtfully.  “Right smart about it you were, too.  I could have trained you myself.”  The young man beamed.  “So we departed for destination unknown and a few days later, Mr. Christmas stepped into your life.”  All eyes moved to the door and then to Mrs. Hutchins.  “And he visited frequently?”

She lifted her chin.  “Always on my morning off, sir.  I never took any time from Mr. Darcy.”

“And does he still come around?”  Richard asked casually.

“No, sir.  I have not seen him since Advent began.  It was a lovely six months, but I suppose everything has its end.”  She said sadly, and at last her brow creased.  “Why are you so interested in him, sir?”

Richard glanced at the butler and back to the cook.  “Mr. Christmas turned up at Pemberley, Mrs. Hutchins.”  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.  “Parker identified him; he was killed in the accident that hurt Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.”

“Killed!”  She cried.  “But what was he doing there?  So far away!”

“We do not know.”  Pushing his plate aside, he leaned on the table.  “Can you think of what he might want to see Mr. Darcy about?   Was he looking for employment?  Can you remember what he asked you about when he was spending all of that time listening to you?”

“I never said a word against Mr. Darcy, sir, I swear!”   She said tearfully.

“That is not what I asked.  Something drew him to Pemberley.  I want you, and all of the rest of you, to think hard about Mr. Christmas and what his visits were like.  Mr. and Mrs. Darcy will be expecting to have some answers when they arrive.”

“Do they think that Mr. Christmas meant to harm them, sir?”  Mrs. Hutchins gasped.

“We do not know, we can only assume that he was a victim of a tragic accident, but we cannot help but wonder what his purpose was on the estate.  It is vastly unusual for him to be there at all, let alone at the scene of such a potentially horrible outcome for my cousins.  You can understand why they seek answers.”

“Yes, sir.”  The cook warbled shakily.

“When should we expect them, sir?”  Mrs. Gaston said quickly. 

Richard broke his intense gaze with the devastated woman and looked to the housekeeper.  “Mrs. Darcy’s sister marries on the morrow; I suspect that you will see them arrive the following morning.”  Rising to his feet, he picked up a roll from a basket and smiled.  “Thank you for a fine meal.  I am sure that I will be back to visit when my cousins return.  I will be using the front door then.”  Nodding to them all, he left the kitchen and they heard the door click shut before Lowry realized that he had neither risen nor offered to retrieve his coat. 

“Well.”  He coughed and looked at the cook.  “I hope that you can help, Mrs. Hutchins.”

“Dead!”  She sobbed.  “And at Pemberley!” 

Mrs. Gaston broke the stony silence of the staff.  “All right then, the rest of you, we have a house to prepare.  I want this home glowing when the Master arrives.  You girls,” she waved her hand over at the maids, “get to your polishing.  Sally, get to work clearing up this table.   Mrs. Hutchins,” she cleared her throat and taking the weeping cook gently by the arm.  “Come to my room, we are going to talk.” 

“I REFUSE TO ENTERTAIN YOU with
that
in the room.”  Lord Matlock looked pointedly at Lady Catherine’s walking stick.  “I have only just regained full range with my arm.”

“I would not think of striking you.”  She did, however, set the stick in a corner before descending onto a chair, and nodded at a footman who placed a bottle of wine on the desk before departing.  Lord Matlock glanced at it and back to his sister when she spoke.  “Where is Grace?”

“At Matlock with Cathy and Albert.  They . . . chose to remain a bit longer.” 

“Why?” 

“Why not just tell me what you are after, Catherine.”  Lord Matlock took his seat and studied her.  “You have been plotting something.  I can tell; that vein by your eye is thumping madly.”

She glared and raised her chin.  “You should be grateful I have come.”

“Why?”  He leaned back tiredly. 

“I have heard, through sources of my own, that Matlock’s heir is a problem.”  Lord Matlock’s eyes closed and he blew out a large amount of air.  “I am not incorrect?”

“What have you heard?”

“Gambling, lascivious behaviour . . .” Her brows rose.  “You have done well keeping it quiet.”

“Not well enough, it seems.  Do you know the extent of the problem?” 

“I surmised it was nothing more than a typical bored heir filling his time.” 

“Indeed.”  He sighed and rested his hands on the desk.  “What is your aim here, Catherine?  You do not ever come here without a wish for gain.”

“Hmmph.”  She sniffed.  “Darcy failed Anne; he failed his parents and Pemberley by breaking the tacit engagement with my daughter.  I have, after expressing my disappointment, come to accept that his marriage is final and that to protest further publicly would do more harm than good.  However, my daughter remains unmarried and Rosings remains without a Fitzwilliam heir.” 

“Ah.  A
Fitzwilliam
heir.”  Lord Matlock perked up.  “You interest me, Sister.  Your calculating mind has clearly rejected choosing another gentleman for Anne?”

Lady Catherine held his eyes for several moments of stony silence.  Her brother did not flinch.  At last the dowager gave in.  “Anne is not fit to marry a typical gentleman; she would never survive a Season.  If any sensible man were to take her, it would be to gain Rosings and to count the days before she died.”

“So Darcy was insensible for wanting a whole woman from the beginning?” 

Ignoring him, Lady Catherine ploughed forward, “And it would forever eliminate the chance to impress the Fitzwilliam family into Rosings history, unless . . .”

“She marries a Fitzwilliam?  Other than Darcy.”  He chuckled at the sour expression on her face.  “So now you turn to your brother’s children instead of your sister’s.  May I remind you that Albert must produce an heir to carry on the earldom, and Anne most certainly cannot do so?  I am afraid that your plan is impossible.”

“Your heir is infected with the French disease, and will not be living much longer.”  She smiled triumphantly when her brother stared.  “I was correct!  Your face proves it!”

“I do not know for certain.  But it is possible.”  He rubbed his face.  “So you suggest Richard . . .”

“No, no, Richard is inevitably to be Earl of Matlock one day; he must marry a healthy girl and begin work on his family.   I notice that you no longer refer to your son as Gladney?  You seem to have come to the same conclusion?”

“You were always too clever to be a woman.”  Lord Matlock snarled.  “Very well then, yes, I suspect that Richard will outlive his brother, and yes, I suspect that Albert is diseased, and that, amongst other things, is why I have decided he will never marry.  Richard will, in time, sell his commission and take over Gladney, marry and begin his family, and begin the work of learning the earldom.  Albert will retire from social life.”  He sighed. 

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would not Richard step into Gladney now?  You have already deemed your heir null, even if he does live for some time, you have crowned Richard and his children your successors.  What are you not telling me?”

Lord Matlock sat forward.  “Very well, you must have it all.  Gladney is empty, Sister.  Albert is an opium addict who has gambled away a lifetime of funds.  He sold off the contents of Gladney to finance his habits, and now I am selling what I can of Matlock to pay his debts.  Your spies concentrated on the interesting details for you.  No doubt you enjoyed sifting through descriptions of the brothels and gasped in horror of the goings-on within them while eating up every detail!”  Lady Catherine’s cheeks coloured and he nodded.  “Now, are you so certain you want Anne to be married to him?  Have I dashed your plans?”  He nearly laughed when she jumped to her feet.  “Did I say something sister?”

 She snatched up her stick and shook it at him.  “You have not heard the last of me.”

“I have no doubt of that.”  Lord Matlock smiled and watched her depart.  It faded when he heard the front door close in the distance.  “If she knows, everyone knows.”  Rubbing his hand across his face, he sighed.  “I might very well have to take her offer.”  Hearing the door open again, he sat up, and was surprised to see not his sister in the doorway, but his son.

“Father . . .”  Richard entered his father’s study and looked backwards.  “I just had the most . . . odd conversation with Aunt Catherine on the steps.  She . . . tapped my shoulder with her walking stick.  If I had been kneeling, I believe that she would have deemed me a knight!”    He looked at his father incredulously.  “What the devil was that about?”

“Sit down, Son.”  Lord Matlock waved wearily at the chair opposite his desk and picking up a corkscrew from the table behind him, opened the bottle Lady Catherine had left and poured out two glasses.

Cautiously, Richard took a sip and surprise suffused his face.  “This is not backwash!   You purchased some good wine?”

“A gift from my dear sister.  From the Rosings wine cellars.” 

He stopped tipping the glass up for another sip.  “What does she want?” 

“Nothing gets past you.”   He smiled.  “What would save Matlock?”

“Money . . . Rosings.  Oh good Lord, Father, you did not go to her . . . you decided that proposing Bertie marry Anne was wrong!”

“I did not propose that Albert marry Anne.” 

Richard slammed the glass down.  “Well I will be damned if
I
will!”  He jumped to his feet and strode around the room.  “I will
not
pay the price of my brother’s failures by aligning myself forever to that . . . bitter, sickly, aspiring wanton!”

“Good heavens, Richard!”   Lord Matlock laughed.  “Calm yourself!”

He stopped and pointed at his father’s head.  “I am not promised to Anne?” 

“No!” 

“Damned good thing.”  Richard grunted and settled back into the chair. 

“I was waiting for that blade of yours to jab me in the gullet!  Your Aunt came here to propose that Albert marry Anne, and announce that Anne herself is agreeable.”  Richard’s mouth hung open.  “Anne wants a title, your aunt wants Rosings to stay in Fitzwilliam hands . . . Darcy is gone forever . . .”

“You agreed to this?  Bertie is in no condition to consider this proposal!”

“It is his fault that he must consider it at all, and this may very well be the price he pays for his destruction of Matlock.  There is no difference between Anne marrying Darcy and Anne marrying Albert, not really, in the end.”

“I am sure that Darcy would have something to say on the subject.”  Richard sighed and shook his head.  “What of his diseases, his likelihood to die, Anne’s health . . .  I find this extraordinary generosity by Aunt Catherine to be incredible.  All this to give Anne the possibility of a title?” 

“No, no.”  His father wagged his finger, “To make her above Elizabeth.”

“Ahhh, there, the claws come out.”  Richard nodded.  “How can you swallow that wine with the bile that should be in your throat?  How easily you trade Bertie’s life.  He is weak, and you want to send him to those two?  Let him live with some happiness before his body gives out.”

“Fine, he may marry Anne and then he can remain at Matlock.”

“Oh, and watch me taking over his birthright as I sit waiting for his demise.  He would be suspicious of every drink I hand him.” 

“I planned to return to Matlock in a fortnight to collect your mother and sister . . . at that time I will propose the . . . proposal to your brother.”

“He must be of sound mind or it will not be legal.”  Richard reminded him.  “I will not see my brother forced to the altar.  As much as I despise everything he has done, I want him to be happy at the end.  And God-willing, he will fool us all and live another fifty years to be hailed as the great Earl of Matlock who did so much good for his people.” 

“How can you not want this?”

“I see that you are thinking of the proposal.”  Both men jumped to their feet when they heard Lady Catherine’s voice.  She stamped her stick on the floor and brandished it.  “I have as well.”

Lord Matlock grabbed the walking stick.  “I will take this, thank you.” 

“You are afraid of me?”  Lady Catherine said with no small amount of satisfaction.

“No, but I have no desire to spend another month watching the mark of your ire fade from my arm.”  He tossed the stick onto the floor and sat back down.  “Yes, I have thought of your proposal, but it was you who left in a huff.  I have told you of his condition, why would you sentence her, condemn her to such a marriage?”

“It would save Matlock, you admit it yourself?”

“Yes it would.”  Lord Matlock sighed.  “But as Richard points out . . . if by some miracle Albert regains his faculties, even if his body never recovers, I do not want to order him to marry . . .”

“You had no such issue with Darcy marrying Anne.” 

“No.”  He admitted grudgingly.  “But that was different.”

“Because you were angry that Darcy kept you at arms length following George’s death!”   Lady Catherine lifted her chin triumphantly.  “We are not so different!”

“I wanted Darcy to marry Cathy.”  He reminded her.  “What say we discuss this without Darcy’s name being a part of it?”

“I do not like this; I do not like this at all, deciding a man’s fate when he is not here to speak his mind!  Richard declared and stood.  “When you and Bertie are dead and buried, I will do my duty.  Until then, leave me out of it!”

Lady Catherine stared.  “Where did you learn such utter lack of ambition?  Neither your father or mother are this way.”

“Lack of ambition?  I earned this rank, Aunt; it was not bought for me.”  Richard adjusted his sword and walking to the door, waved his hand towards his aunt.  “It is my brother’s hubris that has led to his downfall.  It is Darcy casting aside his pride that gave him the ability to see Elizabeth.  As I said Father, if it is my fate to carry on after you, I will do it to the best of my ability.  I cannot help but think that Darcy was fortunate in seeing his father buried so that he was not forced to take on his parents’ desires to join Rosings to Pemberley.  I would hate to have to feel relief at the death of a relative of mine.”  Looking between brother and sister, he nodded and left.