The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery (61 page)

“And what of Lydia?” he asked dejectedly.

Elizabeth sympathetically instructed, “As you apprentice with Mr. Buckley, permit Lydia to renew her acquaintance with Mrs. Buckley. You will recall Mr. Bingley's sister Caroline from your time in Meryton. Miss Bingley became Mrs. Buckley last December.” Thinking of the debacle of the woman's sorted elopement, Elizabeth smiled with some satisfaction. She should not have taken such great pleasure in the former Miss Bingley's shame, but such remained her one great sin. She could forgive Lieutenant Wickham his many perfidious acts, but Elizabeth could never quite muster a welcoming thought for Caroline Buckley. “Mrs. Buckley possesses a fine figure and is rather handsome, and she comes from a very respectable family in the North of England. The lady received her education in one of the first private seminaries in London. Mrs.
Buckley could exercise a great influence over Lydia. You could have the Society wife you have always desired,” she said pointedly.

“Yet, Lydia is not you.” Wickham reached for Elizabeth's hand, and she snatched it away.

She was on her feet and pacing before him on the graveled path. “Why is it that men always want what they cannot have?” She growled in frustration. “Admittedly, while you were in Meryton, we developed a camaraderie, but did you not hear me say not ten minutes prior that my attraction to Mr. Darcy overruled my good sense through much of that time? Fortunately, I recognized the draw between Mr. Darcy and myself before I committed myself to another. What misery would I know to marry elsewhere while loving Fitzwilliam? I am persuaded that the obstinacy in your speech lies in your need to best Mr. Darcy. As Elizabeth Darcy, I am no longer the prize you seek.”

“Perhaps,” Wickham said softly. “Or perhaps not. I shall never convince you otherwise, so my tongue will offer no further protest. I pray, Mrs. Darcy, that you have not designed a punishment that will bring your sister more sorrow.”

Elizabeth could not hide her anguish. “Promise me that you shall accept Lydia's childlike qualities and treat her with a placid hand.”

“I will practice the utmost patience with my wife,” he said contritely. “Mayhap Mrs. Wickham and I will one day return to England richer than Croesus.”

Without allowing herself time for consideration, Elizabeth said, “If a fortune would permit you to know happiness, I shall pray daily for such an outcome.”

“And it is your contention, Mr. Darcy, that Lord Wotherspoon was unaware of his mother's actions?”

Darcy had not expected the courts to question him regarding Domhnall MacBethan's state of mind. “As Lord Wotherspoon was in England throughout the time these crimes occurred, I do not see how he would have had knowledge of Lady Wotherspoon's actions. Nor, from what I know of the man, would I believe that he would have approved of these heinous crimes. As my cousin and I discovered, Wotherspoon had made efforts to nurse the prisoners to health and to offer restitution for Dolina MacBethan's misdeeds.”

The court official asked, “Why, in your opinion, would Lord Wotherspoon leave behind a woman that he initially protected?”

Darcy settled his eyes on the defiant figure of Dolina MacBethan. She sat proud and disdainful, daring anyone to judge her—although judge her the courts would. “When confronted by her eldest son, Lady Wotherspoon admitted that she had delivered a fatal dose of poison that killed Lord Wotherspoon's former wife and his heir. Domhnall MacBethan expressed the fear that his mother would attempt a similar assault on the current Lady Wotherspoon. I assume from his actions and words that he no longer felt an allegiance to a woman who would betray his heart. As the newly minted Lady Wotherspoon is with child, the Earl removed his wife from his mother's influence.”

“The child not be a MacBethan,” Dolina MacBethan declared. “I saw an end to Coll MacBethan's line. “

“I be a MacBethan,” a man that Darcy did not recognize said emphatically.

“As am I,” Munro said flatly. “Ye tainted the name, but ye did not destroy the line. It survived Sawney Bean's madness, and it will survive McCullough's influence.”

Lady Wotherspoon shot to her feet as the judge tried to restore order. “Coll died slowly as I took me great delight in describing the shame I practiced on the family name,” she shouted above the melee.

“Be quiet!” The man Darcy recognized as the lady's brother, Oliver McCullough, warned. The village butcher's voice had silenced the turmoil. The man faced charges of complicity in the court action.

Dolina turned on the man. “Do not shush me, Oliver,” she hissed. “Ye know what Coll did to me. How he thought himself superior to anyone Lars McCullough sired.”

“It not be that way, gel,” McCullough murmured.

The woman extended her bound hands in supplication. “How be it, then?” she pleaded.

Before anyone could respond, a youth in dark clothing rose to his feet. “You killed my father.” The soft coldness of the young man's words stilled the courtroom.

Then Darcy saw the gun in the youth's hand. “No!” he shouted, but he was too late. The room filled with the pungent odor of gunpowder as Dolina MacBethan stood tall for one beat of the heart before she crumbled onto the courtroom floor.

Darcy saw the major general wrestle the gun from the youth as onlookers scattered toward the exit. He sprang from where he had given his statement to reach the MacBethan matron. Turning the woman over gently, he knew immediately that Dolina MacBethan had breathed her last. As he cradled her in his arms, Oliver McCullough broke away from his jailers and fought his way to the lady's side.

“Speak to me, gel,” he pleaded as he pressed his large hand to the gaping hole in the woman's chest. “Ye kinnae leave me, Dolina.”

“She is gone, McCullough,” Darcy said softly.

McCullough's eyes remained on the bloodied gown. Fresh blood seeped between his fingers as the Scot continued his useless ministration. “How will the sun rise tomorrow?” he asked the silent
room. “From the first moment I laid eyes upon her, she has owned me heart.”

The way the man grieved aloud spoke of something more intimate than what Darcy knew of Dolina MacBethan's relationship with her brother. Unable to control his curiosity, Darcy asked, “What was your true connection to Lady Wotherspoon?”

McCullough's eyes finally met his. “I suppose there be no reason for others not to know.” After a long pause, the Scot added, “Dolina be me daughter. I be but fourteen when Lars McCullough's whore invited me into her bed. My stepfather never knew the truth.” Tears misted the man's eyes, and he turned his head to hide his shame. “Lars claimed her, but Dolina be mine. Me daughter. Me sister. Me…”

“Your what?” Darcy encouraged.

The Scot glanced to where Islav MacBethan held his younger brother in a tight grip. Dolina's favorite son fought to be by his mother's side. “Mam!” he cried repeatedly. McCullough shook his head in disapproval, and Aulay ceased his struggle.

Darcy carefully watched the exchange before he asked, “Your lover?”

“She be everything. Beautiful. Magnificently defiant. Dolina refused to speak the more cultured tongue of her husband's family because she known it wud irritate Coll. At first, she be tryin' to be what the man wanted, but MacBethan tired of her before Domhnall be born. Then Coll, he drives me away. Although her husband placed many a woman in her stead, he wud not be denied'is husbandly rights. Yet, Dolina be havin' the final revenge. She saw Coll to ' is deathbed. Me gel cleverly ground glass into the smallest fragments and added them to her husband's meals—to 'is sauces, to 'is sausage, to 'is meat pies. Slowly, she cut out 'is heart from the inside—one small nick at a time.”

Darcy lowered the woman to the floor. One of the jailers had joined them to retrieve McCullough, and the court attendant opened a large handkerchief to cover Lady Wotherspoon's wound. Darcy handed his own linen to McCullough for the man's bloody hands.

“He hit her, you see,” McCullough continued. “Coll MacBethan often used his hand to discipline Dolina for her boldness, but he cudnae break her. In fact, me gel broke 'im. She destroyed the one thing Coll placed above all others: she exacerbated the scars on 'is family name. It be Dolina who delivered the final blow. She finds a means to bring scandal to Domhnall's front door. She loved her eldest son, but she hated him, both at the same time. Domhnall had escaped to England, ye see. Lars be placin' her in Coll's bed because he be wantin' the connection to the neighborhood's largest family. Lars wud have sold his own mother for the right price, and Domhnall be the result of Dolina's lying with Coll MacBethan. Her eldest be proof that she cud never escape Coll MacBethan's influence in this world.” He glanced at the quiet figure lying at his feet. “Perhaps she be knowin' peace in the next.”

Darcy doubted that Dolina MacBethan's soul would ever know peace—more likely the hell fires of which the Fundamentalist ministers preached. “How could a woman hate so deeply as to destroy her own children to spite a man?” Darcy asked incredulously.

McCullough shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “When Dolina decided on a path, she rarely veered. Aulay comes by the tendency honestly.”

“The youngest MacBethan will never call you
father
, but he is yours, nonetheless.” Darcy's voice spoke of his uncertainty.

McCullough said softly, “The boy must never know. Promise me that no one will tell Aulay the truth.”

Darcy glanced at the court official who remained by his side. The man nodded his agreement. “Only those who must know the truth will be apprised,” Darcy assured. “Now, you should go with this gentleman.” He gestured toward the bailiff. McCullough stood slowly and offered his hands in surrender. The court attendant led the butcher away.

Darcy looked up to see Edward advising the attorneys regarding the youth who had killed Dolina MacBethan. Exhausted by the exertion, he staggered to his feet. This journey had taken its toll on his sense of right and wrong. “Pray tell me Edinburgh will not prosecute the youth,” he said with great effort.

Edward nodded to where the jailers escorted the young man through the door leading to the cells. “At least, they have listened to my plea in the youth's behalf. We will see to his reform. I have warranted a position at Alpin for the him and his mother if the authorities agree to release him into Mr. Jacks's care. Losing their father has plunged the family into penury. The government has sent his brothers and sisters to two separate homes.”

“I despise this system of punishing those who are already suffering with the worst that society can bring them. How is it justice to sentence a man whose family is starving to transportation when he steals a loaf of bread for his children? There must be a better way.”

Edward shook his head in disbelief. “Will this madness upon which we have stumbled never end? Too much grief. Too many deaths. No resolution.”

“Despite your desire to create a memorable beginning for your joining, I fear the details of this case will forever cloud our thoughts of Galloway,” Darcy observed.

“If I am to assume the duties of the Countess's familial inheritance, I would imagine there will be multiple instances when the outside world intrudes on my marital bliss. Our seeing through the
twists and turns of this most unfortunate excursion into the Scottish Uplands will be a good test of my wife's mettle,” Edward rejoined.

Darcy said grimly, “Yet, life should never presume precedence over the time you and my sister share. Promise me that Georgiana and your children will always take prominence.”

There was a quiet dignity about his cousin. Darcy had always recognized Edward Fitzwilliam's integrity, but this convoluted race across southern Scotland to save Georgiana had proved the man's real worth. His cousin would never compromise his beliefs.

“I promise to cherish Georgiana above all others. Your sister and the child she carries remain my priority.”

“Then you will do well, Cousin. Everything else will either fall in line or fall to the wayside.” The sound of heavy footfalls drew their attention. “Let us finish this. I am suddenly in great need of holding my wife and child. A man can never know when God will call him to his heavenly home. Therefore, he must cling to each moment of earthly joy.”

“I, personally, have tempted Fate for the last time.” Edward averted his face, and Darcy suspected his cousin fought his personal grief. “Give me the contented life of the landed gentry.”

HE AND ELIZABETH, along with the Reverend Mr. and Mrs. Winkler, waited on Pemberley's main steps for Georgiana's traveling coach to appear. It had been seven weeks since he had held his sister in his arms and bade her farewell at Alpin Hall. On that day, his wife had played light with him because he had embraced Georgiana three times before finally settling in his coach to travel to Newton Stewart.