Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (65 page)

“No, he wanted to be free of her so that he could find a wife.  He was preparing her to come out, preparing her to marry and leave Pemberley!”  He cried as the opium took effect and the fingers of confusion and euphoria combined with the alcohol to recapture his senses.  “My little girl . . .”

Carson stared; he had never seen his master react so quickly and so violently to the laudanum before. 
It is only a little more than I gave him at the dinner the other night! It should calm him!

“Is the carriage ready?”  Judge Darcy demanded.

“Sir . . .” He reached to grab his master’s arm and knew he would lose his position if he tried again.

“Get the carriage!”  He barked as the powerful drug took complete control.  “Quickly!”

“Shall I come with you?”  He flinched from the glare.  “Yes, sir.”   

LORD MATLOCK TILTED HIS HEAD back as his valet scraped the last of the stubble from his face and wrinkled his nose, resisting the urge to scratch.  “Are you finished?”

“Yes, sir.”  Morris applied a damp towel and wiped him clean.  Glancing at the door, he saw a maid standing with a paper in her hand.  He nodded and setting it down, she disappeared. 

Lord Matlock stood and was feeling his face when he was handed the note.  “What is this?”  He opened the page as his valet took his robe by the shoulders and pulled it away.  “Let me read this first, Morris.” 

“Pardon me, sir.”  He murmured and kept working. 

“Watch the arm!” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Lord Matlock muttered under his breath about ungrateful servants and concentrated on the note.  His brow creased.  “Good heavens.  Darcy!  Ow!”  He glared at his valet.

“Forgive me, sir.” 

“Sir?  Colonel Fitzwilliam is on his way up.” 

“Naturally.”  He nodded at the footman and waving his valet away, he returned his attention to the paper. 

“There you are.”  Richard appeared.  “Where have you been?  I expected a summons after . . . Ah, I see that you did receive it.”

“I returned late last night.”  Lord Matlock said gruffly.  “What is this news?  Darcy was ill?”

“Very.  I stopped at Darcy House and had a talk with the servants.  They were still beside themselves.  Father, we very nearly lost him.”

“From my port?  That cannot be!”  Lord Matlock stared at the note and back at his son.  “I tasted it myself!”

“Yes, you . . . did not happen to drop anything into it in the process, did you?”  The tone of Richard’s voice struck his father and his mouth dropped open.

“You are joking!”  Looking to his valet, he sent his son a significant glare, removing the robe as Morris stood placidly by with his shirt.  Richard stared at his arm.

“Good Lord, Father, what happened to you?”    They both looked at the enormous bruise, now yellow instead of the deep purple it once was. 

“Well, I have learned my lesson, never stand within striking distance of my sister when she is angry and armed with her walking stick.  Particularly the one with the silver knob.” 

“She hit you?”  Richard smiled and then laughed.  “Why am I not surprised?”

“You should not be.”  He tucked his shirt into his breeches and buttoned the fall.  “She is a witch when she does not get her way.”

“And her way was related to my cousin.”

“Naturally.”   Sighing, he stood still while his neck cloth was tied and then shooing away his valet, he closed the door, turning back to his son.  “Now, what is this about?  I assure you, I have no desire to poison my nephew.   How could you think of such a thing?  What earthly reason would I have for harming him?”

“He became ill directly after drinking that port.”

Lord Matlock’s eyes rolled.  “Of all people I do not envision Darcy gulping down an entire bottle.  Besides, the man is enormous; it would have to contain enough to take down a bull to have such a small amount affect him.  On top of that, there is too much risk!  There is no telling how many others might have shared the bottle; it could have taken many lives.  Perhaps a little poison, every day over time . . .”

Richard looked at him askance, “You seem to have a great deal of knowledge of such things.”

“Hmm?”  He waved his hand, “Oh, just arsenic.”

“Oh,
just
. . .”  Richard leaned on a wall and crossed his arms, waiting expectantly. 

Lord Matlock sighed.  “Very well, you might as well know.  I have remained in London trying to find help for your brother, someone who might come to Matlock discreetly.”

“For?”

“He is addicted.”

“Opium?”

“I would not be surprised, but . . . he breathes in arsenic.”  He shot a look at his astonished son.  “Euphoria, I’ve heard is the feeling.  Requiring greater and greater doses to achieve it.”

“He is snuffing inheritance powder?  I have heard of idiotic women ingesting it to whiten their skin, but my brother . . .”  Richard was stunned, “Well, that is surely convenient to me, should he decide to die that way.”

“He will not die unless he goes overboard one day.  His tolerance now would probably kill a household in one shot.  ‘The king of poisons, the poison of kings’.”  Shrugging, he sat in the shaving chair and rubbed his hand over his face.  “Who knows, maybe it
will
kill him, but I wager he will die from syphilis or its cure long before the arsenic takes him.  He has begun chasing it with laudanum to deal with the physical damage . . .”  He saw his son’s interest, “Intestinal dramas.”  Richard coughed and he continued, “I just cannot control him every second, when he gets on these . . . bouts of euphoria; he squanders away whatever is marketable in his reach, he is unrecognizable.  I do not think that he even knows what he does, his moods swing wildly as his body uses up the dose.  Thank God he cannot touch the contents of Matlock, but his own home is practically bare to the walls.”

“Pardon?” 

Nodding, Lord Matlock crossed his arms.  “I knew he was running through his allowance and had a gambling habit for years, but I only just found out the extent of this mess.  Your mother received a note from his housekeeper at Gladney.  She had no funds to pay the staff, and the steward said they just barely had enough from the rents to cover the taxes and pay the bills.  Your brother has nothing to live on, so now his keep falls to me.   He has returned to Matlock, a baby again at the ripe age of two and thirty.  I pray that I do not have to touch Cathy’s dowry to fix this.  What am I saying?  I am sure that your mother’s settlement prevents it.  I will have to speak to Easterly again . . .”  He sighed as his voice trailed away.

“So you had been trying to marry Cathy to Darcy since he did not need her dowry, and this is why you mentioned marrying Albert to Georgiana.  Keep it in the family and get some support from Pemberley while you are at it.  No entailment to keep Darcy from selling off some bits and pieces to give you a loan?”  His father nodded.  “I surmised as much with Darcy one time.  I will tell you Father, he would not stand for any of that, and I cannot believe you would curse such a fate upon a niece you love.”

“I know, he . . . Oh never mind.  I have nearly ruined my relationship with Darcy because of your damned brother.”  He looked up to Richard.  “But I truly do have hopes for you, Son.  Georgiana would be a perfect match for you.” 

Richard ignored him.  “Well, if nothing else, I am glad to know you did not try to kill Darcy. Although thinking of you working over that bottle did seem a little suspicious.  You put an inferior port in there, did you not, Father?  And this gift was to gain Albert a wife?”  He smiled and Lord Matlock shook his head.  “I wonder what
did
sicken him?”

“Who knows, an underdone potato, perhaps?”  Lord Matlock suggested and Richard snorted.  “Well the rest of you were fine, it seems to me that he would have been fine as well if he had not been alone and fallen down when he was sick.  Bad luck, that.  Good luck that he was found in time.  He is well now?”

“Yes, it seemed to be out of him by morning according to Lowry, he was just left exhausted.  Thankfully. It truly was touch and go.” Richard said grimly, “Elizabeth, I understand, was terrified when she was alone; and a tower of strength when she was with him.” He nodded to his surprised father.  “The servants were very impressed with her, which is saying something.  They will be arriving at Pemberley tomorrow.” 

“Well then, I will be impressed as well.  I wonder what your mother would have done, finding me in such a state.”  He looked at Richard and seeing his raised brow, cleared his throat   “I think that I have achieved as much here as I can.  I stayed far longer than I expected.  What say we journey back together?”  He stood and picked up his waistcoat, slipping it on and buttoning it up.  “I will write to your mother, we can all meet up at Pemberley Sunday morning.” 

“Leave Friday, then?  Do you mind including Samuel?”

“What of his father?” 

“Not coming, I understand.”

“Odd.”

“His prerogative.”

“Very well, then.”  Lord Matlock donned his coat and looked over himself in the mirror.  “I will write to your mother, you write to Darcy . . . oh, and please give assurances that I did not attempt to poison him.” 

“I will.”  Richard smiled.  “Shall I have him prepare a bowl of arsenic for my dear brother?  Perhaps some laudanum to chase it down?”

“Do not let Judge Darcy hear you say that!  He will stretch your neck without a blink!  He has always had a fury for the Fitzwilliams.  Or maybe he just has a fury for everyone.  I have to say I am relieved that this return to Pemberley will not include two frowning Darcys.”  Shaking his head, he smiled.  “Tell your cousin to keep a close count on the silver with your brother in the house!”  Lord Matlock laughed and slapped Richard’s back when he groaned.  “Come on, share a meal with your father, you have the time, do you not?”

“I am at your disposal, sir.” 

WICKHAM HEARD THE KEY turning in the lock of his prison’s door.  Sick and nearly starving, he did not have the strength to even pretend bravado anymore.  If they were there to kill him, he wished they would just get on with it. 

“Still alive, I see.”  The familiar deep voice greeted him. 

Hearing no response, the judge took a chair then nodded to the guard.  A long pole was employed to knock down the black cloth that covered the window high in the basement wall.  Wickham squinted and shielded his eyes.  “I thought you had forgotten about me.”

“Oh, no.  I will never forget you.”

Wickham heard a slur in his speech and focussing on his face, noticed that he appeared to be agitated, and again, his eyes seemed very odd, the pupils were tiny.  “I heard that Mrs. Younge is dead.”

“Yesss.”

“Did you have something to do with that?”  He asked carefully.  “Christmas here won’t tell me.”

Mr. Christmas shrugged when the judge’s gaze turned to him.  “You said to keep him scared.”

“So I did.”  He looked back to Wickham.  “No, I only wanted to know your whereabouts.  I cannot say that I felt any sympathy when I heard the news; she was as responsible for Georgiana’s situation as you.  Whoever did me the favour, I applaud.” 

“She encouraged Georgiana; she gave me opportunities, but did not act as I did.”

“And yet, she is dead.”  He paused and Wickham imagined a noose closing around his throat.  “I told you I had an iron in the fire, I still do, I believe.”  He looked off into the distance and his voice softened as he seemed to talk to himself, “I want my son to marry Georgiana, unfortunately in his opinion, there are impediments.  I raised him to be honourable . . . and so he is.” 

Wickham threw caution aside, “Why cannot some other girl with a dowry satisfy your ambition for him?  Why must it be Georgiana?  Why did you want me to . . .”

In an instant the judge’s anger flared and he snarled, “That is not your concern!  Your treatment of my niece proves that you do not care for her.  Do not pretend interest now.”

“But Darcy surely would have agreed to the marriage . . .”

“I have no doubt that it would have been easily arranged if it were not for you!  If her cousin will not have her, who will?  Do you think that she will ever recover from what you did to her?  A kiss!  A kiss was all that I asked for!  Do you think that any good man will want her now?  You have ruined her, utterly.”  He stared down at his hands and muttered, “I wanted her to stay at home, but not this way.  I must make this up to her.  I must put this right.”

“How?”   Wickham asked warily.

Judge Darcy refocused on Wickham.  “I want her married to a good man, a good man who deserves the best after accepting the burden of a ruined woman as his wife.  A good man who was permanently shut out of his ancestral home.”  His voice lowered, “Georgiana is the living heir to Pemberley.”

Wickham blinked in the face of the intoxicated man whose strange eyes bore into him.  “What are you saying?   Do you mean to kill Darcy?  But you love him, I know you do!”

“I do, I love him and admire him, and wish he was my child.”  The man’s voice faltered and a spark of competence seemed to return to his eyes, and then his voice dropped again as a war of emotions fought across his face.  “I do this for my son, who I love with all my being.  And my niece, who I love as my own daughter.”  He sat back.  “It is in your hands.”

“Me?”  Wickham climbed shakily to his feet.  “Look . . . You were right when you said that Darcy never did anything to hurt me.  I did that to myself.  I was jealous and I was stupid.  I could be quite comfortable now if I hadn’t thrown it all away.  I will not do this!”

“Wickham . . .”  He sighed tiredly.  “You will.”

“No, I will not!”  Wickham declared.

“Then I will tell Darcy that I have found you.”  Leaning forward, he whispered, “What do you think he has imagined nightly since you took his sister away?  And remember, he is not alone in his fury.”  Seeing Wickham’s stance fail, he sat back again.  “Self preservation is stronger than bravery?”  He nodded when Christmas snorted.

“Not to be a pest, sir, but you never said nothin’ ‘bout no murder.  You said for me to keep him good and scared for a few months to pay him back, then we’d turn ‘im over to the colonel.”  Christmas tilted his head and watched the judge.  “That was the deal, I play the jailer and you get my brother off that boat to Australia.  Not that I care, I will kill anyone, but it will cost you extra.”