Ruined Forever

by D. L. Carter

  Bingley frowned. “Her father might refuse. He has an idea that Miss Elizabeth must stay visible in the village.”

  “Yes, but even she might enjoy a vacation from judgmental and inquisitive stares. A week or two of rest would set her up forever.”

  “I shall propose the visit, but how does that aide you, Darcy?”

  “I am not yet ready to discuss my plan. Only know that it helps me.”

  “Then it shall be done.”

  The two men shook hands.

  ***

  “To London? For a month?” repeated Jane. “How wonderfully kind of Mr. Darcy.” The elder Bennet sister turned to the next in line. “Is this not wonderful, Lizzy?”

  “I am not surprised,” said Elizabeth, smiling at her brother-to-be. “We already know that Mr. Darcy might hide behind a dour, silent demeanor, but he is very considerate.”

  “Yes, he is,” said Mr. Bingley. “Never has a fellow had a better friend. And you, Miss Elizabeth. What are your plans for after the wedding?”

  “My plans?” asked Elizabeth, astonished. “I have no particular plans.”

  “I only ask, as my dearest Jane has said how much you both enjoy the London theater. We shall be in London for several weeks…”

  “I could not impose on your privacy,” said Elizabeth, blushing at the thought.

  Also her calm was disturbed by the prospect of going to Mr. Darcy’s London House. Even if the gentleman was not there, it seemed an intimate imposition. He had, after all, asked for her hand. To visit the house in London that might have been her home, or one of them, at Bingley’s invitation and in Mr. Darcy’s absence was impossible!

  What would he think of her, if she entered that building? Would he believe her investigating his wealth? No. No. Impossible. She could not go.

  And oh, how the memory of the scene in Longbourn lane burned in her heart. His manner, so sincere. His face, so deeply loved. He put her in the dreadful position of having to refuse him. Honor, integrity, and love demanded she decline. He was promised, bound to another woman. A woman of his own sphere. A woman his family approved. An alliance respectable in both rank and fortune.

  But he had offered for her. It must have been a work of impulse. He was caught up by the romance of the scene. Alone with a young lady, one whose reputation and person he had protected. What else would she expect of a man who regarded himself as her knight? The knight’s traditional reward was the hand of the young maiden.

  What else could he have expected her to do but decline? Even without the scandal haunting her family, she was too far beneath him to consider. Certainly Lady Catherine would not rest until she had driven them apart.

  No. She would spare herself the agony of considering the proposal more. She would turn her gaze toward the future and be content.

  “You might return to London with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner,” suggested Jane. “They would be pleased to see you, and you could benefit from a holiday. Then we might meet up from time to time and see the sights.”

  “My dear Jane. You are too good. This is your time, and I would not for all the world impose on you. Go to London with all my good wishes, and I shall look forward to calling upon you at Netherfield when you return.”

  Elizabeth considered the matter settled. Shortly thereafter she was called into her Father’s bookroom.

  “Dear girl, I have just had an interesting conversation with your brother, Bingley.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, he has issued an invitation to you, Lizzy.”

  “To go to London. Yes, he mentioned it to me, and I have already declined.”

  “I think you should reconsider.”

  Lizzy paused, frowning. “Have we not already spoken of how I cannot leave the neighborhood? You said I might not even spend a day ill for the next year least someone being spreading the tale I have miscarried a natural child.”

  “Yes, I know. But Bingley has been unusually observant. He says you have shown some strain. You are pale and smile less. That cannot continue, my dear. I will not have them spreading the tale that you are fading away from grief or guilt.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and her father laughed.

  “Besides, it has occurred to me you might take the opportunity to refresh your wardrobe.”

  “Wardrobe!” Elizabeth stared. “Who are you and what have you done with my Papa?”

  Mr. Bennet laughed, and for a moment his complexion had more color, his form more strength.

  “What? You think I could have lived for years with your mother’s discussions of lace and fashion and not learned a thing or two?” He chuckled and reached out to take Elizabeth's hand. “My reasoning, if you will hear it, is this. You will be the eldest of my daughters at home, and, more, you are my heir. It will be necessary as time passes for you to speak as my representative to the tenants as well as the local gentry. You should dress and conduct yourself in the manner of a person of authority and property. The colors of a delicate child are no longer appropriate. You should dress as a matron. You are of age, or will be soon enough. You and Jane should go about to a few of the better modistes in town and chose clothing of a more mature stamp. Your aunt Gardiner can advise you. And, if it will not shock you further, you might consider having your skirts cut in the current narrow fashion. I still wish to discourage gossip about imminent grandchildren.”

  “Papa, I am all astonishment!”

  Her father waved a finger at her, then reached into a drawer of his desk to take out a purse.

  “Here, this should see you set up well. Do not stint and remember to fetch back presents for your sisters. They might not deserve them, but it would be a kindness nevertheless.”

  Elizabeth gasped as she opened the purse and when she would have handed it back, her father raised his hand.

  “It is your money, Lizzy, not mine. I have spoken to your Uncle Gardiner. He will withdraw your share of your Mother’s money from the Exchange. After Mary and Lydia’s tuition has been paid this will be what remains.”

  “It has occurred to me, what of Kitty? I do not want her to be neglected.”

  “When you return from London, Kitty shall go in your place and spend a summer with the Gardiners. She will be happy enough. They have some plan to go touring, scenic places that will satisfy your artistic sister. Your mother was not willing for her to go to London until you and Jane were wed, but now, well, things have changed. Now, is the matter settled?”

  “Indeed, papa.” Lizzy crossed the room to kiss his cheek then ran to her room to shed a few tears. She could not think why it was necessary. She was happy. Jane was to marry a man she loved. Mary and Lydia were to go to school where they might learn sense, and Kitty… Lizzy promised herself she would speak to her Aunt about Kitty’s love of portraiture. Kitty would be well taken care of, introduced to people who shared her interests, and one day would marry.

  And she, Elizabeth, would be the daughter to stay at home and care for her Mother and Father.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It is not to be assumed that Lydia Bennet accepted her ongoing imprisonment well. She threw shoes at the maids, went about sullen and scowling, and sulked when she was told she would not have a new dress and bonnet for Jane’s wedding, nor go to the ball, which followed.

  Despite her poor behavior she was not without aid and comfort, for Mrs. Phillips had been granted access to Longbourn, the better to aid Mrs. Bennet in preparations for the wedding.

  A few tears, a few sullen remarks about unfeeling fathers and young love, and Mrs. Phillips was more than happy to carry notes between Lydia and Mr. Wickham. She was not able to swear that Wickham read those notes, or even swear they were received, for Colonel Forster, once he calculated the extend of Wickham’s debts, had confined the villain to barracks and Mrs. Phillips must impose on other officers to carry the notes the last few paces.

  The notes had, indeed, reached Wickham and provided a few moments of distraction.

  Lacking any access to entertai
nment, Wickham spent most of his time when not marching, practicing his martial skills or memorizing the Army’s General Orders, resting alone in his cold bed.

  He did not care that Lydia’s misbehavior had resulted in her being condemned to school. The silly flirts' attempt at an elopement had resulted in Wickham’s own strict imprisonment. Even before Lydia claimed he desired to elope with her, the militia had lost its shine for Wickham. The colonel had written to the Army office describing Wickham’s inherent untrustworthiness, which meant promotion and more money was unlikely. His pay was to be garnished until his debts were paid. None of his fellow officers would include him in their games of chance. Even Denny had abandoned him for other companionship. Altogether Wickham felt it was time for him to leave the militia and Hertfordshire for more promising fields of play.

  Except.

  Wickham picked up the last note from Lydia.

  Lizzy Bennet was now her father’s acknowledged heir. Heir to Longbourn and its reliable two thousand a year.

  Not Jane who was to marry Bingley, but Elizabeth! Wickham smiled. There was something about her unusual coloring that hinted of passions and possibilities. Lydia was a perfectly acceptable flirt and he would not mind testing the limits of what that foolish girl would permit, but Lizzy, there was a woman worth the knowing – biblically!

  The most important piece of news from Lydia was the legally binding document that declared Elizabeth the heir of Longbourn. Lizzy's devoted father would not change that will. Not even if another scandal threatened his dearest daughter.

  No.

  Especially if there was another scandal!

  Which meant of all the Bennet sisters the one most in danger from Wickham was Elizabeth.

  Wickham threw off his covers and rose from his bed. A sullen servant, who had not received payment from Wickham for more than a month, responded slowly to his demand for pen and paper but soon enough a love note from Wickham was passing from hand to hand toward Longbourn.

  There was still a way for foolish little Lydia to be useful.

  ***

  The wedding ball and wedding breakfast were great successes. Many tears were shed by Mrs. Bennet, and all the other mothers of daughters who watched yet another man of good fortune go to another family. Immediately after the cake was sliced and divided up for young ladies to lay beneath their pillows - or even eat - the newlyweds departed. Jane waved her new lace kerchief from the window of Bingley’s carriage until the guest-filled drive was out of sight. Mrs. Bennet continued to wave until her husband took her gently by the arm and escorted her back inside.

  Miss Caroline Bingley returned to London in company with her brother-in-law Hurst and her sister. Their conversation centered entirely on the necessity of a new wardrobe to display Caroline to her best effect when in company with the Countess of Matlock.

  Darcy, as he planned on departing ahorseback, took his leave of all the Bennet family early in the day. Bowing over Elizabeth’s hand under the watchful eye of her father, he said and did nothing more than was required to acknowledge the joyous event. It took all of his considerable self-control not to look into Elizabeth’s eye searching for some sign of increased regard or sorrow. Leaving her behind was harder each time and he longed for the time when they would travel together.

  If his suit was blessed.

  He had a plan. Bingley assured him Elizabeth would be traveling to London with her aunt and uncle, staying for two weeks only.

  Two weeks. Darcy nodded to himself. If that was all the time he had then he would put the days to best use.

  First he had to respond to the earl’s request for more information about the Bennet family and recruit the Countess to his aid.

  Or, perhaps there was someone else who might provide a more definitive solution.

  ***

  On arrival at Matlock House, Darcy was astonished to be greeted by the butler with a command to attend upon the earl.

  “He was quite insistent, Mr. Darcy,” said the aged retainer. “No matter the hour, the day or other persons present, Lord Matlock said. When Darcy returns we are to meet that instant.”

  “Well then, if that is the case, where is the Earl?”

  “Dining with the Countess,” was the reply. “If you will await him in his study I shall have a tray brought to you.”

  “If you will. Thank you.”

  Darcy barely had time to pace the length of the study once before the earl appeared.

  “It is good you have returned, Darcy. I wanted to send you a message, but my wife insisted you be permitted to celebrate your friend’s wedding without distraction. And, to be fair, you have given a great deal of your time to this case and it was difficult to speak, let alone write it all in a letter.”

  “Uncle, you do not look well. Is there anything I can offer for your present relief? A glass of wine?”

  The earl patted Darcy on the arm and gave a weak smile. “You are a good lad and I am proud to know you, but no, not wine. Not now.”

  “What is the problem? You do look ill.”

  “Illness. That is what we always thought. We believed Catherine when she said the girl had been born sickly. Not for a moment did we suspect …”

  “Dear God, uncle, what is it? You begin to worry me.”

  Lord Matlock sank into a wingback chair and waved Darcy into its twin.

  “Lad, the case is this, and simply stated. The doctor we asked to examine our Anne took away those potions and pills that Catherine ordered be given to Anne and tested them. He found, oh, dear God, he found arsenic!”

  “Arsenic?”

  “Not a large enough dose to kill immediately. And yes, I know some foolish women take it to improve their complexion, but in Anne’s case, Catherine has been giving it to Anne on and off again for years.”

  “Oh, dear God,” gasped Darcy. “Her own daughter? How could she?”

  “To hear her tell it it is all your fault, Darcy,” said Lord Matlock. “If you had married Anne as you should have, years ago, then it would not have been necessary for Catherine to continue the treatment. The arsenic was supposed to improve her looks while engaging your sympathy. Catherine firmly believes that the combination would have inspired love in you and a desire to protect and nurture her. But the years passed and you refused to be drawn in and…”

  “And the poisoning continued. Oh, poor Anne.”

  The two men sat in silence as a distant clock ticked both lost in thoughts of lost opportunities and deep guilt.

  “I must know,” said Darcy. “What says the doctor now?”

  “I suspect I know what you mean. My first question when the doctor explained it to me was, if we stop the arsenic would Anne recover? The man was quite pessimistic. Anne’s health is not the best and she is fading while I watch. I do not believe we have the time for the poison to leave her body.”

  “Does Anne know?”

  “Yes. Yes.” The earl drew a deep breath and added. “And the magistrate. At first the man would not believe me. Insisted that no mother would be so unnatural as to poison her own child, but Catherine boasted of it, blamed you, as you can expect. She placed the blame on Mrs. Jenkins not showing the proper care with the dose and her cook for not tempting Anne’s appetite and her husband for dying and not being faithful. In fact she placed the blame on everyone except herself. And that, it seems, was the last straw for the magistrate. As of this morning Anne and her inheritance has been placed in my care and Catherine is on her way back to Rosings to spend the rest of her life alone.”

  “I must speak with Anne.”

  “Oh, indeed. And she wishes to speak to you, but I had to tell you before you saw her.”

  “Tell me what?” Darcy paused, then clenched his hands before him. “She does not want to marry me?”

  “No. God no! That is not possible.”

  “Very well. I shall hold myself available to her at any time.”

  “She is awake now, Darcy. I was speaking to her before I came downstairs to dine.”
>
  “I shall send a maid up to verify.”

  “Darcy,” called Lord Matlock, just as Darcy achieved the door. “You should know your Aunt Catherine still insists that a marriage to you will cure all Anne’s ills. You might ask your secretary to be on the lookout for letters with her seal. Spare yourself the pain. Have the man burn all correspondence from her.”

  “I shall exercise due care. Thank you for the advice.”

  The earl watched him go and sank back in the chair. Like as not Darcy would receive those letters. Would read them. Would consider answering them. Poor lad. Someone had told him, family was all important was paramount, when he was young and impressionable and had done him no favors thereby.

  Oh, wait. That person had been Lady Catherine.

  ***

  The sick room held that aroma that was both: burning lozenges: the sickly scent of medicines, and that odd, distinctive, odor of internal decay, of a person dying from within.

  Darcy composed his features while the maid assisted an unfamiliar nursemaid to lift Anne into a seated position.

  Now that he had met Miss Jane Bennet, now Mrs. Bingley, he knew the beauty of a true English rose. While Anne had the porcelain skin, blue eyes, and long blonde hair she was a pale, ill shadow of true beauty. Nothing her mother could do could give Anne the glow of confidence, joy, and health that Jane had in abundance.

  Poor Anne.

  It had not been an English Rose Darcy’s heart had been waiting for. It had taken a pair of fine brown eyes and hair of chestnut hue to capture him.

  “Darcy, my friend,” whispered Anne when she was settled against a bank of pillows. “Please come a sit a moment.”

  “Anne, how are you? Please tell me if there is anything I might do for you.”

  She gave him a faint smile as she took his warm hands in both her chilled ones.