Reginald Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Matlock, and his oldest son Andrew Fitzwilliam, Viscount Hilldale, arrived at Rosings Park just before luncheon. They asked the long serving, and long suffering, butler Mr Lipton to announce them to the great lady as she sat on her ‘throne’ surveying her ‘kingdom.’
“Lord Matlock and Viscount Hilldale to see you, your ladyship,” the butler announced and then turned and withdrew from the drawing room.
“Reggie. Andrew. What brings you to my home on this day?” Lady Catherine’s suspicions were aroused as her brother and his heir were very rarely visitors at Rosings Park, and certainly not on an unscheduled visit.
“Where is Anne, Cat?” Lord Matlock demanded.
“You know that I do not like that name and never have Reggie! Why must you persist on using that appellation? It is so undignified! My daughter is resting in her chambers. As you are well aware, she is of weak constitution and needs to rest as much as possible,” Lady Catherine frowned deeply.
“Please summon her, Cat,” her older brother requested. Lady Catherine understood that it was an order, not a request. She saw that her brother was in no mood to brook opposition, so she allowed the subject of her name to drop, for now. She pulled a bell and when Mrs Marjorie Barlow, the housekeeper, stepped in, she was ordered to send for Miss de Bourgh and her companion Mrs Jenkinson. The housekeeper curtsied and left the drawing room.
There was no conversation while the three waited for Anne and her companion to join them. About ten minutes later, Anne de Bourgh entered the drawing room looking as wan as to be expected with her companion supporting her arm as if she could not support herself. As soon as she noticed her Uncle Reggie and Cousin Andrew standing in the far corner of the room, the most miraculous change came over her. She brightened up with happiness at seeing her relatives and her whole countenance changed to that of an alert and happy young lady. Lady Catherine watched the transformation with her mouth hanging open. ‘This is impossible! Mr Tetley would never defy me. He has still been supplying the tincture to keep her sick, has he not?’ Lady Catherine tried to assure herself, but could not understand the instantaneous change that her daughter made before her eyes.
“Uncle, Andrew, you have come! You received my letter! I am so relieved,” Anne practically bounced on her toes in excitement.
“You will respect me as your mother, Anne. What is this nonsense? How dare you write a letter without me reading it first?” Lady Catherine hissed at her daughter.
“Catherine, why has Anne been sick all of these years? It seemed to suddenly start right after my late brother Lewis passed. Until his passing, she was a normal and vivacious young lady. Can you explain it, or should we ask your quack you pass off as a physician, Mr Tetley, how you have been paying him to give Anne a tincture that made her sick for years? What was your plan, Catherine? That at some point if you were not able to force a marriage to Darcy that she would conveniently pass from her ‘illness’? How could you do such a thing to your own daughter?” Lord Matlock demanded.
“What is this stuff and nonsense that you are talking about Reggie? I have done no such thing. And you well know Darcy is betrothed to Anne; his mother and hers agreed to it when they were in their cradles,” the imperious lady exclaimed, as if it being said louder gave it more validity.
“Lady Catherine,” Anne addressed her despicable mother with anger, “Maud overheard a conversation of yours with your quack almost two years ago when you instructed him to start increasing the dose of the agent that made me seem sick. That way if I passed, no one would question why. You are disgusting in your avarice, and that you would be willing in this way to steal what is mine, which is Rosings Park!” Before a shocked Lady Catherine could interject, Anne proceeded. “I was biding my time until my fifth and twentieth birthday, the age that is stated in Papa’s genuine will that at that age, I am to inherit Rosings Park regardless of my married state.
“Ever since your dastardly plan was made known to me, that vile poison that your quack has been giving me has been replaced with a harmless cordial. Your horrendous treatment of the servants made it very easy for me to gain their trust and loyalty.” Anne addressed her with the authority as the mistress of Rosings Park deserves when she is respected. And to Catharine’s greater upset, the head of her family responded before she could take care of it her way.
“You disgust me, Catherine. You still try and perpetuate the lie of a cradle betrothal between Darcy and Anne when we all know other than in your own mind, it is pure fiction. Darcy was two when Anne was born so how could it even be possible? Also, I have letters from both Anne and George that refute your words and George codified it in his will that Darcy would be denied permission to marry Anne unless they both desired the union with no reference to your wishes.” He had much more to say but waited as Catherine digested that.
“That is a relief. I can hug my cousin as a cousin without her expectations being considered.” Anne smiled brightly and Andrew chuckled in the background. As relieved as the Earl was at the sign of life from his niece, he had a much larger issue on his hands that needed addressing before he hugged Anne himself.
“Do you think that we do not know about the forged will that you tout as evidence that Rosings Park is yours?” Reggie interrupted Catherine’s almost interruption. “I have the real one, held by Lewis’s solicitors in London, and Anne has a copy as well. Did you think that the copy you found and destroyed was the only copy? My brother knew what you were and put protections in place. The only reason that you have pursued the fable of a betrothal between William and Anne is that it is your desire to claim Pemberley’s fortune. You have run Rosings Park into the ground, buying every useless and gaudy bauble that you could. You think it makes you look rich and powerful; all it does is make you look ridiculous.” He corrected her delusion.
Lady Catherine looked from face to face and clearly saw the disgust she had never before was directed at her and it shook her to her core as this was her worst nightmare, to be so dismissed as George Darcy had long ago and chosen her perfect sister. With a determination to return things to the way she expected, she tried to bluster her way through as things always happened as she deigned, did they not?
“You know not what you are about, Reggie. I would never do what you have accused me of and you have no proof to contradict me.” As she said this, she was thinking of how to find Anne’s copy and there were other loose ends. ‘I need to get rid of that fool Tetley before my interfering brother talks to him.’
“No proof? Lipton,” the Earl called, “please come in here.”
“Yes, my lord.” He bowed to Lord Matlock, grateful to witness this long-deserved scene as his reward for dealing with her all these years and secretly helping Anne as much as was possible.
“Is Tetley here?” Lord Matlock demanded.
“Just outside this drawing room my lord, in the company of two footmen.” Lipton agreed gleefully.
“Send him in please, Lipton.” Lipton bowed to the Earl and turned to leave the room.
“H-h-how d-d-dare you…” Catherine started to panic as there was no way she could get rid of him while her brother and his heir were in the same room.
“How dare I what?” Lord Matlock yelled at his sister, who finally seemed to realise she was not in control. “You claimed there was no proof, but here is the proof walking through the door. You,” Lord Matlock indicated the larger of the two footmen who accompanied a quite terrified Tetley into the drawing room, “stand next to Lady Catherine and if she attempts to stand or exit the room you may restrain her however you see fit.” The malevolent gleam in the footman’s eye was not missed by anyone. No, Lady Catherine had done herself no favours in her ill treatment of her servants.
“I-I-I will not …” The former great lady spluttered.
“Be quiet, Catherine. For once you will listen to others and not your own grating voice.” As he was about to continue, Lipton approached him and whispered that the Hunsford parson, Mr William Collins, had arrived for his daily meeting with his patroness. The Earl instructed Lipton to show Collins in. “Mr Lipton please introduce us to this man.”
“Lord Matlock, Lord Hilldale, the reverend Collins of the Hunsford Parish, Mr Collins, his Lordship Reginald Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock, and his Lordship Andrew Fitzwilliam, Viscount Hilldale.” Lipton left the drawing room with his duty done.
“Your Lordships,” Collins genuflected so low that he almost kissed the ground as the two Fitzwilliam men were amused that their relation had found a capital sycophant this time.
“What is your purpose here, Mr Collins?” the Earl demanded.
