“Right away, my Lord,” Lipton answered as he exited the drawing room.
With the drama of Mr Collin’s expiration, everyone had forgotten Lady Catherine. She was still seated on her throne, but she was white and shaking; for the first time in her life, she was truly scared; it looked like all of her crimes were about to catch up to her. In these last moments she had realised that she would not be able to cajole, talk, bluster, or demand her way out of this situation. She was going to pay the piper, something that she thought that she would be able to avoid by sheer force of will.
Two footmen picked up the late Mr Collins and moved him to the icehouse just before Charlotte Collins was shown into the smaller drawing room where everyone was now awaiting the magistrate, Lord Harold Metcalfe, Earl of Broadmoor. Charlotte was looking around the room to see where her husband was but she was not able to locate him and began to grow concerned at what disaster he had caused now. The Earl asked her to sit after introductions were made.
Charlotte Collins was gently informed by the Earl that her husband had passed from an apparent heart attack. Showing very little emotion, as was normal for her, she accepted condolences from all except the still bound and gagged Lady Catherine, who was glaring at one and all but was blissfully silent. Charlotte could not think of a time that was more pleasurable to be in the lady’s company. She was given a brief synopsis of the events that led up to Mr Collins’ collapse, and unlike over the news of her husband’s death she was shocked at what Lady Catherine had attempted to do to her own daughter. When she thought about it for a little while, she decided that she should not have been too surprised as she had seen that the lady would do whatever she deemed fit to attain her own selfish desires.
“Mrs Collins,” Andrew Fitzwilliam addressed the new widow, “your husband was in possession of this bank draft for twenty thousand pounds. Do you know what he was about?” He handed the bank draft to her.
“Yes, my lord. I tried to stop him turning the funds that he received from his cousin Bennet for breaking the entail on Longbourn over to Lady Catherine. Mr Bennet sent me an express in which he explained that your aunt, excuse me for talking ill of her…” Mrs Collins hesitated.
“All of us in the family know what my aunt is, and especially after what has been uncovered regarding her actions toward my Cousin Anne. There is nothing you can say about Lady Catherine that would be worse than what we think of her. Please continue Mrs Collins, and accept my apology for the interruption,” Andrew soothed.
“No apology needed, Lord Hilldale. Where was I? Oh yes, his express informed me that Lady Catherine was the last person that should be entrusted with money, no matter how trivial the amount, and that from what he had uncovered, Mr Bennet opined that the funds would soon be fritted away just like she has done with the estate’s funds. I tried to convince my husband not to turn over the draft to Lady Catherine, but as you can see by his and the draft being here, I did not succeed.” Charlotte smiled thinly.
“Very smart man, this Mr Bennet. I would like to meet him soon. You know what, I remember a Thomas Bennet who was two years behind me at Trinity, smart as a whip he was,” the Earl said as he looked into the distance accessing a memory from over five and thirty years ago.
“This Mr Bennet is, in fact, Thomas Bennet, your Lordship. He is the father of my best friend Eliza who until recently was staying with me as my guest at Hunsford.” Charlotte smiled at him for recognising someone so close to her family.
“We have heard rather a lot about the Bennets lately from my Brother Richard and my Cousin William Darcy.” The Viscount snickered as he remembered the pickle that William had created for himself with his behaviour.
“Do you know if your late husband left a will, Mrs Collins?” asked the Earl.
“He did my Lord, and in it he left all his worldly possessions and any money he may have to his wife, to me.” She blushed.
“Then Mrs Collins, along with anything else that the man has, the draft is yours. Use it well, as I am sure that you will not turn it over to one such as my sister. If I can make a suggestion, as Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a close friend, why not ask her to have her Uncle Gardiner invest the money for you? With the returns that he attains, you would have an income of more than two thousand pounds per annum clear. The more you leave with him from your income, if you do not need it all, the more the amount will grow for you Mrs Collins.” Andrew offered, wondering how many more turns this night could unexpectedly take.
“Thank you, my Lord. I will follow your advice; I know Uncle Edward well. Please excuse me,” she said to all as she curtsied and left to return to the parsonage to send an express to her Papa, and to start to pack for herself and her sister Maria, who was still with her.
Just after Mrs Collins exited the mansion, Lord Metcalfe’s carriage arrived at the front entrance. He was soon shown into the drawing room where he noticed Lady Catherine bound and gagged. He looked at his friend Reggie Fitzwilliam with eyebrows raised in question. His friend explained all and after the recitation, Lord Metcalfe asked both Mr Tetley and Mrs Jenkinson questions. When he was satisfied, he turned to the Fitzwilliam men who were sitting on uncomfortable armchairs next to each other.
“Matlock, as I see it there are three options to deal with your sister’s crimes. The first would be to try her with the most likely outcome being a date with the hangman. The second would be transportation, but I cannot imagine that anyone in the colonies has committed that bad of a crime to deserve your sister’s company,” the last produced smiles from everyone except the lady herself, “and the final option is committing her to an institution. I have to believe that your sister is unstable. No sane and normal person would have done what she has done to their own child.”
“I agree with you, Broadmoor. For either of the first two options there would be a public trial and that would generate gossip and scandal. No one in the family deserves that because of the reprehensible actions of my sister. If you put your recommendation for committal in writing as the local magistrate, I will go make arrangements to have her placed in a discreet institution and have her committed. I will not put my sister in Bedlam, where it will be talked about throughout theTon.We will make sure that she is in a secure and private facility where she will never be on display for the general public to make sport of her. It is sad, but I think it is the only way. Anne? Andrew? Do either of you disagree?” the Earl asked Anne gently, already knowing that Andrew thought that was too light a punishment but agreed why it was the answer.
“No, Uncle Reggie. Although I was Lady Catherine’s victim for many years, I do not want to see a public trial regardless of the form of punishment. An insane asylum will be more fitting, she will be able to dispense advise to her heart’s content and no one will have to hear her useless, and more often than not, dangerous advice,” Anne offered.
“I second what Anne said father, you will hear no disagreement from me,” Andrew agreed.
“One last thing, Catherine. Lewis knew what a spendthrift you are and of your propensity to waste money, so he put away close to one hundred thousand pounds besides Anne’s dowry. All of the money had been in the four percents for years, so now she has over two hundred thousand. With that at her disposal, Anne should be able to set Rosings Park to rights.” The Earl smirked at Catherine’s surprise which quickly turned to anger.
“Know this Lady Catherine,” Anne approached her with a steely look in her eyes, “My first act as mistress of Rosings Park will be to sell all of your useless and gaudy overly ostentatious baubles and furniture and my estate will become a home again, just like Papa always desired. Send her away in the clothes she has in one half of her closet; the rest will go to charity. Uncle, will you help me sort through the jewels in case there are any you would like back for the Fitzwilliams?” she asked him, ignoring her mother’s now muffled screams. “And she is not allowed back hereever, not even to be buried next to my Papa.” With this last statement, Anne de Bourgh left the drawing room, her head held high and with the assistance of no one.
Lord Broadmoor interjected, “Matlock, I know of a very discreet and secure facility in Cumbria. It is called Falconwood for the estate that it sits on. Unlike Bedlam, the treatment is very humane, no matter how little Lady Catherine deserves such consideration, however she is your sister.”
“I have heard of Falconwood before, Broadmoor. With your endorsement I will go to the study and send the governor of the place an express now.” The Earl of Matlock retired to the study and as he did his sister was looking at him with fire and absolute hate in her eyes and no matter how much she willed it, neither he nor any of her other humiliators dropped dead.
With that, no matter how she tried to scream with the gag in her mouth and send looks that she hoped would kill everyone in the room, her fate was sealed. She was taken to a small and windowless room and locked in until her long journey to her new home. No matter how much she demanded, ordered, screamed, kicked, or yelled, no one responded to her.
Chapter 7
After two days in excruciating pain from his flogging and riding on the hard-wooden bed of an ox pulled cart, George Wickham felt very sorry for himself. He was missing his four front teeth, and had many bruises on his face and chest after he ‘fell’ into the fists of some of his escorts, men he had borrowed money from, and to whom he owed large debts of honour. The men felt somewhat better as the very generous, and extremely rich Mr Bennet, would cover money that Wickham had borrowed from them, and in some cases, stolen from them. That man was to be considered no better than a common thief. Debts of honour would not be covered by Mr Bennet or their Colonel, but at least they were not out the money that they had been gulled into ‘lending’ the dissolute wastrel.
On the evening of the second day, the cart entered the camp of the Welsh Infantry Brigade. When it stopped, Wickham saw his worst nightmare standing with some of the infantry officers chatting away jovially. Cowering and scared, and in more pain than he had ever suffered, George was unceremoniously dragged out of the cart and stood up in front of the Colonel.
“Well well, Wickham, a long-time coming but finally you are getting your just desserts.” Colonel Fitzwilliam smirked down at him from far enough away the stench of him did not overpower. “It seems your debts this time were paid by the Army and thus must be paid back.” Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled at the fear in Wickham’s eyes. “Oh no. Your life is not worth enough to pay it off. You will now be a foot soldier in the infantry. No, not as an officer, as a private.” The Colonel chuckled.
Wickham was experiencing his new reality. ‘This is all Darcy’s fault, if he had given me my due, all would have been well,” Wickham railed to himself silently. The truth, had he dared face it, was the opposite. But when one always blames another, changing their perspective requires one to be honest, and Wickham was not known for his honesty.
