“But you knew what he was about. Being family, you wished to avoid any scandal affecting your ambitions in Parliament.”
“You are relentless, Darcy.” His uncle took a deep draught from his glass, poured himself another. “I did keep oversight on Lewis. As I said, he was a poor drunk, and, yes, his compulsion continued. He was never a gamester or rake—he didn’t seduce women. His predilection was prostitutes, particularly from Moll King’s establishment in Covent Garden, less than a mile from de Bourgh House, but also Charlotte Hayes’s in Berwick Street and King’s Place, and other similar establishments. ‘Twas one reason why Catherine never visited town.”
“My poor aunt, to have married such a man.” And my poor cousin to have been sired by him.
“She wished for a title. Of course, Sir Lewis was never a peer, just a baronet. My father could find no one of superior rank who would wed her; there were very few eligible peers. After four seasons, she reluctantly accepted him. The deal was done between his father and mine; we returned from Paris to an engagement ball.”
“My apologies, Uncle, these are distasteful revelations. ‘Tis strange, is it not, that he was refused entry toThe Crooked Staffbut not to the higher-class brothels in London? The latter areusually scrupulous about keeping their girls clean.”
“Enough, Darcy; I would almost think you were scouting the place.”
“No, sir, I learnt more than enough about prostitution in the colony, where men outnumber women five to one—and a woman’s virtue is less valued than here in England. It is not illegal, but Macquarie and I kept it well regulated.”
Darcy paused; a most peculiar, perhaps outlandish, thought came to mind—maybe the clue to this whole sorry mess. He must obfuscate, terminate the conversation. “My interest is solely to avoid an imprudent marriage. ‘Tis likely Anne is barren. My duty to Pemberley and my father is to sire an heir; as such, I could never offer for Anne.”
“Ah, Felicity…”
“As I have said many times, Lady Felicity is a delight. But I mourn my father…” But not my Lizzie, for she and Bumper will come home to Pemberley. He pushed away the doubt.
Darcy looked directly at Matlock. “Before we part, my lord, think about your niece, Anne. She inherits next month. You should tell her the truth about her inheritance—that Rosings is bankrupt. And, also, the disease bequeathed to her by her mother and father. She is an intelligent woman; perhaps she would plan a different future than what her mother proposes.”
And I should tell him the truth about Elizabeth. This pretence that I could ever offer for Felicity. Even were he to annul our marriage, Lizzy will always be my wife. Wherever you are—be safe, my darling.
That evening, he knew another sleepless night. He was losing the will to fight the doubt that assailed him—if he lost that battle and fell into the swirling pit, Lizzie would be lost to him—for his only comfort was looking forward, to holding her in his embrace.
***
The streets of Douglas, on the Isle of Man, were very irregular and, in some places, extremely narrow. Darcy, with his broad shoulders, found them difficult to navigate; the local population continually pushed past him, uncaring about the casual contact. The houses themselves were low and ill-constructed, crowded together without regard to convenience and uniformity. By mischance, he missed Duke Street, which was paved and newly constructed, and found himself lost in the winding laneways. Asking directions, he finally succeeded in locating the office of Asquith, Badeley and Chaffers.
“Mr. Darcy, how may I assist you?” Mr. Chaffers, senior partner of the firm, was nervous. He looked speculatively at Darcy, a large, physically intimidating man, his countenance displaying a confident, natural authority.
“Before we commence, sir, here are notarised copies of my commission as Judge-Advocate for His Majesty’s territories, dominions and colonies. As you can see, my commission gives me the powers of investigative magistrate here in the Isle of Man, a dependency of the crown but not part of the union.”
Chaffers took the documents and perused them very carefully. They were signed by Lord Bathurst under Royal Seal and were certainly valid.
“What brings you to my office, Mr. Darcy? We are proud of our probity. Our reputation is very important to us.”
“Certainly, sir. There is no imputation that you are at fault. The matter concerns trusts you administer; the main beneficiary is Miss Anne de Bourgh of the Rosings Estate in Kent. Her father, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, set up the trusts some fifteen years ago. He has since passed. His daughter, Miss de Bourgh, has inherited under his will, having reached, thismonth, the age of five and twenty years. The will, which has been proved by Canterbury, leaves all of his properties and investments to her.”
Darcy paused. Mr. Chaffers was showing signs of some distress, but the gentleman quickly regained his equanimity. Darcy continued,
“I am here to untangle the web of trusts and other devices that Sir Lewis left to his daughter. The two gentlemen who accompany me, Mr. White and Mr. Erickson, are my clerks. They are authorised to act for me in any capacity required to search the rolls and other records of trust transactions.”
White and Erickson stood and bowed to Mr. Chaffers.
“It will take time, as you must know, to find where these transactions are recorded.” Chaffers disliked the idea of outsiders trawling through their files. There was much that should remain confidential. Many lords and lesser peers alike used their discreet services outside of English law.
“Of course. That is of no concern, since these gentlemen are very thorough—our investigation could take several months. By my reckoning, there will also be records of investments, interest payments, and the like. Mr. Erickson is my expert on such matters and will be following the financial receipts most assiduously. Mr. White is similarly an expert on titles and deeds.”
Darcy smiled, not unsympathetically. Clearly, Chaffers had never thought to be subject to such an investigation. Manxmen, bankrupts, and others living here thought themselves beyond English law, which does not apply on the island. Both Mr. White and Erickson well deserved the bonuses they were awarded for reviewing the mortgages, on his suggestion, and noting each had been lodged under Chaffers’s hand, therefore subject to Manx law, which placed them under his jurisdiction. Certainly, it would be difficult to prosecute without a detailed knowledge of thelaw, but he was here as magistrate, not prosecutor. Uncovering the truth behind the Rosings mortgages would free him from Matlock’s thumb and, perchance, enable Cousin Anne to break away from Lady Catherine’s tyranny.
Chapter 46
Fort Frederick, January 1, 1814
She made another mark on the neck of the guitar—one hundred and eleven days since she and Ellie had been washed ashore; today, the 1st of January, of the year ‘14.
“Ellie, we’re near to a town. We should wear our chemises with the necklaces and aprons over the top. That way, we’ll retain some modesty. Our skin is suntanned, but not as dark as the Xhosa or Khoikhoi, and our hair is so long. None will mistake us for other than English or Dutch.”
