“Aunt, I need to tell you something about Mrs. Jenkinson,” Elizabeth said, keeping Anne’s voice steady. “Something I have been too frightened to speak of before, but I can no longer remain silent.”
Lady Matlock leaned forwards. “Go on.”
“Mrs. Jenkinson has been drugging me,” Elizabeth said, the words emerging with quiet conviction. “That tonic she gives me every evening. It is not simply a sleeping draught or a tonic for my nerves. It makes me foggy and compliant, unable to think clearly or assert my own wishes.”
Lady Matlock’s face had gone very still, her eyes hard with building fury. “That is a serious accusation, Anne. Are you quite certain?”
“I am certain,” Elizabeth replied, putting every scrap of conviction she possessed into Anne’s soft voice. “Please, Aunt. Look at the bottles on the dressing table. I think you will findthat what she has been giving me is far stronger than any simple sleeping draught.”
Lady Matlock rose from her chair immediately, crossing to the dressing table where Mrs. Jenkinson’s carefully arranged bottles stood in neat array. She selected the one Mrs. Jenkinson had reached for earlier, pulling the stopper and bringing the bottle to her nose. Her expression transformed as she inhaled, her features going rigid with an anger that made Elizabeth’s heart stutter.
“Good God,” Lady Matlock breathed, setting down that bottle and reaching for another. She smelled each in turn, her fury mounting with each inhalation. “This is laudanum. Concentrated enough to fell a horse. And this one contains valerian mixed with something else I cannot identify. Anne, how long has she been giving you these?”
“Every evening for as long as I can remember,” Elizabeth said, which was technically true. “She says they are for my health, for my delicate nerves. But they make me so fuzzy I can barely think, barely remember one day from the next.”
Lady Matlock set down the bottles with hands that shook with suppressed rage. She moved to the bell pull and yanked it with enough force that Elizabeth worried it might separate from the wall entirely.
A maid appeared within seconds, her eyes widening at Lady Matlock’s expression. “My lady?”
“Fetch Mrs. Jenkinson immediately,” Lady Matlock commanded. “And send Lord Matlock to me as well. This matter requires his attention.”
The maid fled with visible relief. Elizabeth remained in the bed, her heart hammering with a mixture of triumph and anxiety. She had set events in motion that could not be reversed. Had gambled everything on Lady Matlock’s willingness to believe her and act decisively.
Mrs. Jenkinson appeared in the doorway with Lord Matlock close behind her, the companion’s expression showing wariness mixed with affront. “You sent for me, my lady?”
“I did,” Lady Matlock replied, her tone cold enough to frost glass. She gestured to the bottles on the dressing table. “Would you care to explain what you have been giving my niece?”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s face went carefully blank. “The tonics prescribed for Miss Anne’s delicate constitution by her doctors. Sleeping draughts and nerve soothers, nothing more.”
“Nothing more,” Lady Matlock repeated, her voice dropping to dangerous quiet. “Mrs. Jenkinson, I have just examined those bottles. The concentrations you have been administering would render a healthy adult insensible. For someone of Anne’s frail constitution, these dosages are nothing short of poisonous. You have been systematically drugging my niece into compliance.”
Lord Matlock had moved to the dressing table during this exchange, examining the bottles with increasing alarm. His expression darkened as he smelled each in turn and examined the labels, holding them close to the candle to read them.
“This is unconscionable,” Lord Matlock said, his voice carrying the hard edge of someone accustomed to command. “Mrs. Jenkinson, you are confined to your quarters immediately. You will not leave your room until after tomorrow’s wedding, at which point I will discuss your continued employment in my sister’s household.”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s face had gone white, her hands clutching at her skirts. “You do not understand. Miss Anne requires careful management. Her mother entrusted her to my care, and I have only ever acted in her best interests.”
“By drugging her into submission?” Lady Matlock demanded, her fury breaking through her usual courtesy. “By rendering her too foggy to think or speak for herself? That is not care, Mrs. Jenkinson. That is abuse disguised as devotion.”
“The only reason I am not turning you out tonight is that you are my sister’s employee, not mine,” Lord Matlock added. “I will take the matter up with her after the wedding, but until then I will not have my niece subjected to such treatment under my roof.”
He gestured to the footman hovering in the doorway. “Escort Mrs. Jenkinson to her quarters and ensure she remains there until further notice. Post someone outside her door to ensure she does not leave. She is not to communicate with my sister, or anyone else, until I give the order otherwise.”
Mrs. Jenkinson drew herself up with whatever dignity she could muster. “Lady Catherine entrusted Miss Anne to my care specifically! She knows that I have always acted in her daughter’s best interests.”
“Then Lady Catherine and I will have words about that matter,” Lady Matlock replied, her voice still carrying that dangerous quiet. “Get out of my sight, Mrs. Jenkinson. Before I forget myself entirely and say things that cannot be unsaid.”
The footman took Mrs. Jenkinson’s elbow firmly, guiding her from the room despite her continued protests. Her voice faded down the corridor, proclaiming her innocence and devotion to anyone who would listen.
The door closed behind them, leaving Elizabeth alone with Lord and Lady Matlock. Silence settled over the chamber, broken only by the crackling fire.
Lady Matlock returned to the chair beside the bed, her fury giving way to concern as she reached out to take Elizabeth’s hand. “My dear girl. I am so sorry. How you must have suffered.”
Elizabeth felt tears gather in her eyes, genuine emotion breaking through. Lady Matlock’s kindness, her immediate belief and decisive action, struck Elizabeth with unexpected force. This was what protection felt like. What it meant to havesomeone in authority who actually listened and acted on one’s behalf.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered, letting tears spill down Anne’s cheeks. “Thank you for believing me, Aunt.”
“Of course I believe you,” Lady Matlock replied, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand with gentle warmth. “And I promise you, Mrs. Jenkinson will not trouble you again. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever if I have anything to say about it.”
