Page 116 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

Wilson glared at him. “Just as you should be aware that I would do nothing to harm Lady Matlock or any innocent person. I only mentioned your mistresses so you would know that I have followed you closely; I know every detail about you. The way you conduct your life and betray your wife is between you and your conscience.”

The earl attempted to defend himself. “I am no better and no worse than other men of my situation.”

“True. With the exception of George Darcy—and his son.”

“That I shall not even debate,” Lord Matlock agreed. He paused, swallowed some wine, and continued. “I admit that I was among the duke’s critics. I disputed his controversial decisions while he led His Majesty’s army, but I always did it openly. There was no conspiracy, and I stand by my opinions. I never concealed or hid my intention; my fights are always in the open.”

“Ha! Except when you fight with a young man of twenty with little significance and few friends! Then you hire men to beat him to death in the middle of the night!” Wilson shouted, pacing the room.

“I admit my fault! It is a duty of honour to apologize for a mistake that remains singular in my entire life. I accept that I harmed you purposely, but I acted for the benefit of my sister. It is not an excuse but an explanation. Otherwise, I had nothing against you!”

“That ‘explanation’ I have known for a long time,” Wilson said angrily. “That you did it in the belief that I was a danger to your sister. At first, I thought Catherine cared for me and was scared by you and your parents. I assumed you were the ones who forbade her to marry me until I finally discovered the truth from her own mouth. I tried to explain that to you, but you would not listen.”

“How could you expect me to listen to a strange young man against my own sister?”

“I may not expect that, but I do expect one to assume his errors and pay for them.”

“I shall fairly pay if that is needed to remedy my wrongs.”

“You cannot remedy the loss of twenty-five years from one’s life.”

“Come now, Wilson, it was your decision to live abroad! You cannot put all the blame on me! You could have asked Darcy’s help to move to another county! I only demanded that you leave my sister! That is why I took her to Matlock—but you followed her! Why on earth did you come to Matlock Park that night?”

“Because she asked me to! Catherine sent me a note asking me to see her at Matlock Park—at the crossroads!” Wilson lost his temper completely.

The earl stared at him in disbelief. “Catherine asked you to come?”

“Yes! We had a terrible fight when I asked her to marry me against her family’s wishes. I promised I would take care of her, and she laughed at me. She called me names and told me I was nothing but a diversion until her marriage. I did not even know she was engaged! But we were…very close, so I asked her what would happen if she was with child. She said she would rather kill me than hear me say those words again. She demanded that I leave her forever. Then she moved from Pemberley, and I decided to join the army. I was devastated until I received a note asking me to meet her at Matlock. And there I encountered you and your men. And I left with serious injuries and this scar I shall carry all my life. Tell me, how can you remedy this?” Wilson demanded with such a menacingly sharp voice that Darcy stepped between them to protect his uncle.

But the earl simply sat down, the wine glass trembling in his hand.

“Catherine wrote to you?” he repeated. “But she knew you would be captured by my men if you came.”

Wilson and Darcy both stared at him then at each other. Darcy turned pale and Wilson red with fury.

“Of course she knew,” Wilson replied.

“Dear Lord,” Darcy whispered to himself, brushing his fingers through his hair.

The earl contemplated his glass for a while in complete silence. Wilson gazed at him for some time; then he sat too. Darcy stared at the two men.

“I shall leave you now,” the earl said, moving hesitantly. “I apologize for disturbing you. I congratulate you on your wedding, Darcy. I must leave now.” Darcy held his arm to support his shaky steps.

Wilson rose to his feet. “Lord Matlock!” he shouted as the earl approached the door.

The earl turned to gaze back at him.

“You should stay and have another drink,” Wilson continued. “You look truly ill, and there is no need for you to worry Lady Matlock and the other guests.”

Silence followed his words. Puzzlement and disbelief—then finally defeat and surrender.

“You may be right,” the earl admitted reluctantly. Then he walked back carefully, one cautious step after the other, and resumed his place.

Darcy filled their glasses again, and silence descended upon the library.

Wilson finally spoke. “You were an idiot to enter into that illicit business with Jarvis. Both you and Catherine lost quite a sum of money. You are both idiots, but from you, I had better expectations.”

Two pairs of eyes considered him doubtfully.