Bad Miss Bennet (31 page)

‘Our prime minister, Lord Liverpool, wishes to set up a committee to investigate the princess's behaviour. For that we need evidence. You will be uniquely placed to provide that.' The unnamed man sat down and crossed his legs in a sententious manner before continuing. ‘You are not in a position to refuse, madam. The consequences would be, shall we say, unfortunate for you – and possibly for the Count. You would not wish that, I am sure.'

Alarming thoughts scurried through my head. What would happen if I failed in this mission? Would the prince demand the return of my necklace – or my head?

The prospect of a monetary reward was an inducement. Certainly my finances needed a boost now that I was no longer employed. The unknown man spelled out the tasks I would be required to perform.

‘The Count is in Vienna but he will return to Paris shortly. We will make arrangements for you to meet him.'

It was agreed that I needed to spend a few weeks in England attending to my late employer's affairs and my own. The fee payable on successful completion of my task would be three hundred and fifty pounds – and expenses. It was a
fait accompli
. I now fully realised that I had not been given the option of refusing. As I left a darker thought struck me.

‘What if I am discovered. I would be in danger, would I not? The unnamed man shrugged and bowed. ‘Your country would be in your debt, madam.'

I shrugged. What would have happened if I had refused to come to the embassy? Marshfield would have discovered me. He was indefatigable. I was not greatly diverted by the prospect.

‘Think of the money,' said Marshfield.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Pemberley, England

After we arrived in London, Selena and I pressed on almost immediately to Bath. As we travelled I regretted that I could not tell her about my commission from the embassy but I had been sworn to secrecy on pain of I knew not what – incarceration in the Tower, probably.

Mrs Makepeace's legal advisor was waiting to receive us. He instructed me to pay off the servants and to close up the house.

‘Before you leave, Mrs Wickham, please be good enough to attend me in my office on George Street. There are some matters I need to discuss with you.'

When I presented myself he informed me of the contents of my late employer's will. Her house and the bulk of her fortune had been left to a distant cousin, but to my astonishment I had been left a legacy of three thousand pounds and Mrs Makepeace's fabulous pearls. As I sat dumbstruck at this good fortune, Mr Whittier handed me a small box containing a folded notelet. The note read:

For Lydia in recognition of the companionship and pleasure she gave me in my last days, Letitia Amelia Makepeace
.

Under the note was Marie Antoinette's brooch.

Tears trickled down my cheeks while Mr Whittier pretended not to notice. I tottered out of the office to meet Selena who was waiting outside. Only then did the full import of his words penetrate my brain. I became so agitated and tarradiddled that my friend was obliged to walk me as far as Duffield's library in Milsom Street where I sat for a while trying to compose myself. It was only after we had continued across the bridge to revive ourselves with tea at Christopher's Hotel that I was able to impart the good news. My friend was duly amazed.

‘You are an independent woman at last, Lydia. What will you do now?'

‘I intend to return to Paris as soon as possible, but before that I must visit Pemberley. A little revenge would be in order, I think.'

There had been no communication from any member of my family in recent months, although I had informed them that I was travelling to the continent with my employer. Obviously, I was still in disgrace.

Selena chuckled as I described my plan of action. ‘You are a wicked creature, Lydia, but I would do the same in your place.' We agreed that she would rejoin Miles in London and I would meet them in Paris in due course. Adelaide and I prepared to make our way north. I had done nothing but travel for weeks and my bones ached. Only the thought of the scores I would settle kept my spirits high. I had sent a letter on ahead indicating my imminent arrival, writing eloquently about my forlorn situation following the loss of my employer. I had made no mention of the startling change in my circumstances as I had no idea of it at the time.

It only remained for me to visit Vincente for the last time. I found him far from well and low in spirits. He was delighted to see me and rallied a little after I told him of my adventures. I bade him a fond farewell, fearing that I should never see him again.

During the interminable journey north I pondered on the extraordinary discussion that had taken place at the embassy. How long ago it seemed, that affair in Brighton. Poor Getheridge and my lost highwayman, not to mention my night with the prince. The coach shook and rumbled as we entered Derbyshire and I became aware of the noxious breath of the hag sitting opposite me. If I did nothing else I would acquire my own carriage with my new found wealth.

When I presented myself on the steps of Pemberley dressed demurely in midnight blue wool crepe, accompanied by Adelaide and numerous items of luggage, I was received with surprise and pleasure by my sister and something akin to incredulity by Mr Darcy.

‘We understood you were still travelling abroad,' were his welcoming words. He was pretending that my letter had not arrived. I could detect his devious mind at work.
And I am happy to see you too
, I declared silently. Composing my features into something resembling gravitas I explained that the death of Mrs Makepeace had forced my sudden return.

My brother-in-law regarded me through narrowed eyes. ‘Upon my word, madam, you are remarkably accident prone.' Even Lizzie was shocked by this heartless statement. She reproached her husband for his unkindness and he turned on his heel and left us.

I was soon deposited in my former room. Fortunately, the ghastly Georgiana had already married and departed with her husband. I settled down to enjoy the comforts of a large country estate for a while. I was anxious to return to the continent but I could spare some time in which to stir the dark waters of family life and to see what queer fish emerged.

After a few days of country walks with Lizzie and little Charles Fitzwilliam and much taking of tea and macaroons, the inevitable happened. I knew that Mr Darcy would not waste time. At dinner one evening he announced that he and Lizzie were expecting a party of guests for a few days. I smiled, murmuring, ‘How delightful.' But enjoyment was not uppermost in my brother-in-law's mind. He came straight to the point.

‘One of the guests will be a Mr Seton Arbuthnot who has just taken holy orders. The parish of St Nicholas Chantry in this county is within my gift. I have a mind to appoint him to it.'

‘How interesting,' I replied, glancing at Lizzie who smiled nervously. Darcy leaned forward and fixed me with a penetrating look. ‘A newly appointed minister is always in need of a wife. You, Lydia, are in need of a husband. I suggest you make yourself agreeable to the gentleman. This could be the solution to your aimless existence.'

I had been expecting an announcement of this sort although I confess I anticipated another employer. ‘So I am destined for the church after all,' I smiled brightly at him, while he urged me to take the proposition seriously. He turned to his wife. ‘The Reverend Arbuthnot would be a highly suitable match, do you not agree, dearest?' Lizzie paused for a second then smiled apologetically at me.

‘Surely such an arrangement is preferable to a life as a lady's companion, Lydia dear.' She could not know that Mrs Makepeace had been a far more generous and entertaining companion than any clergyman was likely to be. Remembering my plan, I smiled sweetly and said I would be most interested to meet the gentleman. Lizzie looked relieved and Mr Darcy attacked his roast beef with renewed vigour. I stared dreamily at my plate picturing his reaction if he had known of the events of the last few weeks.

When the party arrived on Friday afternoon, the first guests to appear were the Vicomte du Pin de Lisle and his English wife Henrietta. The Vicomte had arrived in England after the French Revolution in a penniless condition. He had managed to marry a local heiress and the gratitude he felt at evading the guillotine and complete penury rendered him virtually speechless. His wife compensated by scarcely drawing breath.

The next guest to arrive, Lady Albany Boulter, was a well-preserved matron of some forty-odd years with a fine quantity of auburn curls, most of them her own. She spent a great deal of time bemoaning the fact that her husband's poor health prevented her from going about in society as much as she wished. Sir James Boulter's indisposition was a mysterious affair possibly linked to his vanishing finances.

‘It is, of course, imperative that I introduce my darling daughter Sapphire into Society,' she declared, as if their presence at Pemberley required an excuse. Sapphire Boulter was unremarkable in every way, but pleasant and self-effacing in her manner. She was only seventeen and painfully shy. I realised that I felt many years her senior although only a few years separated us.

The Reverend Seton Arbuthnot was a suitably serious clergyman of about thirty with a receding hairline and a forthcoming manner whenever Sapphire was in the offing. I recognised immediately that they were attracted to each other and I pitied them. Sapphire was not destined for a humble man of the cloth even if his uncle was a baronet.

Her mother had other plans. Her sights were set on Mr William de Lawrence, the final guest to arrive, who had lately come to England from the West Indies where he had vast estates. Lizzie whispered to me that the man was reputed to be as rich as Croesus although his grandfather had been a humble cobbler in Chester. The ridiculous affectation of adding a ‘de' in front of his name fooled no-one. I wondered why my brother-in-law had not suggested I throw myself at de Lawrence instead of a clergyman. Families were supposed to stick together.

Lady Boulter was prepared to overlook the lack of blue blood in return for unlimited wealth. She was a veritable Lady Arabella Drystick with her worn out pedigree and ridiculous airs. I once surprised her in the library furtively scanning the Baronetage. She hurriedly put it away and enquired after my health. Her ladyship was prepared to overlook a number of things. Mr de Lawrence was fully forty-five years old and appeared older due to the ravages of a tropical climate. His conversation was limited to discussions about land and its value and his taste in cravats was deplorable. I could not see poor Sapphire taking kindly to life on a plantation in Barbados with that saturnine slave owner. She was made for the soft light of an English spring day.

Her ladyship was condescension itself when I surprised her in the library. She complimented me on my gown – a pleated lilac silk which I had acquired in Venice.

‘Upon my word, Mrs Wickham, you have an excellent wardrobe for a widow in straightened circumstances. You were a lady's companion, were you not?' I ground my teeth silently and nodded pleasantly.

‘Indeed, my family is far from wealthy but I am economical by nature. My late employer was most generous and with the help of my maid, who is a veritable treasure, I manage very well.' From that moment milady did her utmost to prise Adelaide from my employ. I was vexed at this and at my maid's willingness to change her place, but I knew she disliked foreign travel and I could not in conscience stand in her way. I would have to find another maid.

I decided to give her a glowing testimonial. ‘Adelaide is a perfect mistress of Mantua making, getting up small linen and hairdressing,' I assured her ladyship.

‘But will her character bear the strictest investigation?' she enquired.

‘As my own,' I assured her.

When the time came Adelaide refused to leave me after all saying that the Boulters were no fun and she would stick with me even if it meant, perforce, living in foreign parts. Apart from these distractions my main concern during those few days was how I could convince Mr Darcy that I was doing my best to snare the clergyman, while pursuing my own ends.

Only that morning after breakfast he had whispered to me as we left the room, ‘Have you had any success as yet?' Arranging my features into an insincere smile I replied, ‘Oh yes, I need little encouragement to attach myself to anyone.' In truth I had already had a few conversations with the Reverend Arbuthnot which had proved most interesting. He tended to say very little but managed to convey a great deal unspoken. I realised that he regretted his choice of vocation, that he was in awe of Darcy and that he worshipped Sapphire Boulter.

As we strolled across the expanse of emerald lawn I acquainted him with my brother-in-law's intentions and described how they could be thwarted for our own ends. He protested weakly about the deceit involved but his protests lacked conviction. I assured him that no blame would attach to him for my indiscretions and when I was off the scene he would be free to pursue Sapphire. I did not tell him that his chances were non-existent, I had not the heart. I feared for the man; he had little obvious leaning to religion and no skill at all where the machinations of the heart were concerned. I could feel Darcy's eyes watching us approvingly from a window.

‘Why did you choose the church?' I asked. ‘Forgive me, but you appear to be an unlikely clergyman.' He gave a mournful sigh.

‘I intended to join the navy and serve my country on distant seas. My uncle obtained a commission for me but I resigned after my first voyage.'

‘Why?'

‘I was acutely seasick.'

I burst out laughing but the expression on his face was so wretched that I apologised immediately. ‘What happened after that?'

‘I had studied theology at Cambridge so I took holy orders. What else could I do?' His face assumed the expression of a lugubrious spaniel. ‘It appears that I cannot serve either God or my country satisfactorily, but if I had the help and comfort of Miss Boulter by my side I am sure I could acquit myself well enough.'