Chapter 31

Pemberley, Derbyshire

Darcy gave Allen leave to hold his inquisition for both of the dead men at Pemberley, and asked only that they try to delay it until Viscount Bollington could be present. Darcy indicated – and Allen agreed – that it would be for the best if the viscount could witness the proceedings himself, rather than making trouble later by saying matters had been rushed or done improperly.

Walker was issued a precept to return a jury and did so, the men assembling within Pemberley's ballroom on the stated day, where the bodies of Lord Neston and Mr. Wickham had been laid out on side-by-side tables. Viscount Bollington had arrived at Pemberley early that morning and was given all the refreshment and hospitality he could ask for – albeit under the constant guard of two footman outside the apartment that had been prepared for him.

Darcy would have liked to be present for the inquisition himself, but knew he would need to be by Elizabeth's side during the entire event, for as a lady, Elizabeth had been directed to stay away from the proceedings unless she was summoned to answer questions. So the Darcys sat in a parlour awaiting a request for the jury to question her, with Charles Bingley attending in Darcy's stead.

The jury never summoned her, however. Charles came in half-an-hour after the proceedings had begun and said, "It is done – Neston's cause of death was ruled a justifiable homicide, and Wickham's a stabbing by Neston. So the matter is complete."

Elizabeth exhaled, long and slow, and Darcy drew her into his arms. It was over – Neston was no longer a threat to their family. Quietly, Darcy thanked his friend as Charles backed out of the room, leaving Darcy to comfort his wife as she wept in his arms.

"It is over," he murmured. "It is over, and you are safe, and he can never harm you again."

She nodded, then tucked herself even more tightly against his chest. Darcy thought in that moment that if there was a way to make a cabinet beside his heart, a place where she could curl up inside of him and stay there – completely protected – until she felt sufficiently safe to come out, he would have ordered it made, regardless of the cost. Such fanciful thoughts were impossible, of course; he would have to settle for comforting her as she healed from everything that had happened. At least he was there and would remain there, when for so many years he had been absent.

There was one thing he needed leave her side to do that day, however, and when she said she wished to go to the nursery and see the children, he escorted her there and left her to their comforts. The ballroom was empty, save two dead men and one living. Viscount Bollington looked up as Darcy entered, his countenance more stern than upset.

"I was not sure if you would deign to see me," the viscount said.

"There are things we must discuss," was Darcy's reply. "The women from Hawley's arrived this morning. Perhaps we might give them leave to prepare his body and go down to my study to talk? Or would you prefer to arrange everything for the body and funeral yourself?"

"I will arrange the funeral, but I thank you for seeing to the preparation of his body. I do not wish to transport him as he is."

Darcy nodded. They walked down to his study, the footmen following at a goodly distance. Unlocking the door, he led the viscount inside, watching as the man gaped at the little piles of guineas in the corner of the room, awaiting the resumption of work by their little counters. Darcy indicated that the viscount should be seated. He did not offer the man any refreshment.

"As you can see, the South Sea gold your son sought was indeed real. We are still in the process of counting it, but I do not think it can be any less than fifty thousand pounds. What I would like is your word that it stops here, that you will not continue on your son's path of trying to take it. There will always be hatred between our families, but there can also be peace. I intend to give a portion of the money to beneficial institutions – particularly those that seek to abolish slavery, for I loathe that my family profited from it. I will also put a portion towards the dowries of any of my wife's daughters – including little Elizabeth and Julia. You know and I know that they are your son's daughters, but I will deny I ever said that if you attempt to take this to the Court of Chancery. In that way your family by blood will still gain some benefit from the money."

"I have no interest in claiming those girls. You need not worry about that."

"I am glad to hear that, for I also have to inform you that Sir Philip and Lady Colbourne have decided to take in Julia, and make her their heir. I will distribute the funds accordingly to the two girls, to ensure the portions are as equitable as possible."

"As I said, I have no interest in the girls," the viscount stated. "I agree with you that there should be peace within our families. My son let his desire for revenge over that South Sea fortune consume him, and he got himself killed for it. I promise that I will not make trouble over that, either. I will accept the results of the inquisition, and would ask your assistance in trying to keep the event as quiet as possible."

"That is a promise I can easily make, for our family does not desire any further scandal," stated Darcy. "My lord, may I ask why you spoke of revenge? Is there some wrong my family committed? If there is, I would wish to know of it, and rectify it if I deem it appropriate."

"Our families were close once, although clearly yours has ceased speaking of the connection. Your great-grandfather and my grandfather were good friends. When your great-grandfather invested in South Sea shares and was making a goodly return, he mentioned it to my grandfather, and he decided to purchase as well. But your forbear sold when it was prudent, and mine did not. He blamed your great-grandfather for not encouraging him to sell, and some in my family have seized upon that. It is always easier to blame another for your own family's poor decisions. My father was particularly bitter over it, and he filled my son with that bitterness."

"I cannot help but believe this bitterness prompted his choice of a wife," Darcy said, struggling to keep his voice level. The viscount had just been viewing the body of his dead son, and yet his voice seemed far more emotionless than Darcy's.

"I will not disagree with your observation."

Anger surged through Darcy at the thought of Elizabeth – poor, grief-stricken Elizabeth – being preyed upon by Neston, lured into unknowingly marrying a man with a grudge against the Darcys. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his thoughts. Viscount Bollington had been far more reasonable than most men in this situation would have been. He had raised such a son, of course, but he had also just lost his only son.

"I can offer you hospitality overnight if you wish it," stated Darcy, "but you must understand that you would continue to be under guard."

"That is generous given the circumstances, but I do not intend to stay any longer than is needed. I will depart when my son's body is ready."

Darcy nodded. He had offered what he felt was proper, but was glad the viscount would not be staying under his roof that night.

Caroline loathed walking out of doors – she was not some sort of uncouth country chit like Eliza Darcy. Exceptions could be made for a stroll with her hand on the arm of an eligible man, but that was not the stroll she was making at present. No, at present she was walking with all rapidity across Pemberley's grounds, seeking to get herself in position along the drive.

Newbold had done her best, in seeking to learn where Viscount Bollington was to be housed, but she had reported back to Caroline that the man was guarded by two footmen at all times, which meant Caroline could not slip into his chambers and have a private conversation with him, which she desperately needed to do. Newbold had learned when his carriage had been ordered, however, and come rushing back to her employer with this intelligence. This accounted for Caroline's rapid pace across the grounds – there was a spot where she would be obscured from the house by a cluster of trees, so that no one there would witness her conversation with the viscount.

She reached it, breathing heavily, and sought to calm herself and check her hair and bonnet. It would not do to appear wild and unkempt. Apparently that was Mr. Darcy's preference, but it would not be the same for Viscount Bollington.

It took longer than she had expected for the carriage to finally appear some distance down the drive, moving at a slow pace. The reason for this became clear when the carriage reached a slight bend in the lane, and a hearse could be seen behind it. Of course – he would be escorting his son's body home, Caroline realised. She gazed at the hearse, contemplating her feelings for Lord Neston, and found they were still anger. It was because of him that she was standing here beside the lane like some sort of common peasant, begging milord to stop. It was because of him that she would be forced to plead with his father.

No, Caroline thought, she should not call it pleading. She might have something Viscount Bollington wanted – she might have his only chance at getting it. In turn, he could provide her with what she wanted. It should not be pleading, but rather a negotiation.

She stepped into the lane and raised her hand, signalling the carriage should stop. It did, thankfully – some part of her had feared it would just bowl on past her, ruining her chance. Caroline glanced down at her dress and cringed when she found dampness encroaching several inches up the hem. There was nothing to be done for it now, she told herself.

The carriage came to a halt and Lord Bollington pulled down his window.

"Is something the matter?" he stated, gruffly.

"My lord, I need to speak with you in private. It is a matter of some urgency – regarding your late son."

"Let her in!" the viscount barked, and a footman jumped down from the dickey seat to open the door and see to the stairs.

Caroline climbed the stairs with as much grace as she could muster, seating herself within the carriage. He looked her, his countenance plainly irritated. Caroline told him all, and to supplement her tale, showed him the items she had carried with her as proof: the bloody fabric, Lord Neston's handkerchief, his letters. As she spoke, Viscount Bollington's countenance changed from irritation to something harder, firmer, more impassive.

"You cannot be sure if you are in the family way yet," he stated.

Caroline was not discouraged by this, for at least he had not questioned the veracity of her account. By all appearances, he believed she had lain with his son, and as long as he believed that, she hoped she could get out of this with her reputation intact – one way or another.

"You are correct, my lord. I do not expect any indication until my courses are next due, and that will be at least another week. I wished to speak to you today, though. I did not know if I would have another opportunity."

He nodded. "You are providing me with one last opportunity for an heir of my blood, one I did not think I could have. If you are with child, I will marry you, and raise my grandson as a son. What was your arrangement with Lord Neston, to ensure you spoke the truth about being enceinte?"

"I would sign my name incorrectly on the parish register, to provide grounds for annulment if he found I was lying about the pregnancy. He would not seek an annulment so long as I could prove miscarriage, however."

"Those are reasonable terms, and I will accept them. Write to me under cover to my housekeeper, after your courses are due. If they come, do not expect anything from me; your despoilation will be your own to manage."

"That is as I would have expected," Caroline said. She held out her hand and he took it, shaking it lightly and then releasing it.

She watched silently as the carriage and hearse began rolling again, eventually moving out of sight down the lane. Caroline began to trudge back towards the house, the sensations in her heart far lighter than her step. Much was still uncertain, but she felt a confidence deep within herself: she would be pregnant, and she would become a viscountess. Everything she wanted was nearly within her grasp, and soon she would have it.