Page 64 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
In the periphery of her vision, she saw her father charge towards the earl.
“You dare accuse my sweet innocent sister! She was deceived and misled by your friend. She had not an artistic bone in her body. It is impossible thatshemade the counterfeit Egyptian artefacts. It was all your dear friend—Baronet bloody Campbell. You peers are all the same. Disguising and deceiving to protect your own. I loathe the hypocrisy, and I hate the town that sacrificed my sister as the last woman in England to burn at the stake! As a spectacle of entertainment for the depraved citizens of London…”
Elizabeth gasped. It was no wonder her father was disgusted by the mere thought of residing in town.
“Georgiana, you may excuse yourself,” Mr Darcy demanded more than entreated.
The girl dipped into a quick curtsey and fled. Miss Eudora Darcy followed after a wordless plea from her nephew.
“Which of the Campbells are we speaking about?” Mr Darcy asked.
As if which bloodline they have descended from matters in this instance, Elizabeth thought.
“Their seat, Castle Donnachaidh is in Dollar in the Scottish lowlands,” Lord Glentworth added.
“There was proof,” Lady Matlock interjected.
“I had not thought you as easily deceived as your husband,” Lord Glentworth said, turning to Lady Matlock. “Catherine was well known to your family as your sister’s dearest friend, but you are just like the rest of the miscreants, too much like your fraudulent husband. Yet, I was the one who was ridiculed in the newspapers, and even to my face, formychoice of wife. The beautiful Miss Gardiner was a tradesman’s daughter, born to a second son who devoted his talents to maintaining a small country law office. A wise man who served his fellow townspeople was found wanting by your ilk. My wife may not be fashionable or always act within the strictures of thehaut ton’sideas of propriety, but not once, in twenty-odd years of marriage, have I had reason to question her loyalty or her complete honesty. She does not disguise or pretend, she speaks nothing but the plain truth, good or bad, and that is of true value in a marriage.”
Lady Glentworth looked at her husband with devotion and approached him to lace their arms together in unison against the Matlocks. “My dear Lord Glentworth,” she whispered adoringly.
Elizabeth had always secretly thought that her father had been blinded by her mother’s beauty and had entered an ill-advised match.
Lady Glentworth had been an exceptionally handsome woman in her youth and still was to this day, though her beauty had matured. To hear her father laud her character traits as something to admire removed all concerns she may have harboured. Her parents were not equally matched in understanding but had chosen each other for sensible reasons. It was a revelation—to everyone present, judging by the stunned faces surrounding her. The Matlocks had nothing to say, Mr Darcy frowned, Viscount Crawford looked about to flee, whilst the colonel kept a steady comforting gaze upon Jane.
“We are ruined!” Lydia whispered.
“We are not!” Lord Glentworth protested. “An old lie will not damage you in the eyes of a true gentleman. You may not marry a lord, but a tradesman, a vicar, or an officer will do just as well if not better. Having an honest occupation is the making of any man,” he asserted with conviction.
“I resent your implication,” Lord Matlock hissed. “I have managed my estate for nigh on thirty years and had a successful career in the House of Lords. By your definition, I am an honest man who would never perjure himself in a court of law.”
“Except for the fact that you have.”
“Do you have any proof to your claim?” Colonel Fitzwilliam questioned.
Lord Glentworth lowered his head. “I do not but for the fact that the artefacts appeared before my sister left her home for the Scottish lowlands. I swear on my father’s grave that no one at Longbourn ever had the equipment or knowledge to make any counterfeits of quality, be they Egyptian artefacts or coins. When the first fake scarab was discovered in London, the purchase was traced back to the Campbells’ residence in Dollar. The court did not believe me as the Campbells swore under oath that the equipment and half-finished pieces had been found in Catherine’s dressing room. Your father testified to this piece of fiction as I understood he was visiting his friend at the time.”
“How long ago was it that the counterfeit scarabs were discovered?” Mr Darcy tried to interject, but his uncle heard nothing but Lord Glentworth’s accusations.
“I saw it with my own eyes!” Lord Matlock insisted.
“You worthy wiseacre saw what the Campbells wanted you to. Did you ever question Catherine’s lady’s maid as to whether she had seen the tools in the dressing room before that fateful day? No, you believed your fellow peer, and the pleas of an untitled but honest country girl were nothing to you.”
Lord Matlock remained silent with a deep frown between his brows.
“I thought not…” Lord Glentworth sighed.
Miss Eudora Darcy had returned unnoticed moments ago. “Was the lady’s maid called as a witness in court?” she queried.
“No,” was Lord Glentworth’s abrupt reply. “She had acquired a new position by the time I had the wherewithal to enquire after her, and the baronet was tight-lipped when I demanded to know her whereabouts. I suppose it would have mattered but little. Who would believe the testimony of a servant over that of the then Viscount Crawford?”
Lord Matlock turned to his wife. “Is there any truth to Lord Glentworth’s claims?”
Lady Matlock’s eyes were brimming with tears as she nodded. “It is true that Catherine was not artistically bent. I have it on good authority as she was my sister Felicity’s closest friend. I am ashamed to admit that we used to laugh at her attempts at drawing. According to my sister, her embroidery was not much better, and she could neither play any instruments nor sing a clean note, but she excelled in foreign languages and calculations.”
“She was wasted on the Campbells, who could not appreciate her sharp wit and unconventional accomplishments. She came from a good but untitled family and was the great-niece of an Irish baron, but they denigrated her for not boasting any ancient blood in her veins.” Lord Limerick had stayed in the background but stepped forwards. “To be of exaltedIrishancestry does not matter to Matlock. He is too scared his own line should become known.”
“In this company, centuries of Bennets matters but little. I shall have you know that the Benéts came to the British Isles with William the Conqueror, alongside your precious nephew’s ancestor, Sir Richard d’Arcy. Our extended family still have a seat in Banchory in Scotland,” Lord Glentworth boomed. “Though I wish we did not, because it was whilst visiting our relations that we were introduced to the dastardly Baronet Campbell.”
