Page 85 of Bitterness of Spirit

He spoke calmly, his voice clear and cold, his eyes darkened with feelings buried deep inside.

He looked around and then towards Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine. Elizabeth followed his gaze, puzzled and worried as she noticed a silent, disturbing confrontation, much like that between Darcy and Wickham when they first met in Meryton.

Lady Catherine leaned against Darcy, and Lord Matlock dropped his glass. Several gazed towards them, and the earl apologised, visibly disturbed.

“Lord Matlock, may I help you?” Mr. Wilson asked with apparent worry.

“No, I am fine,” the earl responded without looking at his host.

“Well, you might have had either too much brandy or too little.” The duke laughed.

“Perhaps,” Lord Matlock admitted. “I shall take a seat for a moment,” he said, moving towards a corner of the room. Lady Catherine quit the group without apology. Lord Matlock joined his sister, and they sat together, talking privately.

Darcy looked at them, puzzled and embarrassed by his relatives’ behaviour. Lady Matlock and the viscount shrugged, accustomed to strange behaviour from Lady Catherine. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth and noticed her equal concern. Mr Wilson’s countenance was stern, but he continued to carry on an entertaining conversation with his companions.

In the corner, Lord Matlock left his sister and moved towards the billiard room.

It was already three in the morning, and the dancing resumed. Darcy’s concern increased as he had the feeling that something was happening against his will and beyond his control.

He glanced at Elizabeth several times and noticed she was equally distressed. He was tempted to approach her, but he met Lady Catherine’s sharp glare and walked towards her.

“Aunt Catherine, are you unwell?” Darcy asked, sitting by her. “You walked away in such haste that everybody was surprised.”

“And why would I care about their surprise when nobody cared about mine?” she answered sharply. “Did you know Wilson’s real name—who he really was?”

He stared at her dumbstruck. “What do you mean, Aunt? Is Mr. Wilson the problem? That is his real name; he told me who he was from the beginning. Is something wrong?”

“Yes, it is. Fetch Anne; we shall leave immediately.”

“Will you not tell me what has happened?”

“What happened is that I cannot stay in that man’s company a moment longer. We shall leave this instant. Call Anne before I drag her out in front of all these people.”

“Anne Catherine, you are behaving irrationally. I understand you know Mr. Wilson. I tried to tell you about him last week at dinner, and both you and Uncle told me you never spent much time in Derbyshire, and when you did, you never made any acquaintances in the area. You were the one who refused to talk about him—even in Kent. And now suddenly I find you are deeply troubled by a man who should mean nothing to you. And I suspect Uncle is equally disturbed. You cannot expect me to accept this without further inquiries.”

“There is nothing to inquire about further, Darcy. We shall leave and so will my brother. As for you, it is time to decide where your loyalty lies.”

“My loyalty? What do you mean? You cannot leave without taking your farewell of the hosts, of the Duke and the countesses…”

“I can do whatever I please, whenever I please!”

That moment, Lord Matlock arrived with his wife, both his sons, and Anne.

“I told the duke we must leave. There is no need to offer other explanations,” he said coldly.

Their group left the ball while everybody looked at them in puzzlement and no little reproach. As they exited, the rumours began, censuring Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock for leaving the party for no other reason than Mr. Wilson’s not belonging to the ton.

The Duke of York openly expressed his reprobation while the Countess of Jersey and the Countess of Sefton debated whether the Matlocks should be give a voucher at Almack’s when next they applied for one.

Darcy was the last in his group to leave. He turned for a final glance around the room, and the last thing he saw was Mr. Wilson’s strangely calm countenance and Elizabeth’s pale, astounded face.

Chapter 21

During the ride to their homes, neither Lady Catherine nor Lord Matlock said anything about the reason for their hasty departure although their family inquired repeatedly.

Darcy entered his house uncertain whether his anger was due to his relatives’ disdainful manners or to his disappointment in separating from Elizabeth so abruptly. She was due to return to Hertfordshire three days after the ball. With Bingley’s wedding and his own travel to Pemberley, he probably would be unable to speak to her until they met again in Derbyshire.

He was equally astounded and intrigued by his uncle and aunt’s reaction. Why were they concerned that Wilson lived in Lambton twenty-five years ago? Yes, Wilson was his father’s friend, but that should mean nothing to Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock, who were not Darcys after all.