Lady Catherine did not await the fashionable hour to barge in on her brother and his wife at Matlock House. The butler had offered to take the lady's shawl when the earl and countess of Matlock exited the breakfast parlor with stunned looks upon their faces.
Henry Fitzwilliam recognized the shouts and caterwauling of his oldest sister just before they arrived in the entryway. To witness his sister leave her pretended throne at Rosings was a remarkable sight to behold. He struggled to maintain an indifferent attitude as he diplomatically inquired to the good fortune of this unannounced visit.
"You know very well why I am here!" Lady Catherine banged her walking stick on the floor, staring down the two members of her generation. "I am made privy of reports, yes reports, of the most curious nature regarding our nephew, Fitzwilliam. I am here for your corroboration of these reports, and I shall not leave until I am satisfied."
"Catty," the Earl of Matlock attempted to mollify his sister with the childhood pet name he used before he was able say the name Catherine properly, "I have not seen Fitzwilliam in over three months . . ." He glanced to his wife pretending to be mildly amused and relaxed.
"He is here, in London and has been here for a number of weeks. Do not pretend you have not seen him. We employ the same spies, Margaret."
The time was long past when a direct confrontation with Catherine caused Lady Matlock to pale with trepidation. She was ten years junior to the old earl's favorite daughter, but Margaret Fitzwilliam held not an ounce of fear as her voice rang loud and clear. "I'm afraid you are mistaken, Catherine. I suffer no need to employ spies against my nephew, for my relationship with him yields me all the intelligence I require." Lady Matlock smiled at Lady Catherine who did not return the courtesy, neither did the older lady begin another tirade. Just as it appeared the cajoling countess had persuaded Lady Catherine of their ignorance, another exited the breakfast parlor. He was a tall, lanky fellow, with more charm than sense.
"Wickham! George Wickham! Why is a scoundrel such as yourself admitted entrance to Matlock House?" Lady Catherine bellowed, renewed in her investigative efforts.
George Wickham slithered behind the couple hosting him until his wedding vows were made and approached the singular Darcy relative who always saw through his schemes. With the flashy smile he reserved for his most wealthy marks, he bowed with a flourish before her and reached for her hand to kiss in greeting. Lady Catherine pulled her hand back in aggravation and spat at the offensive gesture. The defiled man took a handkerchief from his pocket, the pocket of his new clothes so generously furnished by his future relatives so that he may look the part he was to play, and wiped his cheek that still showed signs of bruising from his earlier rounds of understanding with the Colonel and his brother.
"Now is that any way to treat your future nephew?"
As Lady Catherine's face flushed and she alternated between glaring at George Wickham and then darting fleeting glances at the shamefaced Fitzwilliams, it took a moment before she managed to regain her senses. "What lies have you told to entrap my niece? I assure you, I have the means to pay. Tell me your price, and you will go away never to darken our door again."
"Catherine, it's beyond that now," the earl growled with chagrin.
"How can he possibly be beyond money? Everyone has their price. Everyone!"
"Perhaps it would be best for your brother to take you into the study for this discussion." Lady Matlock motioned for the burly footman Seamus to walk forward. "Mr. Wickham, I believe you were just going to your rooms, were you not?"
George Wickham winked at Lady Catherine causing the old lady to scowl further. Raising his hands in mock surrender, he turned on his heel and marched up the stairs with Seamus the footman following close behind. As a man who'd actually seen the inside of a gaol, captivity at Matlock House was certainly no inconvenience.
As the Earl steered his sister to his private study, he was not surprised to see Catherine take her preferred seat in the chair next to the old earl's desk. To the two of them, it was fondly thought of as Papa's desk.
"May I offer you refreshments?"
"Don't patronize me Henry! Start with the most pertinent information I must know."
The Earl raked his hand through his thinning hair in exasperation. The wedding next week would not come fast enough for his taste. But there were protocols, and for the ruse to work, the marriage had to be above reproach.
"It began this past summer when my son and our nephew sent our fifteen-year-old niece to Ramsgate with nary more than a companion who worked deception on all involved. The woman had impeccable references, too impeccable in hindsight, and the boys believed the trip would help Georgiana lose some of her shyness."
"Why ever did they send her with such little protection? No young woman should be without the protection of a family member! If they tired of her care so much, they might have sent her to me!"
The Earl held up his hand to stay his sisters vitriol. "Margaret and I were not made aware of the arrangements until after she was gone. Then, it turns out the companion was an accessory to Wickham's crime, convincing Georgiana this whole time how little her family cared for her and encouraging the attentions of Wickham. Before long, our niece had convinced herself she was in love with that cad."
Lady Catherine touched her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. "I was such a fool to allow that child to be sent to the steward of Pemberley and his wife… Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
"Catty, none of us wanted you burdened with Sir Lewis' bastard. It's one thing for a man to have his dalliances, but for him to propose that you take the child in, well it's just not done!"
"I believe I'll have that drink now," Lady Catherine commanded, relinquishing the emotion of regret as quickly as it came upon her.
Within the half-hour, Catherine and Henry had worked out additional plans to protect the family's interests. Lord Matlock called his wife in to seal their decisions with her approval, and it did not take much convincing. The siblings thought they were the only ones to know of George Wickham's true parentage, but Lady Matlock was under no delusions that George Wickham was the natural child of Thomas Wickham and his shrew of a wife, Regina. The fact that the man bore no resemblance to either of his parents was merely affirmation for her suspicions. Still, Margaret Fitzwilliam knew the more secrets one held, the stronger the position one held over her enemies.
Therefore, it was with a smile, a nod, and very few questions that Margaret Fitzwilliam agreed the best course of action was to encourage Darcy to marry his cousin Anne de Bourgh with little delay. For the sake of the family, of course.