by AmyJ
“Are you asking me if I regret my marriage to Elizabeth? The answer is no. I would not give her up for all the land in England.” He watched as Stephen
turned slowly and began pacing, albeit much more slowly this time, all the
while nodding slowly as though he was having a conversation with himself.
“You want to know the best part?” Darcy asked, unsure if he should interrupt.
When Stephen stopped and looked at him, Darcy answered, “If I were a pauper, barely able to keep a roof over her head, she would love me still.” He could not help the way his eyes glowed and his lips curved.
Not sure how he expected Stephen to respond to such a statement, he watched in amazement as the man seemingly withered in front of him. His cousin had
always been a proud man, and carried himself with all the importance of a
future earl. At the moment, however, Lord Fitzwilliam resembled something
more of a young lad arguing with a seasoned scholar at the university. “What about the censure of the family?” The viscount muttered, seemingly to himself.
“Not just Father, but Mother too. Not to mention the talk in town. And where would he live if Father disinherited him?”
“May I ask where these questions tend?” Darcy asked. There was no immediate response. Finally, Stephen took a seat on the settee. “I need your help.” An air of confidence had seemingly returned.
Darcy said nothing, allowing Stephen to continue.
“I presume you are aware of the attachment between Richard and Miss
Bennet.”
“Still?” Darcy asked. The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“So you knew something of it while they were in London.”
“I thought it to be one of Richard’s passing fancies.”
Stephen shook his head. “She is why he will not marry Anne.”
It was Darcy’s turn to rub the chagrin off his face. Everything was suddenly becoming clear. “Yet, he will not offer for her, because he has but a small
income, and she has no fortune.” And he would rather live at Langford than risk seeing her at Pemberley.
“That is the general issue, but fortune need not be a concern.” Stephen
nervously toyed with his pocket watch, wrapping its chain around his index
finger and then releasing it again. “He is stubborn, and in spite of my advice, he intends to leave for Langford as soon as the doctor deems him well enough for travel. I need your assistance in securing an interview between Richard and Miss Bennet.”
“Are you certain Miss Bennet would accept him?” Darcy asked, wanting
desperately to put an end to such scheming. There was no way he was going to get involved; not after what happened with Bingley. He had given up
matchmaking, and more importantly, had promised Elizabeth he would not
meddle.
“I saw them together the other night. They did nothing but stare at one another when they thought the other one occupied.” An odd sadness came over his
countenance. “They had the same look you do, when someone even mentions
Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s lips twitched of their own accord, causing Stephen to shake his head slowly. “Yes. That look.”
Darcy cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, attempting to appear more serious. “Why not let them work it out?” His mouth opened and then closed
again. “I am sorry, but I can not help you.”
“Why?” Stephen demanded.
“Because I promised Elizabeth I would not.”
“I can not believe your wife does not think Richard a good enough match for her sister? He is the son of an earl. Or perhaps she has us all fooled and truly is nothing more than a fortune hunter. Perhaps she has someone with a larger
income in mind for her sister?”
“Be careful what you say, Stephen.” Darcy warned with murder in his eye.
“That is my wife you are speaking of.”
“Then tell me why your wife would make you promise to not assist in bringing Richard and her sister together.”
Darcy was trapped. He could not allow Stephen’s misgivings about Elizabeth
to continue, yet confessing his previous attempt at matchmaking was not an
option either.
“Have you spoken to Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked. His tone had returned to
normal levels, now that his indignation was moderated.
“No, but it was plain for the entire room to see. I am only surprised Lady
Catherine did not have Miss Bennet thrown from the house.”
“How do you intend to break the news to Lady Catherine, or your father for that matter?” Darcy asked, pouncing on the opportunity to divert the
conversation.
“I will figure that out after there is something to announce. Now will you assist me?”
Darcy hesitated once again. Then, finding a good compromise, he said, “If you speak to Miss Bennet, and can be assured of her attachment to Richard, I will assist you.”
Predictably, Stephen’s brow creased. “Would it not be easier for Elizabeth to learn her sister’s wishes?”
Darcy shrugged. “Likely so, but Miss Bennet is likely to be more honest with you, as she will be less concerned about your expectations.” With that, he
stood, anxious to end the conversation.
Stephen shook his head. “Very well, Darcy. I shall speak to Miss Bennet.”
Two days later, while the sun was just peeking over the horizon, Darcy found himself in his coach, with Elizabeth and Jane. He prayed some sort of decision would be made this morning. If things continued in such uncertain terms,
especially after the discussion he had with Elizabeth over this meeting, he would have no choice but to return to Pemberley, and let Stephen figure things out.
He looked over at his wife, who was holding her sister’s hand supportively.
Jane did look particularly anxious, and he both hoped and dreaded it was
anticipation in seeing Richard. If she truly loved Richard, he would wish them joy, but at the same time, could not help wondering what it would mean for
Bingley.
If he was truthful, he would admit that Elizabeth had spoken the truth the other night. He would not have been so quick to send Bingley back to Hertfordshire were it not for his friend’s income. And, he had to admit part of his
unwillingness to bring Richard and Jane together stemmed from his concern
for Bingley. He had hoped Jane would eventually see Bingley for the good man he was, and they would marry. Jane would steady Bingley, and keep him
focused, and Bingley would provide well for Jane. It was a very good match.
The carriage came to stop, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. He stepped down, and then handed down his wife and sister. Stephen was nowhere in sight, and for a moment, he thought perhaps that infamous Fitzwilliam
stubbornness had prevailed.
Not more than ten minutes later, though, sounds of another vehicle could be heard, and it was not long until he saw a curricle approaching. Curious to
determine Richard’s attachment to Jane with his own eyes, Darcy watched as
his cousin was assisted to the ground.
Richard struggled for a moment or two with his crutch, but his eyes never left Miss Bennet’s form. In fact, Richard appeared so distracted, Darcy was unsure if his cousin was even aware of his presence.
A tug on his arm grabbed his attention. It was Elizabeth, gently leading him away from the couple now situated on the stone bench.
“If that stubborn ox does not declare himself, I swear I will leave him in the closest ditch,” Stephen jested.
“He did not look a bit surprised by our presence,” Elizabeth commented.
Stephen grinned smugly. “I decided he would put up less of a fight if I told him where we were going.” He snickered in laughter. “I was right, too.”
To this they all laughed.
“It is in their hands now,” Darcy commented. He looked sideways at Lord
Fitzwilliam. “If word of our matchmaking gets back to London, you and I will not be able to show our faces.”
Stephen chuckled. “Then it is a good thing that no one knows of this but us.”
The three walked a bit further, before sight of the sun filtering through the tree branches spoke of the rapidly approaching morning. As they returned to the
carriages, they could see the couple on the bench in an intimate embrace.
That evening, after giving Elizabeth sufficient time to ready herself for bed, Darcy entered their room. He was surprised to find a tray of biscuits and a small bottle of cordial.
“To what do I owe this?” he asked playfully. “Are you not too old to be stealing sweets from the kitchen?”
“I did not steal these,” Elizabeth replied smugly. “Though I happen to know you have been guilty of such a charge many times.”
Darcy laughed, easily remembering the nights he had snuck into Pemberley’s
kitchens to retrieve late night snacks for them. “Yes, but I had a debt to fulfil, and a gentleman never goes back on his word,” Darcy replied, with as much
solemnity as the occasion permitted. After discarding his cravat and tailcoat, he settled onto the sofa next to his wife. “I know for certain, you have no such debt to redress.”
“True.” She smiled smugly, and took a bite of her biscuit.
“I have always wanted to ask how it was you were never caught when you lost a wager.” He put his arm around Elizabeth. “I swear Mrs. Anderson counted
the biscuits; she always knew when I had stolen some.”
Elizabeth giggled and pursed her lips tightly together. Casually, she dipped her biscuit into the fruity concoction and after taking a bite, let out a satisfying
“Mmmmm.”
“Elizabeth…” Darcy groused.
“Upon my honour, Fitzwilliam, I can not reveal that secret.”
Darcy raised a brow, while sipping his drink. “And pray, dear wife, why can you not?”
“It would be most improper.” Seeing Darcy would not relent, she sighed. “Oh, very well. But I do not like speaking ill of the dead.” Darcy continued to press her, so Elizabeth explained her agreement with Mrs. Anderson, Pemberley’s
former cook. When Darcy remained silent, she became confused.
“Fitzwilliam?”
“Do you know how many pots I had to scrub?!”
Elizabeth laughed heartily; so much so, that she nearly choked. “And I thought you to be a clever sort of man.” She squealed as Darcy roughly pulled her to him.
“I shall show you cleverness, Madame,” he growled. He then engaged in the
one activity he knew could silence her laughter.
After a most delightful interlude, with a devilish smile, Elizabeth said lowly,
“Will it make you feel better if I told you Mrs. Anderson asked me to help
strain the berries for the cordial, if I was going to take some?”
“How do you do it, Beth?” he whispered, in between sweet kisses. “How do
you so thoroughly bewitch everyone around you?” The question was rhetorical, and before Elizabeth could even attempt to respond, his lips had captured hers.
After a few moments, Elizabeth rested her head against his chest. “I love you, dearest husband.” Darcy’s only response was to kiss the top of her head.
She looked up at him. “If Jane and Richard are even half as happy as we are, they shall do very well together.”
Darcy merely grunted his agreement.
Feeling her husband’s distraction, she asked, “What troubles you? Do you not approve of their engagement?”
“It is nothing so horrible as that, dearest. It is evident they love each other, and I am very happy for them.” He paused and let out a soft sigh. “I was only
thinking of Bingley.”
“Do you think he will react badly?”
Darcy shook his head. “I am uncertain. If it were me…” He tightened his arms around Elizabeth, as though he was afraid she might disappear.
“You could invite him to Pemberley for a visit,” Elizabeth suggested, loosening his grip so she could breathe.
“Even if it meant Miss Bingley and the Hursts?”
Though she answered in the affirmative, there was a noticeable hesitation.
Darcy tightened his embrace once again, and kissed her hair. “I love you, my Beth.”
Chapter Forty-Two
A week later, after a brief stay in London to attend to some business, the
Darcys, along with Jane, were once again on the road. Though instead of
Pemberley, their carriage rolled on towards Hertfordshire! Provided Mr. Bennet gave his consent to Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam to marry his eldest daughter -
something all but the intended groom believed would be readily given - there was a wedding to attend!
Darcy looked on amusedly as Jane taught Georgiana a new stitch for
embroidering flower petals. They teased and laughed at one another's attempts at the feat in the swaying carriage, and in general behaved as sisters. Warmed by such a scene, he could not help but wonder if the whole Ramsgate incident might have been avoided if Georgiana had had friends like Jane and Elizabeth over the years.
He looked to his right, where his wife was nodding off to sleep. It had not even been a full year since they had become reacquainted, and the change in
Georgiana was undeniable. And, if he was honest, he had changed as well.
Elizabeth had taught him how to laugh at himself again. More importantly, she had shown him how to do his duty, despite the burden of being a Darcy; he had learned to enjoy the life of privilege to which he had been born.
As the passing scenery indicated they were nearing Meryton, a sense of dread came over him. The task that lay before him was rather unenviable. Worse, he had no idea how Bingley would react to the news.
If Bingley was aware of Miss Bennet's opinion of him, the severity of the blow might be mitigated. If not, there was no telling what he might do. The fact that Miss Bennet's betrothed was his cousin did nothing to help matters. Bingley might understandably be angry at him, forever dampening their friendship.
Still, it would be best to hear this news from a friend, rather than the hens of the neighbourhood.
After seeing Elizabeth and Georgiana safely settled at Purvis Lodge, and Jane returned to her father, Darcy made his way to Netherfield, using the miles from Longbourn to rehearse what he would say.
Before the words had solidified into coherent sentences though, the familiar edifice came into view. His stomach clenched. He consoled himself with the
fact Bingley was not violent in nature. The proceeding would likely not come to blows.
Darcy was shown into the drawing room, where Bingley was studiously
hunched over a table.
"Darcy! So good to see you!" Bingley exclaimed happily upon seeing him. He vigorously shook Darcy's hand and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Bingley. It is good to see you." His friend's jovial mood was doing nothing to make his task easier.
"Is Mrs. Darcy or Miss Darcy not with you?" Bingley looked about in expectation.
"They are both at Purvis Lodge with my cousins."
After showing Darcy to a seat and pouring him a glass of wine, Bingley said,
"You are welcome to stay at Netherfield. I have rooms for your cousins."
Darcy nearly snorted at the ironic invitation, but repressed it. "I would not wish to impose on you so grievously."
Not surprisingly, Bingley waved him off and pressed him one more time. Again Darcy declined, and then quickly changed the subject to general pleasantries.
After assurances of their families' health and well being were exchanged,
Darcy nodded towards one in the line of pistols that lay on the table before them.
"It is
a German Flintlock Pistol from the early seventeen hundreds." Bingley crowed, handing over the piece. "I acquired it at an auction, just before arriving in Hertfordshire."
"A splendid piece," Darcy remarked. He examined it with the expertise of a seasoned proprietor of antiques, checking its weight, balance, and firing
mechanism. "The owner must have been loath to part with it."
Bingley let out a sly grin and said, "He was, but he was more than happy for the pounds he received in exchange."
"And how is Wortham?" Darcy asked, avoiding the purpose for his visit just a little longer.
"Splendid, if my steward is to be believed," Bingley beamed. "I can only hope the neighbours are as agreeable as they are in Hertfordshire." Darcy nodded.
"But enough of Wortham," Bingley said. "Tell me of Kent. Colonel Fitzwilliam is well?"
Darcy's heart stopped in his chest. How had Bingley learned of Colonel
Fitzwilliam's engagement to Jane? The next moment however, he realized the
inquiry was but a casual reference. "He… uh… he has retired from the service, but is healing well enough." Darcy replied, gathering his composure. Knowing he could not stall any further, he anxiously stood and walked about the room
before grasping the back of a chair to quell his agitation. "I need to tell you something," he said slowly.
When he was certain Bingley was listening, he began. "When I advised you to return to Hertfordshire, I was concerned about you. You… you were not
yourself. You seemed to have lost your way. I thought that perhaps with some time away from town, you would pull yourself together, and it seems as though you have." He forced a wan smile, instantly regretting this line of approach.
Saying all this could not mitigate his own part in this affair, and Bingley certainly did not need to be reminded of his past misdeeds at the moment. He was about to press onward, when Bingley interrupted.
"You were correct, I was not myself, but... Darcy, it would be easier if you just spoke your mind," Bingley said in a tone that hinted of his embarrassment.
Darcy drew in a breath. "It concerns Miss Bennet."
Bingley stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. "Is she well? She did not fall ill, did she?" He looked as though he might run to Longbourn
immediately.