A Dishonorable Offer

by Timothy Underwood

  Darcy shrugged and smiled. “She is a paragon of charm and beauty — an exemplar of delicacy and strength, accomplished and witty.” With a wry twist of his face, Darcy said to Radnor, “Her figure is perfect as well. May I presume an inheritance from her mother?”

  Radnor patted his ample waist. “Not from me.”

  Matlock said, “Yes, yes. You speak of her in the same glowing tones you would any lady you met in a ballroom who you did not actually dislike. But you know what I mean — would you marry her?”

  Uneasiness rose up. He’d flirted with Lady Margaret and tried to learn something more of her character. But now that he had a minute to think, he was not sure he wanted to marry this year. He was still quite young. There was no hurry. It was too soon to settle his fate.

  Darcy was mostly sure the feeling was because of Elizabeth, and hence irrational.

  Darcy forced himself to speak. “I do not know. I had not thought of it until halfway through dinner.”

  “You said you shall marry this season.” Matlock slapped his hand on the table. “And I’ll hold you to it. So since you will not keep your bachelor state, do you have a particular objection to Margaret?”

  Derwent and Richard sat together chatting close enough to hear the conversation. Richard exclaimed, “A cheer for being trapped in the sweet bonds of matrimony. And such a beautiful woman. Darcy, it is a fate poor colonels are unlikely to achieve.”

  Derwent elbowed his brother. “Fatherhood is worth entering the married state. You should not delay longer. And Grettie is as good a sort as you could hope for.”

  “She is so young.”

  Radnor laughed, holding his cigar to the side. “She is nineteen. That is not young at all. Darcy, my daughter likes you, your gallantry last season before my father died made an impression on her, and we’ve known your character and habits since you were a child. It would be a good alliance for us both, extending the connection between the Roberts and Fitzwilliams into another generation. You are an excellent match, but if you don’t want to marry my girl, we’ll just find someone else.”

  “No, no, I do. I think I do. I like the idea. It is very strange to think myself soon to be married. I cannot say for sure so quick. She… I must make my own judgement of her.”

  Matlock snorted. “She is a comely girl, and there is nothing wild in her behavior, and we are her connections. How long can it take you to decide? I decided to marry Susan before I’d more than seen her twice.”

  “We are a new generation, Uncle, infected by French ideas and novel reading. Perhaps I want something different from a marriage.”

  “Ha! There are fools in every generation. But for a wife you can want nothing better than Grettie. Find love, if you must, with your mistress. What I’ve always said.”

  Darcy glanced uncomfortably at Radnor. Was it really a good idea to explicitly discuss such a subject in front of the father of a woman he might marry?

  Radnor laughed. “Keep up the proprieties; just promise to be more discreet than your uncle, but none of us are hypocrites.”

  Yes, of course not. “I can promise to be more discreet than Matlock.”

  Radnor said, “I can trust you to take care of my girl. I remember what your father was like with Lady Anne. I don’t expect you to be like they were, but you take obligations seriously.”

  Lady Margaret was soft. A little like Elizabeth’s sister Jane might be if she had forty thousand. Marrying her would be like every society marriage. Sweet affection, but no deep passion. He would never love her.

  His parent’s marriage had been different. Their last Christmas: the two of them laughing together, Father swinging Mother around and around, her stomach beginning to show with Georgiana. Happiness and love.

  Another scene blotted that happy memory away. Matlock, his hair still black. The weathered stone bench used by generations of Eton students. The mowed lawns for cricket and bowls. It felt in his memory like they sat forever, hours maybe, and the terrified feeling in Darcy’s stomach stretched up and down his limbs before Matlock told him his father was dead.

  He didn’t want to love anyone.

  “Well, say something.”

  “Your daughter seems a perfect wife. I must know her better, but I think I shall be very pleased to marry her.”

  Radnor said, “I am not your uncle. I wouldn’t marry a girl without thinking about it either. There is plenty of time, we will all be here until after Twelfth Night. It is another two weeks, take your time, talk to Margaret. But decide by Twelfth Night. If I must hunt down a different husband for her, I wish to know before the season begins.”

  *****

  The next day was Christmas. Darcy spent the morning talking to and walking with Lady Margaret. She was sweet and pretty and conversable. Their conversation was rather somber, and Darcy spent most of it interrogating Lady Margaret about her habits, character and childhood.

  He knew he should be flirting with her, but he didn’t want to. The desire for her he’d felt the previous day was completely gone. As a pretty woman to flirt with when there was no thought in his head that it might go beyond that, she was very attractive.

  But Darcy had no desire to actually bed her. He flinched away from asking himself why. He did not want to think about what he knew was the answer. But the idea of marrying her seemed worse and worse to him the more he tried to force himself to think it was a good idea.

  Darcy and Georgiana had a pair of rooms in the Matlock estate with a sitting room between them. The sitting room was decorated far more to Georgiana’s taste as she spent three to four months in a year there, splitting her time between her brother and her uncle. Since he had promised to spend part of Christmas day just with her, Darcy and Georgiana went to their sitting room in the afternoon.

  Georgiana crossed her legs under her, and plopped onto one of the cushions of the soft lavender sofa. “Are you going to marry Grettie?”

  Darcy made a face. He did not want an inquisition. “What makes you think I might?”

  Georgiana rolled her eyes, as though that was a stupid question. Which Darcy admitted it was.

  “I have not decided yet, but Radnor and Matlock suggested I ought. What do you think?”

  “Boring, and entirely proper. Plenty of delicacy. She is widely accomplished. For all the use that is. I don’t understand why someone would want to draw, and paint, and knit, and do a dozen other things when they could focus all that effort on one and become actually skilled.”

  “I have heard her play, as have you. Despite having more than one accomplishment mastered, she is very good.”

  “She is not. And you know it. Not next to me at any rate. She wanted to play a duet with me. I told her I don’t like to play them.”

  Darcy shrugged. “Your modesty, my dear sister, does you great credit.”

  Georgiana stuck her tongue out at him. She then said, “She is very curious about you. It would be pretty if she wasn’t a goose who only sees that smile Derwent taught you. At least she does like you — it would be possible for you to do worse.”

  “You do not approve? Georgie, it is my decision, but she would be your sister. Please…if you have anything against her to say, tell me.”

  “Well…” Georgiana stuck her fist in her mouth and nibbled on a knuckle.

  Silently Darcy pulled her hand away from her mouth.

  Georgiana grinned at him. “Madame Perrin has been trying to break that habit for months.”

  “It is unladylike.” Darcy smiled at his sister.

  She smiled back. “You don’t really care.” She put her knuckle back in her mouth. “There is nothing wrong with Margaret, I suppose. And much right. I suuuuppose. Her dowry is very rich, and she is very pretty, but… I could not imagine talking with her very often. But men don’t need worry about such things when they marry. You can always find a mistress to fall in love with after you are bored with her. When I marry, if I take a lover it would mean he might be able to divorce me and take my fortune. I shall not marry
until I am at least three and twenty. Madame Perrin made me promise not to after Wickham. She thinks young people are more foolish before they are that age. And I always can remember how Wickham charmed me if I ever trust myself to be wise.”

  “You realized he was a fortune hunter and sent him away.”

  “Oh, I only realized that because he was an impatient imbecile. He refused to talk to you or Uncle, or listen to any suggestion but immediate marriage.”

  “I would never have approved of such a marriage, and neither would our uncle.”

  Georgiana waved her hand, dismissing what he’d said. “Never? That is a large statement. You give insufficient respect to the vagaries of fortune. I didn’t think you would, immediately, but if we showed constancy over a period of time, eventually you would have allowed it. Madame Perrin would have made Uncle Charlie allow a correspondence, and if neither of you came around, I could have gone to him once I was able to sign my own settlement papers when I came of age.”

  “Six years is a long time to wait.”

  “I wasn’t going to wait that long to be with him either. I offered to run off to join him, if you both were absolute bores about it, after six months. We wouldn’t marry until I was of age, but we could live together in some distant village in Cornwall. Miss Wickham had told me her brother had received three thousand from Papa when he died, so I thought there could be no problem about us living together cheaply until then.”

  Darcy coughed. “You — Georgie, that would have been worse than eloping with him. What if you had children? Then you would have needed to marry lest they be illegitimate. What were you thinking?”

  “We wouldn’t have had children until we married.”

  “Among everything else Uncle had you learn — haven’t you been told… Well if you lived with Wickham, children would…”

  This was his baby sister. This was why he’d never been actually unhappy she was Matlock’s responsibility. This was not a conversation he could have. “You are confused, but Uncle Charles is your guardian. It is his place to explain.”

  Georgiana’s sneer was completely dismissive. “Of course I know how women get with child. You half headed coxcomb. You blockhead. You—” Georgiana threw her arms in the air and growled.

  “Then if…”

  “There are other things men and women can do to give and receive pleasure that don’t risk a child. I am shocked you didn’t know that.”

  Darcy stared at his sister. She blushed hard and then pulled her legs onto the couch so she could face in an opposite direction from Darcy.

  “Did you and Mr. Wickham—” An image muscled its way into Darcy’s mind.

  God, no.

  He didn’t want to ever imagine that. Not with his little sister as the woman. “Do not tell me! Do not — we shall never, never, never revisit this conversation again. You are your uncle’s ward, and it is not my place to judge what facts you know. You are not married to Wickham; your innocence, such as it is, is intact; I have no need to hunt the man down and challenge him. That is all I want to know.”

  Georgiana mutely nodded.

  “And, if Matlock ever encourages you to marry, ever, even after you are three and twenty, you can count on me to support you when you say no. Three and twenty, or maybe three and forty. Good ages. Especially three and forty.”

  Darcy stood and went to the counter where a decanter of brandy sat. He needed a drink. He sniffed the liquid and then swallowed a long pull straight. The fire burned down his throat. This was what he deserved for hoping Georgiana would give him a reason to not marry Lady Margaret.

  “Do you want any?”

  Georgiana smirked at him and stood up and walked to the counter.

  Darcy poured a thin finger of the alcohol for Georgiana and added water to weaken it. She delicately took the glass.

  “So you have no opinion on whether I should marry Lady Margaret?”

  “She would be your wife. I think she would be a dull sister, but that is hardly a reason for you not to marry her. You’ll likely have pretty daughters, and she isn’t actually stupid — though she does like Pamela. I’d rather marry Wickham, even knowing he is a fortune hunter who cared nothing for me, than Mr. B.”

  Darcy thought of Elizabeth again.

  Georgiana leaned her elbows on the back of the sofa. “Fitzwilliam, what is it?”

  “Nothing — only, I met someone, a woman, in Hertfordshire. She had much the same opinion about Pamela.”

  “A woman. Is this the woman you’ve moped about since you returned from Hertfordshire? Don’t look surprised, I pay attention. I didn’t know for sure that you were in love, but—”

  “I am not in love.”

  Georgiana waved that objection away. “Why don’t you marry her instead of Lady Margaret? I’m sure I’d like her more.”

  “All you know about her is that she dislikes Pamela as well.”

  “I also know that you like her. It is at least probable I’d prefer her to Lady Margaret.”

  “You would, much more.”

  “Why don’t you marry this woman with the wisdom to dislike Pamela. Oh — she is already married? And she loves her husband too much to run away with you?”

  Darcy stared at her. “Where did you get such ideas? You shouldn’t know about such things.”

  Georgiana showed a mischievous smile. “Our uncle’s ward, remember. So if Miss Cleverer than Lady Margaret is not married, why don’t you offer for her?”

  “She is far beneath me. Much too far to even think about marrying her.”

  Georgiana screwed her face in disgust. “I don’t care about such things. I’d have married Wickham no matter how low his connections if he loved me and wasn’t an entirely useless pretty dandy. A girl should be prettier than her husband, and he is prettier than every woman in England.”

  “Such things matter.”

  “Why didn’t you make this woman your mistress? If she is so far beneath us, she would have no better options. She must’ve liked you, I see how you talk to women, you are nearly as charming as Wickham was when you try. And, even if you are not in love — you have an infatuation. You should ride back to Hertfordshire and beg her to come live with you, and then invite me to meet this woman who you think I will like.”

  Fitzwilliam, it is not you I am rejecting.

  “Oh.” Georgiana’s enthusiasm collapsed from her face. “She refused you. I’m sure I wouldn’t like her — she is either priggish or doesn’t like you very much. Neither speaks well for her sense.”

  “Ha. You think ill of the sense of a woman who would refuse to be a man’s mistress too? I thought it was only me.”

  “So she is too obsessed by what society would think of her to follow you.”

  “No. Elizabeth doesn’t care how the world in general thinks on her.”

  “Then, why — was it superstitious religious nonsense—”

  “You should think and speak more highly of religion and the church.”

  “You don’t pay any attention to prohibitions against fornication.”

  “I attend church every week, and I believe in Providence. However, the first law is to love your neighbor as yourself. I am satisfied my dealings with women have always satisfied that requirement. I do not seek to harm and take advantage.”

  “So this Elizabeth refused because she thought love wasn’t a worthy reason to ignore the harping of the pulpits and her teachers. I can’t like her. I would have followed a man I loved to the ends of England and the depths of hell if he loved me, and we had some hope of happiness and friendship.”

  “I don’t love Elizabeth. By Jove, I don’t. I told her that. Love is what killed our father and I won’t ever let myself fall in love.”

  “You told her you didn’t love her.”

  “I wouldn’t lie. Not to any woman. Never to Elizabeth.”

  “Halfwit! Numbskull!” Georgiana kicked him in the shins. “No woman would be charmed by that sort of offer. Of course she was right to refuse you. To give
up so much for a man who proudly proclaims he doesn’t love you. Miss Wickham never cared, but most women have some scruples on the matter. Nitwit. How can you be so charming normally, and yet such a fool?”

  “I’m not a fool.”

  Georgiana shook her head. “I’m going downstairs to find someone less stupid to talk to. You should marry Lady Margaret. She is exactly the sort of woman for a man with your opinions. But don’t tell her that you don’t love her when you propose. Idiot.”

  Chapter 16

  Despite being delighted to see Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner again, Elizabeth was exquisitely uncomfortable in Mr. Phillips’s stuffy drawing room.

  “So Mr. Bingley’s friend Mr. Darcy left as planned?” Mrs. Gardiner asked her sister-in-law with a concerned look.

  Mrs. Bennet replied, “No, he just left. A month before planned. No to do, no parting words, just disappeared. Everyone talked about it for two weeks.”

  It was the last day of the year. Elizabeth pushed her hand rhythmically against the sprigged sofa she sat on. Hopefully this small fidget would not be seen. Kitty was boarding at Longbourn with Mary, and she was now calling on all her friends, but Jane and Lizzy had stayed at the house. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips were there with Mama and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

  Mrs. Bennet querulously added, “You thought he might want to make Lizzy his mistress. You wanted me to warn him off. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Nobody will ever want Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth clenched at the thick upholstery.

  Mr. Phillips exclaimed, “What!” Then he laughed. “I remember when he wanted to give Lizzy money for cards. Tried to be her hero that night, protecting her from being reminded what she is. Hahahahaha. But he didn’t like her that much.”

  “Elizabeth is a very good girl,” Mr. Gardiner kept his arm around his wife. “If he ever had such a thought, I’m sure he realized she would never agree to such a thing. This is not a proper conversation when Jane and Lizzy are here.”

  Mr. Phillips said, “Lizzy talks to Lydia all the time. She hears far worse things there I suspect.”