Darcy felt a terrible anxiety — what if Elizabethwasto be married to him? He found it very hard to continue spearing the meat on his plate with his fork. One bite. Two bites.
Lady Catherine said with some asperity, “Anne, I have no sense why we are speaking of Mr. Collins, but he wrote that he was refused by his cousin, and has transferred his affections to the daughter of one of their neighbors — a most useful woman. For my part, I have no notion why youths these days believe themselves to be at liberty to not listen to their parents and other superiors in understanding when determining who to marry. I am certain that no one at this table would marry in such a way as to disoblige their relations.”
She had refused Mr. Collins.
Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed, choking on his wine and waving away any help with his hand while looking like a grinning maniac. “Fine, fine, fine — merely wished to say Lady Catherine,Icertainly would never disoblige you in marriage.”
“If you would,” she said, “I am certainyouare the only one.”
Elizabeth was still free.
Something in his stomach loosened, and Darcy took a large swallow of his wine. He was happy, but it was stupid to be happy over such a matter, since he did not intend to, as Lady Catherine had said, marry to disoblige his relations. He did not want any of them, even Colonel Fitzwilliam to see the relief on his face.
After dinner they all returned in a body to the drawing room, and at last the argument that Darcy had known was approaching for the whole night came. But he was more firm in his decision. The minute of wondering whether Elizabeth had married Mr. Collins had been enough to convince him that even if she could never be anything more to him than a friend, that his feelings for Anne were such thatshecould never be anything more to him than a cousin.
Lord Matlock began the discussion: “Darcy, my fellow, Darcy — Cathy and I’ve been talking. And, eh, dear boy, we’ve decided it's time for you to marry.”
“Oh.” Darcy raised his eyebrows and drew out the word. “Have you now.”
“Don’t put up your bristles. Your life and all — we know well that you can’t be browbeat into anything.”
“No.”
“I admire that about you.”
“I have always been determined to live up to the Darcy name,” Darcy said, “as I best see fit. I of course do so solely to gain your admiration.”
Lord Matlock pursed his lips and shook his head. “Kindly let down your hackles for a few minutes — we are all here because we care for you. You cannot be pushed into anything, so you will not be. But you are too dutiful to notlistenand give us all a chance to speak.”
“Of course not.”
“Now, Darcy, will you also promise to seriously consider the matter?” His uncle stood and leaned forward on the back of a velvet wingback chair.
“I have.”
“Yes, well. I mean to seriously think upon what we say.”
Darcy grinned. “I shall do my best to set aside any annoyance at having you discuss my affairs, and seek to consider if there is any wisdom in the discussion.”
“Well. And I hope you set aside any offence my words might cause — but we are family. No need to be prickly. Our goals are all the same — the simple fundamental of the matter is this: You’ve always expected to marry brilliantly, and have held off marrying Anne in hopes of finding a brilliant match.”
Lady Catherine sputtered at her brother, but he talked right over her saying, “She tends to illness, Cathy, and Darcy tends to an excess of good looks. Perhaps he would have found an heiress with beauty and excellent health who is Anne’s equal in fortune, or failing that, a woman with an excellent dowry who would impress the whole of society. But, Darcy, you know that is impossible now — at least very unlikely.”
“Oh?” Darcy replied coldly.
“Do not play a game of pretense with me. Any really brilliant match is a girl pursued by every clever bachelor in the town. Such a girl and her family would not consider you — and you cannot pursue her through dancing attendance on the girl at every ball. If you tried with some ‘incomparable’ you would merely make a fool of yourself. So, son, time to marry Anne.”
This time Darcy felt really offended, mainly due to a belief that what his uncle had said was true. There was a certain sort of woman, maybe a dozen such girls entered society every season, who were considered as diamonds of the highest water, incomparables, the women who every idle man wandering the ballrooms dedicated themselves to the pursuit of.
When the chase for such a girl ended, the lucky hunter who had brought her down was always feted and praised, and the men around him looked at him with an additional heaping of jealousy for acquiring a wife who combined at once excellent accomplishments, beauty, connections and wealth — though which of those four was most predominant varied.
Darcy had of course danced with such women, and while he had never met one who he had been tempted to pursue… he had fully believed that hecould. That any eligible woman in the kingdom was his for the asking.
Lady Catherine exclaimed, “There is no woman more worthy than my Anne — look at her.”
Anne smiled a little vacantly and waved at them all. She seemed surprisingly… undisturbed to hear herself spoken of in such unflattering terms by her uncle, and to be the onlooker to a conversation which meant to settle the future course of her life.
“Any case,” Lord Matlock said, “can do nothing but make the best of it.”
