“I do not think it is only brutish husbands who command their wives,” Darcy replied with that twist of his mouth that showed that he liked being teased. “Unless you consider all husbands to be brutes.”
“Nearly all.” And then Elizabeth frowned.
“You speak jestingly,” Darcy said, “but is that a matter of anxiety to you? Did Mr. Wickham make unreasonable demands of you? Do you fear such—”
“Quite the opposite.” Elizabeth smiled into Darcy’s eyes. She was already starting to trust him completely. “But I like that you expect me to act as you would—you are right, Ishouldnot marry in secret, as much as I would like to.” She laughed a little. “As much as I hate the necessity of the letter, I also must thank you for this. I want to be friends with him again. I dearly do. I do. I only…”
That hammering anxiety pulsed in her chest again.
Darcy kissed her hand and the fear faded away.
She looked into his eyes. They were so deep. She nearly kissed him. Elizabeth trusted him. It was simply the way it was now. She trusted Mr. Darcy. That was stupid, and it frightened her, because while she was perfectly capable of judging friends, she knew that she could not trust her own judgements upon men.
Yet, despite her bone-deep conviction that any manwoulddisappoint her, sheknewat an even deeper level, deep in her soul, that Mr. Darcy never would. Not in a matter of essential character.
Elizabeth took his hand and kissed it.
It was not like the passionate kisses she shared with Wickham. “I’ll write the letter. I’ll inform my father—and I’ll ask him if we can stay for a time at Longbourn before we go north. But you must sit next to me to encourage me as I write it, for otherwise I will not be able to.”
“I wish nothing more than to see your family and come to know them as my own,” Darcy replied. From his smiling manner it was clear that her response had greatly pleased him.
“Oh, do not saythatuntil you have met them all.” Elizabeth laughed. “I hardly know. I remember feeling frequently embarrassed by my mother, but like as not I will think nothing of the sort when I see her again. There was plenty inmyselffor embarrassment in the memory.”
The letter that Elizabeth sent was simple and almost short enough to match her father’s usual habit in correspondence:
Dear Papa,
After your receipt of my last letter, the contents of this one coming so soon after shall no doubt surprise you. I have agreed to marry a gentleman of substantial fortune. This will secure all that is necessary for our future. We plan to marry from Ramsgate in a few weeks and then go to London. I hope that we can stop in Longbourn, if you are amenable to this scheme, for a week or two while on our way to my new husband’s estate in the north.
Your daughter,
E Wickham
The next morning, a lawyer came to draft the settlement documents for the marriage.
Over breakfast Darcy asked, “Do you have any particular wishes or expectations with regards to what I settle on you?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no. I trust you to do what is appropriate, and to know what is appropriate. I do not. I suppose—your estate is not entailed?”
“No,” Darcy replied. “Should we only have daughters, one of them might inherit it.”
“That shall be very nice forheron what I hope will be an extremely distant date, when she is, one hopes, far too sad to rejoice in her good fortune,” Elizabeth replied, “but it is not the chief point on which I am thinking. I have had one husband before. And his management of money matters was not as I expected.”
“Elizabeth, of course the money set aside for you and your children will be placed in such a way that, should I be struck on the head and become so dim-witted that I am convinced to sell the whole estate to some fool for a hundred guineas,yourfortune would be secured.”
“Oh, no. I don’t wantmyfortune at all. That would make me too much a fortune hunter. I only wish to make sure that there are ample funds for the care of the children.” Elizabeth sighed. “I suppose if I make a greatpretense of not being a fortune hunter and of not caring anything for material matters, I would do more to convince others that I am than a proper attention to material concerns and my own interest will—but I know that I can care formyself. I suppose I would wish enough for a house, a servant or two—yes, let us say two—and some clothes and books to read. Leisure, rather than arequirementof work. Settlethaton me, and I shall be happy.”
“Wouldn’t Lizzy get the dower house,” Georgiana offered. Then she hurriedly added, “not that you shall die, brother, any time soon.”
“I do not intend to do so,” Darcy agreed wryly. “But yes, there is a dower house. It is a substantial cottage, some eight or nine rooms in total. With the staff paid by the main house, but the widow chooses her own servants. That is how I understand it was managed in my grandmother’s day. My father was the survivor, so I saw nothing of how my mother would have managed.”
“What happens,” Elizabeth asked, “if our son marries, and then dies. Would his widow then displace me?—I ask from curiosity, not worry.”
“Certainly not, since your life interest would be specified inourmarriage articles and could not be superseded by those of our son,” Darcy smiled at saying that. “Not unless you voluntarily renounced the right.”
“Then I pronounce myself wholly satisfied, but we should sign all such documents before long familiarity with the ways of wealth give me expectations that I am certain I will be despised both for having and for not having.”
Georgiana laughed, but Darcy looked at Elizabeth with some seriousness. Then he said, “You really do depend upon me to protect your interests in this matter.”
