“What? Heavens no, Fitzwilliam.” The older Mr. Darcy blustered. “No, George is my godson but definitely notmychild. I am hoping he will go into the law. But that is a conversation for another day. Today, I will enlighten you on the Merino account secured in London by our men at Bainbridge & Sons.”
“Merino?”
“Yes. In honor of my friend who, after the resurrection of his half-brother, was thrown out, along with his mother and sisters.”
“Did they have no other money, no family?”
“Yes, but with seven sisters, a mother and himself, the coffers would be too thin for him to live the life he was accustomed. No,” he finished, as Darcy took the last swallow of his brandy, “you will never face the same fate.”
“And when did you create this account?”
“The year I left Cambridge. I wanted no dangers to befall those I loved. And it will not, Fitzwilliam. My planning is a mark of the code of honor passed down through generations of the Darcy men, and now to you. Our lives are not given to weakness or spite but to benevolence and concern. You will continue this tradition as I have, and my father before me. Your sons and future generations will raise the ensign and move forward where we have ended to ensure all will be well.”
What followed was a conversation Fitzwilliam Darcy imagined he would never need. For when would the future master of Pemberley ever lack money or status?
April 9, 1812
8 years later
Fitzwilliam Darcy slammed the door to his chambers at Rosings.She believes him! That she would trust him so implicitly over me. Me! Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley! I—who saved George Wickham’s reputation and life from debtors’ prison for the last five years and longer.
He tore off his cravat and tossed it onto the chair, certain Briggs, his valet, would be none too pleased. Yet, he did not care. The one woman whose esteem he desired the most had championed Wickham.Wickham!He shook his head in disgust and walked to the window with measured steps, staring out into the ink-black night.Having lived a life of honor, of respectability! She would still believe the words of a man whose illegitimate children Pemberley coffers support!
Darcy turned back toward the room, pacing with quick steps.The monotony of my annual Easter visit to my aunt’s estate broken by Elizabeth visiting the newly minted Mrs. Collins.He pounded his hand on the writing desk as hepassed. “Miss Bennet, man! She is not yours to think on as ‘Elizabeth.’”She made it quite plain this evening that she does not value the title of “wife” by me!
Shaking his head, he slowly came to a halt before slumping down into the tufted chair, still not believing how the evening’s events transpired. “Do I not know the heart of women? Or at least one worthy of being pleased?”When did I become so vulgar? Always being chased by fortune-hunting mothers and daughters.Yet,when a woman of substance is placed before me, can I not act in accordance with civility?
He leaned his head back and sighed deeply before whispering to the ceiling. “‘You could not have made the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.’ Truly, Elizabeth? No possible way?” He reached for the bottle of brandy on the table and poured generously, before downing it in one fiery gulp.
No, this is how it should be. Elizabeth Bennet had no money or connections, but a mind and spirit that would send his world spiraling like a whirling dervish.It was providence that she…rejected me. Now I can leave Rosings cleansed of my fantasies of bringing her home as the mistress of Pemberley.
“But Wickham.” He spat the name, standing up again and walking back to the window. The memory of her wordsstill smoldering as he stared across the lawn. “If your father had not had a son, Mr. Wickham could have fulfilled that role more admirably.”His jaw tightened at the thought. Darcy knew not which version of Wickham’s lies she had been subjected to. How he was not awarded the living at Kympton after his father’s death or how Wickham was refused any inheritance at all.Maybe both?Touching the glass separating their two worlds, he looked toward the parsonage and saw a dim light in a window.Oh,Elizabeth.
Hesitating only a second more, Darcy rang for his valet, who came immediately. “Briggs, we will depart in the morning after I conclude a small matter of business.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let Colonel Fitzwilliam’s man know as well.”
“At once, sir.”
Waiting for the door to close behind him, he touched the glass again and traced the far-off window of light. Although his pride was hurt, if he did nothing, her name might be added to the list of women soiled by Wickham’s hands.I cannot allow that to happen.
Walking to the writing desk, he sat and withdrew a piece of parchment. “If only I had not been born!” He grunted before scratching out his first thoughts in a most inauspicious letter…
Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter…
April 10, 1812
The early morning light had not yet reached the top of the woods of Rosings Park as Anne de Bourgh stood at her bedroom window and watched Darcy ride out. He was going toher. This man whom she had known the entirety of her life, whom she had been promised to since infancy, was in love with another.
In truth, they spoke common civilities, nods of welcome, acknowledgments of his departure from her family home. But nothing of substance; nothing of their likes or dislikes.Mama still expects us to unite our estates, but how can one have a unity of minds…?She rested her head on the cool glass and sighed. “Or even of hearts when we do not speak?” Their future was the fancy of two sisters who did not consider the personalities and proclivities of the tiny infants in their cradles.
Still, they had not always been so distant, Anne and her cousin Darcy. There was a time when they were each other’s confidants. He and their cousin Richard wouldcompete to make her laugh; she would make them crowns of wildflowers; and they would dance with her in the grove.But that was when we were children, and before Papa and Lady Anne died. Their deaths changed everything.
“And it only increased my mother’s ceaseless assertion I marry Fitzwilliam.”Fitzwilliam, of all people! Had she any sense, she would see he is not the cousin I am most suited for.He would not make me happy, and I am convinced I am the last woman in the world who would make him so.
She heard footsteps in the corridor and turned to the faint sound of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam whistling as he passed, sending a flutter through her.
