Chapter one
Fitzwilliam Darcy crossed his arms and stared. “I will not marry Anne, Aunt Catherine. It is a matter of prudence—I will require an heir, and Anne is not healthy enough to bear one. Considering her frail constitution, it appears unwise to continue the family history of wedding cousins to one another.”
Lady Catherine whirled from the fire. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, I mean to see that you do your duty. Do you not recall that this was your mother’s favourite wish? Have you forgotten that even your lamented father sanctioned the match, and the earl also speaks in support of it? Have you so little respect for your mother’s family that you would reject the unified voices of all? The announcement shall print on the morrow, and you are an engaged man whether you like it or no.”
“I shall have it repudiated!” Darcy objected. “You will not force my hand, Aunt Catherine. I will not have Anne, and that is the end of it.”
“If you do not marry her, she will be ruined! Everyone has been expecting the engagement for two years now.”
“That is because you have been broadcasting it as a fact. I have never viewed my cousin as a potential wife. I do not wish to see her ruined, but that would be your own doing, not mine.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy, I am ashamed of you! You would deny the claims of duty and your family?”
“My duty to my family requires that I produce a healthy heir. It would be better if my wife did not expire in the process.”
“Anne is perfectly strong and quite capable of bearing a child.”
“Anne would break if I were to touch her with more than a cousinly embrace. The marriage bed itself might be the death of her.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy! That you should speak to an old woman with such callous indecency!”
“If it is what is needed to persuade you that Anne is not a suitable match for me, I would take up the speech of a sailor. I will not marry Anne, and that is my final word on the matter.” Darcy enforced this remark with a firm jerk of his head and turned to go. “I expect you and Anne will be returning to Kent on the morrow?”
Lady Catherine’s mouth clamped in rage. “I shall leave London only when I have received assurance that you will fulfil your obligations to Anne!”
“That, I shall never do, for no such obligation exists. You must make yourself comfortable for an extended stay, I am afraid.”
Lady Catherine stamped her cane on the ground in a fury. “Very well! Then I shall know how to act.”
Darcy stifled a sigh and retired to his chambers where his valet, Wilson, appeared to help him out of his coat and cravat.
“Did you wish for a nightcap, sir?” sagely enquired his long-time body man.
It was not Darcy’s way to drink himself into his bed, but his mind was still roiling with anger at his relation. Perhaps a drink would help soothe him to slumber. “Yes, thank you, Wilson. A brandy, if you please. And would you be so good to have a book sent up from the library?”
“Do you have a preference, sir?”
“No. Anything will do—your choice. The duller, the better.”
“Very good, sir.” Wilson gathered his master’s clothing and disappeared to procure the requested items.
Darcy sank wearily into the chair at his writing desk and frowned out of the darkened window. The surest solution to this predicament with his aunt and cousin was to find another wife. Asuitablewife. The only trouble was that every eligible lady he hadencountered was either as offensive as his aunt or as insipid as his cousin. There was not one with whom he would wish to share his house, to say nothing of his bed, for the remainder of his days. He was yet unwilling to condemn himself to such a sentence, and with Georgiana’s recent heartbreak at Ramsgate, he had enough domestic trials without addinganotherwoman to his house.
In short order, Wilson had returned with a hefty treatise on different varieties of wheat and agricultural planting seasons. Apparently, he had taken his master at his word and found a book guaranteed to render him comatose, from either reading it or being struck over the head by it. He also presented a tray with a snifter of brandy, generously measured even for a man of the master’s height. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“No, thank you, Wilson. You may retire, and I shall speak with you in the morning.”
“Very good, sir.” Wilson bowed and retreated.
Darcy stretched in his chair and reached for his drink, sighing in at least partial satisfaction. Not many valets would be content to perform the tasks of a common footman. He was a good man, Wilson was. All his people were—at least the ones he knew. There were too many to know them all well, and therein lay part of his troubles this night. If only he could go about with fewer hangers-on, fewer who depended upon their connection to him, and fewer who took an interest in his affairs. Occasionally, he even wished to remove to the hunting lodge at Pemberley, with only Georgiana and occasionally Richard for company. He would dress himself, cook as his tenants did, and carry on with a simple existence, leaving the greater part of his worries here in London.
That was all twaddle, and he chided himself harshly whenever the irresponsible fancies came to him. He wastheDarcy, presently the last male of a proud line, and there was a certain honour in carrying that torch on behalf of his forefathers. There were times, however, when he confessed even to himself that the trappings ofhis station were not all pleasant. This business about marriage was but one of any number of restrictions clouding his path.
Marriage. To Anne! His aunt must be daft if she thought he would yield. It would be a miserable time of it in his house until she gave in and returned to Kent, and he calculated that he was set for at least a month this time. Darcy held up the rich, dark brandy to the firelight, wishing it would wash away all his troubles. That being a futile hope, he lifted it and drained the entire contents at once.
Ten minutes later, he was in his bed, still half-dressed and reading his exceedingly dull book. The brandy must have been of a remarkably potent vintage, or the book even less interesting than he had persuaded himself to believe, for within a very few minutes his eyelids were already beginning to feel rather heavy. They startled open, however, at a commotion at the door. There was a frenzied knock, and he bade entry more out of curiosity than a desire to see anyone.
Wilson stumbled into his room, his expression wild with alarm. “Sir! You have not already taken your drink?”
