Kindly remember that I may still read between lines, however faint. And yours were not faint at all.
—F.
He folded it, sanded it, sealed it.
The second letter bore a familiar, spiked hand. Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Of course.
He had not opened it yet and already wished he had gone for another ride.
He broke the seal.
Nephew—
I am informed that you are still in Hertfordshire, where there can be little of importance to detain you. I trust this excursion has served its purpose—whatever that may be—and that you will not permit country distractions to interfere longer with your obligations.
Anne has been remarkably patient. It is time you fulfilled your father's intentions and joined our two houses, as was always planned. Such a match would, as you know, satisfy everyrequirement of position, property, and prudence. It would also lay to rest these tiresome speculations about the will, which continue to surface in the most inappropriate circles.
I have had to correct more than one misunderstanding regarding Anne’s portion. It is unfortunate that people so easily confuse silence with deficiency. Marriage would render such questions unnecessary.
I need hardly remind you that Rosings remains at your disposal. You know the estate is well-ordered and its affairs sound. Anne is still of childbearing years, though one wonders at your reluctance. I have spared no effort in preparing her to take her rightful place beside you. She has always shown excellent instincts when properly guided.
Do not delay further. Uncertainty breeds gossip.
You know what must be done.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
He let the page fall onto the desk.
Rosings was waiting. Anne was waiting. The trust clause was waiting.
Everyone was always waiting for him to choose the thing they had already determined he must do.
But none of them understood—or cared—that every choice had teeth.
He had no intention of marrying Anne. Not because she was sickly or dull or entirely dependent on her mother’s opinions—though all those things were true—but because the moment he married someone of Lady Catherine’s choosing, Georgiana’s future would no longer belong to her.
Lady Catherine would never say so directly. But Darcy knew.
Anne’s dowry was gone. “Invested,” Catherine had called it. Reassigned.
Spent.
What she wanted now was access to Georgiana’s.
No. The only way to keep Catherine out was to marry someone she could not control. Someone unconnected.
Someone like—
He stood.
Too dangerous to finish that thought.
He folded Lady Catherine’s letter and placed it in the drawer with the others. No reply today.
Then he stood at the window, where the light was already beginning to slant low, and tried not to wonder what color Elizabeth Bennet’s eyes might be when she was angry.
“Your cousin was meantto arrive this morning,” said Mr. Bennet, folding his paper and setting it aside with unnecessary ceremony. “Though I had my doubts from the beginning.”
