Though Darcy understood his friend’s desire to separate himself from Miss Bennet, his departure from his leased estate would be much talked of by his neighbors. If he had chosen to go back, he would have ground to make up before they accepted him so easily again.
I left in a similar manner.Darcy had not taken leave of those with whom he had become acquainted, but it was different for him. They were so far beneath him—it was condescension to acknowledge the connection any longer.
The thought stopped him cold.
Goodness, when did I begin to sound so much like Lady Catherine?The thought struck him forcefully, and he shifted uncomfortably in bed. Imperious his aunt may be, but the rules by which she operated were commonplace in his set. He was bound by them—even if he did not marry his cousin.
That means Elizabeth is out of reach.The thought made his heart ache.Why is life so unfair?
He stared up at the darkened ceiling, the quiet of the inn pressing in around him. For the first time in his life, duty no longer felt like a shield—it felt like a prison.
“Well, you have done it now, Darcy.” Richard Fitzwilliam clapped his cousin on the shoulder as he joined the Darcys at their supper table the next day. “Lady Catherine sent an expressto my father detailing your ‘insupportable, disgraceful behavior’ and demanding he step in as head of the family. Father is upset at having his festivities so interrupted but told Mama he had no intention of forcing your hand. Not that he could.”
The table was modest compared to Rosings—roast mutton, boiled potatoes, a simple pudding—but Darcy found the lack of ceremony a relief. The room was warm, the curtains drawn against the winter dusk, and the tension that had plagued him for days had loosened its grip, if only slightly.
“There is nothing Lord Matlock could say to sway my position.” Darcy carefully cut his meat. “I have tried to gently make my position clear for years, but it fell on deaf ears.”
“Deaf? I assure you, she heard. Aunt Catherine believes everyone will eventually fall into line with her wishes. Your less than steady refusals were tantamount to acceptance in her eyes.” Richard laughed. “I would have loved to see the look on her face when you stood firm.”
“She looked very unwell.” Georgiana giggled again. “I ought not to find it so funny, but her face was such a color. And poor Anne. Did you see, Fitzwilliam? She looked absolutely mortified.”
There was sympathy in Georgiana’s voice now, no triumph—Darcy noted it with quiet approval. The girl was growing into her discernment.
“That is because Anne and I agreed long ago that we did not suit. She said she told her mother—as did I—but as Richard said, our aunt does not listen well. Perhaps now she will bring Anne to London.”
Richard nodded. “It is as my father suggested. He wrote our aunt a reply, saying he refused to importune you with such things, especially if you have made your sentiments known. He suggested she open de Bourgh House for the season. It is not toolate to present Anne. She is not yet five-and-twenty. I am certain we can find her a suitable man who will not treat her poorly.”
Darcy exhaled slowly. London would be kinder to Anne than Rosings had ever been. There would be music, conversation, choice—things his aunt had denied her in favor of rigid expectation.
“What about you?” Darcy smiled slyly. “You have told everyone you need a fortune. Anne comes with that and an estate.”
His cousin shook his head. “I have no interest. My mother already has a long line of young ladies waiting to be thrown into my path—I shall have more than enough to occupy me this season.”
Georgiana hid a smile behind her napkin.
“What about Bramley?”
“I doubt he will ever marry. Bramley looks for a paragon of virtue and beauty. Beauty is in abundance in theton, but virtue is sadly lacking.” Richard shook his head ruefully.
“Your brother wishes to find an angel, then?” The words made him frown as he considered how Bingley had called Miss Bennet his angel many times.
“Something heavenly, to be sure. I am uncertain such a creature exists in the first circles.”
Darcy nodded in agreement. Had he not thought the same thing recently?
The thought lingered longer than he wished it to. He found himself staring at the edge of his plate, mind wandering where it had no business to go.
“In other news, did you hear about Mr. Henry Smythe-Jones and Miss Harriet Eden? Mama is positively aglow reporting the scandal. Everyone says the lady entrapped him—she is the daughter of a minor country gentleman, and he the son of awealthy landowner. His father’s fortune is not what yours is, but he has nine thousand a year…”
Richard leaned back in his chair as he spoke, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all, though Darcy noticed the careful neutrality with which he framed the tale.
Richard continued to ramble about how the young lady had supposedly used her arts and allurements to capture her gentleman. The family appeared to have accepted the lady.
“What is wrong with her besides her lack of fortune and connections?” Darcy asked curiously. “I mean, in truth—not what those harpies like to say.”
“Absolutely nothing. By all reports, they are blissfully in love. His grandfather is an earl, and even he seems to have accepted the match. It was not the match they expected. She is virtually penniless, and he could have married the daughter of an earl. And while everyone seems to be talking about the imprudence, the couple themselves are ignoring the world in favor of finding pleasure in each other.”
Darcy shook his head.
