She paused only a moment. “You promised me my choice.”
Her voice did not rise—Elizabeth Bennet did not shriek—but the quiet edge in it left no room for misunderstanding.
The earl lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “Elizabeth, my dear girl, I only meant to introduce you to him,” he said gently. “I have spoken no word of marriage to Colonel Fitzwilliam. But just as I wrote to you of him, I wrote to him of you. In my opinion, it is a very good match, entirely suitable for one of your status.”
Her jaw tensed, but he pressed on, his tone sincere rather than forceful.
“Listen to me. I will not coerce you into any marriage—any. You may still marry where there is respect and affection. I simply ask that you meet him with an open mind. Let us say no more of negotiations, for there are none. What I have done is extend an invitation to a man I believe possesses excellent sense, admirable character, and a temperament much like your own. He is lively and engaging, able to speak comfortably with anyone—high or low.
“You are better versed in estate management than he, but he brings connexions you were not raised to acquire. Though not the heir, he was brought up by an earl and understands well the obligations of rank. In my view, he suits you.”
He lowered his hands slightly, his gaze softening. “But I will not force your hand. The choice of whom you marry remains entirely yours.”
For a moment Elizabeth could find no words; too many emotions crowded her thoughts at once. Before she could gather them, the carriage drew to a halt before Millwood Cottage. She allowed her grandfather to assist her down and placed her hand in the crook of his arm as he led her inside.
Once the servants had relieved them of their outerwear and withdrawn, leaving them alone in the quiet entryway, she turned to him.
“Grandpapa,” she began, steadying her voice. “While I appreciate your inviting your friends here, and I am pleased to serve as your hostess, I hope you remember that I have always sworn to marry only for love. Respect is vital, of course, but I will not marry without a deep and abiding affection. Your solicitor might have refrained from letting Netherfield so near my majority, but since the lease overlaps by only a few months, I cannot complain overmuch.”
Lord Granfield looked at her with unmistakable confusion. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Merely that, should I wish it, in less than a year Netherfield will be entirely mine,” she said, attempting to sound casual though her heart beat rather fast. “I am under no obligation to marry unless I desire it. I had even considered inviting Jane to live with me. The one drawback is its proximity to Longbourn—Aunt Bennet would certainly visit far too often—but Jane’s only true opportunity to marry well lies in being removed from her present environment.”
Her voice softened, her words remaining resolute.
“As much as I am grateful to the Bennets for taking me in—and they have been very good to me—I am well aware how much of a disadvantage it is to be considered part of their household. Day after day, I have seen the effects of an unequal match. Whether the inequality lies in affection or in understanding I cannot say, but I have no desire to enter into anything similar. The Gardiners have shown me what a loving, respectful marriage ought to be, and I mean to hold out for one like theirs. If I do not find such a partnership, I would far rather remain single.”
Lord Granfield studied his granddaughter for several long moments, the lines of his face softening into something closer to admiration. At length, he nodded.
“Very well, Elizabeth,” he said quietly. “I will not pressure you to choose any gentleman. But I must say this: I believe you would be happiest with both a husband and a family. You could run Netherfield competently on your own—you are more than capable of doing so and I know you have advised the steward often—but I think you would find deeper fulfilment as a wife with someone worthy by your side.”
Unwilling to continue the conversation any further, Elizabeth asked to be excused so she might settle into her room, assuring her grandfather that she would see him again at tea. He agreed without protest, yet the silence that followed spoke volumes. Both of them, she suspected, had far more to ponder after their exchange than either cared to admit.
CHAPTER TEN
Darcy made his way north on horseback. It was far less comfortable than travelling by carriage, but it allowed him to reach Pemberley by the afternoon of the third day. He did not regret the discomfort; the long hours largely on his own gave him ample time—more than he wished—to think, and the steady rhythm of the ride left him no refuge from his own thoughts. It was early November, and the cold was sharp, particularly in the mornings, biting enough to keep his senses alert and his reflections uncomfortably clear.
He was returning to Pemberley only long enough to collect Georgiana before accompanying her to Millwood Cottage. They would remain there as guests as of Lord Granfield—and of Elizabeth. Upon his arrival, Richard would be presented to Elizabeth as a potential husband, and Darcy could not doubt that they would suit exceedingly well. He could already foresee the outcome with a clarity that left him quietly unsettled.
Like his friend Bingley, the colonel was open and genial. Unlike his friend, Richard possessed a strength of character and a ready wit that would meet Elizabeth’s without overwhelming it,tempered by the authority and confidence earned through years with the Regulars. Darcy could imagine them in conversation without effort—could imagine Elizabeth’s animation, her quick intelligence warmly engaged. How easy it was to imagine such a scene was its own quiet cruelty. They would suit each other exceedingly well.
Elizabeth was lovely and engaging, capable and intelligent—qualities he had long admired in the abstract, but which now seemed inseparable from the woman herself. He had first admired her as the daughter of a gentleman; now, as the granddaughter of an earl, she was his equal in every respect. That she owned Netherfield and likely possessed a considerable fortune only confirmed what reason had already dictated: she was an ideal bride for his cousin.
The truth pressed upon him with increasing weight as the miles passed. Richard was intended for the very woman Darcy had come to love. He had guarded his admiration too carefully, restrained it too well, and allowed his foolish pride to prevent him from apologising when he knew he ought to have done so. In so doing, had he lost her entirely—given her up irrevocably to another? She would remain in his life, woven into his family, yet forever beyond his reach: his cousin’s wife, never his own.
Elizabeth’s wit, her warmth, her keen and lively intelligence—she lingered in his thoughts no matter how determinedly he tried to banish her from them. There was no longer any uncertainty to soften the knowledge. As painful as it was to acknowledge, he loved her, and that understanding brought him no solace.
The earl had made his expectations plain. Darcy must stand aside. He must support his cousin. He must conduct himself with the honour demanded of his name and his principles, evenwhen doing so required a sacrifice no one would ever ask of him aloud.
As Pemberley’s familiar outline came into view, Darcy tightened his hold on the reins, steadying himself against a surge of feeling he could not afford to indulge. He would greet Georgiana cheerfully, prepare for their journey south, and school his features into perfect composure.
He would keep hidden the one thing he could not allow her—or anyone else—to suspect: how very difficult it would be to watch another pursue Elizabeth Bennet.
A se’nnight later,Darcy and Miss Darcy arrived at Millwood Cottage. Elizabeth was not there to greet them; she had received word that morning that a tenant had fallen ill and the family was in need of assistance. She had gone at once, carrying a basket of broth, linens, and whatever small comforts she could gather, taking them with her as she drove the short distance to Netherfield in her gig. Of course, a footman accompanied her as her grandfather insisted.
Thus it was her grandfather who welcomed the Darcys. By the time Elizabeth returned over an hour later, her boots damp and her thoughts lingering on the troubled family, she could not help wondering how the Darcys’ meeting with Lord Granfield had gone, and what she herself might find awaiting her inside. Oh, she did not expect him to embarrass her as she would have expected the Bennets to, but knowing what little she did about Miss Darcy, she wondered if her gregarious grandfather would have overwhelmed the shy girl.
She changed quickly into a fresh gown—her grandfather having insisted that several new gowns be made upon her removal to Millwood, the first of which had arrived only the day before—then hurried to the first-floor parlour where favoured guests were usually received. Mrs Harding, the housekeeper, had assured her that their visitors had been shown to the rooms prepared for them and had requested refreshments after a few moments to change out of their travelling clothes. Expecting the parlour to be occupied, she was therefore surprised to find herself entirely alone.
