Page 69 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

Yes, the worth of an individual had to be independent of his or her birth. He had long felt this in his interactions with friends and tenants, judging their character and actions as reasons to associate with them or not, but his logical mind had not even considered that birth was irrelevant for most of life.

Darcy turned from the frosty view and took a seat near the blazing fire instead. While he watched the flames flicker, he reflected that his closest childhood friend, aside from Richard, had been the son of his father’s steward. His father had encouraged the connection. Was it possible he had misunderstood his father’s views on status? Why had he been pridefully viewing himself as above others and so prejudiced against the majority of England? His wealth did not make him better than other men.

God was no respecter of persons. Darcy did not think He loved one class of people above another. In spite of knowing he had been greatly blessed, he also felt a heavy responsibility to serve others, to spread God’s bounty further. In his tenants and servants, he had a large number of people relying on him to make choices that affected them. But did not a factory owner or tradesman employing workers take on similar responsibilities?

Despite realizing he was only now accepting his own previously held unconscious views, Darcy still knew he would be taking a radical step in discounting birth.

Would marrying Elizabeth upset his friends so much that London society would be disrupted? Hardly. Darcy snickered. He did not anticipate starting a revolution toward wealthy landowners seeking out poor girls for marriage. Would tenant farmers’ daughters stage a rebellion to demand higher-class husbands? The idea was ludicrous. Besides, women were more likely to marry above their station than men were, so he would be conforming to that practice by wedding Elizabeth.

Darcy had looked down on Elizabeth and her family, but he realized this morning that character and courage were far more important than who someone’s father was.

Although he had not been granted a real conversation with her since before he hurt her, he had observed her whenever he could.

Darcy sank back in his wingback chair as he remembered watching her. He had listened to her conversations any time he was close enough. He had watched her smile and laugh. Elizabeth would be an excellent mother to his children, guiding them toward all that was right and good in the world. Her education and compassion would serve her well anywhere, including as Pemberley’s mistress.

Rising quickly and crossing the room, Darcy sat at his desk and pulled out his list. Birth had been the biggest hurdle, he thought, but he would go through everything again before deciding his future.

Richard would assist him with his parents and brother, and he thought they might not disown Darcy if he presented them with such a wife. She was highly accomplished, after all, and could fit in with all levels of society. His uncle’s upcoming parliamentary issues may come into play with their decisions, however.

His Aunt Catherine would never accept Elizabeth, but Darcy believed he could live without her approval, as much as he did not like to cut ties with his mother’s only sister.

His mother, however, was no longer living; nor was his father. He respected them and had always wished to honor them, but he could not let their memory make all of his decisions for him. He hoped they would forgive him, but he knew they would suffer no ill effects of any choices he made now. He had already considered the objections they would make regarding connections, fortune, and birth.

Darcy tapped the next item on his list: Society. He had avoided society handily for much of the past few years and had not suffered for it. If Elizabeth could countenance leaving London, as he believed she would unless she had changed greatly in the past two years, they could weather any storm at Pemberley. He knew she would love his estate, and he longed to share every corner of the house and grounds with her. He had imagined society would be a big stumbling block, but when he considered it more, he could easily give it up.

He would miss the theater and his clubs, but perhaps he and Elizabeth would be permitted to rejoin parts of London in time. Surely the scandal would not last forever. He would find out who his real friends were. Darcy would give them all up for Elizabeth, though. He had considered not so long ago whether he would be required to give up Bingley’s friendship. He had no wish to end their connection, but the idea had not hurt in any way like living without Elizabeth had hurt for so long.

Elizabeth had been his friend when only fifteen, having met three years ago this month, and he could imagine their friendship would only strengthen now that she was near nineteen. She was all he needed, but he did not think Richard or Georgiana would turn their backs on him.

Looking back to the fire across his study, he considered. Would marrying Elizabeth irreparably harm his sister’s prospects? His own objections to birth aside, this was the biggest hindrance to him pursuing Elizabeth. If Elizabeth could not marry until she was one-and-twenty, they would have two more years to wait. As much as that thought pained him, perhaps it would help Georgiana. But his sister was now only fifteen. He would not press her into an early marriage for his own convenience. He still felt seventeen too young for any girl to marry.

What if she went to live with Aunt Matlock for a few years? Darcy hated to part with his sister, especially after he had believed he might lose her last night. He would not cut off all communication with her, but perhaps a change of her primary residence would be enough. They could put on the appearance of a separation for his sister’s greater respectability, but he would still spend time with her. Perhaps his sister would not be permitted to associate with Elizabeth, which would be a great loss to the younger girl, but he was confident they could find a way to keep their little family close.

What else?

Darcy tapped his pen against his blotter as he wracked his brain for any other barriers to his undertaking. As nothing else came to mind, he realized he was smiling. He felt lighter than he had since that morning in Hurst’s billiards room when he had heard the worst news of his life aside from his parents’ deaths.

He almost laughed out loud at the realization he had come to. The real work was before him, but he did not think dealing with every item on his list could be as difficult as what he had done in reorganizing his every belief in the past week. He had come to terms with each barrier and decided to break through every one to reach Elizabeth’s side.

He would not give her up. He would fight for her.

Memories of the charming Mr. Wickham and anticipation for his call in January bolstered Elizabeth’s mood for the entire three weeks she was at Longbourn. She was as friendly to Miss Bingley as Jane had hoped, and she conversed with childhood friends and people she barely knew.

Elizabeth was less scorned in the neighborhood since she and Jane had begun to reconcile when she was sixteen, and although Aunt Bennet continued to caution her daughters to maintain a distance from their cousin, she said nothing derogatory in the hearing of Mr. Bingley or Mr. Lucas, who were friendly with the girl. Elizabeth did not let Aunt Bennet bother her. In truth, her aunt rigorously ignored her more than scolded her now, having turned her focus to her daughters’ betrothals and her resulting rising status in Meryton.

One morning, after several years of attempting to speak with her uncle for more than a few minutes, she finally caught him off guard in his study and settled herself in the chair before his desk, making it clear she would not leave unheard.

“Lizzy, my dear. It has been a pleasure to watch you become more comfortable in the neighborhood again. Has it been easier for you with the Bingleys here?”

Elizabeth chuckled at the idea. “Not exactly. In truth, making amends with Jane has made my time here far easier. Now that her friends do not shun me, gatherings are far more entertaining.”

She looked her uncle in the eye and saw he was uncomfortable, just as he had been each time she had attempted to speak with him on any serious topic since her removal from Longbourn. She had made it into his study, this time, though, and he had not yet asked her to leave.

“I wonder, Uncle, why you sent me to London. Did you think people there would be more forgiving of my pedigree than the country village in which I was raised?”

“Now, Elizabeth. You know why your aunt wished for you to live in London. Mary needed to grow into her own person. And you have had your masters, and…and the Gardiners have cared for you like their own. Why, you have made more friends there than you had in Meryton when you left.”

“Perhaps. Forgive me, Uncle. I did not come to speak to you of this.” She looked down to see her thumb rubbing circles in her opposite palm. Elizabeth needed to coax answers from her uncle, not anger. She looked at him and continued. “Who was Mr. Asbury?”