Page 12 of Triumph at Pemberley

“My apologies for my daughter's testiness,” Lord Matlock said smoothly to the solicitor. “One can only hope marriage will settle her.”

She recognized the tactic, an attempt to make her lose her temper. Instead she ignored him, skimming through the first two pages and passing each to Roderick as she finished it. Then a laugh escaped her.

“What is it?” Roderick asked.

“It is traditional enough, until the part where he intends to take over our children's education. An English-speaking nurse and tutor, Eton and Oxford for the boys, and a Season for the girls. At least it would all be at his expense.”

The earl's supercilious expression did not change. “I will not have the embarrassment of grandchildren who cannot pass in society.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake! They will be growing up in Wales, not some savage country!” Though she might once have had the same reaction, before meeting Roderick and Granny.

“Nonetheless, those are my terms. I am demanding very little in terms of money settled on you or the children, but in return they will be educated and introduced into society.”

Roderick frowned, no doubt torn between the financial savings of her father footing all the bills and a natural desire to make his own choices. Why did he always have to be so reasonable about things? “The nurse and tutor would require my personal approval. Eton is out of the question; I will not have you turn them into Englishmen. I suppose Oxford would not hurt the boys, but the eldest cannot go.”

“You do not want your heir to receive the best education?” Lord Matlock sneered.

“You do not understand the requirements of the King's Bond. It means no long periods away from our land. Six months, perhaps, if his Bond is strong, but years? Impossible.” There was no room for negotiation in his voice.

Lord Matlock glared, but seemed to recognize that he could not win that battle. “If not Eton, then they must have some other early exposure to English society. It is their heritage, too. Another school or fostering.”

Roderick's eyes narrowed as he considered. “Brief periods of fostering with the Darcys might be acceptable. They do not intend to send their children to school, either, so they could share lessons.”

Frederica interjected sweetly, “These are my future children you are speaking of. Let us discuss this.”

“I am so sorry,” Frederica said to Roderick when they were finally alone in the carriage. “All those things about our children! As if there were something wrong with being Welsh. I hope you know I do not share his opinions.”

Roderick took a sip of his tea. “There is nothing wrong with being Welsh. Unless you are an Englishman.”

She winced, wishing she could forget that she had once felt that way. “But to insist on our children being educated here! That is too much.”

He shook his head. “I am glad of it.”

“You are?” She could hardly believe it.

“Tell me, if I had come to Pemberley speaking like a fine educated English gentleman, would you have judged me differently? Would the butler have sneered at Mr. Roderick if I spoke with an Oxford accent? Despite this treaty you have forced your government into, my people will still have to deal with the English, and we need every advantage we can get.” That was Roderick, practical till the last.

Oh, how uncomfortable it was to have her face rubbed in her own prejudices! Of course it would have made a difference.

She did not want her children to be looked down upon.

“Besides,” Roderick continued, “it will do them no harm to spend time with their Darcy cousins. They will get to know dragons from other Nests and be comfortable in a fine house. I learned some fraction of that from Granny taking me under her wing, since she had been raised an earl’s daughter, but it is not the same as living it. With you as their mother, our children will know it from the beginning, but they still need exposure to English society.”

She nodded slowly. Their children would have the best of both countries and move freely between them. And, selfishly, she would have the opportunity for lengthy visits to Pemberley, where she could keep up her friendship with Elizabeth and connect with her Fitzwilliam family. Quickthorn would like being able to visit her old Nestmates regularly. Although her dragon had said nothing directly, she had been very excited and pleased about being part of the new Pemberley Nest. It must be hard to lose that. “Then I suppose it is for the best, much as I hate to admit that about my father’s schemes.”

Chapter 5

Jasper Fitzwilliam threw himself into the chair opposite his desk. “Ugh. I hate magery.” He must have come straight from his lesson with Granny.

“Was Granny difficult?” Darcy asked sympathetically.

“No, I just do not want it. You may like your Talent, but I hate it. Practicing with other fencers was my life, and now it would not be a fair fight. Why must the magic make me move so unnaturally fast? I never asked for this.” And he had not; it was an unexpected effect of Georgiana’s fae healing when he lay dying.

“Frustrating indeed. But when that High Fae swordsman showed up, I was personally very grateful for your enhanced abilities.”

Jasper scowled. “I suppose that is something. Now that I can spar with him, I might be able to hold my own with others. But why did you want to see me?”

Darcy picked up the rolled-up maps Richard had sent and tapped them against his palm. This was going to be a tricky conversation. “I got a letter from your brother Richard this morning with a warning. Your father is planning to sign you up for the militia.”