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There was no use prevaricating. “Your duty to your estate. Your duty to your family. Your duty to your ancestors and future generations. All are being materially harmed by your inability to leave this room and focus on your duties, even to get a full night’s sleep.”
He chuckled, but it was a grim sort of sound with not the slightest bit of humour.
“You and Elizabeth could be sisters. She chided me on my duty with almost the same words, though hers were primarily aimed at my failure to produce an heir.”
That surprised me.
“Was she proposing herself as the answer to this problem?”
“Now you sound like me! Pray, make up your mind.”
That brought on a small smile. I could not remember the last teasing remark between us, and somehow doubted there had ever even been one.
“She and I have a… complicated… ah… unusual… history. She could not stand me a week before that supper. I was just about the last man in the world she would have wanted for a husband—or even a friend, to be honest.”
“And later—when she chided you about your duty?”
He looked pensive.
“I will not violate her confidence, but suffice it to say that she was not advocating for the position—far from it. She was more like a mama bear running her cub off into the woods. She was telling me that she would not be the mother of my heirs, but that someone would, and sooner rather than later. She is not one for mincing words once you get her started. She chided me for not starting five years ago… at some length… with some vigour… in great detail”
I liked Elizabeth more and more. “It seems she has more sense than you do. She is right, you know!”
He looked pained. “I know, but I cannot. Not while she is… not while… not while there is hope.”
“Should she recover fully, and Collins meet his maker, would she accept you?”
He looked pained. “Probably not. Not yet at least. She swore to never marry again. She was deadly serious about it, and you have no idea how implacable and brave she can be.”
I was nowhere near foolhardy enough to wade into a discussion of how he knew all that.
“I will not ask you to break any more of her confidences, but do you believe you might change her mind?”
“I do not know, but I must try.”
I sensed he was close to a breaking point.
“Let us delay the talk of an heir for a few moments. What about Pemberley? Do you intend to take care of your estate? Do you intend to oversee the spring planting, or simply leave it to your steward and hope for the best? Do you intend to resolve your tenant disputes, fix the rest of the damage from this terrible year? Make your estate what it was? Do your duty to the hundreds that look to you for their very lives?”
He looked more pained with every reminder of what he was not doing, but seemed like he was hardening himself against my arguments instead of really listening.
I finally decided I must get through to him. His estate, and I believed ultimately, his self-respect and pride would not recover should he continue his course.
“I am going to share something I overheard, which was intended for neither your ears nor mine. I will chastise myself to the grave for sharing it but proceed nonetheless.”
I had his full and undivided attention.
“Do you have any idea what Georgiana thinks about your father? I overheard her telling Anne in confidence.”
“Like many things, I never really thought about it.”
“Perhaps you should. She believes he was a coward!”
His head snapped forward as he sat up in his chair in alarm.
“Repeat that!”
“A coward. Do you care to know why?”
