Page 98
She placed her fingers in his, her expression incredulous.
“I love you,” he reiterated.
“Then how can you care about some vow you made?” Georgiana asked, her words catching on her tears. “Even to Mother.”
He didn’t take his gaze from Elizabeth’s. “What man am I without my honor?”
“But mother has been dead for years,” Georgiana wailed. “I hardly even remember her. You must have been what, twelve?”
“Fourteen. Old enough to give my word.” He kept his gaze locked on Elizabeth, pleading with her to understand.
“What, precisely did you vow?” she asked.
“‘If I do not marry Anne, I will marry someone who brings at least as much to Pemberley as Anne would,’” he reiterated.
Elizabeth tilted her head, thinking. “As much what?”
He blinked, confused. “As much what?”
“Someone who will bring ‘at least as much’ of what to Pemberley as Miss de Bourgh would?”
“Wealth. Land.” Did she not see? She couldn’t offer even a fraction of what Anne did.
“Did your mother stipulate wealth and land?”
He sought back. “No, but—”
“Did you?”
He shook his head. “It was implied. Do you ask me to quibble when it comes to my honor? To beg off due to a lack of lawyerly wording?”
“I do,” Georgiana stated.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “What did your mother say, when you gave this vow?”
She’d brought her hand to his face. He recalled how cold her fingers were, and covering them with his to warm them, and she’d said, “‘My dearest Fitzwilliam, I only want to know you will be happy.’”
Elizabeth met his gaze squarely. “It seems very clear to me, then, that your mother meant she wanted you to wed someone who would bring you at least as much happiness as Miss de Bourgh would. What mother would wish anything else?”
Darcy had no answer to that.
With a shrug, Elizabeth pulled her hand free once more. “I will send for Mr. Jones,” she said, standing. She strode across the room and, without a backward glance, slipped out the door.
Releasing his other hand, Georgiana stood. “If you do not marry Miss Elizabeth, I will count you as the very greatest fool to ever live.” With that, she stomped back over to the table.
Darcy looked from the back of his sister’s head to the door. How had he gone so quickly from their joy and relief at having him awake to them both so unhappy with him?
More importantly, was Elizabeth correct about his vow?
***
A light, yet assertive, knock sounded on the door to the bedchamber Kitty used at Netherfield Park. She pushed up from the chair she’d asked one of the maids to place near the door, as her feet were quite tender and crossing the room took an agonizing amount of time, and opened the door to Mr. Fletcher’s serious visage, a maid a few steps behind him.
“Mr. Fletcher. What an unexpected pleasure.”
His eyebrows rose. He pulled free his pocket watch, inspected it, and put it back away. “I said I would be here at half eleven to take you down to provide your version of events to the Crown’s representative, Mr. Partridge.”
Kitty contained her smile. Mr. Fletcher liked things to be ordered and precise. “You did.”
