Page 49 of A Rational Man (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

U pon his return to London, Mr. Darcy attended several dances, but he went about it rather mechanically. He accepted introductions, he bowed, he danced, he conversed, but his mind was elsewhere. It was, of course, in Hertfordshire.

He was no longer so certain that he would find another Miss Elizabeth in the glittering ballrooms of the ton .

And he could not deny that the feeling – well, passion was the only word for it – that he felt for Miss Elizabeth was never experienced with anyone else.

He danced with very lovely young ladies, ladies with shining curls and porcelain skin, and he felt nothing.

His skin did not tingle, his pulse did not race, his hand did not reach out…

Mr. Darcy could offer for any of them, and doubtless be accepted, but could he bear to live his life without that immense, overpowering desire he felt for Miss Elizabeth?

And not just desire, but delight in her company!

He could bed any of these young ladies in the ton and produce children, but would there be any joy in it?

It was in a ballroom that he heard his cousin’s name whispered, and he realised that he had been so caught up in his own dilemma that he had not learned what Daniel had decided to do, nor had he seen his aunt at any of the dances he had attended.

That was most unusual; a visit to Matlock House was required.

***

“Darcy! I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to stay in the country for a year!”

“I apologise, Aunt; there were a good many social engagements that required my attendance once I returned to London. I was surprised to not see you at any of them. I hope you are quite well?”

The Countess sighed. “It has been a difficult time.”

“Daniel?”

“When is it not Daniel?” she huffed.

“What has he decided? Will he wed the girl?”

“It is all still very much up in the air. He refuses to commit one way or another; he might marry her, he might not. I do not know what he seeks to gain by this behaviour!”

“Until he decides, he has both his freedom and his inheritance, does he not?”

“Yes, and that is likely the reason for his delay. But I can tell you that the Weatheringtons are beginning to lose patience.”

“What can they do?”

“Blacken our family’s reputation, of course. This could affect you as well, Darcy; your relationship to us is well-known.”

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “The solution is simple enough.”

“Is it?”

“Certainly. Cut off his allowance at once. He has no funds of his own, has he?”

“No; he lives off of the Earl’s generosity.”

“Then stop giving him money; in addition, have your man of business visit his favourite shopkeepers and tell them that you will not be responsible for his debts.”

The Countess made a face. “I dislike having to deal with my own son in such a manner.”

“It seems to me that he has left you little choice.”

“I fear you are right; I will tell your uncle what you suggest.”

***

The next afternoon brought an unexpected visitor to Darcy House; an infuriated Daniel Fitzwilliam had come to call. “I know you are behind this, Darcy!”

“Behind what, precisely?”

“This idea of keeping me short of coin! No, do not bother denying it, my mother admitted that it had been your idea. Darcy’s brilliant idea, she called it!” The Viscount advanced upon Mr. Darcy, waving a fist threateningly.

“I have no intention of denying it.” Mr. Darcy shrugged.

“How could you do this to me? You know I did not compromise that girl!”

“I am certain that you did not; Miss Weatherington is not someone who would interest you in any way. But that is not the point, cousin.”

“It seems to me that it is very much the point! I will not let them win!”

“They already have.”

Mr. Darcy’s calm voice seemed to take a good deal of the wind from his cousin’s sails. “What do you mean?” he asked, sitting upon a sofa near the fire.

Mr. Darcy sat opposite him. “You played too dangerous a game, Daniel. If you had been known for upright behaviour, this scheme of theirs would never have worked; likely it would not even have been thought of. But once word got around that you enjoyed kissing young ladies – well! It was just a matter of time until someone took advantage of that.”

“So I should have been more like you, all dour and prudent and priggish!”

“I would never suggest such a thing,” Mr. Darcy said, coolly.

“Well, hang it!” The Viscount fell backward upon a sofa and folded his arms over his chest.

“You must decide to take the girl and the money, or to turn your back on both and leave London.”

“You know I cannot give over my inheritance to Richard!”

“Then your choice is clear. Make the best of it, Daniel. Go home, apologise to your parents. Then visit the Weatheringtons and apologise to them. And do your best to make it look as if you care for Miss Weatherington.”

“Impossible!”

“If you do not, then everyone will know that you were compromised by them and feel pity for you. Then the pity will turn to scorn.”

“So I am scorned either for being a fool or for marrying the least attractive young lady in Town.” The Viscount dropped his head into his hands.

“Precisely. Which do you prefer?”

He raised his head and scowled. “Neither!”

“That does not appear to be an option.”

The Viscount put his head back into his hands and rubbed his scalp until his hair stood on end. Then he got to his feet. “Very well. I suppose I should thank you.”

“No need,” Mr. Darcy replied, standing up as well.

And without another word, the Viscount marched from the house.

An hour later, he received a message from Matlock House.

Darcy,

You have our undying thanks. He will marry the chit as soon as the banns can be read.

Aunt Elaine

Mr. Darcy sent a message in return.

Dear Aunt,

I suggest locking him in a room until the date of the wedding.

Darcy

***

The following morning, Mr. Darcy read this in the Morning Post:

Betrothed, Miss Harriet Weatherington, daughter of Mr. Robert Weatherington and Mrs. Weatherington, to Daniel Fitzwilliam, Viscount Middleton, eldest son of the Earl and Countess of Matlock.

Daniel had made the right decision. If only someone could give Mr. Darcy as sound advice as he gave others!

***

At Weatherington House, Harriet listened to her mother witter on and on about wedding clothes, pin money, and the like. She tried to pay attention, she really did, but she had a good many important things to think about.

“Harriet!”

“Yes, Mother?”

“Did you hear me?”

“I -uh –“

“Blue or pink, girl! What shall you be married in?”

“You choose, Mother.”

This seemed to be the right answer. Harriet returned to her thoughts, the crux of which was this: would her new husband let her keep her dogs?