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E lizabeth Braxton was sure to wear a hole in the flooring of the corridor of the Braxton House with the way she was pacing back and forth in front of the closed front parlour. Despite having attempted to eavesdrop by pressing her ears against the thick cherrywood door, she was unable to hear a single word of the conversation that was being held on the other side of the door. It was a nerve-racking feeling, knowing that the entirety of the rest of her future was currently being discussed and decided by two of the most important people in her life. The nail of her thumb was chewed and sore from her having gnawed at it persistently, her feet were beginning to ache, and she had had to stop herself from barging into the room several times and demand that her grandfather give Fitzwilliam his consent and allow them to marry.

This was ridiculous! Elizabeth thought, it was she who was getting married! Why could not she be part of the conversation?

Having convinced herself that she had every right to be a part of the meeting taking place in the room, Elizabeth had been on the verge of turning the knob and bursting in when a hand on her shoulder stayed her.

Elizabeth turned around to see her grandmother smiling fondly at her,

“Let them talk alone.”

Till that moment, her grandmama had not made her own opinion known about Darcy (except for that initial exclamation). She had kept silent as Elizabeth had tried to cajole her grandfather into granting her suitor this meeting, but Elizabeth knew she had been observing. Lady Roseline Braxton was a quiet woman, but it did not mean she was passive. She just knew when she needed to come into the picture to make everything better. Just like now.

“Grandmama,” Elizabeth whined, but Lady Braxton only softly shook her head,

“You have brought a very contentious gentleman into our home.” She said to her granddaughter. Elizabeth’s brows furrowed. The longer this continued, the more indignation she was feeling on Fitzwilliam’s behalf. After all, whatever trouble his aunt might have caused, he himself was innocent!

“He is a good man!” Elizabeth retorted hotly, then realised her statement was not quite true enough, “He is the best of men!”

Lady Braxton chuckled, placing a placating palm on her granddaughter’s cheek, “I am very glad. I would not have given you up to anything less than the best.”

Elizabeth blinked, “You are not against the match?”

Her grandmama shrugged a delicate shoulder, “Unlike your grandpapa, I have no prejudice against the Fitzwilliams. It is true that I have avoided the family as best as I could out of loyalty to my husband, but I have also observed the young man you have chosen for many years. I have always considered him to be too serious. Certainly, too solemn to get along with you, but other than a little too much stiffness in his words and a little too much hauteur in his actions, I have neither seen nor heard anything negative about him.”

Elizabeth shook her head vehemently, “You do not understand, Grandmama. He is nothing like that. Fitzwilliam is only a little uncomfortable in crowded places. He gets shy easily. When he is with me, he is very easy. He teases, he jokes, he smiles.” Here, Elizabeth could not help but sigh a little, a smile of her own lighting up on her face, “Lord, the way he smiles… you would lose your breath if you ever see it, Grandmama.”

Lady Braxton laughed as she watched her granddaughter sway a little, as if the memory itself was enough to unbalance her. Her dear child. Roseline had known this day would eventually come. She had just hoped, just like she knew Victor had hoped, that it might come a little later.

It had only been a little over a year since they had lost their daughter. Now, it would seem their granddaughter was about to leave them also.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin up, “I suppose I should enter the fray then. If I leave it all in your grandpapa’s hands, I am afraid he will just attempt to frustrate Mr. Darcy till the gentleman gives up.”

Elizabeth frowned, “Fitzwilliam would never.” Her conviction was as strong as a thousand-year-old oak.

“Even so.” Lady Braxton looked at the pocket watch hanging from a chain around her waist, “It has been a little over half an hour since the two began this interview. I suppose it is time I rescue your beau.”

“Please grandmama.” Elizabeth implored, nodding. Once again pressing her palm against her granddaughter’s cheek, Lady Braxton then knocked on the parlour door, and without waiting for a response, entered the chamber.

Darcy had to make a concentrated effort to not jiggle his legs in exasperation as he discussed the pros and cons of coal mining with his prospective grandfather-in-law. The conversation had shifted from battleships, to the war in general, to the effect it was having on the economy and now they were discussing Pemberley’s finances.

Darcy did not know if he ought to be congratulating himself for having a civil conversation with Lord Braxton, or if he should lament how skilled the man was at dodging Darcy’s every attempt to swerve the conversation towards his intention to marry his Elizabeth. Discreetly, he glanced at the large grandfather clock that was stationed against the wall to his right, only to nearly groan aloud when he saw almost a half-hour had passed without them having spoken anything of substance,

“You seem quite agitated, Mr. Darcy. Am I boring you?”

Darcy straightened, “Of course not, sir. Please, continue.”

The older man was enjoying this. Darcy could tell from the smirk he did not manage to curb quickly enough, “Very well. Now, where was I?”

Darcy cleared his throat, “The benefits of proper geological assessments before mining a new area in hopes of discovering a coal seam.”

“Ah! Yes, geological assessments. You see-”

A knock blessedly interrupted Lord Braxton from going into an extensive explanation of all the advantages of selecting a good geologist. A subject on which Darcy was already an expert considering the multitudes of mines that were under his jurisdiction. Before the older gentleman could answer the knock, the door opened, and Darcy half-expected Elizabeth to walk in,

It was not Elizabeth. Instead, it was an older woman who could only be Lord Braxton’s wife. Lady Roseline Braxton was one of those women who had aged masterfully. Her skin, though wrinkled, was glowing, her hair though greying, was lustrous, and her eyes, though ever so slightly sunken, were glittering very similarly to how Elizabeth’s did when she found something particularly amusing.

“I would just like you to know, dear husband, that your granddaughter is on the verge of breaking down the door unless you release her suitor.”

Darcy stood, the news of Elizabeth, no matter how vague or exaggerated, warming his heart. Gratefully, he bowed to the older woman and felt more relieved than he cared to admit when she bestowed him with a benevolent smile.

Lord Braxton only scoffed, swatting away his wife’s warning, “Lizzy is too impatient. Darcy and I are only discussing matters two gentlemen acquaintances are bound to discuss. Leave us, Rose.”

“I am afraid I cannot.” Lady Braxton sighed, placing her two hands on her hips. It was a posture very similar to the one he had witnessed Elizabeth emulate when they had first been accosted by Mr. Bennet. Darcy hid a smile behind a small, ill-timed cough, “You have had your fun, Victor. Let the boy get to the point.” Lady Braxton continued.

The married couple stared each other down for a long, tense moment. But it was Lord Braxton who looked away first, and Lady Braxton smiled victoriously.

“Very well, then.” The older gentleman sighed, all amusement leaving his face and the resignation replacing it making him look at least half a decade older, “Speak your business, boy.”

Darcy cared not for the lack of respect. He was just glad he could finally get to the crux of the matter, “I wish to marry your granddaughter, sir.”

“I refuse.”

Darcy opened his mouth to protest, his heart thundering in his chest, but before he could, Lady Braxton did it for him,

“Victor!”

Lord Braxton sighed again, then looked away. When he looked back at Darcy, his eyes finally held the seriousness the younger man had hoped to encounter, “I do not care for your mother’s family.” He said frankly.

Darcy nodded, “I am aware.”

“Yes, I am sure you are. And I am sure the feeling is mutual. Why in the world then, would I allow my granddaughter to marry into the family I despise?”

“With all due respect, sir. Elizabeth will not be marrying into the Fitzwilliam family. She will be the mistress of the Darcy household.”

“Do not expect me to be ignorant of your situation. You have no close relations on your father’s side. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is your closest female relative. Can you promise me that Elizabeth will not be exposed to any of her unpleasantness after your marriage?”

Darcy pressed his lips together. Lady Catherine was certain to throw a tantrum the moment she discovered his engagement. But, a break in their relationship was inevitable. She was adamant that he marry her daughter, and he was adamant that he would marry literally anyone other than his bitter, snivelling, sick cousin.

“I promise to protect her from any and all backlash that we might face from my side of the family.”

“And if that means never talking to any of them again?” Lord Braxton raised a brow, challenging him,

Darcy gritted his teeth, “Then, that is what I shall do.”

“Now now,” Lady Braxton interrupted their thinly veiled altercation, “I am sure there is no need to go to such extremes. Whatever happened between the Braxtons and the Fitzwilliams happened well over forty years ago. If we can look past it for our granddaughter’s happiness, I am sure Lord Fitzwilliam can do the same for his nephew.”

Lady Braxton was a wonderful mediator. Darcy was finding his respect for her rising with every second that passed. Lord Braxton, too, seemed to subdue a little at the reminder of his granddaughter’s happiness. He looked a little forlorn as he said,

“I had hoped she would be our little Lizzy for a while longer. After all, she is only nineteen! She has yet to even come out in society! Perhaps, we should wait. Elizabeth ought to see what other options she has in the marriage mart. Falling in love with the first man she meets is absurdity.”

Darcy stiffened. That was the worst idea he’d ever heard.

Lady Braxton only raised a very arched brow, “ You were the first man I met. Do you remember what we did when my father refused our match?”

They had run away together to Gretna Green.

Lord Braxton blanched. He looked at Darcy as if to gauge if the young man —who was known in society to be dour, traditional, and cold— would resort to something so drastic and scandalous.

Darcy kept his face inscrutable, but he could admit to himself that the idea was not without merit. It would certainly spare the both of them from all the unnecessary family drama.

Lord Braxton stood. He paced. He tapped his cane restlessly against the marble flooring of the morning parlour. Darcy might not have been his first choice for a son-in-law. Hell, he might not even have been his thirtieth choice, but it was not to say he was a bad man. Unlike most of his peers, the young man was known to stay away from gambling, brothels, and even excess alcohol. His inheritance had been debt-free, and over the years, it was said that he had increased the income of his land by manifolds through mining, sheep rearing, and proper irrigation techniques.

Really, the one and only deterrent was his family.

Lord Braxton supposed, in the grand scheme of things, there were bigger flaws one could possess.

Making up his mind, he came to a pause right in front of Darcy.

“I think it is better you join me in my study, son. We ought to discuss Lizzy’s dowry and right up the marriage settlement.”

Lady Braxton watched, fascinated, as the young man broke into a relieved, untameable smile. ‘ Ah.’ Roseline thought, ‘ Elizabeth was correct. If this was how he smiled at her, it was no surprise that she fell for him.’