Page 23 of Intrigue and Inheritance (Crime and Consequences #3)

“Perhaps you would favour us with a song in Italian, Contessa?” Lady Matlock delicately interrupted. “I have heard it whispered that you have quite the singing voice. Do you play, or shall I accompany you?”

As the evening’s programme continued with the contessa demonstrating that she could indeed sing most movingly in Italian, Darcy found himself reflecting on the contrasting performances he had witnessed.

Georgiana and Mr. Townend had demonstrated genuine artistic collaboration, their talents enhancing each other through mutual respect and shared purpose.

The viscount, for all his enthusiastic pretensions, had revealed both his limitations and his resilience under criticism, qualities that suggested a character perhaps not as superficial as Darcy had initially judged.

“An enlightening evening,” Lord Matlock commented quietly as they moved toward the refreshment table. “Your sister’s musical partnership with Mr. Townend appears most promising.”

“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, his protective instincts tempered by the undeniable evidence of Georgiana’s growing confidence. “Though I remain cautious about encouraging attachments too quickly.”

Lord Matlock smiled knowingly. “A father’s prerogative, or in your case, a brother’s.

But sometimes, Darcy, the very connections we are most wary of prove to be precisely what is needed for growth.

” He glanced meaningfully across the room.

“Speaking of attachments, I believe Byerly is making determined advances toward Anne. Perhaps we should observe that situation more closely.”

Darcy followed his uncle’s gaze to where Anne sat near the far wall, the marquess seated beside her with an expression of calculated interest that immediately rekindled Darcy’s concerns.

With a nod to Lord Matlock, he made his way across the crowded music room, observing with growing concern the tableau before him.

Anne sat rigidly in her chair, her fingers clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles must be white beneath her gloves.

Byerly leaned toward her, his posture that of a man conferring a great honour through his attention, though Anne’s fixed expression suggested she found his proximity more oppressive than flattering.

Before Darcy could reach them, however, the marquess glanced up, noted his approach, and rose with surprising alacrity.

“Ah, Mr. Darcy,” Byerly called, moving forward to intercept him with smooth deliberation. “I was just about to seek you out. Might I have a word in private?” His gaze flickered meaningfully toward a small anteroom adjoining the music salon.

Darcy hesitated, reluctant to abandon Anne to her evident discomfort, yet curious about what Byerly might reveal in private conversation.

A quick glance toward his cousin showed her sending him a look that might have been either pleading for rescue or resignation to her fate, he could not entirely determine which.

“Of course,” Darcy replied, his tone carefully neutral. “Though I should not wish to absent myself from the music for too long.”

Byerly smiled, a thin expression that did not reach his calculating eyes. “This will not require much of your time, I assure you. Matters of family interest are best discussed with appropriate discretion.”

With a brief nod to Anne, who acknowledged him with a barely perceptible inclination of her head, Darcy allowed himself to be guided toward the anteroom.

As they walked, he observed Lord Joseph Sturt entering the main salon, his vibrant green waistcoat visible from across the room as he scanned the gathering with evident purpose.

“I shall come directly to the point, Mr. Darcy,” the marquess began, his voice taking on the flat cadence of a man who has rehearsed his approach. “As Miss de Bourgh’s cousin and very nearly her nearest male relation, you must naturally have an interest in her future prospects.”

“My cousin’s welfare is indeed of great concern to me,” Darcy replied carefully, already disliking the direction of this conversation but willing to hear the man out.

Perhaps Byerly thought he might be easier to intimidate than Lord Matlock, whose rank was closer to the marquess’ own? If so, Byerly was sorely mistaken.

Byerly nodded, as though Darcy had confirmed some private theory. “Just so. Miss de Bourgh is, by all accounts, a young lady of considerable refinement, though her delicate constitution must cause concern regarding her future happiness.”

“Anne’s health has improved significantly since her arrival in London,” Darcy observed, deliberately emphasising his cousin’s given name to establish the intimacy of their family connection. “We believe many of her supposed ailments were perhaps exacerbated by an excess of coddling at Rosings.”

“Indeed?” Byerly raised an eyebrow, clearly reassessing some aspect of his prepared speech. “That is... most encouraging. Though a young lady of her position and inheritance will always require particular care, especially in the selection of a suitable establishment.”

“Establishment?” Darcy repeated, allowing a hint of coolness to enter his tone.

“A marital establishment, of course,” the marquess clarified smoothly.

“Miss de Bourgh’s position as the heiress to Rosings Park necessitates a husband whose lineage and connections complement her own substantial assets.

My own family, as you are no doubt aware, traces its origins to the Norman Conquest, with lands granted by William himself, though admittedly the vicissitudes of time have somewhat reduced the original grant. ”

“I see,” Darcy said, beginning to understand all too clearly the purpose of this private conference. “You have developed an interest in my cousin, then?”

“A natural progression of our acquaintance,” the marquess agreed, apparently mistaking Darcy’s neutral tone for encouragement.

“The Byerly estates, while currently requiring certain... investments to restore their former glory, offer an excellent complement to Rosings Park. The combined properties would create one of the most significant landholdings in England.”

The calculation in this assessment, presented without the slightest pretence of affection or even personal regard for Anne herself, confirmed Darcy’s worst suspicions about the marquess’s intentions.

Here was a man viewing marriage as nothing more than a financial transaction, with Anne valued solely as the conduit for Rosings Park and its substantial income.

“An interesting perspective,” Darcy replied, his tone deliberately non-committal. “Though I must point out that Anne’s future is not mine to determine. While Lady Catherine naturally has certain expectations, Anne herself will have the final say in any marital arrangement.”

A flicker of something like impatience crossed Byerly’s features before his expression smoothed into practised civility.

“Of course, of course. I merely wished to ensure that, as her family guardians during this London season, you and Mrs. Darcy understand the advantages of encouraging particular attachments over others. Some young men, I observe, have been paying attentions to Miss de Bourgh that can scarcely be considered appropriate given her station.”

Through the partially open door, Darcy could now see into the main salon where Lord Joseph had approached Anne and appeared to be reciting something from a small notebook he carried.

More surprising still was Anne’s expression, which had transformed from tight discomfort to something approaching genuine engagement, her usual pale composure enlivened by a faint blush as she listened.

“I believe my cousin is perfectly capable of determining whose attentions she finds agreeable,” Darcy replied, unable to keep a note of coldness from his voice. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I believe I hear the beginning of Miss Crawford’s performance. I promised my wife I would not miss it.”

Before Byerly could respond with more than a brief nod of acquiescence, Darcy exited the anteroom and made his way back toward Elizabeth, who stood near Lady Matlock. As he moved through the gathering, he took the opportunity to observe Anne more closely.

Lord Joseph was now seated beside her, gesturing with theatrical enthusiasm as he read from his notebook.

Though Darcy was too far away to hear the verses being declaimed, the young man’s exuberant expression and Anne’s responding smile told their own tale.

Whatever poetic efforts Lord Joseph was sharing, they appeared to be received with genuine appreciation rather than mere politeness.

“...like a nightingale amidst the garden’s shadows, thy gentle voice speaks volumes in its silence!

” Darcy caught a fragment of Lord Joseph’s recitation as he passed closer to them, the young poet’s voice rising in passionate delivery of what appeared to be yet another ode to Anne’s supposedly ethereal qualities.

Objectively terrible poetry, Darcy thought with reluctant amusement, yet delivered with such sincere enthusiasm that its very excess became somehow charming rather than merely ridiculous.

Anne’s response was equally revealing, her customary reserve softening into something like genuine pleasure at being the object of such florid admiration.

It struck Darcy then, the stark contrast between the two men who had shown interest in his cousin this evening.

The marquess had not spent even more than a few moments discussing Anne herself during their private conversation, focusing entirely on her inheritance and the advantages of their potential alliance.

Lord Joseph, for all his poetic excesses, addressed his attentions to Anne directly, celebrating qualities he admired in her person rather than her position.

“You appear thoughtful,” Elizabeth observed as he joined her. “Did the marquess reveal something of note during your private conference?”