Page 67 of Lizzie’s Spirit

The danger, thought Darcy, was that life at Pemberley was too easy; every day had its own charm.

Whether taking breakfast with his father and Georgiana in the small dining-parlour overlooking the willow-fringed lake, walking out with his sister and seeing her become more relaxed, restored to good humour as they put the tragedy of Frederick’s death behind them, or driving out with his father in the gig, visiting tenants, preparing for the harvest, and seeing to the maintenance of the bridges and laneways in anticipation of a wet autumn and icy winter.

As always, he imagined Elizabeth next to him: her taking Georgiana’s arm as together they strolled through Lady Anne’s rose garden; her being admired as she rode into Lambton in her scarlet riding habit, the ladies curtseying and men doffing their hats, their eyes drawn to her graceful seat.

Mistress of Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy—he could scarcely wait till the end of the month to be reunited.

“William, would you mind if I invited Felicity to visit? I received a letter from her, and she’s finding life at Matlock ever so tedious.”

Darcy looked up from his ledger. Georgiana had quietly entered the study and stood hopefully before his desk.

It had been a pleasant six weeks—only his father, Georgiana, and himself.

Surprisingly, the earl hadn’t imposed on him; perhaps even he had the decency to allow Darcy some time alone with his closest family.

“Of course, sweetling. Felicity is a lovely girl, and I’m sure you’ll have great fun together.”

His sister came around his desk and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. And I know how much Father enjoys her company.”

She skipped away to write her invitation.

“And what has her so excited?” George Darcy came through the interior door from the library. He relaxed into a chair by the fire.

“She’s inviting Felicity to visit. I believe our respite from being importuned is ending.

If Felicity comes alone, then all will be well, for she’ll spend her time with Georgiana.

But if Lady Matlock accompanies her—which I fear—then issues of marriage and Lady Catherine’s debt will be thrust in our faces. ”

“Ah, the games begin again. Speaking of mortgages, is there any progress on our investigations?”

Darcy put down his pen, stood, and walked to stand in front of the fire.

“’Tis only two months, and there are many records that may have relevance.

Currently, we’re searching manor rolls and probate copies of wills, also, investigating any civil matters in the Court of Common Pleas.

It all takes time, and our clerks must be very discreet. ”

“I’m merely impatient. There’s much about this sorry business that doesn’t smell right.

Is Catherine a secret gamester? Has she made some investment, perhaps in a bank that has collapsed or in some scheme to grow breadfruit in Scotland?

What ridiculous reason is there to deny Matlock and disclose nothing? ”

“As do you, I wish an end to this. But we’re at the final turn; we must be patient. Elizabeth will soon return.”

***

“George, you must have Fitzwilliam marry!” Lady Matlock glared at George Darcy as they sat to dinner in the small family dining-parlour.

“And how do you propose I do that? Withhold his allowance? But since he now controls the estate finances, that may be difficult. Lock him in the nursery? but he’s a little old for that.”

Darcy regarded his aunt; the attack was not surprising, though he had thought she would wait at least a day before raising the subject.

Felicity was staring at her bowl of turtle soup, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

A small, excited smile touched Georgiana’s lips; she glanced nervously towards him, a hopeful look in her eye.

“Perhaps not the best topic to raise at the table. Maybe we should talk of something else. You could make some remark about the very fine weather we’re having, that it should hold to the end of harvest.” Darcy couldn’t resist a smug look, for Lady Matlock had obviously intended to discomfort him in front of Felicity, as he did his best to ruffle her.

“No, Fitzwilliam. If we do not discuss it, you and your father will make some excuse to leave the topic—whether it is to take port in the study, have Georgiana perform on the piano forte, or write urgent letters that must be attended to.”

Darcy could see Felicity was mortified by the discourse. Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana’s companion, made to leave the table.

“Mrs. Annesley,” said Darcy, “you are family. I would prefer you stay, if that is all right with you.” The lady nodded and picked up her spoon, though she only moved it around the bowl rather than taking a sip of the excellent soup.

“Alice,” Darcy’s father rolled his eyes, “Fitzwilliam has been back in this country less than two months. While Frederick passed some twelve months ago, the news did not reach New South Wales until January last. Fitzwilliam has scarcely time to mourn his brother, let alone contemplate marriage.” He nodded to the footman to remove the course.

It was a pity, because he enjoyed turtle soup, but all had ceased eating, and it was rapidly cooling—not a dish to partake of cold.

“Always excuses, George. I mourn Frederick, we all do—he was a fine nephew. But he didn’t marry; he has no heir. There is a great risk to the estate if there is no succession. None of us are immune to fate.”

“I see little such risk. Georgiana’s a Darcy; she’s a well-formed girl—nay, woman. Perhaps, if Fitzwilliam doesn’t marry, then she can bear the heir.”

Those words brought back memories of St. Albans and a young woman forced into marriage to save her family and their estate. Darcy would not impose on Georgiana. She should be able to make her own way without having the responsibility for Pemberley thrust on her shoulders.

“No, Father, I must clarify my position. Frederick had no intention of marrying. It was an institution to which he was indifferent—he could not marry a woman without reciprocating her love, and a loveless marriage, to him, was an anathema. He had seen the joy that his parents’ love for each other had brought to Pemberley and their children.

For me, I am not opposed to marriage; it is an institution to which I cleave with the highest approbation. ”

Oh, to talk of marriage as though it were in the future, something as yet unknown. He looked to Felicity, her hands clasped on her lap. “My cousin is a lovely lady, so very elegant. She’s a credit to the earldom and to you, Aunt. One day, some man will be proud to have her on his arm.”

Felicity glanced up at him, a small smile creasing her face.

“As my father said, I’ve only recently returned from the colony; my life has, literally, turned upside down.

I know very little of managing an estate the size of Pemberley; I also have responsibilities to Governor Macquarie—I am his representative in England and his advocate in government.

There is little opportunity to consider other issues, no matter how important they seem to some.

To marry in haste would be unwise for all parties. ”

***

Darcy took his breakfast overlooking the courtyard in the House.

It was early; the stench of London in summer had yet to invade the room, though he was now accustomed to the miasma that pervaded the streets, seeping up from the Thames.

He had been in town for a week. Lady Matlock was most displeased when, just five days after she and Felicity had arrived at Pemberley, he announced his departure for London to meet with the judiciary committee.

Renewing his acquaintance with Mr. Ellis Bent, he found him partly recovered from the illness that had forced him to leave the colony.

Bent exhibited a lingering animosity towards Darcy, keenly aware that, had he remained in Sydney, he would have been the one elevated to the lieutenant governorship.

But conversation moved on to other matters.

Being an acquaintance of Bent, Mr. Gardiner’s name was mentioned in conversation and, reminded of the gentleman living in Gracechurch Street, Darcy determined to visit him.

Particularly, he wished to obtain intelligence of how the Bennets were faring.

Certainly, Elizabeth would be keen to know and surely would wish to visit her family as soon as possible on arrival in England.

The warehouse of Gardiner mayhap, I should as well see your coffee varieties and tea.”

“A pleasure, sir. And the other matter? ”

Darcy paused. How was he to raise the topic of Elizabeth’s family without showing too much interest? Mrs. Gardiner had already inferred that his familiarity with Elizabeth was, perhaps, closer than that of mere acquaintances.