Page 7

Darcy

F itzwilliam Darcy strode through the entrance hall of Darcy House, rain dripping from his greatcoat. The downpour had surprised him as he’d made his way back to his house from the park.

He was soaked through the bone now but oddly enough, gratitude filled him as this meant the party leaving the church would be delayed, allowing time for the young lady to retrieve her belongings without being caught.

His boots left wet imprints with each step as he made his way towards his study. Fletcher, his valet, appeared, his face betraying only mild surprise at his master’s bedraggled appearance.

“Good evening, sir,” Fletcher said, reaching for the sodden greatcoat as Darcy shrugged it off. “I did not expect you until much later.”

“Change of plans, Fletcher.” Darcy ran a hand through his damp hair, scattering droplets of rainwater. “I require you to pack immediately for an extended journey.”

“Extended, sir?” Fletcher’s eyebrows rose a fraction.

“Yes. I will leave for the north within the hour. Pack sufficient clothing for at least a fortnight of travel.”

Fletcher nodded, absorbing this information with professional composure. “Very good, sir. May I ask your destination?”

Darcy hesitated. “First Scotland, then Pemberley.”

“Scotland, sir?” This time, even Fletcher’s well—his trained impartiality faltered.

“Yes, Fletcher. Scotland.” Darcy’s tone brooked no further enquiry. “And ensure that my travel writing desk is prepared with ample paper and ink.”

“Of course, sir. And shall I fetch Mrs Annesley to prepare your sister for departure?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I shall travel on my own.”

Fletcher bowed and departed, no doubt already mentally cataloguing the necessary items for such a journey.

Alone in the hallway, Darcy exhaled slowly, the weight of his impulsive decision settling upon his shoulders. Had he taken leave of his senses? He, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, who prided himself on rational thought and measured action, had just proposed marriage to a runaway bride.

Yet as he entered his study, he could not bring himself to regret it.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s forthright manner had struck him immediately.

Her determination to escape a marriage that would stifle her spirit, even at great personal cost, revealed a strength of character he could not help but admire.

Darcy lit a lamp and settled at his mahogany desk, drawing out two sheets of paper.

The first letter would be to Lord Matlock, explaining his sudden departure on the pretext of urgent estate business at Pemberley.

The second would be to Bingley, offering apologies for cancelling their plans to visit Netherfield.

As he dipped his quill in ink, Darcy’s mind returned to Miss Elizabeth’s situation.

She had been moments from marrying Jonathan Blackfriars.

It had not occurred to him until he’d replayed the entire conversation in his mind on his way back that he knew of the fellow.

In the London financial circles, he was known for his ruthlessness.

Darcy had never met Blackfriars personally, but he had heard enough about his business practises to feel instinctively that Miss Elizabeth had made the right choice in fleeing such a match.

His quill scratched across the paper as he composed a deliberately vague explanation to his uncle.

He would simply state that matters at Pemberley required his immediate attention—a half truth, for he did intend to take his new bride there once they were married.

The thought gave him pause. His bride. A week ago, even a day ago, the notion would have been unthinkable.

“Brother?”

Darcy looked up to find Georgiana standing in the doorway, her expression concerned.

“Georgiana.” He set down his quill and rose. “Come in.”

“Fletcher informed me you are packing for a journey to Scotland. Is something amiss?”

Darcy gestured for her to sit, then resumed his own seat behind the desk. “Not amiss, precisely. But I have made a decision that will significantly alter our circumstances.”

“What sort of decision?”

Darcy considered how best to explain his rash actions.

“I am to be married,” he said simply.

Georgiana stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Married?” she echoed. “To whom? Not Lady Eleanor, surely—”

“No, not Lady Eleanor.” Darcy almost smiled at her evident relief. “I met the lady only today. Her name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Today?” Georgiana’s voice rose an octave. “Fitzwilliam, I do not understand. How can you be marrying someone you met today?”

Darcy leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “It is a rather extraordinary situation. Miss Bennet was to marry another today—a man named Jonathan Blackfriars.”

“The banker’s son?” Georgiana’s surprise deepened. “I have heard Caroline Bingley mention him. She says he is very wealthy, though not of the first circles.”

“The same. Miss Bennet fled the church rather than marry him.”

“She fled her own wedding?” Georgiana’s expression displayed both shock and something that might have been admiration.

“Indeed.” Darcy recounted the strange encounter—the young woman in her wedding dress, tearful but resolute. Their conversation about family expectations, and finally, his impulsive proposal of a marriage of convenience.

As he spoke, Georgiana’s expression altered from shock to astonishment to a kind of tentative understanding. When he finished, she sat quietly, digesting the tale.

“This is… most unlike you, brother,” she said at last.

“I am aware,” he replied wryly.

“And yet…” she hesitated. “There is something in your countenance when you speak of Miss Bennet. You admire her.”

“I do,” Darcy admitted. “She possesses a rare courage. To abandon the security of an advantageous match on principle alone—that requires conviction few possess.”

“Is she very beautiful?” Georgiana asked, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“She is… comely. One might call her handsome. But it is her spirit that is truly remarkable.” Before his sister could find him entirely unhinged, he explained the details of his plans, including the annulment at the end of the one year period, should they so choose.

Georgiana nodded slowly. “I think I understand why you proposed this, even if it seems precipitous. But have you considered how our family will react? Lady Catherine will be furious.”

“Lady Catherine is frequently furious,” Darcy replied dismissively. “Her displeasure is of little consequence.”

“But Lord and Lady Matlock—”

“May express their disappointment, but can do nothing to affect my decision. This arrangement with Lady Eleanor is what he wanted for his own benefit, not mine. They may rage and threaten, but they cannot disinherit or otherwise punish me.”

“They could make life very unpleasant for your new wife,” Georgiana pointed out. “Lady Catherine especially.”

Darcy had not considered this angle. “Miss Bennet seems more than capable of holding her own, but you raise a valid concern. I would not wish to subject her to unnecessary unpleasantness.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you remained at Pemberley for a time after your marriage,” Georgiana suggested. “Allow the initial shock to dissipate before presenting Miss Bennet to the family.”

“A wise precaution.” Darcy studied his sister with newfound appreciation. “You take this news remarkably well. I expected more resistance to such an unconventional plan.”

Georgiana’s expression grew more serious. “I understand the pressure of unwanted expectations, Fitzwilliam. Had our parents lived, might they not have arranged a match for me with a gentleman of their choosing, regardless of my wishes?”

“I would never have permitted such a thing,” Darcy said as he sat up straighter.

“But you might not have had the authority to prevent it,” Georgiana countered.

“Just as Miss Bennet’s father decided her fate without consulting her wishes.

” She paused. “I remember how our cousin Anne struggled against Lady Catherine’s insistence that she marry you.

Had Lord Matlock not intervened, and helped her secure a match with Baron Fitzroy’s son… ”

“Anne might still be trapped at Rosings, subject to our aunt’s schemes, especially once Lady Catherine accepted that I would never marry her,” Darcy finished.

Darcy wondered if this had influenced his decision to propose to Miss Bennet—a subconscious desire to prevent another young woman from being sacrificed to family ambition.

“Tell me more about her,” Georgiana requested. “What is her family like?”

“She spoke little of them, save that her father had made poor investments that necessitated the match with Blackfriars.” Darcy frowned. “I know distressingly little about her background, in truth. Her aunt, a Mrs Gardiner, comes from Lambton—that is our single connection.”

“Lambton?” Georgiana brightened. “That is promising. The Gardiners must be respectable if they hail from there.”

“Miss Bennet herself is indisputably a gentleman’s daughter, though her connections seem limited.

” Darcy drummed his fingers on the desk.

“But these considerations matter little. Our plan is temporary, designed to free us both from immediate pressures. After a year, should either of us wish it, we may seek an annulment.”

Georgiana looked troubled. “And if, during that year, real affection develops?”

Darcy had not permitted himself to consider this possibility. “That would be a separate discussion.”

“I should like to meet her before you depart,” Georgiana said.

“That will not be possible, I fear. She awaits me near Cheapside, and we must leave immediately for Gretna Green.”

“Gretna Green! Like characters in a novel! Fitzwilliam, I never imagined you as the hero of a romantic escapade.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Darcy smiled at his sister’s enthusiasm. “I assure you; it is merely feasible. We cannot marry in England without banns or a special license, both of which would invite interference.”

Georgiana nodded, then seemed struck by a thought. “I might be of assistance. What if I were to remain in London for a time? I could even accompany the family to Rosings, or Matlock thereafter. That way, I may inform you of anything they discuss.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course. And then I could join you at Pemberley with news of their reactions.” Her eyes sparkled with uncharacteristic mischief. “It would give you and Miss Bennet time to settle into your life without immediate family scrutiny.”

Darcy regarded his sister with newfound respect. The shy, uncertain girl was showing glimpses of the confident woman she was becoming. “That is a generous offer, Georgiana. I accept with gratitude.”

“I shall write to you,” she promised. “And I shall be the soul of discretion when Lady Catherine inevitably descends upon Darcy House demanding explanations.”

Darcy winced at the mental image. “Perhaps you should remove to Matlock House if that occurs. I would not subject you to her wrath alone.”

“I am made of sterner things than you credit me with, brother,” Georgiana replied with quiet dignity. “Besides, Mrs Annesley will be with me.”

A knock at the study door interrupted them. Fletcher entered, bowing slightly. “Your trunks are prepared, sir. The carriage awaits.”

“Thank you, Fletcher.” Darcy rose, gathering the letters he had written. “Have these delivered first thing tomorrow morning, not before.”

“Very good, sir.”

As Fletcher withdrew, Darcy turned back to Georgiana, suddenly aware that this might be their last meeting for some time. Impulsively, he stepped around the desk and embraced her, an uncharacteristic display of affection that seemed to surprise them both.

“Take care, dearest sister,” he murmured.

Georgiana returned the embrace fiercely. “And you, brother. I hope your Miss Bennet proves worthy of such a dramatic gesture.”

“As do I,” he replied, releasing her with a rueful smile. “As do I.”

Darcy gathered his hat and gloves, casting one final glance around his study. As he descended the stairs to the waiting carriage, laden with trunks and supplies for their journey north, he felt a curious medley trepidation and exhilaration.

The rain continued to fall as the carriage pulled away from Darcy House, its wheels splashing through puddles on the cobblestone street.

“Cheapside,” he instructed the coachman through the speaking tube. “And make haste. We have a long journey ahead.”

As the carriage accelerated through the rain-slicked streets of Mayfair towards the City, Darcy allowed himself to acknowledge the full implications of his actions. He was defying his family, risking scandal, and binding himself—temporarily at least—to a woman he scarcely knew.

Yet somehow, despite every rational argument against it, this reckless plan felt righter than any carefully calculated decision he had ever made.