Page 26 of Obligation and Redemption

“Pride is the chalice into which all human sins are poured: it glitters and jingles and its arabesque lures your gaze, while your lips involuntarily touch the seductive beverage.”

Vladimir Odoevsky

Darcy arrived at his home in London early the following afternoon, having left Netherfield as soon as he was able and happy to finally be in his own comfortable dwelling.

He was master at Darcy House, in control, and was eager to draw on that comfort.

The previous fortnight had been the worst of his remembrance, excepting the time surrounding the deaths of his parents.

Between the pain of his injuries and the costly effects to his independence, he had rarely felt so powerless.

It was as if some force outside of himself had taken over his life, finding amusement in absurdity.

After refreshing himself, he went to his study to catch up on his correspondence.

Anything of significance had been forwarded to Netherfield, so mainly he sifted through invitations, letters of appreciation for prior benevolence and the multitudinous requests for assistance.

His steward in town had managed his business affairs that were not important enough to send to Netherfield, but in his illness, he had been unable to fulfil his responsibilities while in Hertfordshire.

This would be a busy week for Darcy as he attempted to complete his preceding business and inform his family of his upcoming nuptials.

He would also need to meet with his solicitor to draw up the marriage settlement, while his staff got to work readying the mistress’s chamber.

Contemplating the preparation of Miss Elizabeth’s chamber led him to naturally dwell on the idea that he would soon be married, enjoying all of the physical benefits inherent upon that happy state.

The picture of Miss Elizabeth, wet in her chemise, had never left Darcy’s mind.

He held onto the idea tenaciously even when he knew it was ungentlemanly; if her sensual attributes were to be the only benefit of the union, he would use that thought to keep him sane over the next fortnight.

He determined that in the morning he would begin the day by making a call to the home of his relations, Tromwell House, where he would be able to inform his aunt and uncle Fitzwilliam as well as his sister, Georgiana, of his upcoming wedding.

Darcy had spent the journey to town considering how he would break the news of his engagement to them.

Likely, his aunt and uncle had already read in the papers about his supposed compromise of a young, country maiden, but hopefully they kept this information from Georgiana.

They also were probably unsuspecting of the final outcome, so he expected to face their astonished response.

So as not to unnecessarily upset his sister, Darcy decided to convey that he was in agreement with the marriage, and that Miss Elizabeth would make a fine match, despite her low birth and lack of connections.

Georgiana looked up to him with the highest devotion; if she thought for one moment that there was no love match, or that Miss Elizabeth had manipulated him into offering for her, she would go into her relationship with her new sister with a prejudice not easily overcome.

He considered that keeping Georgiana in town during the wedding would be for the best. Darcy knew that he was no great actor and in order to keep his sister unsuspecting of the truth behind his regard for his fiancée, he determined to keep her away.

In addition, he feared the impact the Bennets would have on her sensibilities.

They were an uncouth lot; the less time spent in their company the better.

Darcy did not like deceit, so he felt somewhat guilty about deluding his sister, but he was unsure he could pull off the feat.

He rarely if ever put on a show of emotions when he had none.

Can I convince her that I have a fondness for my soon-to-be wife when I have none?

He arrived at their home shortly after breakfast. His sister, forgetting that she was nearly grown, ran up to him for a tender embrace.

He found that he quite enjoyed the show of emotion.

After the difficult time away, he needed the affection only someone whom he loved could bestow.

After an account of Georgiana’s time with the Fitzwilliams, he suggested that she practise the pianoforte in the music room, so she could exhibit to him after dinner.

Recalling that she was to act the proper lady, she glided out of the room, but with a becoming smile upon her face.

After Georgiana left, closing the door behind her, their aunt and uncle looked at one another in a unifying stance before his uncle spoke, “What is this we have been reading about in the papers, Darcy? Can we hope there is no truth to the scandalous rumours being bandied about town?”

With concern Darcy responded, “Does Georgiana know?”

“Of course not. As you are aware, she does not read the papers, and we kept any visitors away from her hearing.”

“Thank you.” He stood and paced to gather his thoughts. This is when his relations noticed his slight limp.

“Darcy, why are you limping?”

Looking somewhat confused, having forgotten for the moment the injury that had plagued him previously, he responded, “I sustained an injury to my ankle, as well as my head, but two weeks ago. Actually, that leads me to the answer of your first question.” He walked over to the sofa and sat before continuing, “A young woman and I were travelling upon the same path, but in opposite directions early one morning. A storm was quickly approaching from the west, so I picked up my pace. Well, in reality, my pace was rather more speedy than necessary for an early ride on a dark morning. When I came around a turn, I almost ran down a local, genteel woman, who also was trying to make it to her home before the storm began. Unfortunately, I fell off my horse resulting in my wounds.”

With alarm, his aunt responded, “How dreadful! But you seem recovered. Are you? And what about the lady? Was she much injured?”

“I am well, as you see. And the lady sustained no injuries… that I am aware of.” Darcy, just at that moment, realised that he had never bothered inquiring about Miss Elizabeth’s condition after the accident.

She was obviously well enough to get him to that wretched dwelling.

For a moment, he felt shame for his lack of attention to a lady’s needs in a possibly traumatic situation, but quickly overcame his guilt when he considered the predicament in which he now found himself, and at her doing.

“She was able to get me safely out of the storm, but in so doing, she put us in a socially damaging situation.”

“She is the woman mentioned in the papers who spent un-chaperoned time alone with you, who expects you to marry her?” Darcy’s aunt questioned.

“She is.”

“Well, of course, you will not marry her. From what we read about the woman, she is the dowerless daughter of a country gentleman. No one would expect you to lower yourself to offer for her, Darcy. Pay her family off for their trouble – she did get you to safety, you say – and be done with it. You have no ties to that county, and your peers are already thinking of other scandals on which to dwell.” Darcy remained quiet.

“Did James not tell me you were considering courting that young debutante? First Season out, though nineteen? Lady Annette, I believe was her name, was it not, dear?” his uncle said, turning to his wife, “I hear her dowry nears forty thousand.”

“Yes, I was considering her, but no more.” Darcy disliked people speaking of his personal matters.

His aunt and uncle looked at him in question, “Has she been taken, then? From what I hear from Langston, she was the prize this year, but was holding out for your offer. Did she weary of waiting for you?” his uncle queried with a hint of amusement.

Darcy stood and walked to the window where he peered down to the street below.

He had not been looking forward to this moment.

His relations would be appalled at his decision, as he well understood.

They could not fathom his need to honour his obligations, no matter his distaste in doing so.

Of course, the Fitzwilliam side of the family was of noble heritage and always strove to do what was right, to show their superiority to those of lesser birth, but they would not accept his decision to put his pride aside to marry beneath him, with no inducement but his honour and the respectability and future of a family totally unconnected to his own.

Darcy then turned and faced his family and said, “You must wish me joy. I have asked for and will soon receive the hand of Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, in Hertfordshire.”

Silence reigned as his aunt and uncle stood up, mouths agape. “You cannot be in earnest,” his aunt said with a countenance of unbelief.

“Darcy, do not be so foolish. You most certainly are not engaged,” his uncle scoffingly added.

“Indeed, I am. The first banns were read yesterday. I came to town to make ready the house for a new mistress and to inform my family of my betrothal. I will be meeting with my solicitor this afternoon to draw up the contract, once I have spoken to Georgiana.”

“But why? Surely, as your uncle said, you did not have to offer for her, just pay her family a generous sum, which I know you can afford, and be done with the business.” Darcy mused that he also had gone over this argument many times on his own.

“Miss Bennet will be my wife. I have chosen of my free will to offer for her, and I hope that you will find it within your hearts to accept my decision, to welcome her, for she will be your niece.”