Page 25 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

An afternoon with his sister started out with little to allay Darcy’s concerns about her temperament.

His escape from his family the evening before had meant abandoning Georgiana to their resentment and grudges, and she was unhappy again—because of him.

Cecilia was barely speaking to her, her aunt was unavailable for her company, and now she worried she would not be permitted at the ball.

Cecilia’s ‘friendship’ appeared contingent on using Georgiana as a lever to propel him into marriage.

Had she no hope of other offers? Why was his family so intent on a betrothal between them?

How much Georgiana knew of the family’s plans was an unknown, but she clearly understood her aunt’s wishes to ensnare him.

“All was well until you returned and now everyone is angry and troubled.”

“I am sorry, Georgiana, but I cannot please everyone, be it by my choice of wine or wife. Pleasing myself, my intended wife, and you, is paramount.”

“Your intended wife? Fitzwilliam, are you betrothed?”

Her voice betrayed both apprehension and excitement, the same emotions he felt upon realising he had misspoken.

Mostly. It was indeed a question he could not answer, to her or to himself, in honesty.

At least not until he spoke to Elizabeth Bennet and confirmed their understanding—one that was arranged not in the cradle but by necessity underlined by mutual affection.

If he did not yet love her, he was drawn to her as he had not been to another woman.

He was affected by her; he cared for her welfare and wished not to lose the connexion between them. Was that not enough basis for marriage?

“No, dearest. Someday I shall be wed and you shall have a sister. Again,” he added hastily when he realised both had once been true.

“I never thought of Anne as my sister,” she whispered. “Your marriage was of such short duration, I only knew her as my cousin.”

He silently agreed. Anne had been difficult to know, or even spend time with, as a cousin.

Thinking of her as his wife had been impossible.

Darcy did not expect Anne would live long after their wedding, and tried not to think of the relief he had felt when she passed and her suffering ended.

Had Lord Matlock been aware of the true reasons for their marriage and her death, his grief would have been less for Anne’s spiritual release than for the family’s reputation.

Neither man’s reprieve was brief; Lady Catherine’s emotional state and angry outbursts consumed much of his next months.

“Anne was unpleasant but you did what you felt was your duty,” Georgiana continued to speak feelings that matched his own. It felt like progress. “Do you feel no duty towards Cecilia?”

“I do not.”

“She and my aunt and uncle think the opposite.”

“They have been expounding on that idea since Cecilia’s first Season ended without a wedding to plan,” he replied. “She has barely been out in the world, and she has an entire Season of marriage prospects ahead of her. And think, she has just turned nineteen. I am an old man.”

“Fitzwilliam!” Georgiana cried out before giggling. “Eight and twenty is not old!”

It feels as though it is , he thought, but said, “No, you are correct. I am not old, but neither am I the right choice for Cecilia. She is full young; we share little in common.”

“She is not an easy sort of girl,” Georgiana said slowly, “but we are friendly, most of the time. She prefers my aunt’s company to mine.”

A mother’s company. It hurt to think of what Georgiana had missed, would always miss, without her mother.

“You do not much like her, do you, Fitzwilliam?” Her serious, concerned expression reminded him painfully of their father.

“I do try, my sweet. I prefer people who are kind to my sister.”

Georgiana shrugged her shoulders in a most unladylike manner. “The kindest person to me in that house is Richard.”

“Well, that will never do, will it? Imagine him in a bridal gown.” Her shocked laughter filled him with a joy he had not felt with her in months. She sobered quickly, though.

“Why did you marry Anne?”

Darcy took a deep breath before deciding against unspooling in full the prevarication he was accustomed to supplying when asked this question.

“She was my cousin, like in age to me, and our mothers had made a pact when we were still in our cradles for us to marry.” Georgiana gave him an incredulous look.

“Is there a pact for me to wed one of my cousins? The ones who are not married are so much older and...”

“And?”

“Neither interesting nor handsome enough to tempt me.” She gasped at her own bluntness. “Please do not repeat my words, especially to Richard, but truly, I do not wish to be wed out of some family duty.”

“I would not allow it,” he assured her. “I did so once, not because I believed the so-called pact held real meaning, but Anne was unwell. She had been unwell most of her life and needed the care of a husband. With Richard in France, it was only I who could wed her.”

Georgiana gasped. “You knew she would die? Did Lady Catherine know?”

“I cannot say our aunt was thinking in any rational capacity,” he answered carefully. “My help was needed. I do not think Anne could have easily shouldered the duties of wife and motherhood, but I would have remained married to her regardless.”

“That was quite good of you, Brother.” Georgiana patted his hand, making him smile at her attempt to comfort him. “You have none of those concerns with Cecilia. It is simply that you wish to choose your own bride.”

“Indeed. Cecilia will forever be my little cousin, joined to the family when her mother wed our uncle.” He squeezed her hand. “One day, you will wish to choose your own husband, and I shall be ready to offer guidance but not demands.”

Georgiana’s relieved smile warmed him, and he felt the tension of the past few months receding into something more familiar between them.

Fearing he would tarnish the moment, he restrained himself from asking why she had not replied to his letters.

Regaining the easy connexion between them was enough for now.

“It is time to return to our uncle’s home. May I ask Richard to escort you?”

While Georgiana gathered some things from her rooms, Richard joined Darcy in his study. “I hope my cousin is not feeling herself caught in between the wishes of her family and the intransigence of her brother.”

“She is well.” Darcy sighed deeply before levelling a dark look at his cousin.

“I refuse to discuss any subject pertaining to marriage, courtship, lace, or family relations with you. You would do well to remain a neutral guardian of, and advocate for, Georgiana’s happiness rather than participate in any such ‘intransigence’. ”

Richard said nothing as his eyes drifted behind Darcy. “All right, then, tell me why your desk is full of maps and books on soil and farmland?”

Darcy cursed inwardly. He should not have to hide away papers in his own study from his relative’s prying eyes.

“I am providing advice and guidance to Bingley in Hertfordshire. You know him,” he said, adding a droll note to his voice.

“It is better that I explore the estate’s neighbourhood and possibilities rather than depend on him to do so before he makes improvements or decides to offer for the estate. ”

“Ha, you are a good friend, if not a helpful cousin.” Richard rubbed his chin.

“You will, I hope, forgive my father and stepmother for the burden they are placing on you. Since their marriage, he has been acquiescent to nearly her every wish, but here I see their thoughts are aligned. I tell them to back away, but it is to no avail.”

Angry resignation was writ across his cousin’s face. “Do you know why they prefer to marry Cecilia to me rather than wait for the Season?”

“I can think only what my father has said aloud to you: to unite the family estates,” Richard said, smiling at Georgiana as she approached them. “He is the last of his siblings, and more sentimental than he lets on.”

And perhaps, Darcy thought as he said his goodbyes, less prosperous . The former Susan Harding had brought little to the marriage beyond her allurements and a daughter for the earl to dote on, and his uncle had allowed her to spend lavishly. Perhaps too lavishly.

It was a troubling thought, but Richard’s words about the earl’s sentimentality remained front of mind when Darcy sat down with a light supper and worked in his study, re-reading the papers sent over by his solicitor and the letter he had written to Mr Bennet.

Sir,

All details of our transaction have been read over and approved by my solicitor. The paperwork is enclosed and the monies deposited as per the directions laid out. Your attorney has likewise been notified of this sale....

He read on, and added a note enquiring what , exactly, Mr Bennet had discussed with Elizabeth on the matter of marriage.

Bennet had a mercurial mind and a mischievous if lethargic spirit; he could not be counted on to follow through on every detail of his hastily hatched plan.

The earl, on the other hand, was a man who made plans and used parliamentary tactics as well as any titled gentleman and member of Parliament.

He was born to it. Yet Lord Matlock seemed determined to demand another marriage from his nephew rather than negotiate one for his stepdaughter.

Was it a wish from his heart or his pocketbook, a hope borne of pragmatism rather than passion?

Two choices were now before him: the wish of his uncle that he further the Fitzwilliam family’s fortunes by marrying Cecilia or the plea made by Bennet, a father who would find peace only because Darcy had offered him hope.

Marrying the daughter of a mildly impoverished country squire is a traitorous act to my family. Marrying anyone of my choosing is a sin in their eyes. They want to tie me to them without truly caring about my happiness.