Page 46 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)
A stack of boxes inside the front entryway indicated that Lady Matlock had completed at least the day’s first shopping expedition.
He did not consider himself anything but generous in his own expenditures for Georgiana, but neither did he recall his mother adding to her wardrobe with as much frequency as the earl’s wife.
Other ladies of his acquaintance, mostly cousins or his friends’ sisters, enjoyed the shops and had their favourite milliners and modistes.
Lady Matlock had no particular favourites; she seemed to be the favourite client of them all.
After asking Wilkins to send word to his sister that he had arrived, Darcy waved off the man and walked swiftly towards his uncle’s study.
The room was empty, but the desk was nearly overflowing with papers.
Curious, and not a little surprised by his uncle’s industriousness, Darcy stepped closer.
Bills were scattered across the ledger; bills from modistes and clubs—he saw the names of familiar shops and tradesmen, another from a solicitor.
And yet more shopping to be billed, he thought, moving away from the mess when the outlines of a map of Hertfordshire caught his eye.
What was this?
Alarmed, he peered closer. Raised voices in the corridor alerted him to his precarious position; his mind racing, he stepped away and to the door.
“Why didn’t you announce him, Wilkins? Where did he get to, stealing away our Georgiana?”
Darcy opened the door quietly and slipped into the hallway, following the voices into the front stairwell. His uncle stood, talking heatedly with Lady Matlock. Cecilia and Georgiana stood to the side. When his sister spotted him, she hurried over, alerting the others to his presence.
“Fitzwilliam! You are here!”
“Hello sweetheart,” he said, drawing her close. “Fetch your coat, we have a visit to pay.”
“To whom? Is it Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Not wishing to show her any of the concern he currently felt over his uncle’s interest in his affairs, Darcy managed a small smile. “Please, I must speak to my uncle before we call on Elizabeth and her sister.”
To her credit, or due to her aversion for a public argument, Georgiana hurried off to her rooms. Cecilia, looking curious, followed her.
His aunt moved towards him and took his hands in hers. “Welcome back, Darcy. I do hope you are in town for some time.”
He smiled tightly as Lord Matlock crossed his arms and gave him a severe look.
“Nephew,” he boomed, “do you not announce yourself or allow my servants to do their jobs?”
“Forgive my unannounced arrival. I came from Hertfordshire and wished to refresh myself before meeting with you. ”
Lord Matlock looked thunderous. “I received your letter.”
His aunt, mindful of their exposure in the hall, moved first, leading the two men into the east saloon, a room distinguished by its red walls and ochre furnishings.
There was nothing pleasing about the room; he soon found himself perched on a stiff-backed velvet chair that only emphasised his point.
His aunt smiled, as if pleased by the awkward picture Darcy was certain he made. “Such a long journey. Let me call for refreshments.”
“I thank you, but I cannot stay.” With a grim smile, Darcy endeavoured to make himself comfortable in the chair. “I was first to Gracechurch Street, to deliver Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her sister to their uncle’s home.”
Lord Matlock appeared affronted. “You are a coach driver? A livery?”
“No,” Darcy replied drily. “I am a gentleman who wished to bring his betrothed to meet his family and,” he looked to his aunt, “to shop for clothes needed for Derbyshire’s winter.”
She did not reply as hoped. “How is it you are to be married? How could this come to be?”
“It is as usual. I met a lady, went from admiration to love to matrimony, and thus we plan a future together.”
“‘As usual?’” The earl was red-faced with astonishment. “This is not how it is done.”
The irony of his uncle, freed by widowhood from an arranged marriage only to swiftly bed and wed a young widow, calling him out on his own path to marriage was too rich.
“Perhaps not for some, but as you, Uncle, this is my second bride, and my choice is my own. I choose Elizabeth.”
Lord Matlock’s eyes narrowed; before he could speak and further anger his nephew, Lady Matlock touched her husband’s arm and leaned towards Darcy.
“We understand the heart has no master, dear boy. But think of propriety and set aside your plans. The girl is in mourning. She has no business planning a wedding, let alone shopping for gowns!”
He held up a hand to stave off any further arguments. “I come not to ask you to host a wedding ball, madam. Her mourning continues but our engagement precedes her father’s untimely death. I am her family’s protector, which will be formalised with our wedding—a quiet ceremony—next week.”
“Next week?” Lady Matlock cried.
“Yes. A small affair in her town church. We welcome but do not require the family’s presence,” he assured them, his gaze wandering upwards to a painting of his mother as a girl, with her older brother and sister.
The three siblings bore a striking resemblance to one another, but even as a child, Anne Fitzwilliam’s beauty was singular.
I wish it had also brought her happiness.
He returned his attention to his relations. “I must return to Pemberley before the winter season begins. We wish Georgiana to join us there.”
Even his normally aloof aunt, who had maintained a cool reserve throughout the conversation, looked stricken.
“Your sister has made her home with us , Darcy. She has not made the acquaintance of this Miss Bennet.”
“She shall.” Darcy ignored his aunt’s use of ‘this’ in regards to Elizabeth, willing himself the patience to end the interview. “Today. I come for her, to take her to Gracechurch Street, where Elizabeth stays with her aunt and uncle.”
“Pfft...the uncle in trade.” The full effect of the earl’s self-regard came to the fore. “Tell me, nephew, does the man make galoshes or is he an ale-draper?”
“Mr Gardiner owns a number of warehouses, buying, selling, and ordering the very goods that grace Mayfair’s dining tables, drawing rooms, libraries, and ballrooms. I have been to one of his buildings, and there I found bolts of silk from India, carpets from Persia, and tobacco from America.
He does well for himself and his family,” he concluded, thinking of the piles of bills he had just seen in his uncle’s study.
“How very industrious.” His aunt made a show of her revulsion.
“Anyone can make money.” The earl waved his hand dismissively.
Darcy remained still, his face now set in its highest expression of scorn.
His uncle had inherited his wealth, and done not only little to increase it, but—if those bills were any indication—managed quite the opposite.
Yet he disdained Mr Gardiner for building a profitable enterprise?
It was increasingly clear that the Fitzwilliam family was spending its way into debt and saw him as the solution.
His aunt and uncle might desperately need Cecilia to marry into money—and to a wealthy gentleman who would not care overmuch about the dowry but relish the titled connexions—but he could well afford a wife with no dowry, and he planned to do just that, very soon.
He took in the sight of his uncle, a handsome, well-fed gentleman in his fine silk jacket and pantaloons, sitting under the weight of his title and the responsibilities without recognising the privilege that accompanied them.
“I disagree, sir. Making money can be quite onerous. If it were easy, we would not live in a country where men and their wives work long days to feed and clothe their children and pray not to fall ill and leave their family to an uncertain fate in a workhouse.” Darcy smiled thinly and kept his gaze from drifting over to his aunt.
“Indeed, it is far easier to spend money than to make it.”
Darcy’s tact mattered little; Lady Matlock demanded an argument. “Skill and taste are necessary to how one spends money. There is no substitute for breeding and connexions. Do you truly mean to marry a country girl lacking both those and money? This is beneath you, Darcy. She is beneath you.”
“On the contrary, Aunt.” Darcy stood. “A beautiful lady with a well-informed mind is exactly what I seek.”
“I should like to meet Elizabeth Bennet, Cousin.”
Conversation ceased as Cecilia entered the room with Georgiana, now clad in her coat and boots. “Perhaps,” the elegant young woman said with more politeness than he expected, “we could have tea, or assist her with her shopping.”
“You are all kindness, my dear,” her mother said quickly. “Though she is of similar age, Miss Bennet is from the country and has not your ease with London’s society or familiarity with its finest shops and modistes.”
Darcy addressed Lady Matlock. “On the contrary. Elizabeth’s aunt, Mrs Gardiner, is known to many of London’s finest dressmakers. Even if she were not, her escort of the future Mrs Darcy would afford a grand welcome.”
There was a long moment of tension before Lady Matlock spoke.
“Let us meet the future Mrs Darcy, then. Tea, tomorrow?”
Well, then, his aunt would not extend an invitation to dinner. Darcy was loath to accept less for Elizabeth, but recognised that with her reception less assured than he’d hoped, a short visit was preferable. He agreed to forward an invitation to tea.