Page 51 of Some Natural Importance (Pride, Prejudice and Romance #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The next morning dawned bright; the evening’s cold rain had moved east to plague those living in towns far smaller than London.

After yesterday’s shopping, introduction to the Matlocks, and dinner at Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth was pleased that the day held no appointments until early afternoon, when they would go to Darcy House to tour her new home.

One of my new homes , she reminded herself.

Homes and estates and lands that Darcy’s aunt had coveted as family property.

Elizabeth wondered at Lady Matlock’s life prior to marrying the earl.

When her first husband died, did she lose his estate to an entail, and thus feel protective of what she had since married into?

Or had she no experience with losing her home, and thus lacked sympathy with those who had?

The countess was a puzzle. Darcy had spoken of his close connexion with the first Lady Matlock, and of some occasional unease with his uncle’s second wife.

Elizabeth hoped he was correct; after the wedding and some time had passed, the title of ‘Mrs Darcy’ and her familiarity with her role as mistress of Pemberley would ease her way into both family and society.

The Bennet name had carried some importance within Meryton; the Darcy name held rank and consequence in London and beyond.

She must adjust to the vast changes her new name would bring if her new relations were to adjust to her.

For twenty years, her life had been little altered, but since her father’s death, Elizabeth was growing accustomed to almost daily changes.

Within a week, she would have a husband, a new name, and a new life in a new home far away from everyone and everything she knew.

If she could not fully embrace a future unlike any she might have envisioned, neither could she despise its promise; she could only grieve the event which fostered it and seek comfort in the man whose propensity for arranging things had made it all so easy.

Our families may not meet, but I wish for his to be half as pleased as mine by our marriage.

An hour in the park with the children further improved her disposition, and when they returned, Elizabeth found a letter waiting for her. “From Jane?”

She moved swiftly into the parlour and sat down to read.

Lizzy,

I could not wait for your return, but must share my news.

Mr Bingley wishes to propose! I am so happy!

He meant to remain silent until he had spoken to Uncle Gardiner, or Mr Darcy once the two of you are man and wife.

He understands that we, unlike you and Mr Darcy, who had an agreement with Papa, must wait to be public with our joy until our mourning is past. Mama must not know .

It is trouble enough to restrain her glad relief over you and Mr Darcy; it is only with Aunt Philips that she truly can express herself.

At times she weeps, but more often she is gleeful at our family’s good fortune.

It distresses Mary, and my own guilt is great.

Is it wrong to feel such happiness when my father has been dead only a short time?

I do know this: Mr Bingley says he loves me, and is glad to be brother to Mr Darcy .

Elizabeth felt her eyes well up; she paused reading on until her blurry vision had settled. She understood her sister’s sense of guilt and her confusing jumble of emotions. Neither had imagined themselves to be both in mourning and in love.

Papa had no interest in seeing me in fine clothes and carriages, she told herself . Instead, he provided someone for whom I could have affection and respect and who can care for and respect me . My feelings are not wrong, though I wish I could be certain his were equal to my own.

Jane, fortunately, had no doubts about Mr Bingley. Her worries over his constancy were allayed, and it seemed words expressing his ardour had been spoken. Patience , Elizabeth told herself. A man and a woman approach the bonds of matrimony with different goals and needs.

The letter went on.

After Mr Hill said men with shovels were seen at Copperdale Farm, Lydia and I rode out yesterday in Mr Bingley’s carriage to see their efforts.

Mr Hurst and Mr Robbins were interested as well, and accompanied us on horseback.

When we arrived, Lydia and I remained in the carriage, for all we saw were piles of dirt.

Our sister was disappointed, to say the least. Mr Hurst took a strong interest in the work but Mr Bingley said little more than that the men were digging.

I shall see you in a day or two, and give you leave to whisper my news and your expressions of joy to Aunt Gardiner. Kiss the children for me.

Pleased as she was for Jane’s news about Mr Bingley, Elizabeth’s thoughts could not help but stray towards the men working at Copperdale.

Why were they there? Did Darcy know of it?

She would have questions on that to add to the many she anticipated would arise from the afternoon’s tour of Darcy House .

Two days in London and Darcy could feel a megrim coming on.

Word had got out that he was not only in town but to be married, and the morning had brought a deluge of cards and callers.

Finally he had ordered the knocker be taken off the door, and commanded Hudson that he was in to no one until the afternoon’s visit from Miss Bennet and her relations.

Any hopeful visitor who paused on the doorstep at Darcy House might be dissuaded of the owner’s honesty upon hearing the melodies emanating from the music room.

The doors were closed, and Georgiana was practising Beethoven’s quieter sonatas, but Darcy was past caring who he might insult.

He had sensed Elizabeth’s disquiet yesterday after her introduction to the Matlocks, but forgotten it during the merry dinner which followed at the Gardiners.

Georgiana had been pleased with the evening; both had enjoyed Mrs Gardiner’s stories about growing up in Lambton and Mr Gardiner’s tale of a recent shipment from India and the strange and frightening—and quite dead—horned beetle found in a barrel of tea.

In fact, in enjoying the company of Elizabeth’s family, Darcy had almost forgotten about his own relations until Georgiana joined him at breakfast.

“Brother, I wish you to know that I am pleased that Elizabeth will be my sister. She is kind and lively, and I do not care what Lady Matlock prefers, I want to join you at Pemberley and be a family there.”

“I am glad to hear it.” He smiled warmly at his sister, appreciating that since meeting Elizabeth, she was fuller in spirit and happiness. “What is this about Lady Matlock’s preference?”

Georgiana looked uneasy. “She was less welcoming to Elizabeth yesterday than the soon-to-be Mrs Darcy deserved. I-I believe she still holds out hope for Cecilia to fill that role.”

“She should have never thought such a thing. I gave her no such hope.”

“After you and Elizabeth went to the carriage, my aunt wished to remind me that I am not just a Darcy, but a Fitzwilliam, and that remaining with them would be better for my marital prospects. She said...”

Darcy watched as his sister grew agitated, tearing the piece of toast she was buttering. “She said your marriage to Elizabeth would affect my reputation and my chance to marry in the highest circles. I do not care, Fitzwilliam. I wish to live with you and Elizabeth.”

The anger he felt at his aunt’s words was seconded only by the worry he felt for what she might have said to Elizabeth.

“Lady Matlock is mistaken,” he began. “Having Elizabeth as your sister will only make you a more desirable catch for the young men in your Season; she may not have had a Season as Cecilia or her mother have, but as Mrs Darcy, she will be much sought after by society and an enviable companion to you.”

Georgiana returned his encouraging look with a small smile before worry once again settled on her countenance.

“Fitzwilliam, I did not mean to listen, but before Elizabeth arrived, Cecilia told her mother she worried about you and...” She faltered and took a deep breath.

“About how death follows you. Anne and Lady Catherine, Mr Bennet.”

“Good lord, she is an odd girl. She should stay away from novels.”

“And Aunt said Cecilia would be safe because Anne died from an infection given her by a scoundrel.”

Darcy was well practised with suppressing insult and anger when in Georgiana’s presence; it took every fibre of his strength to withhold withering judgment on his aunt.

He would rage later, first in private, and then at Richard—for there was no other means by which Lady Matlock could have learned of Anne’s disgrace.

For now, he reassured his sister that Anne’s death had been a natural one, stemming from the maladies which had long plagued her, and went to his desk. Work would calm him.

Two hours later, as he concluded the last of his correspondence, the door to his study flew open. Richard stood in the doorway, the low notes of Georgiana’s music flooding past him into the room.

“Hidden yourselves away, have you?” He closed the door and sauntered into the study; after seating himself in the chair nearest the desk, he steepled his fingers and grinned at Darcy. “I hear my step-mama was in full feather.”

Darcy’s grip tightened on his pen until it snapped in two.

Cursing, he tossed it aside as he stood and glared at Richard before giving him his back.

He stared out the window and, in a tight voice, said, “You swore your silence to me, on your honour as a gentleman and as my blood relation. How is it that means so little to you?”

Darcy could not see the bafflement on his cousin’s face, and his voice rose with his fury as he turned around to glare at him.

“How quickly did you run to tell her? You disparage her, yet feel some need to curry favour with her? What is your profit in betraying me?—”