Page 10

CHAPTER 10

A Threat

23 SEPTEMBER 1811

F itzwilliam joined Darcy for a meal a few days later at Darcy House.

They had met regularly since their trip into Hertfordshire and, each time, Fitzwilliam had taken the opportunity to tease his cousin about his flirtation with the second Miss Bennet.

“You have already asked her for a dance, which is quite unlike you,” he jibed.

“It is unfortunate that my general is requiring me to remain nearby for several more weeks. I would give anything to see you dancing.”

Darcy grunted, not responding any farther to his cousin’s statement.

He had already told him about his delay and the reason for it, but he knew that the only purpose in bringing it up had been to tease him, yet again, about requesting the dance from Miss Elizabeth.

That he had also asked for a set from Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas was beside the point since his cousin knew he had done that only as an attempt to save face.

“Perhaps the general will allow me to take a day or two to travel to Hertfordshire with you, at least for the assembly,” Fitzwilliam continued.

“Do you think you will recall the steps? I daresay you cannot even recall the last time you danced, and at a country assembly. So different from the balls you are forced to attend in London which you barely tolerate.”

“I have danced often enough,” Darcy replied tersely, knowing he had to say something and hoping that would be enough to stop the teasing.

He was wrong.

However, before Fitzwilliam could say much more, they were interrupted by a knock.

Shooting his cousin a look, Darcy called for the person to enter.

“Mr. Darcy, your uncle is here. He says he was not expected, but he knows you will welcome him gladly,” the butler said upon entering.

Rising, the two men exchanged a look, but said nothing, and Darcy indicated that the earl should be shown in.

“Uncle,” Darcy said in greeting as the men all took their seats, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“My wife said that you had invited her to join you at Netherfield,” the earl began, not bothering with pleasantries.

“As I understand it, you are to join that tradesman you call a friend; Bungley, is it not?”

“It is Bingley, and he is not a tradesman,” Darcy corrected, his back stiff as he spoke to his uncle.

“While his father and grandfather may have made their fortunes in trade, Bingley attended Cambridge and has attended a levee. His leasing Netherfield is his first step towards becoming a landed gentleman, and he has asked for my assistance in learning to manage it.”

“That is all well and good, I suppose,” the earl said, waving his hand in the air, “but why should my wife and your sister be forced into their company?”

“Father’s friend from university, Mr. Thomas Bennet, lives in the area,” Darcy replied.

“Georgiana would enjoy hearing Mr. Bennet’s stories about Father, and he has several daughters near to her in age. I think Georgiana might benefit from their friendship.”

“Bennet?” the earl repeated.

“I do not recall any Bennets. Are they titled? Do they have any great wealth? What manner of estate does he own?”

Once again, Darcy exchanged a look with Fitzwilliam.

He was well used to his uncle’s snobbishness, and even though the earl and Bennet had been at Cambridge at the same time, the earl had allowed his title of viscount to prevent him making many connections with those he felt were beneath him.

“Bennet has a modest estate in Hertfordshire, and I believe it does well enough,” Darcy replied, ignoring most of the earl’s questions.

Regardless, the earl noticed the lack of answers and deduced that the man had no great wealth nor connections of any value.

“You would do better to allow my wife to introduce your sister to some of the more notable families within the ton, ” the earl stated disdainfully.

“There is little point to her meeting the daughters of some mere country squire even if their father did go to Cambridge with yours.

“How I wish your father had listened to me during his lifetime and taken an interest in politics.

He was wealthy enough and, with my backing, could have petitioned for a title to be awarded.

Since he would not, that task falls to you.

If you were to marry Anne, you would have Rosings as well as Pemberley, and that would likely be enough for a title, but of course, that is not necessary.

With your wealth and my support, you could marry the daughter of a peer.

There are a few young ladies who will be coming out soon enough, and Viscount Halston has always had a soft spot for you.

”

“Viscount Halston’s daughter is reported to be barely thirteen although he has kept her from view of society,” Fitzwilliam interjected.

“Surely she is too young to be betrothed at this time. ”

“The viscount needs Darcy’s wealth,” the earl retorted.

“He would not need to marry the girl immediately; he can merely enter into a marriage contract with the viscount before the girl can be presented at court. Until then, he can do as he likes.”

“I will not marry the viscount’s daughter,” Darcy stated.

“As I have said several times before, Uncle, I do not need your help in arranging a marriage. When the time is right, I will marry a lady of my choosing, who suits both my desires and meets what my father wanted for me.”

“How certain are you of that, Darcy?” the earl replied, his voice dripping with mocking scepticism.

“You are nearing thirty and have thus far shown no inclination towards any of the women I have…encouraged you towards. I begin to fear that no lady will satisfy your obviously long list of requirements. Despite what you claim your father wanted for you, surely you have realised by now that alliances are made with sense, not sentiment.”

His jaw tightening, Darcy gritted through his teeth.

“I know that I would prefer to remain a bachelor than to barter my future for the marriage you wish for me. As I have told you before, I do not wish for a title, and I will not marry one of the brainless debutantes you have pushed at me. Nor will I bind myself to a mere child, simply because you believe it might be advantageous to you.”

The earl sneered.

“You speak as a boy, not a man who bears the weight of an ancient name. Your father understood duty. He would never have risked the family’s standing for some childish fancy. I cannot imagine the man I knew having the conversation you claim the two of you shared. He knew as well as I did that his marriage to my sister was to benefit him and, had your mother not died when she did, he would have accepted the title when it was offered to him.”

At this, Darcy’s eyes flashed with restrained anger.

“My father told me to seek a wife I could love. He trusted me to act in a manner that would constitute my best interest as well as the best interest of Pemberley. Towards the end of his life, we had many conversations on this matter. Unlike you seem to do, he trusted me to uphold the family’s honour in my own way. I will not sully his memory by choosing my wife in this mercenary fashion.”

Fitzwilliam shifted in his seat, eyeing his cousin with wary sympathy.

“It would do you no good, Father, to force Darcy’s hand. He will not be coerced in this matter. If you were successful in forcing him to wed, I dare say you would have little chance to get him to dance to your tune.”

The earl leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered both his nephew and his son.

His eyes gleamed with cold calculation.

“Then be prepared to watch the family fortunes crumble. The world is changing, and sentimentality will not shield you from ruin. Mark my words, Darcy—marry wisely, or you will regret it when it is too late.”

“I would sooner endure ruin than bind myself to a child or to a woman I cannot respect,” Darcy said, his voice steady and cold.

“You may plot and scheme all you like, my lord, but I will live—and marry—according to my own conscience and not to fulfil any plan of yours.”

A sly, cunning expression appeared on the earl’s face as he smiled knowingly at his nephew.

“Conscience, is it? A fragile shield, that. Particularly when others are not so fastidious. After all, not every young lady escapes unscathed when careless guardians leave them vulnerable.”

He tapped one long finger against the arm of his chair, almost idly.

“A shame, truly, how easily a misstep can occur…and how quickly whispers might spread once they do.”

Darcy stiffened, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Fitzwilliam shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to his father.

They had told the countess about Georgiana’s troubles from that summer but had deliberately kept the matter a secret from the earl, knowing he would easily use it against them .

The earl’s smile widened, though it remained cold.

“One would hate to see a young lady’s prospects ruined by…lingering questions or rumours. Especially when a family has so much at stake.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Finally, Fitzwilliam rose, casting a warning glance at his cousin before addressing his father.

“What are you implying, sir?” Fitzwilliam asked his father, raising his brow in question.

The look the earl fixed on both men was cold, menacing.

He steepled his fingers together and regarded his son and nephew with the air of a man used to getting his own way.

“I imply nothing, Richard,” he began.

“I simply pointed out how fragile a young girl’s reputation—and by extension her family—can be, even when she is so carefully looked after by her guardians. It only takes the slightest word to cast aspersions on her character, to make a minor, youthful indiscretion appear far more serious. Once the whispers begin…” he trailed off, leaving much unsaid.

Darcy stood slowly from his chair, every motion deliberate.

When he spoke, his voice was cold.

“If you mean to cast aspersions upon my sister, Uncle, your own niece, I suggest you tread with caution. You, with your great reluctance to have your family cast in a bad light, surely would not do anything that might harm your family.”

“That depends, Darcy,” the earl said, sitting up with a casualness that belied his words.

“If that person seeks to throw away the…opportunities that are in front of him, for nothing more than some flight of fancy, then it may be worth my while to distance myself from that person, would it not? A poor marriage could be explained away if a man’s sister were suddenly found to be less than…shall we say pure ?” As he spoke, the earl’s smile did not falter.

If anything, it grew more patronising .

“Come, Darcy. You know as well as I that a young lady’s prospects depend not only on her conduct, but on the ton’s perception of her conduct and that of the rest of her family. It is fortunate, indeed, that your sister’s…recent actions did not result in public scandal. London society is not so forgiving.”

Darcy’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

Across from him, Fitzwilliam’s jaw tightened.

“What do you know of her actions?” Fitzwilliam said, rising himself.

“It almost sounds, Father, as though you had hoped for a different outcome.”

The earl turned his gaze upon his son, slow and disdainful.

“Mind yourself, Richard. Georgiana may be your ward, but she is Darcy’s sister. He will do everything he can to protect her, will he not? As for you, it does not become a son to question his father’s loyalty to the family’s interests.”

“Interests, Father?” Fitzwilliam echoed bitterly.

“Or ambitions? What does Mother know of your actions?”

The earl merely shrugged, as if the distinction were irrelevant.

“Call it what you will. The truth remains—Darcy must marry advantageously. The sooner the better, for it appears that his position in society may depend upon it.”

Darcy’s voice was low and dangerous.

“I will not be threatened into a marriage I do not desire, Uncle.”

“You mistake my meaning,” the earl said smoothly.

“I offer counsel, nothing more. It would be a pity if the past— anyone’s past—were to be dragged into the light, should the wrong alliances be formed.”

There was a beat of silence after the earl’s comment.

It had not been an idle statement, but a threat—and not one that could be challenged openly without revealing more than was intended.

“Georgiana has done nothing wrong,” Darcy bit out.

“You imply she has been ruined, but you have obviously been misinformed. ”

“You forget that I have eyes everywhere, my boy,” the earl said condescendingly.

“You have until Christmas to think over my suggestion to you. You will announce your betrothal to the viscount’s daughter early in the new year. She is young yet, so you may wait to wed, but mark my words, you will marry her.”

“I will not,” Darcy stated, having to hold back from shouting the words.

Moving to stand in front of his cousin, Fitzwilliam said in a clipped tone.

“We have heard enough, Father. Darcy and I will speak of the matter and will let you know his decision.”

The earl inclined his head as though granting a favour.

“As you wish. But hear me, Darcy, if you persist in this foolishness, I will do whatever it takes to gain my point. Do not think that I will not do as I have said.”

Without waiting for anything, the earl retrieved his gloves from the side table, pulling them on with slow, deliberate movements.

He crossed the room with the easy arrogance of a man who believed he could not be touched, even here.

At the doorway, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“London thrives on scandal, Darcy. Pray you do not give it fresh cause to feast.” He turned as if to go, and then threw over his shoulder.

“By the by, George Wickham sends his regards.”

And with that parting shot, the Earl of Matlock took his leave.

Darcy remained rigidly still until he heard the faint closing of the front door.

Only then did he release a slow, shuddering breath.

Fitzwilliam cursed. “Damn it all. What was that reference to Wickham about? He must know something about what happened at Ramsgate. Perhaps not the whole of it, but enough to be dangerous. I cannot imagine Mother telling him, so we must find out what he knows about Georgiana. ”

Darcy turned, his eyes turning to flint.

“Then we must be cautious. If he wishes for war, he shall find I am not so easily cornered. I will not be cowed by his demands.”

Across the room, the fire crackled and hissed—the only sound in the heavy, charged air.