Page 21

CHAPTER 21

The Countess Arrives

L ater that afternoon, a lone horseman in a blue coat arrived at the front door of Netherfield.

He knocked sharply, and was quickly ushered inside.

Darcy, passing through the foyer, caught sight of the visitor and paused.

“Richard—welcome,” he said warmly.

Then, glancing around and seeing only the butler standing nearby, he asked, “Where is the rest of your party? Georgiana and your mother? Should they not be with you?”

“They are just behind me and should arrive within the half-hour,” Fitzwilliam replied, removing his gloves.

“I rode ahead to speak with you privately for a few minutes.”

Darcy’s brows furrowed, his curiosity mingling with a trace of anxiety about what his cousin might have to say.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, his voice low, as he pulled Fitzwilliam closer to the door and further away from the retreating butler .

“Nothing to trouble you, Darce,” Fitzwilliam said lightly.

“I have had a letter from my father. He wanted me to remind you—rather pointedly—to consider the young lady he mentioned.”

Darcy’s expression darkened at once.

“I am even less inclined to marry her now than when he first raised the subject,” he said in a firm tone.

“Bennet and I have already discussed my uncle’s interference, and he has written to his old friend James Livesay. They were both at school with your father and mine—though neither, it seems, held much affection for your father.”

As they stood speaking quietly in the hall, Darcy brought his cousin up to date on his recent conversations with Bennet.

Fitzwilliam, listening closely, could not help but notice how often Miss Elizabeth’s name crept into the discussion—spoken with a warmth and familiarity that left little doubt as to where Darcy’s true interests lay.

Their conversation was soon interrupted by the arrival of Bingley and his aunt.

“Fitzwilliam! You are already here,” Bingley exclaimed, surprise clear on his face.

“The footman said you were expected shortly.”

“My mother and cousin will be here momentarily,” Fitzwilliam replied easily.

“I needed some exercise and rode ahead to give the warning.”

“Ah, good,” Bingley said brightly.

With a discreet nudge from his aunt, he remembered himself and turned to formalities.

“Oh—Fitzwilliam, allow me to present my aunt, Miss Horatia Bingley. Aunt, this is the Honourable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, cousin to Mr. Darcy and an officer in His Majesty’s Army.”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Aunt Horatia said, offering a small, dignified curtsy.

“My aunt will be acting as my hostess during your stay,” Bingley added quickly, eager to smooth any potential awkwardness .

Fitzwilliam cast a sidelong glance at Darcy, one brow arching in silent amusement.

Darcy made no reply, but he knew well enough the matter would be raised again when they were alone.

Before anything more could be said, the sound of carriage wheels crunching on the gravel drive drew their attention.

Instinctively, the entire group moved to greet the new arrivals.

Having not seen his sister in several weeks, Darcy found himself keenly anticipating their reunion.

Although they had exchanged frequent letters—and though Georgiana’s spirits seemed to have improved somewhat since he began writing to her of the Misses Bennet—this correspondence was no substitute for seeing and speaking with her in person.

He watched as the carriage rumbled to a halt in front of the house.

There was a flurry of activity as grooms approached from the stables to hold the horses while the footmen stepped down from their posts on the back of the coach.

One footman stepped forward to place the carriage step while the other stood ready to assist the ladies down from the coach.

Smiling broadly, Bingley moved towards the newcomers with his aunt just behind him.

Darcy followed, allowing Bingley to greet his guests while Fitzwilliam lingered slightly to the side.

The first to emerge from the carriage was the countess.

She descended with grace, accepting the footman’s hand lightly.

Although no longer young, she carried herself with the easy authority of a woman well accustomed to deference.

Her dark travelling cloak and understated bonnet spoke of quiet taste rather than ostentation, but her sharp grey eyes missed nothing.

Right behind her was Georgiana Darcy.

Although she stood tall, there was a tentative air about her, and she glanced anxiously towards the house until her gaze found her brother.

At the sight of him, her face brightened, and some of her unease melted away.

“Mr. Bingley,” Lady Matlock said as she approached, inclining her head with polite familiarity.

“It is good to see you again. Thank you for allowing my niece and me to join your party.”

Bingley bowed low.

“Lady Matlock, we are honoured to have you at Netherfield. May I introduce my aunt to you?”

At her nod, Bingley performed the introductions, including Georgiana Darcy in the greeting even though she had yet to speak.

She moved closer to her brother, and he wrapped his arm around her side and pulled her close.

“Are you well, Sprite?” he asked her quietly once the introductions had concluded.

She had barely spoken in response, but at least she had spoken.

“I am, Brother,” she replied.

“Perhaps I should be accustomed to travelling, but this particular trip has been exhausting. Some of it was the anxiety of meeting so many new people, but earlier today I attempted to imagine what Miss Elizabeth might do in this situation. What you have written of her has given me confidence, and I am less anxious now than I was.”

A wide grin broke out across Darcy’s face.

“Then I look forward to introducing you to Miss Elizabeth and to her sisters. I have little doubt that they will welcome you wholeheartedly.”

Georgiana looked up at him to respond, but before she could do so, she heard the grating voice of Caroline Bingley.

“Dear Georgiana,” she cooed as she descended the front stairs with her protesting sister in tow, “how delighted I am that you could join us here. The society in this miserable little town is positively dreadful, but now that you and your aunt have arrived, I am sure it will be infinitely more tolerable. ”

“Miss Bingley,” she said quietly, acknowledging the greeting.

She stiffened her spine and began the introductions with a steady voice: “Aunt, may I present Mrs. Louisa Hurst and Miss Caroline Bingley, our host’s sisters."

Inclining her head towards both ladies in response, the countess turned her sharp gaze towards Miss Bingley, assessing her with a glance that was neither warm nor discourteous. She offered the barest inclination of her head, a gesture that acknowledged the introduction without inviting intimacy.

“How do you do, Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley,” the countess said, her tone perfectly polite but notably lacking in warmth. Addressing Georgiana, she asked, “Does she have your permission to address you informally? You should be careful in allowing such liberties, dear niece, for you are not yet out and must be careful about the friendships you make at this time.”

“Yes, Aunt; I mean, no, she does not have my permission, but yes, I understand that I need to take care,” Georgiana said quietly, her head bowed.

Lady Matlock cast an assessing glance at the young woman before turning towards her nephew.

“Fitzwilliam,” she said warmly, moving towards him in greeting. She extended her hand which he took, and then she leant forward, allowing him to kiss her cheek. “I trust all is well with you. It has been several months since I saw you last.”

“Well enough, Aunt,” Darcy replied, stepping forward to offer his arm which she accepted, allowing him to escort her into the manor.

“Come, Georgie,” he said gently, extending his other arm. She came forward immediately, allowing him to lead her inside, Fitzwilliam following in behind them.

Caroline Bingley, standing just behind the others, fought to school her features into a pleasant expression at being roundly dismissed. Every instinct urged her to step forward, to insert herself, to attach her name firmly to these distinguished guests—but her Aunt Horatia’s watchful eye remained upon her. She stood with her hands clenched tightly behind her skirts as she grudgingly followed the party inside.

She continued behind the party to the drawing room. Apparently the countess had decided to take refreshments before being shown to her room.

Entering after the others, Miss Bingley was displeased to see that the only seats still available were not next to either the countess or Miss Darcy. Despite her aunt’s warnings, she had intended to begin her campaign to insinuate the less-than-honourable intentions towards the Darcys by those at Longbourn, but she could not do so unless she could speak privately to either of them. More troubling, she was unaware precisely which rooms the ladies would use and would have to enquire to find them.

Before long, the party broke up, and each sought out their rooms to dress for dinner. With a whispered word, the countess indicated her desire to speak privately with her nephew before the evening meal. Darcy presented himself at her sitting-room door a little more than half an hour before they were due downstairs.

“Thank you for accompanying Georgiana to Netherfield, Aunt,” Darcy said, bowing and kissing her cheek in greeting, his lips tipped up in a slight smile and his eyes flashing with warmth.

“When my nephew, who consistently avoids the company of young women, asks me to travel hundreds of miles to introduce his sister to a house full of young ladies,” the countess said sharply, “then naturally I will come to see what mischief he is about. I was even more intrigued when my husband wrote to inform me that this same nephew is soon to be wed to the daughter of an old crony of his. And to complete my confusion, my own son writes that the same nephew is enamoured of a country lass who has any number of very pretty sisters—all of whom come with no particular connections and indifferent fortunes.

“Since I know my nephew to be an honourable and upright young man,” she added, her eyes glinting, “I nearly suffered whiplash from such prolific—and conflicting—reports.”

To her great surprise, her normally stoic nephew flushed hotly at these words. Looking up, he allowed himself a brief, wry smile at her bluntness and bowed his head in acknowledgement of the varied reports.

“There is some truth in what you have heard, Aunt,” he said hesitantly. “Yes, the earl is attempting to force me into a marriage to the daughter of the Viscount Halston. As far as anyone knows, she is young, younger even than Georgiana, but she has been kept from society, so I know little of her. I informed my uncle that I would not marry the child, but he implied that he knew enough to ruin Georgiana. I am uncertain whether he actually knows anything, or merely suspects something occurred, but as he departed, he mentioned George Wickham by name.”

Lady Matlock gasped softly at his words. She and her husband had not shared a roof since the previous spring, and she had taken great care not to discuss personal matters regarding either her niece or nephew within the hearing of the servants she knew would report faithfully to Lord Matlock. Although some were completely loyal to her, she knew others were well paid by the earl to only appear so.

Darcy, seemingly undeterred, continued with his defense.

“Moreover, I suppose there is some truth in what you have heard from your son,” he said. “Mr. Bennet is an old friend of my father’s—and, to some extent, of mine. My father encouraged me to maintain the connection between our families, and since his death, Mr. Bennet has been a valuable correspondent and a steady source of advice. ”

He paused, gathering his thoughts before proceeding.

“He has five daughters,” he said at last, “and I confess I am rather intrigued by his second eldest, Miss Elizabeth. She is... quite unlike the young ladies one typically encounters in town.”

Another brief pause.

“She is lively, intelligent, and accomplished without being affected. I have found her company—refreshing. More than that, I believe she and her sisters are precisely the sort of companions Georgiana needs at present. They are lively without being exuberant, spirited without vulgarity, and—perhaps most importantly—they appear entirely genuine. None of them would prey upon Georgiana for her fortune or connections; they have not been taught to value such things as highly as many of their peers in society.”

Lady Matlock said nothing for a long moment. Her fan tapped lightly against the arm of her chair, each deliberate beat a quiet measure of her thoughts.

Finally, she spoke.

“You have been often in their company, then?” she asked, her tone even. “Enough to judge that they will be proper companions for Georgiana? How can you be so certain they are not mercenary? Country manners differ vastly from those of the ton , and while that can be refreshing, it can also mean they may be more adept at hiding their true objectives by appearing different.”

Darcy stiffened slightly but replied without hesitation.

“I have known Mr. Bennet for years, and my father always held him in the highest esteem. Since arriving in the area, I have spent considerable time in the Bennets’ company, and everything I have observed thus far suggests they are genuine in their behaviour—unguarded, without calculation. ”

Lady Matlock’s fan stilled at last, and she studied her nephew seriously.

“You speak warmly of them, and perhaps your judgement is sound in this matter,” she said slowly. “Do you care for this Miss Elizabeth?”

Darcy closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “I admire her, but I am unwilling to say more at this point. We have met several times since my coming into the area, but I cannot say yet what I feel towards her.”

Again, Lady Matlock studied her nephew. “And what of this girl your uncle wants you to marry? Or his threat to ruin Georgiana?”

“I am uncertain,” Darcy admitted. “I refuse to consider marrying a child, and I cannot imagine any circumstances that would induce me to enter into a marriage contract with the viscount. The earl said the viscount needs my wealth, but I still cannot understand his role in this. I did not even know the two were friends.”

Lady Matlock pursed her lips. “Neither did I, or at least, that they continued to associate with each other,” she said after a moment. “Richard shares the guardianship of Georgiana with you; what does he say about this?”

“He also does not feel I ought to give into the earl’s demands,” Darcy replied. “And you ought to know that my father was in favour of my marrying Miss Elizabeth.”

At Lady Matlock’s small gasp of surprise, Darcy went on. “When we visited all those years ago, Miss Elizabeth was from home. However, Father knew I was intrigued by hearing her father speak of her, and I admit to you that I have corresponded with her, after a fashion, over the years since my father’s death. She sometimes has acted as her father’s secretary and scribed letters to me from him, but added some of her own thoughts and opinions. It allowed me to know something about her before I arrived.”

“And now that you have met her?” Lady Matlock asked, her voice deceptively mild, deliberately masking her concern, dismayed at such forward behaviour by this young lady.

Darcy hesitated, then said quietly, “I find myself drawn to her as I have never been to any other lady.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“We danced twice at the assembly that was held soon after my friend took the lease of this estate. Since then, we have been in company nearly every day. Conversation with her is easy—remarkably so, given my tendency towards being taciturn when in the presence of ladies.”

He paused, as if weighing his next words with care. “She is lovely, both in appearance and in character. There is a brightness to her that draws others in—an intelligence and warmth that make her company both engaging and comfortable. I do not find myself grasping for words in her presence, nor do I feel the need to guard my every thought. I feel as though she is an equal and am certain that she does not pursue me for material gains, but out of genuine interest in me.”

Hesitating briefly again, he spoke with candour when he finally found the words to speak, “I can easily imagine her by my side at Pemberley. She would suit the place—would bring it life and grace without artifice.

“I like her,” he finished simply, though the weight behind the words made the admission anything but casual.

Lady Matlock sat back in her chair, momentarily speechless at what amounted to a near heartfelt declaration.

“Well,” she said at last, a chuckle escaping her, “high praise indeed, coming from you.”

Her amusement faded quickly, replaced by a more serious expression. “And what will happen if you pursue her? Can she withstand the scrutiny of the ton ? What if my husband carries out his threat and spreads rumours regarding his own niece? ”

She tapped her fan sharply against the arm of her chair.

“Although,” she added, her voice cool and sharp, “I shall have something to say about that, should he dare attempt it.”

Anger was written clearly on her face, and Darcy wondered what she could do to block him. Lady Matlock had many friends and commanded attention within the ton , but would that be sufficient to keep gossip from spreading regarding his sister?

“I have one final matter to disclose,” Darcy said after several moments of silence. He cleared his throat before beginning. “Before he died, my father signed a marriage contract with Mr Bennet, binding me to marriage with Miss Elizabeth.”

He hesitated a moment, choosing his words with care.

“I cannot explain every detail of how it came about, but I have seen the document myself. I met with Mr. Bennet, and there can be no doubt—the signature is my father’s. I did not question him further, but should anyone, even the earl, seek to dispute it, I can state with certainty that it is genuine.”

Lady Matlock stared at him, her shock plain.

“There is an addendum,” Darcy continued, “stipulating that if either Miss Elizabeth or I wished not to marry, the contract would be rendered void. My father apparently arranged it as a safeguard—to protect me from undue influence.”

His mouth tightened and his fists clenched ever so slightly as he continued.

“He knew of Lady Catherine’s determination to see me wed to her daughter, and he feared that my uncle might one day attempt something similar. The contract was intended as a shield, should it ever be necessary to protect me.”

“Seems convenient,” she said tartly .

“Perhaps,” Darcy admitted. “But right now, I consider it a salvation. I cannot enter into a marriage contract with another if I am already bound to Elizabeth Bennet. Should I proceed and make this public, then the earl can do little about it since it is obvious my father condoned the match. He will bluster about my refusal to comply with his orders, yes, but I am most worried about his knowing anything about what happened to Georgiana this summer. I find it difficult to believe he would actually act to harm a member of his own family, but still….” He trailed off, uncertain what else might be said.

“Yes,” Lady Matlock agreed. “I will send a few letters to ask what the servants at Matlock House might have heard. There are a few who will report to me, even if it means defying the earl. Were it not for my father’s funds, my husband would barely be able to afford his servants, and many of them are aware of that fact.”

She eyed her nephew carefully. “You have not said anything to Miss Elizabeth about this marriage contract, have you? And neither has her father? I would like to meet the young lady before anything further is discussed about this possible marriage. In fact, I would like to be the one who tells her about it.”

“Absolutely not,” Darcy said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If I choose to honour the marriage contract, I will be the one to speak with Elizabeth to inform her of the arrangements our fathers have made, and the addendum.”

He shook his head and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Miss Elizabeth deserves a choice in whom she marries. She should not be told that she is promised to a man without any regard for her own wishes. Yes,” he added, lifting a hand to forestall his aunt’s protest, “I am aware that she is not yet of age and, by law, must obey her father’s will. But truly, Aunt—what man of sense would want a wife who does not wish to be his?”

He looked directly at her now, his voice quieter but no less resolute .

“Should Elizabeth and I marry, it will be because we both choose to do so. I would not have that choice taken from me—nor will I take it from her. I would not allow it for Georgiana, and I cannot allow it for Miss Elizabeth.”

There was a pause.

“I wonder,” Lady Matlock said at last, her voice softer than he had ever heard it, “that you insist you have not yet decided, Fitzwilliam—when you have referred to her by her Christian name several times in this conversation.”

Her eyes held his, calm and assessing. “Your mind may still wrestle with the decision, but I believe your heart has already made it.”

Darcy blinked, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic gentleness in her tone.

But the moment passed. She straightened her shoulders and resumed her usual commanding bearing.

“Still,” she continued crisply, “I would like to meet the young lady and speak with her myself. Perhaps, once you have proposed, I might discuss with her what will be expected of her as your wife. The mistress of Pemberley will have obligations—significant ones—and if she has not moved in society, she may have no notion of what lies ahead.”