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Darcy rode past the facade of his London home for the entrance to the mews. While he did not pass any acquaintances on the street, he knew many eyes had noticed him. News would soon spread that he had arrived in town. The wealthy loved to gossip as much as any other strata of society. He sighed in frustration as he rode into the mews behind Darcy House. He knew Richards’s death would have already circulated in town and decided to not put the knocker on his door. He did not want to entertain visitors giving him false condolences.

Besides Bingley and Richard, he had never received many visitors while in town. The change in his status would alter that dramatically. It was one of the many prospects he was dreading and why he was contemplating giving up the earldom. That would be the simplest solution to his problems or one of them. The land, with all but a few small properties, his family had held for generations would be lost and be reverting back to the crown. Part of him was convinced it was worth it to avoid attending the House of Lords and the machinations of the ton. Entering the world of politics brought a host of other difficulties and headaches.

After a change of clothes he went to his study. As expected, the desk was stacked with correspondence, many more than would have accumulated in the short time since the last batch had been forwarded to Netherfield. His butler had them separated into business matters, personal correspondence, and invitations. At the moment, only two envelopes occupied the third pile, the one furthest away from his chair and the one he cared for the least.

As he began to work on the first pile, he concluded that he would need to add a fourth stack. He needed to separate the business correspondence into those dealing with his estate and those of the earldom. His temporary position as overseer was at an end, and the full weight would fall upon his shoulders, unless he gave it up.

The next morning, there was a fourth stack, not from the separation of business correspondence but an overflow of invitations. Over the years, his refusal to accept invitations to minor parties or functions had prompted most of the ton to stop sending invitations to all but important occasions. It was common knowledge that if there were a particular party or dinner he wanted to attend, a quiet word would be said here or there, and an invitation would appear at his door.

As a bachelor earl, those days were done, at least for now. While he had always been diligent about personally responding to all his correspondence, he decided it was time to hire a secretary. In the mean time, he tasked his butler with sorting through the invitations and rejecting outright, all that would require his presence in the next two weeks. His schedule in town was already full, as he planned on returning to Netherfield on Thursday or early Friday at the latest.

By midday, Darcy was finishing up with the last of what needed his immediate attention. By the knock on the door, he knew it was his butler. There was a slight pause to give him a chance to deny the entrance before the door swung open. Mr Murray came in, followed by a footman carrying a large leather satchel.

“Sir, these were just delivered from Fitzwilliam House. It is correspondence that was being held for,” he paused for a second. “For Colonel Fitzwilliam’s return. Mr Cuthbert determined, as they were not of great importance, to not bring them to your attention. Here is his letter.”

Darcy read the brief note. He wanted nothing more than to crumple the paper and throw it. His cousin William, the viscount, had been working with his father for many years to ensure a smooth transition from father to son, and many more years had been expected. He was already under a deluge of correspondence, and it would increase tenfold if he took his place in The House of Lords. For the first time since his father’s death, he felt himself under intense pressure and alone. The conversation on the balcony of the assembly hall flashed through his mind.

“Send them back to Mr Cuthbert. He was with my uncle long enough to know how he would have handled most of them, I hope. On the ones he is unsure, have them sent back here with notes on how he thinks best to handle them.

I will also need a room prepared. Big enough where two secretaries can work, desks, shelves, and whatever else might be needed. Tell him that if he desires to retain his position, I will be back before mid-December to meet with him.”

Once they were gone, Darcy folded his arms on his desk and put his head down on them. His life had turned upside down. Nothing made sense as it had before except one small part that should be bothering him the most, the woman with the odd wit and fine eyes. She had not set out to be his wife like others. Nor did she seek to entrap him as many might. As much as she claimed not to want to marry him, he had no wish to force it upon her as this title was forced upon him. He raised his head and glanced over all the letters before him. Instead of working, his thoughts wandered to all his interactions with Elizabeth, until he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.