Page 60 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

Saturday, November 30, 1811—11 Days after Tuesday

Saturday morning, Charlotte dropped by and asked Elizabeth for a stroll about the garden. Elizabeth lifted one quizzical eyebrow and then agreed. Her friend rarely requested a private venue for their conversations.

The morning was not turning out at all as she had expected. Yesterday, Charlotte, like the angel she was, had secured a dinner invitation for Mr. Collins, so Elizabeth was spared his pointed silences all evening. His behaviour would have been amusing, had it not been so uncomfortable and had her mother been reconciled to Elizabeth’s rejection. This morning, however, Mr. Collins had bid them all an affable farewell, even her, and now Charlotte was over earlier than usual, requesting a private conversation.

“I have accepted an offer from Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said the moment they were truly out of earshot of the house.

Elizabeth stumbled. “Pardon?”

“Mr. Collins has offered for me and I have accepted him,” Charlotte reiterated, head held high, her steps measured. “You know that I am not a romantic. I truly believe I have as much chance of happiness with him as with any other man.”

Elizabeth could not even think of what to reply, and only the crunch of dead leaves broke the silence between them.

“Just because he failed to secure your regard does not make him any less estimable,” Charlotte continued. “And I will have my own home.”

“I do not know what to say.” Elizabeth shivered as a chilly wind gusted past them. She wished Mr. Darcy were here. He would be reminding her of her own words: Charlotte was her friend, not her child. She could ask if Charlotte had truly considered her choice, but she could not make the choice for her. All she could do was trust Providence to prevent such a marriage if it was a mistake. “You have long wanted your own establishment, and your skill in running Lucas Lodge will make you an unparalleled housekeeper. I just—are you truly certain that you can endure Mr. Collins’s loquaciousness and Lady Catherine’s opinions?” She held Charlotte’s gaze.

Charlotte nodded. “I believe so. Regardless, one is guaranteed to find something bothersome about one’s partner eventually, and I shall have my neighbours to visit should I desire a respite.”

“Then I am happy for you,” Elizabeth said, giving Charlotte’s hand a squeeze even as her heart ached. After recognising the dangers the entail posed for her family, she could understand her friend’s reasons for accepting Mr. Collins; it still felt as though a chasm were opening up between them.

Charlotte smiled. “I am glad. You will write to me, will you not? I shall miss hearing all about you and your sisters’ adventures.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Your father will not keep you informed of all the local gossip?”

“I wish to hear it from you, though.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Of course. And Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for all the help you have given me over the years. I am a far better person than I would have been without you in my life. Mr. Collins is a lucky man.”

Charlotte grasped Elizabeth’s hand tightly. “I shall miss you, Eliza.”

Elizabeth hugged her friend, her eyes burning. “And I you.”

When Sir William arrived that afternoon, Elizabeth longed to absent herself from the coming storm. Mrs. Bennet refused to credit his announcement, arguing that Mr. Collins had proposed to her Lizzy and that he would hardly have changed his affections so quickly. Elizabeth eventually had to confirm that Charlotte had told her the news this morning. It was not a pleasant conversation. Nor were her mother’s resultant vehement recriminations and pangs of nerves. Elizabeth felt for her mother and the woman’s fear of the entail, but she refused to sacrifice herself just to allay those fears.

Darcy returned to his seat, tension keeping his posture straighter than a plumb line as the door closed after Georgiana.

“Now, what is this about?” Lady Matlock asked, settling back gracefully onto the settee. “I cannot imagine that anything new has occurred with Georgiana. She has been making strides here; I truly do not think it best for her to return to Darcy House at this time.”

“I have met someone and I intend to propose,” Darcy said, trying to shift back slightly so he looked less like a child about to flee.

His uncle, midway through taking snuff, merely held the pinch between his fingers as he stared at Darcy. “I beg your pardon?”

Darcy took a deep breath. “I have met a young lady.”

“Who is this mystery woman?” Lady Matlock asked, one eyebrow raised. “Please tell me it is not Miss Bingley.”

A laugh burst from Darcy and he settled deeper into the chair. “It is not Miss Bingley. I am wounded that you would rate my taste in women so low, Aunt.”

His aunt and uncle stared at him for a moment before Lord Matlock chuckled and returned to his snuff.

Lady Matlock huffed. “Well, you cannot blame me for considering her,” she said. “You have been at that harpy’s house for the past few weeks.”

“I promise you, I will never marry Miss Bingley, nor anyone like her,” Darcy said firmly. “While in Hertfordshire, I met a young lady who is kind, intelligent, witty, and principled. She already cares for her father’s tenants and excels at setting others at ease.”

“What is her last name? Perhaps I have heard of her?” Lady Matlock asked.

Darcy shook his head. “I doubt it. Her father is somewhat of a recluse. Bennet is his last name. They own a moderate estate.”

“Well, at least she is landed,” Lord Matlock said approvingly. “What about her dowry?”

“Negligible.”

Lady Matlock’s brow furrowed. “She must have excellent connections then for you to be considering her.”

“Not really. In fact, I rather doubt you will consider her connections to be useful at all. However, I have already made up my mind. I would like to introduce you to her soon. I believe she will be an excellent influence on Georgiana.”

Lady Matlock sighed. “William, how can you expect her to assist Georgiana in navigating the ton if she herself cannot do so? There is a reason I have always said that you need to find a wife from among our set.”

“I understand your concerns—marrying Miss Elizabeth would require your assistance with the ton. However, were I to remain unmarried until after Georgiana’s launch into society, you would still have to be equally involved.”

His aunt glared at him. “You are asking me to sponsor an unknown, penniless young woman with terrible connections and your sister. That is a great deal of work.”

“An unknown gentlewoman,” Darcy corrected. “You are free to say no—I am not trying to blackmail you into behaving as I wish. You may easily ruin me and my bride. I am merely requesting you withhold judgement until after you have met her. Miss Elizabeth is skilled at interacting with others.” His lips curved up. “She has actually taught me a great deal about small talk. Apparently, my usual demeanour was—discourteous. I even danced with seven people other than Miss Elizabeth at Bingley’s ball on Tuesday.”

Lady Matlock looked at him sharply. “ You danced at a ball? Who were these people whom you did not wish to offend?”

“Just country-folk. I did not dance at the first assembly I attended, and I wished to rectify that misstep.”

Lord Matlock’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. “You danced at a ball because you avoided dancing at a previous ball? You? My nephew, who refuses to dance unless beleaguered into doing so?”

Darcy smiled. “I did, and I intend to continue dancing at balls. It is, after all, the polite thing to do.”

Lord and Lady Matlock exchanged a speaking glance.

“How do you know this woman is not a fortune hunter?” Lady Matlock asked.

Darcy hesitated. “I have already proposed to Miss Elizabeth; however, she wished to ensure I appreciate the consequences of marrying her and recommended further reflection.”

“ She rejected you ?” Lady Matlock asked, leaning forward with a scowl.

Darcy gave a single nod. “She said that, once I have properly considered the matter, should I still wish to pursue her, she would welcome my suit.”

“Damned strange,” Lord Matlock muttered. “What woman would turn down a Darcy? Especially one who lacks connections and wealth?”

“One who truly loves me for myself and who does not have a mercenary bone in her body,” Darcy said pointedly. “She is concerned that I might change my mind and find myself unwillingly bound.”

“Well, then you are still free to find a suitable young lady,” Lady Matlock said, raising her chin and pinning him with a glare.

If only his aunt and uncle could understand what he himself had learned over the past months. Status, wealth, the ton’s approval—what were these things compared to having a true ally, a woman of substance who saw him, faults and all, and still loved him?

He shook his head sorrowfully. “I wish I could be the nephew you desire, Aunt Margaret, but I will not give up Miss Elizabeth. You have thrown every remotely suitable ton miss at me for the past several years. While I was in Hertfordshire, I realised that I want to marry a woman of substance. Miss Elizabeth cares for me, apart from my wealth and connections, and she will be an excellent wife, a kind sister to Georgiana, and a shrewd mistress for my estate. That is far more valuable to me than any wealth or connections.”

“William, you cannot expect us to simply accept this young woman on your word alone,” Lady Matlock said with a sigh.

Darcy nodded. “That is why I wish to introduce you.” He looked back and forth between his beloved aunt and uncle. “You have been the closest thing I have to parents since I lost my own father and mother, and I do not wish to disappoint you, but I will not change this course.”

Lord Matlock put a hand on his wife’s as she opened her mouth. “You must do as you see best, m’boy,” he said. “You are technically the head of your family and not bound to gain our approval. We do love you as our own though and are only trying to ensure your well-being.”

“I know.”

Lady Matlock sighed. “Bring this girl to London, and I shall be―” Her mouth puckered up as though Darcy had just force-fed her a lemon. “—glad to meet her.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” He stood and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I promised Georgie I would listen to her latest piece before returning home.”

After leaving his aunt and uncle, Darcy made his way to the music room. Even from down the hall, he could hear the emphatic tones of Beethoven’s Sonata number 17. At least Georgie was not still playing wistful, melancholic pieces.

Darcy knocked on the door, but when Georgiana did not hear him over her vigorous playing, he entered. His sister sat at the pianoforte, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her face and her expression twisted into something he had never seen. Rage? Loathing?

Darcy carefully made his way over to her and slipped around the pianoforte, sitting down next to her.

Georgiana startled violently, her fingers coming down in a dissonant crash. “Oh! Brother! I did not hear you come in,” she said breathlessly, turning her face away and wiping her tears.

Darcy put an arm around her. “I apologise. I was not trying to startle you.”

Georgiana stood, her hands shakily pulling out a handkerchief. “I should not have gotten lost in the music.”

“Georgie, there is no need for you to apologise,” he said, standing too. “I did not expect you to wait around aimlessly for me.”

She gave a jerky nod.

Darcy held his arms open, just as he had back when she had been a little girl in need of a hug after a physical injury. Georgiana stared at him for long moments, then, with a sob, she threw herself into his embrace. Darcy caught her, rubbing a hand down her back and wishing that heartache was as easily cured as a skinned knee.

Once her sobs had quieted, he drew Georgiana over to the settee and handed her his handkerchief.

“I am just so ashamed,” Georgiana whispered, her gaze fixed on the space between them.

Darcy put an arm around her and drew her close, unsure what, if anything, to say.

She leaned into him for several long moments, then straightened. “I was such a fool!” she hissed. “I do not know how you can look at me when I can hardly stand to look at myself!”

“Because I love you,” he said gently. “You did something foolish, but that does not make you a fool—at least I hope it does not, or I am doomed. You are only a fool if you do not learn from your mistakes.”

Georgiana sniffled. “How could I have believed him?”

“Georgie, Wickham can be very convincing when he wishes to be, and you were not on your guard. As I said when I apologised on Wednesday, I ought to have told you the truth earlier; you had no reason to believe him to be dangerous. At least, not until he advocated behaviour your guardians would never countenance.”

“He seemed so wonderful.” Tears trailed down her cheeks once more. “I loved him.”

Darcy gently wiped her tears. “I know.”

She whimpered. “William, what am I going to do?”

“About what?”

Georgiana stared at him.

Darcy stared back. “What do you think you need to do?”

“I do not know! I only wish I could undo the past six months.”

Darcy’s lips curved up in a wry smile even as a shiver rippled his spine. Wishing to change time was a dangerous business. “I know. But you cannot. Part of becoming an adult is accepting the things you cannot change, and the past is one of those things. You made a mistake. One that I hope you will not repeat.”

Georgiana folded her hands in her lap and frowned. “You think I would trust him again?”

“Of course not. I was referring to the mistake of ignoring what you have been taught by those who love you, instead of protecting yourself. I trust that you will not allow Wickham back into your life at all.”

“Oh.” Georgiana’s face crumpled again. “I do not know how you can ever trust me with anything again.”

Darcy hesitated. “Georgie, do not let this event blight the rest of your life. Wickham has already taken too much from you; do not let him continue. It is—easy to believe that blaming yourself, railing at him, or imagining other scenarios will help; but I have learned that they only keep you trapped in the past. You would end up tying Wickham to yourself and dragging that burden day after day.”

Georgiana frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When I was younger, I used to imagine conversations between Wickham and I, to tell him what I really thought of him, to make him see his mistakes or to fix things that had already happened. It just meant that I devoted more and more of my time to Wickham and it did not change the past.”

“You mean I should not get angry at him?” Georgiana asked, watching him closely.

Darcy shook his head. He clasped her hand and considered how best to answer her question. “Sweetling, you are angry and you should be angry—he treated you abominably. I would be more concerned if you were not angry. Just, do not let that anger consume you.” He squeezed her hand. “Take responsibility for your own actions, yes, but allowing the guilt to consume you would be just as futile in changing the past and just as burdensome. You can learn. You can make different choices the next time, and I will be by your side, ready to assist, whenever you require it.”

Georgiana wiped her eyes. “You have changed, William.”

Darcy blinked at her, his thoughts whirling. He was not certain that he wanted to share the truth about Tuesday, but he could talk about Elizabeth. He nodded slowly. “I have. While I was in Hertfordshire, I met someone who changed my views on many things.” He cleared his throat. “I had intended to speak to you about her before I leave London.” Darcy took a deep breath. “I was somewhat less than polite the first time I met Miss Elizabeth. After we became acquainted, she pointed out how off-putting my behaviour had been and helped me understand how to rectify that.” He smiled, recalling Elizabeth’s various lessons. “She helped me practise useful small talk and reminded me to find joy in life’s little pleasures. Miss Elizabeth is someone who sees me for who I am, not for how large my estate is. Over the course of my visit, we became close friends and I intend to ask her to marry me when I return to Hertfordshire.”

Georgiana stared at him. “I did not know that you were looking for a wife; you have never seemed interested in Aunt Margaret’s matchmaking,” she said hesitantly. “I knew you would likely marry someday . I just—what is she like?”

Darcy chuckled. “That is because I was not looking for a wife. Miss Elizabeth is compassionate, witty, intelligent, industrious, wise―” He sighed, realising anew how very much he missed her.

Georgiana turned to face him more fully, putting distance between them. “Does she know about last summer? Will she like me?”

“I told her about our experiences with Wickham, yes. She helped me a great deal with realising that I had put Wickham on a pedestal, blaming him for things which were not his fault and making him out to be far more powerful than he actually is.”

“How so?”

Darcy held Georgiana’s gaze, despite his discomfort with baring his soul to his younger sister. He wanted her to learn from his mistakes, though, and that required his honesty. “It was easier to blame Wickham—to believe he was so good at deception that no one could ever see through it—than to admit that the people who believed his lies had to take responsibility for ignoring my warnings or not doing their own investigation.”

Georgiana’s eyes dropped to the settee. “People like me.”

“I never warned you, Georgie.”

She smoothed a loose thread on the upholstery. “I should have done my own investigation. I should have questioned his motives when he started suggesting we spend time unaccompanied or when he asked me to elope with him.”

Darcy nodded.

Georgiana looked up at him. “I am sorry, William. I should have waited to ask you why the rift had occurred between the two of you instead of just accepting his version.”

Darcy took her hand and squeezed it. “I forgive you, Georgie.”

She squared her shoulders. “I have been silly, spending the past six months moping about.”

“No, you have not. You were heartbroken, and it takes time to get over heartbreak.”

Georgie blinked back tears. “ He is not worth being heartbroken over.”

“No. But you did not know what kind of person he really was until earlier this week. I do not think I even told you what was in the letter I sent him.”

She shook her head.

“I told him that Father had tied up your dowry in such a way that, unless you receive Fitzwilliam’s and my blessing before being wed, it will remain in trust for your children.”

Georgiana bit her lip. “Then he really did just want my dowry.”

Darcy rubbed a hand up and down her arm. “Yes.”

She shook herself. “Then there is even less reason to remain heartbroken.” She gave him a determined smile. “Tell me more about Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy hesitated, unsure if he should comment on the subject change. Eventually, he decided they could return to the topic of Wickham later if needed and fulfilled her request, expounding upon Elizabeth’s character, her family, and circumstances and upon how he had eventually realised that he would rather marry someone of good character than prioritise the criteria he had been raised with.

“I have never heard you speak so fondly of anyone outside our family,” Georgiana finally said.

Darcy raised one eyebrow. “I am more than fond of Miss Elizabeth.”

“Not Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana said, shaking her head. “Her family. I can tell that you love Miss Elizabeth.” She took a deep breath. “I only hope that someone speaks about me the way you talk about her,” she said, her voice breaking. She pasted on another determined smile. “But you genuinely care about her family, too.”

“They are—unconventional, but yes, I do care deeply for them. It is my hope that you will appreciate them as well. I will admit, though, that they are an acquired taste, as their manners are not what we are accustomed to.”

“Well, I look forward to meeting them.”