Page 7 of The Shades of Pemberley
“ W hat is it, William?”
Darcy looked up from the letter his butler had handed to him the moment he entered the house.
“An express from the north, from Pemberley, it appears.”
“Is there more of a connection between Netherfield and Pemberley than you led me to believe?” asked Bingley, his jesting tone an obvious attempt to lighten the sudden seriousness. “Or does your cousin wish for advice about estate management?”
Darcy offered his friend a half-smile. “Neither, I would imagine. Come, let us take this into the sitting-room, where I will attempt to assuage your curiosity.”
Though she hesitated, his mother did not gainsay him, her concerned look sending a frisson of unease up Darcy’s spine.
An express appearing without warning likely presaged nothing good, though Darcy could not imagine why his cousin would have sent it in all this state.
There was nothing to be done but to read the letter and learn what it contained, so Darcy led his companions as he suggested, sinking onto a sofa there and opening the letter.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he read within its pages.
“My cousin has died!” blurted he with more shock than sense.
“Your Darcy cousin?” asked Bingley at the same time Darcy’s mother said: “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?”
“Yes, it appears to be so,” said Darcy, skimming the letter.
“The letter is from Colonel Fitzwilliam, Jameson Darcy’s cousin, the second son of the Earl of Matlock.
He includes a few details, but the meaning is clear.
Three days ago, my cousin died from injuries sustained after being thrown from a horse. ”
“Fitzwilliam!” exclaimed Mrs. Darcy.
Bingley regarded them all with some curiosity. “I beg your pardon, Darcy, but I do not understand. Your cousin’s death is, of course, regrettable, but I did not think you were at all close.”
Comprehension filled Darcy at once. “It is no surprise you do not understand, my friend, so I shall explain.”
As Darcy sat back on the sofa, the letter spread out next to his thigh, considering how this news would change everything.
“The most important point is Pemberley’s disposition,” said Darcy at length, prompting Bingley’s eyes to widen.
“It is not well known in society, as the Darcy family has ever kept our private business away from the eager ears of the gossips, but there is an entail on Pemberley.”
“Then Colonel Fitzwilliam. . .” said Bingley.
“Is writing to inform me of my inheritance,” confirmed Darcy. “I was not at all close to my cousin, but he ensured I knew that I was his heir, as required by law. With his passing, I am now the Darcy, the master of the family estate in Derbyshire.”
“The Darcy estate is entailed?” demanded Bingley.
“Two generations before my grandfather,” replied Darcy, “a profligate son threatened the estate, and the master of the time disinherited his son and instituted an entail to protect it. The estate now devolves to me after my cousin’s passing.”
“That is... surprising, my friend,” said Bingley. “I knew nothing of such intrigues.”
“Most in society do not,” agreed Darcy. “The Darcys have never been in the habit of speaking of their private affairs. Mr. Jameson Darcy has one sibling, a much younger sister. When their father passed away five years ago, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam became joint guardians of young Miss Darcy. I must assume that is why Colonel Fitzwilliam is involved.”
“And now you are to be more closely connected with an earl,” said Bingley.
The shock with which Bingley regarded him suggested a sort of awe at the prospect of a friend who consorted with the nobility.
For that matter, Darcy could not help feeling overwhelmed, not so much at the thought of being connected to nobility, for he had some of those connections already, though distant.
No, the thought that echoed over and over in his mind was how much the day’s news would change his life.
Most importantly, how would Elizabeth react?
With the same sense of astonishment Darcy was now feeling.
That would be the extent of it, for Elizabeth was not a woman to concern herself much for status or wealth.
If anything, Elizabeth would wish for reassurance, the knowledge that this business would not change matters between them.
Elizabeth was not lacking in confidence—nothing could be further from the truth.
Just as this business had taken him aback, it would be a change for her, an alteration of what they had always thought their life would be.
Anyone would be taken aback to have such a change thrust upon them.
“I believe we should focus on practical matters,” said Darcy’s mother, interjecting for the first time. “Can I assume that Colonel Fitzwilliam has requested your presence at Pemberley?”
“He has,” confirmed Darcy.
Then he blanched as a thought he had not considered came to him.
“My wedding is in less than two weeks.” His comment came out as little more than a groan.
“That it is, William,” said his mother, looking on with compassion. “As much as I have longed to have Elizabeth for a daughter, it seems there is no choice but to postpone your wedding.”
Try though he might, Darcy could think of no way around it. “I suppose you must be correct,” said he, a trifle sulky, he could own to himself.
“Do not worry, William,” said Mrs. Darcy, her tone brimming with affection. “Elizabeth will look on the necessity with as little enthusiasm as you do, but she will understand. When you return, I dare say she will be eager to meet you at the altar.”
Darcy nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and turned to his friend. “I apologize, Bingley, for it seems I must cut your visit short.”
“It is no trouble, Darcy,” said Bingley with a laugh.
“This situation was not your doing, after all. I know you have spoken of your more illustrious branch of the family often, but this is far different from anything I had ever contemplated for you. How do you suppose your cousin’s close relations will greet you? ”
“I do not know them well,” replied Darcy. “Of the earl’s family, I know Colonel Fitzwilliam best, though I have met him but a few times. The earl I have met only once or twice, and while he seemed a decent sort, I have no notion of how he will respond to this situation.”
“Do you suppose he will treat you as a usurper?” asked his mother, fixing him with amusement.
“No, I do not suppose it,” replied Darcy. “To own the truth, my interactions with the Fitzwilliams have always been more cordial than those with the Darcys. My father reported the same.”
Mrs. Darcy grimaced, but she nodded, for she remembered them as well as Darcy did himself.
Darcy was of a disposition to be happy with what he had, so the Darcy family’s coldness had not bothered him, whereas his father, far more conscious of social position and his situation compared to the Pemberley Darcys took it much harder.
“It is odd, when you think of it,” mused Darcy.
“The family history is littered with noble brides, though the Darcys have never held a title. Yet I have always thought the Pemberley Darcys considered my family to be something akin to poor country cousins, though we share the same ancestry, other than the most recent connection to the nobility.”
“That is rather amusing, Darcy, my friend,” said Bingley with a laugh. “From what I know of your situation, you are rather wealthy yourself.”
Darcy shrugged. “We have always been comfortable, but our wealth is nothing compared to the main branch of the family.”
“Now that wealth will belong to you,” said Bingley. “What do you know about your cousin’s sister?”
“She is yet a young girl, perhaps sixteen,” said Darcy. “I met her only once about three years ago, and she struck me as a pleasant girl, though quite shy.”
“I feel sorry for her,” said Bingley. “So young, yet she has lost her parents, and now her brother and her home.”
“There is no need for her to leave Pemberley if she does not wish it,” said Darcy without thinking. “It has been her home all her life—I would be happy to allow her to live there, though I suppose I must marry Elizabeth before it would be proper.”
“That is premature,” said Mrs. Darcy. “The earl may prefer to take her into his home. Her only remaining guardian is her cousin, after all.”
Darcy nodded. “When the time comes, I shall speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam on the matter.” With a shake of his head, Darcy added: “I suppose there is nothing to be done but to leave at once. Before I go away, I must speak to Elizabeth, so I should be about my business.”
“I will return to Longbourn with you,” said Bingley, “for I would like to take my leave of your neighbors.”
Mrs. Darcy laughed. “If you will excuse me for saying it, Mr. Bingley, I suspect there is one of the family in particular you would like to see again.”
“I own it without disguise,” replied Bingley with a wide grin. “When shall we depart, Darcy?”
“Give me perhaps half an hour to compose my letter to Colonel Fitzwilliam. We shall leave after.”
Bingley nodded and excused himself, leaving Darcy alone with his mother.
“Will you come to the north with me?” asked Darcy. “I would not give up your support.”
His mother gave him a fond smile and kissed his cheek. “It would be best for both of us if I remained at Netherfield. After all, someone will need to manage Mrs. Bennet and calm her nerves.”
“I suppose you must be correct,” said Darcy with a laugh. “Then, if you are amenable, perhaps you may visit when I have had some time to accustom myself to my new position.”
“That would be welcome, William. I shall look forward to it.”