Leave Her Wild

Chapter One

Darcy stepped down from his coach before Matlock House. It was not often that his uncle summoned him to the estate. After all, Darcy had been master of Pemberley Estate for some seven years, but a note had arrived two days earlier. “Urgent, it had said,” he murmured as he crossed to the entrance to greet the earl’s butler, Mr. Percevale.

“Welcome, sir,” Percevale said with a bow.

“I assume his lordship still requires my attendance,” Darcy said with a smile as he handed off his hat and gloves.

“Yes, sir. I am to show you through to the earl’s study as quickly as you arrived.”

Darcy smiled easily. His uncle always wished to be done with business speedily. “Then lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries, ‘Hold, enough!’”

“Shakespeare. Very good, sir.”

He followed the servant up the wide staircase marked with oak balustrades and trimmed with gold plate—so very stately; yet, also, so familiar. How often had he and his cousins, the earl’s sons, run up and down these steps? Perhaps more often than Darcy had at Pemberley, at least, as a child. Classical-style archways marked recessed areas, which sported statues and suits of armor. “ History of the family and this part of England, ” he thought.

With a knock and a short wait until a voice within called, “Come,” his attendance before the earl was executed with ease, as well as familiarity. Seated in a sturdy wooden chair behind an equally sturdy, as well as formidable, desk sat a man who had crafted Darcy’s future, comparably as well as had his father, George Darcy.

His uncle did not look up from the much-crossed letter which rested upon the highly polished mahogany desk.

At length, Matlock sat back and gestured Darcy to a nearby chair. “Good to see you, boy.”

As Darcy was the master of one of the largest estates in England, he no longer considered himself a “boy,” but he made no comment. The man before him was the earl who held both George Darcy’s hand, as well as young Fitzwilliam Darcy’s person, when the Darcy family had lost Lady Anne Darcy. Darcy’s mother had passed from complications associated with multiple efforts at childbirth.

Lady Anne meant to present her husband with another son, and, after a series of miscarriages, she had finally given birth again. Not another son, but a daughter. Darcy’s sister. Georgiana was twelve years Darcy’s junior, and he adored her, but he often found himself the “parent,” rather than Georgiana’s brother. Anyway, Lady Anne had hung on for nearly two years after giving birth to Georgiana, but his mother had never been the same. Weak. Basically bedridden. No energy. The “light” of Pemberley passed in her sleep before any of them could pronounce a proper farewell, a fact that had haunted both him and his father.

In those first few years after Lady Anne’s death, the Darcys would all have faltered without the steady hand of the Earl of Matlock on each of their shoulders. It was only after the grief had worked its way through various stages that Darcy had considered how the earl, too, was also in mourning and required someone to support him. Lord Matlock had lost his youngest sister. In that manner, Darcy often felt he had failed the man he greatly admired.

“A Darcy,” the earl began without further preamble, “has been at the helm of Pemberley for centuries. From father to son throughout your father’s family’s bloodlines. Even when Pemberley was but a small castle guarding this part of Derbyshire.”

“Should I be prepared to recite a list of ancestors, my lord?” Darcy asked, half in jest and half in confusion, for he was not confident he understood the purpose of his uncle’s statement nor the necessity of this meeting.

“You were always a superior student,” the earl said. “There is no need for your performance. I hold no doubt you could go all the way back to France with a long list of your ancestors. Instead, read this.” The earl handed over the last page of the paper before him.

“What am I holding?” Darcy asked casually, though casualness was no longer part of his state.

“A letter from your Cousin Samuel Darcy’s son by Samuel’s second wife. One Bertram Darcy. Do you recall him?”

Darcy read what the earl had shared with him. “I do not understand. Per the original documents, Pemberley is to pass through my father’s line, not Samuel’s. The only way Samuel and his children inherit is if I do not produce a male heir. And later the continuation of male heirs from my son to his and so forth.”

“This Bertram Darcy assuredly knows that the line of succession passes through you, but he also comprehends that if you do not produce a child to inherit by your thirtieth birthday, Mr. Bertram Darcy may claim one-fourth of Pemberley Estate. He is making his intentions known now, per your father’s will and the original land grant.”

Darcy continued to read and reread the paper he held. “Samuel Darcy produced only daughters by his first wife and only Bertram Darcy by his second. Though originally the property was to be divided sixty percent for my grandfather and forty percent for Samuel’s grandfather, an agreement was made between my father and Samuel. As you are aware, Samuel has a small estate in Dorset at which he can rarely be found. He is not one to enjoy the life of a rural landowner. He spends the majority of his time in London or on archaeological expeditions. Why can Bertram not claim that land? Though I suspect Samuel enjoys the income as it currently is, and it will be where he retires when his exploring days are at an end. An annual annuity has been regularly presented to him by my father, and now by me, with a signed agreement that he never places a claim on any part of Pemberley. This is prime land to which this man aspires, and it sits where we have developed the roads to Lambton and beyond. It would cripple the rest of the estate if we lost that land. Set us back a decade or more.”

“I do not wish to ask, but is there a female who has caught your eye? A quicker than what you would prefer courtship could cut off Bertram Darcy before you must fight him in court. Even if you produced a female child first, you could prove your wife fertile and that an heir was possible. In my opinion, your agreement with Samuel supersedes this claim by Bertram. However, we must remember, if you produce a male heir, then any minor agreements with Samuel Darcy are no longer in effect. At your discretion, Samuel will lose his annual payment. Perhaps, he has encouraged Bertram, and Bertram has agreed to finance his father’s expeditions, in that case. Moreover, one never knows how the courts will rule in such matters, especially with an estate as large as Pemberley. There is some criticism of late in both Houses of Parliament regarding how the estates have paralyzed all of England beyond the aristocracy and the gentry.”

Darcy assuredly had planned to marry. Pemberley would require a mistress, but he had always thought he would wait until he was thirty before he sought a match. He would admit, but only to himself, he wanted a love match, just as had been the one shared by his parents. Lady Anne and George Darcy had held each other in deep affection, and, although their love story ended too soon, George Darcy had never considered remarrying. For his father, no other could have been the mistress of Pemberley House, other than Lady Anne.

“I suppose you are suggesting that I should go to London.”

“At least I was not required to order you to London,” the earl remarked. “You are always quick to recognize a solution.”

“Hopefully, there are a few potential brides taking in the Short Season. I shall send word ahead to Darcy House. Is either the colonel or Lindale in London? I am a miserable failure without someone to open doors.”

“You underestimate yourself, my boy.”

“I am assuredly ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers,” Darcy argued.

“Such is because you will not give yourself the trouble,” his uncle argued.

Darcy shrugged his embarrassment. “I do not have the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

“My sons will assist you. Her ladyship and I will return to London in another month when Parliament comes back in session, but you should arrive earlier. Choose a young lady fair of face and mild of temperament.”

“As you did with Lady Matlock?” Darcy asked with a lift of his brows in challenge.

“Your aunt is very comely, even with her years,” the earl countered. “As to her usefulness as a countess, I require more than a woman who can run my different households. Your aunt is capable of being mistress of Matlock House, but she also is quite useful in the stratagems of politics.”

Darcy thought, “ Though I am not part of the aristocracy, I would prefer a wife who did not expect me to make every decision of her day. I do not relish the idea of being a puppeteer .”

“I wish I was also going to London,” Kitty said wistfully.

Since Lydia had eloped with one of the local militia, the remaining four Bennet sisters had had their own hopes of marriage dashed. Lydia’s lack of shame was common knowledge among those in and around Meryton, and, like it or not, by association, her sisters were equally guilty of loose morals.

Their Aunt Gardiner had agreed to assist Miss Jane Bennet with a short appearance in London. Madelyn Gardiner had written, “Your Uncle Edward and I do not keep company with the upper echelon of British society, but I can assure that Jane will be exposed to members of the gentry and those who own successful business interests.”

“I do wish your aunt could arrange a full Season among the aristocracy,” Mrs. Bennet had said with a sniffle of despair. “It is a shame our Jane’s beauty will be wasted on a shopkeeper.”

“Some of those shopkeepers,” Miss Elizabeth Bennet said, “are wealthier than many with titles.”

“Even so,” Mrs. Bennet began again, but her protest died on her lips when Mr. Thomas Bennet reminded his wife, “My Brother Gardiner has been more than generous. He has paid for Mr. Wickham’s lieutenancy and the settlement on Lydia. And now, he offers Jane the opportunity to be introduced to society. Make the most of it, Jane. Your sisters are depending on your success.”

Elizabeth shot her father a look of disapproval. She corrected, “If it is to be so, find someone you think ‘tolerable.’ Hopefully he will be someone you might learn to love, but, definitely, he must be someone who will treat you kindly. Do not accept a proposal simply to save your sisters. It would be beyond the pale to know our salvation came from your sacrifice.”

Darcy studied his appearance in the long mirror. His valet, Mr. Alfred Sheffield, tied an elaborate knot in Darcy’s cravat. Darcy could think of a hundred different tasks he should be addressing in Derbyshire rather than to be “doing the pretty” at Lady Ellis’s ball. Yet, if he was not successful, all his efforts at Pemberley could be for nought.

A light tap on Darcy’s door had Mr. Thacker, his butler, announcing, “Mr. Bingley, sir.”

His friend Charles Bingley appeared in the open doorway. It had been a good while since he had spent time with the man he had ushered about during their university years. They wrote often, for Bingley was what society called a “rich cit,” meaning, though Bingley’s fortune was extensive, one larger than many of the aristocracy could claim, Bingley’s money came from the shipping and furniture businesses begun by the late Daniel Bingley. Mr. Charles Bingley had been the first of his family to have known a university education and to establish himself in society.

“Good evening, Bingley,” Darcy said, but he dared not extend his hand to his friend. “You remember Mr. Sheffield,” he continued with a smile and as an unspoken apology for a lack of social skills.

“Good evening, Mr. Bingley,” Sheffield said as he set a sapphire pin on the lapel of Darcy’s evening coat.

“Good evening, Sheffield,” Bingley said with a smile. “I almost did not recognize you without a book in your hand. I do not think I ever properly thanked you for assisting me with all those Shakespeare volumes we read at Cambridge.”

Sheffield used a brush on Darcy’s sleeves and shoulders. “I am always glad to debate the magnificence of Shakespeare, sir. I should have found another position after Mr. Darcy finished his oral exams and left Cambridge, but the master owns a library that rivals many royal ones, and he permits all at Pemberley who wish knowledge access to it.”

Darcy corrected. “Neither you nor I, Sheffield, have ever viewed a royal library. As for me, I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these.”

Finally released by Sheffield, Darcy shook Bingley’s hand. “I am glad you could join me this evening.”

“I am not complaining,” Bingley assured. “I had planned to write to you some time this week to learn if you knew of any estates I might let, as well as press you to join me for a few weeks, say, sometime after Michaelmas. I would very much enjoy both your company and your tutelage on what is important to complete during the autumn on an estate.”

Darcy chuckled, “And I asked you to join me this evening, for I am to begin my search for a wife. You know how large gatherings are not my f?rtē .”

“So, Lord Matlock has insisted on your joining the marriage mart, heh?” Bingley asked.

“Yes, he is even sending Fitzwilliam and Lindale to join me through some of the social events. Matlock believes we all should consider marriage.” Darcy would not tell Bingley of Bertram Darcy’s manipulation.

Bingley bowed in an obvious jest, rising with a grin on his lips. “You are entrusting me to discover a young lady who will not bore the great Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

“I am entrusting my future happiness to you,” Darcy paused and offered a matching smile. “You and, of course, my two cousins.”