Prologue #2
“Affection, yes. Love.” With a surge of defiance he added, “I will marry where I like, or I will not marry. As for Anne, she should put herself forward to others. I will not marry her, not now, not ever.”
Lord Matlock studied him appraisingly. Darcy could almost envision the strategies and persuasions forming in his mind. At last, his uncle leant back, a queer smirk on his face. “Are you in love with someone right now?”
“No.”
“You can tell me.” Lord Matlock smiled, a mask of ease and friendliness thinly covering the vexation on his countenance.
“I am not in love.”
“You know, most people never find love.” Lord Matlock’s tone was conversational, his attitude relaxed.
“They go their whole lives waiting for something that never comes. Is that what you want? The opportunity for heartbreak and despair, and the possibility of a lifetime of loneliness? Myself, I would take the fortune, but I always have had a practical bent.”
“Do you mean to say you do not love my aunt?” Darcy asked, brows raised.
“My point exactly!” Lord Matlock exclaimed. “I do now, but did I on our wedding day? No. It was a betrothal, a contract between two great families. And now we have affection for one another. So it would be for you.”
Darcy gave him a disgusted look. He would not disparage Anne, no matter his feelings on this subject, but for his uncle to imagine love growing between them in a marital sense?
It was laughable. “I would prefer to take my chances at finding love than to hope my attachment to Anne would grow beyond that of cousins.”
There was a silence between the two men for a moment. At last, very carefully, Lord Matlock said, “In such cases as these, there is another…possibility.”
“Is there?”
Lord Matlock smiled with the appearance of what Darcy hoped was compassion at last. “When we are back to town, I would like to introduce you to a lady I know of. Beautiful woman, with a figure such as you never saw before.”
Darcy was curious despite himself. Lord Matlock had seemed to switch sides in the middle of the war, quite unexpectedly. Cautiously, he enquired, “What is the lady’s name?”
“Eloise Bernard. She is a charming, witty girl, plays and sings at the instrument just beautifully.”
“Bernard? Do I know her family?”
Lord Matlock laughed. “I do not think she knows her family, but what of it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“She is a beautiful woman who will provide you all the love and affection you seek and still enable you to marry Anne.”
Darcy’s jaw dropped. “A mistress? You think I ought to keep a woman?”
“Many of the great men do just the same—it is how we reconcile honour and duty with—”
“You think infidelity is honour?” Darcy laughed bitterly. “Sir, I was not raised with such principles as these.”
“It is not infidelity if your wife does not care,” Lord Matlock explained. “I will explain it all to Anne, or her mother will. All they wish for is to see Anne married! The particulars of where you spend your nights—”
“Uncle.” Darcy shook his head, then rubbed it with one hand. Was everyone mad, drunk, or both? “This is absurd. You urge me to marry your niece in one breath and take a mistress in the next?”
“I am not such an old man that I have forgotten those urges of youth. If you do not take care of them, they will drive you mad. You need only some time with Eloise and you will understand: affection is one thing, marriage is another.”
“I will not purposely marry my cousin with such a design as you propose. Every feeling within me revolts against such conduct. My father found such behaviour abhorrent, and he raised me to feel likewise.”
“Your father was a prude.”
“My father was a gentleman, in every sense of the word.”
“Yes.” Lord Matlock leant forwards. “Yes, he was, and familial honour and duty were of highest importance to him. Would he wish you to renege on your word to your cousin? It was your mother’s wish, and to see to her happiness was his most sincere desire.
He agreed to it. He might not have authored the scheme, but he agreed it was as it should be.
Therefore, yes, in the memory of your father, you must do your duty here. ”
“He did not say so to me.” Darcy rose from his seat, walking to the window and staring out. “He presented it to me as a choice, and even then, when I was yet a schoolboy, I told him it would not do. He had no argument with that.”
Darcy remained at the window, and his uncle was silent, no doubt calculating his next move. Several minutes later, Lord Matlock rose, joining him at the window.
Lord Matlock’s eyes showed a sad coldness that made Darcy wary immediately. “Darcy, if you choose to shame your own cousin in this way, I am afraid I will need to act in a manner befitting my position as head of this family.”
“I did not shame—”
Lord Matlock held up his hand. “We will not recognise you. You will be no one to us. It will pain me to do it, but I will do as I must. I have to, you see, for Anne’s honour. You have ruined her for other men, and I am her nearest male relation. I am the head of that family.”
“This is absurd! You formed an expectation of me, quite wrongly, and now that I baulk, you tell me I am in the wrong? That I must—”
“Family stands together,” Lord Matlock said. “Those who are not for us must be against us.”
Darcy clenched his jaw. “As you wish, sir,” he spat. “Might I assume you will leave my home at first light? Being that you have no part with me, I would imagine my home is disgusting to you.”
“Yes,” Lord Matlock agreed softly. “Yes, we shall be gone at first light.”