Chapter 28 A Reckoning at Rosings House
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A RECKONING AT ROSINGS HOUSE
Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine had been given advance intelligence of Darcy’s call, it seemed, for their reply to his note was to name the hour at which he might present himself at Rosings House.
He did as he had been told to do, entering the parlour with all the feel of a schoolboy being called before the headmaster for a punishment.
A fire roared despite the fact that it was June.
Lady Catherine sat on an overstuffed chair, her legs propped up on a foot stool, with as much hauteur as she could manage given her evident poor health.
Her gown hung loosely upon her frame, and her face had grown alarmingly thin.
A thick blanket covered her legs, and a woolly-looking shawl swaddled her shoulders.
It startled him, bringing to mind his mother’s own last days.
Lord Matlock was seated beside her on a hard chair, his countenance grave.
“Well, Darcy?” Lady Catherine demanded the moment he appeared. “You wished for an audience, and you have one. No doubt your solicitor has told you we dropped the suit and you wish to triumph over us.”
“I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth,” Darcy said, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “I have come to offer you both my sincerest apologies for the pain and distress my actions have caused.”
Lady Catherine’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing. Lord Matlock inclined his head slightly, gesturing for him to continue.
“I do not believe I jilted Anne.” Darcy met his aunt’s eyes directly.
“To my understanding, there was never a promise between us. However, by allowing the expectation of a betrothal to persist unchallenged for so long was wrong. I ought to have been courageous enough long ago to speak plainly. It was a grave disrespect to Anne and to the rest of our family that I did not.”
“You should have honoured your dear mother’s wishes,” Lady Catherine said, the well-worn refrain lacking the vigour it usually had.
“Catherine,” said his lordship. “I believe we have all agreed that it is all for the best, is it not?”
“For me to have married Anne would have been a great disservice to her,” Darcy said, stepping closer. “I could not have loved her as anything more than a cousin. I could not have given her my whole heart. She deserves far better than a husband who married her from obligation.”
His uncle and his aunt exchanged a look.
Darcy had no idea what it might mean, but he continued to speak.
“I have disappointed you both, and I have forgot one of my prevailing principles which is the importance of duty to family. No matter the happy ending, I am sorry to have failed in that. But I shall still say a man who marries without affection, who subjects his wife to the daily recognition that she possesses only half his regard, performs no service to his family. He dishonours them.”
Darcy walked a few paces forwards and knelt beside his aunt’s chair. “Lady Catherine, you are unwell. Have you consulted a physician?”
She turned her face away. “My health is none of your concern.”
“It is very much my concern. You are my mother’s sister, and whatever has passed between us, that bond remains.
” He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“Anne is dear to me. She always shall be. Though I cannot be her husband, I give you my word that I will always watch out for her needs, should they arise. She shall never want for anything within my power to provide—protection, assistance, a brother’s care.
This I swear to you. It is a duty I will never fail. ”
Lord Matlock studied him for a long moment. “You have changed, Darcy. There is something different about you.”
“I hope, Uncle, that I have learnt humility and compassion and that I have grown in the understanding that the bonds of love must be worth more than my pride.”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Finally, Lord Matlock spoke.
“Anne is happy, and I daresay that in the face of Darcy’s improvement in character, I might try for one or two of my own.
Perhaps, Catherine, you and I did not know what was best for Anne, for she is surely pleasanter, and more joyful, than I have ever seen her.
Do not let it be said that I cannot admit when I am wrong.
” The earl gave a little wry smile. “Infrequent though the circumstance might be.”
Lady Catherine gave a raspy-sounding chuckle, then said, “You will come to see her wed, I trust? I daresay it would help quite a bit in dispelling the rumours of the rift in the family.”
“I would be honoured to be invited,” he said. “I have, in fact, arranged for a wedding gift, if it would please you, my lady.”
“What is it?”
“Her portrait,” he told her. “Thomas Lawrence has agreed to paint her, in her countess’s tiara of course.”
That made Lady Catherine smile.