Chapter 25
The first thing Darcy did in the solitude of the library was to throw the letter onto the desk, pour a glass of brandy, and empty it in one gulp.
He should have guessed such a letter would come. The last weeks had been more calm, pleasant, and joyful than he could remember in a long while.
He did not confess the events of the last year to Georgiana, but he followed Elizabeth’s advice and spent as much time as he could with his sister.
Slowly, Georgiana seemed to take one step at a time towards him to begin opening her heart to him.
For the first time in years, he heard her laugh wholeheartedly as they raced their horses one morning.
And he promised her —during one amusing conversation about the ladies’ sports and competitiveness —that he would ask Mr. Slade to teach both her and Elizabeth the mysteries of archery and fencing; then he teased her for days, suggesting she should join the army and lead a regiment.
Elizabeth’s presence —although disturbing —became a constant in his life, and he struggled to accustom himself to it.
He could feel her approach from afar, he sensed her presence before he noticed it, and he dreamt of her every night.
Her nearness caused him to boil inside and made his skin shiver.
He found himself glancing at her lips, her neck, her shoulders, or at the garnet cross that sparkled on her neck and touched the edge of her gown, but his self-control learnt to better guard his temper and his temptation.
He did not allow himself to think of anything —to hope for anything. He had to live the days one by one and take the best of each of them —just as he did that morning in the stables when he caressed Elizabeth’s bare fingers and helped her overcome her fear of horses.
He smiled as he considered how easily Storm —usually reluctant with strangers and unwilling to allow a new acquaintance to approach him —accepted her.
Perhaps his longtime friend could see into his heart and sense the depth of his affection for Elizabeth.
Perhaps she had charmed Storm as quickly as she did him; after all, she herself suggested the similarities between them.
The door of the library opened and brought Darcy back from his musings; he was ready to dismiss the unwelcome visitor when he recognised his aunt moving towards him decidedly.
The countess took a seat on the couch before he had time to invite her.
“What is the matter?” she asked unceremoniously. “And before answering me, please be so kind as to pour me a glass of that port. I feel I will need it.”
“Of course, Aunt. I am sorry if I worried you; everything is fine, I assure you.”
“Then let me read what Catherine has to say.”
He hesitated a moment.
“I would rather not have you read it. Lady Catherine is displeased with Miss Bennet’s presence at Pemberley.
She scolded me for accepting Georgiana’s request to invite Miss Bennet.
And she speaks very harshly of Miss Bennet.
She accuses her of schemes and allurements…
and considers this situation to be highly improper and compromising.
I will burn the letter; I dare not risk that Georgiana or even Miss Bennet should ever lay eyes on it. ”
Darcy felt so embarrassed and angry at what he had read that he could barely look at his aunt. So the countess just pulled the letter from his hand.
“Oh, stop rambling and let me read it…”
A few minutes later, Lady Hardwick rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Dear Lord, this woman is getting worse with age. How can anyone write so much nonsense in only a few lines? I will write her back. She will have a piece of my mind too.”
“I beg you, let us be wise and put an end to this sooner rather than later. I shall reply to Aunt Catherine accordingly.”
“Well, at least do me this favour. Write: ‘Dear Aunt, I never thought that Miss Bennet’s presence as Georgiana’s friend might be a compromising situation.
I thank you for bringing it to my attention.
I assure you I will take the proper course and propose marriage to Miss Bennet right away.
’ Dear God, that would surely kill Catherine.
” Lady Hardwick laughed loudly before drinking a little port.
Darcy struggled to display a large smile although his discomfort was greater than his amusement. Still, he did wonder how Lady Catherine would have reacted had she ever received such a letter —not unlike the one that he had expected to write to her last April.
“You know, that is not such a bad idea,” Lady Hardwick continued with prudence and a scrutinising gaze.
“Which idea? Writing to Lady Catherine?”
“Marrying Miss Bennet…”
He glanced at his aunt a moment then averted his eyes and remained silent.
“Miss Bennet has everything needed to be an excellent mistress of Pemberley,” the countess continued. “More than any other woman I have seen with you —including my niece Emmeline.”
“Yes…” he replied sternly without missing his aunt’s surprise.
“So, you do not disagree? I have been struggling to discover your true opinion of Miss Bennet for more than three months now. I see such different and puzzling things that I am unable to come to any conclusion.”
“My opinion of Miss Bennet is a positive one; you should not doubt that. Could we please drop this subject?”
“My dear boy, I can scarcely understand what is happening in your heart. I see you doing everything right —taking care of everything and everyone around you. I see your brilliant mind making decisions, but I am worried about your heart.”
“Dear Aunt, you are undeservedly generous to me. I am sorry to admit that I am doing more things wrong than right…and please do not worry about me. I am fine.”
“You are fine, but do I ask too much to wish you to be happy? You are already eight and twenty and seem to be rather lonely.”
Darcy took his aunt’s hand, kissed it tenderly, and then held it in his. “I understand your meaning. I know I should marry and provide an heir for Pemberley. I know I must find someone worthy of Mrs. Darcy’s position and who will also be a good sister for Georgiana.”
“No, no, my dear —no! There is nothing you need do except what your heart tells you. I do not intend to induce you into marriage just because your age and duty demand it.”
“Do you remember my parents talking about their desire that I should marry Anne?”
“Not your father —and I am certain he had no such wish. He would never impose the burden of an arranged marriage on you. As for your mother, she is likely to have made such a plan with Catherine —all for your benefit, I am sure. This sort of engagement is rather common within the ton. But to me or in my presence she never mentioned such a plan. If she had, I certainly would have disapproved of it.”
“I was only asking out of curiosity. I had not intended to accept such an engagement before now. I have never given Anne any hope for our marriage. Quite the contrary —we discussed many times that I would always take care of her, but a bond of any other kind between us should not to be expected —except by Aunt Catherine. And yet, lately I have given it more consideration. What if I should do what so many others are doing? I have affection and respect for Anne. She is a good person, and she and Georgiana are fond of each other. Perhaps that is the answer. If —with God’s will —she provided me with an heir, I would ask for nothing more. ”
“Nothing more? Do you expect so little from your life? Do you not want to feel the bliss that brightened Bingley’s face? To feel lively? To laugh out loud? To shiver every time you look into the eyes of the woman you love? To share your passion with her in the marriage bed?”
“I do want that,” he admitted after a brief hesitation.
“But what if it is not meant for me to have these things? What if they are only foolish dreams? If such bliss were easy to find, there would be fewer arranged marriages. Maybe real day-to-day happiness means being content that you provide for your family, keep it safe, and accomplish your duty.”
“Oh! —what nonsense. Happiness means locking yourself alone with the woman you love and needing nothing and no one else except her —along with many things you must feel to understand them. I shall not allow you make the same error as your father. You are much like him, and you tend to repeat his mistakes.”
“Aunt Amelia, why do you bring this up again; I must say it pains me. I know —and I never heard anyone declare otherwise —that my parents were excellent people who shared an excellent marriage —sadly too short.”
“My dear, I do not want to pain you or to contradict this belief. Everything you say is perfectly true. They were wonderful people. Your father was the quintessence of goodness and generosity, and your mother was one of the most accomplished and admired women I have ever met. Their marriage was indeed an excellent one by the standards of society —just as was my first marriage, the one the Matlocks have shared for six and thirty years, and so many others…and yet…”
“You must tell me the truth since you have stirred up this subject. I beg you —let us clear the air once for all and never discuss it again.”
“I do not know how to tell you —or whether I should. Damned port —it is too strong for me. I should cease drinking it when I want to conduct a rational conversation. What I mean is…your mother liked balls and parties and perfect society; her hair and gowns were always perfectly arranged. Her manners were perfect; her performance at the piano was perfect. She was perfect; nobody ever found anything wanting in her. And she was as good a wife as she could be. She did everything she was taught to comply with society’s demands. ”
“She was also kind and gentle. Her presence was always a comfort to me.”