Chapter 32 #2
She wrote to inform him that she had released him from his supposed engagement to her daughter—an engagement long asserted but never in truth fixed by him.
The tone was lofty, even magnanimous; she professed herself satisfied that all parties had now been properly consulted, and the matter arranged to everyone’s satisfaction.
Additionally, in her letter she made passing reference to her recent conversation in London with Lord Granfield and her brother—a meeting Darcy found curious.
He had not realised the two were acquainted nor so friendly as to meet in London.
The mention was neither accusatory nor precisely defensive, but it carried with it the unmistakable sense that something had transpired which she now preferred to frame upon her own terms.
“Released you?” Richard had repeated when Darcy first showed him the letter. “How exceedingly generous of her.”
It was this, rather than the release itself, that prompted Darcy to seek Lord Granfield’s perspective on the matter.
He had another purpose for speaking with Elizabeth that day and hoped that, between the two of them, they might discover some means of allowing Richard to retire from military service.
Since the day of Wickham’s capture, they had not spoken again of Jane Bennet; yet whenever the two were in company, they gravitated towards one another with increasing regularity.
It seemed obvious that this was not the same sort of connexion Jane Bennet had once shared with Bingley, nor was it one Darcy could yet define.
From what he could observe and occasionally overhear, the tone of their discourse differed in some essential way.
He could not yet decide what that difference signified.
The business with Lord Granfield proved, thankfully, brief. The earl explained that he had met in London with Lord Matlock regarding a matter to be brought before the House of Lords in the spring and that, now he had returned to Britain, his attendance at Parliament would soon be required.
Of equal importance was the fate of the late Lieutenant George Wickham.
By order of the War Office, he had been stripped of his commission following a swift court-martial presided over by a friend of the earl.
In light of the kidnapping, together with charges of dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming, and desertion, Wickham had faced a firing squad only a few days earlier.
Darcy heard the account in grave silence, his expression composed though a measure of long-held tension seemed at last to ease.
“It is a severe end,” he said at length, his voice steady, “yet one he has long since invited upon himself. I would wish to feel some sympathy for him, but I confess I cannot. At least he can trouble no one further.”
In the course of their conversation, Lord Granfield also recounted his confrontation with Lady Catherine, which Darcy suspected had prompted her abrupt retraction of the supposed engagement. He further informed him that his impending marriage to Elizabeth had likewise been discussed between them.
Darcy could not help but feel a measure of amusement at the notion of Lady Catherine being routed, and he almost wished he had been present to witness the exchange. He was grateful he had not been, for she would almost certainly have directed her displeasure towards him.
After a brief pause, the earl continued.
“Although I would have wished to introduce my granddaughter in Town unmarried,” he said at length, his fingers resting flat upon the polished surface of his desk, “it seems your suggestion that you marry before the Season begins is a prudent one.”
He paused then and lifted his gaze fully to Darcy.
“When I met with Lord Matlock, I conveyed your concerns regarding those who might attempt to compromise or harm Elizabeth. He agreed that such apprehensions may be well-founded. He and his wife will arrive at Millwood within a se’nnight and remain until after the wedding.”
Granfield rose as he spoke the final word, the decision clearly made. He moved towards the hearth, clasping his hands behind his back—a posture of command rather than concession.
“Christmas approaches soon,” he continued, turning slightly towards Darcy, “and we have judged it best that you marry directly after Epiphany.”
He regarded the younger man steadily.
“If Elizabeth should be amenable, you may marry on Wednesday the week following. That will allow sufficient time to secure the common licence and complete the necessary arrangements.”
There was the faintest tightening at the corner of his mouth as he spoke the words, having wished to keep her with him longer.
“Come,” he added briskly, dismissing the matter with a small motion of his hand towards the door. “My granddaughter is not the only lady who insisted our conversation be brief.”
The men did not linger much longer in the earl’s study after that remark, and before long, the three gentlemen were seated in the drawing room where the ladies waited. Granfield introduced his guests to his sister, and Darcy was surprised to vaguely recall having met Mrs. James in the past.
“I believe you came to Pemberley once or twice when I was a child,” he said.
The lady inclined her head graciously. “Indeed I did. For a time, I knew and admired your mother a great deal. Your Grandmother Darcy was a dear friend of mine. But enough of that,” she continued briskly.
“First of all, I must have both of you gentleman address me as Aunt Rosalind as my Elizabeth does. I have given Georgiana leave to do the same, but she has not yet been persuaded to call me ‘Aunt.’”
The remark drew laughter from nearly everyone present.
Georgiana laughed as well, a faint colour rising in her cheeks beneath the sudden attention.
Darcy observed it at once. She was unaccustomed to women such as Aunt Rosalind, who appeared to place very little value upon rigid propriety.
She was nothing like his other two aunts: one warm and kind yet still commanding, the other coldly exacting and insistent that all conform to her will.
Darcy was relieved when the conversation turned to his wedding. He wondered whether the earl had informed Elizabeth of the same arrangement he had just proposed. Turning towards her, he took her hand without ceremony, not bothering to pay attention to any of the others.
“Elizabeth, dearest, would you like to marry on the fifteenth of January?”
“I am content to marry on the fifteenth,” she replied, her eyes dancing.
“I should almost prefer the eighth.” She cast a pointed look at her grandfather.
“Nonetheless, Grandpapa has declared it must be the fifteenth, and I cannot dispute his reasoning. We are already being granted a much earlier wedding than he originally intended.”
Several in the room laughed at this, for the couple had not troubled themselves to lower their voices.
Granfield regarded them and nodded. “Then it is settled. You shall marry on that date. I believe it best that the wedding occurs here in Meryton.”
Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. “I thought you insisted we were to marry in London.”
“Between Lady Matlock and your great-aunt, it has been decided that you should marry out of the public eye. Even were we to attempt a semi-private ceremony in London, gossip would spread with remarkable speed. It is better that you be presented in Town as Darcy’s wife.
That will discourage fortune hunters from imagining they may attempt to carry you off.
I had not considered such dangers before, but after the incident with Wickham, I judged it unwise to leave you exposed to men of that character. ”
At the mention of Wickham, Darcy’s expression hardened for a fleeting moment before he mastered it.
“Alhough,” the earl continued more lightly, “I suspect any gentleman foolish enough to attempt such a scheme would soon regret the decision—particularly given the protection that has been arranged for your care. Still, I prefer not to test the matter and will allow you to enter Society as a matron.”
Once the arrangements were settled with surprising ease, Darcy rose, eager to secure a few moments alone with Elizabeth.
“It is a fine day, despite the cold. Might anyone care to take a walk in the gardens?”
Elizabeth agreed at once, and soon the engaged couple, together with Richard and Georgiana, were walking beneath the winter sky.
For several minutes Richard remained inconveniently close, much to Darcy’s private irritation and his cousin’s obvious amusement.
At last, however, his cousin allowed a natural distance to grow between the pairs.
As soon as the others were out of earshot, Elizabeth turned to Darcy.
“William,” she said softly, “I have had an idea, and I would know your thoughts.”
His expression warmed. “I cannot imagine a subject on which I would refuse to hear you.”
“It concerns Netherfield.”
His brows lifted slightly in question.
“In truth,” she continued, “once we are married, I shall have no need of it. We shall have Pemberley, and Granfield Park—”
“And my investments,” he added lightly. “Including a small farm in Scotland. Several leased farms and a few other small properties.”
She blinked at him in surprise, her expression quickly softening into reflection. “Then we have even more reason to do something about Netherfield. We do not require another estate to occupy our time and attention.”
He watched her closely now, wondering what she might be thinking.
“What do you propose?”
“That we offer it to your cousin.”
“As a gift?”
She shook her head at once. “He would refuse it. Pride would not allow him to accept such generosity, and I would not wound him in attempting to do him good. But I would see him settled. Secure. Particularly if—”
“If he marries your cousin Jane,” Darcy finished quietly.
A faint colour touched her cheeks, but she did not look away. “If he marries Jane.”