Chapter 37 #2
For a moment, he recalled the afternoon prior to their wedding when Lord Granfield and Lord Matlock had spoken privately with Mr Bennet in his study. At the time, he had thought little of it. He wondered now whether that conversation had led to some consequences he had not anticipated.
“He left a letter for you here?” he asked lightly. “At Netherfield?”
“Yes. Mrs Hurst said he left it for me several weeks ago. I have not yet read it; instead, I waited to see if you would read it with me. It makes me wonder whether it contains some important intelligence, and I cannot determine whether that is cause for delight or alarm.”
“Let us hope it is not the latter,” he returned, amusement touching his tone.
“Your grandfather is not in the habit of dispatching dramatic revelations without warning. No, I suspect he wishes us to know something while we remain in Hertfordshire. Did you not say he had already departed for his estate?”
“He has, but I believe he stopped at Netherfield on his way north. That must have been when he left it.”
“You have it with you?”
She smiled, faintly conspiratorial, he thought, and withdrew the folded letter from the hidden pocket at her side.
A moment later, the letter was opened, and Darcy leant to read over Elizabeth’s shoulder from where they sat comfortably on a settee. They remained in silence for several minutes, and as his eye travelled down the page, his astonishment deepened.
“I cannot imagine by what means Grandpapa and Lord Matlock persuaded Mr Collins to join with Mr Bennet in barring the entail,” Elizabeth said when he at last drew back, the letter still in his hand.
“Now Uncle Bennet may leave the estate to whichever daughter is unmarried or whose husband does not already possess one. It seems Grandpapa ensured the will was properly drawn, which was likely part of his reason for coming here, beyond merely leaving me this letter.”
“Granfield appears somewhat irritated with Mr Bennet,” Darcy observed, glancing again at the page. “Particularly as he entrusts it to you to see that Jane and Mary are, at the very least, informed of the alteration.”
He folded the letter with deliberate care. “He undertook it, I think, as acknowledgement of your uncle and aunt’s care of you. I cannot doubt that Mr Collins’s character strongly influenced their resolve. The man is a fool. In possession of Longbourn, he would very likely have ruined it.”
“Grandpapa did express displeasure with Uncle Bennet on several occasions when we saw him in London. I had wondered why he maintained the contact since I was no longer at Longbourn. I suppose he and Lord Matlock must have been arranging this since they met with Uncle Bennet in December. As you recall, we had wondered at the purpose for this meeting.”
Darcy smiled, gratified by the ease with which her reasoning aligned with his own. He had reached the same conclusion.
“I believe you are entirely correct,” he said quietly. “I reached much the same conclusion myself. I do wonder, however, by what means they persuaded Collins to relinquish his interest in the estate.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Your uncle and my grandfather excel at arranging matters so that others accomplish precisely what they intended, yet depart convinced it was their own brilliant scheme.”
Her eyes sparkled as she added, “Grandpapa has been decidedly vexed to discover that those talents are less effective where you are concerned.”
Darcy gave a low groan. “I have little inclination to pursue a title, whatever arguments your grandfather and my uncle may advance. Can you truly picture me in the House of Lords, seated amongst gentlemen whose chief exertions extend no further than the preservation of their own interests? I am surprised they have settled upon a knighthood for Richard; I wonder if he knows of that honour yet.”
He shook his head. “No. Even were I to bear the style of lord, I should be ill-suited to politics. I would much rather remain at a distance from London whenever it may be contrived. These past months in Town have tried me sorely, the incessant society and the necessity of civilities towards those for whom I possess no particular regard. If I were allowed the choice and did not require connexions there or the conduct of business, I would spend very little time in London at all.”
“Well,” Elizabeth returned lightly, “I suppose it is fortunate, then, that we shall not be obliged to quit Derbyshire for more than a twelvemonth after we arrive there later this month.”
He looked at her more closely. “My aunt will insist that we attend at least a portion of the Season again next year.”
“Not if I am with child, as I have begun to suspect.”
He stilled.
“I spoke with Aunt Rosalind just before we left Town, and if all proceeds as it ought, the child may be expected at the close of the year.”
“Truly?” Darcy asked, every other consideration driven at once from his mind.
“I cannot be certain. My aunt advised that I wait before telling you since I have only recently begun to notice the signs. Still, it is entirely possible.”
Darcy’s smile began slowly, soon deepening into a warmth he did not attempt to conceal. He reached for her hand, but that small contact did not suffice. Rising, he drew her gently to him and enclosed her in his arms.
“A child, Elizabeth?”
“You are pleased with the idea,” she murmured, her words softened by their being pressed against his chest.
“So very much,” he replied. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before easing her back so that he might look upon her. “So very pleased.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, the smile refusing to leave his face. “I believed nothing could exceed the happiness of calling you my wife, and in that I was correct. This—this stands next to it, my love. We shall be parents, dearest Elizabeth.”
She looked up at him, her eyes luminous, and whatever lingering uncertainty she had felt in defying her aunt’s counsel seemed to melt beneath his enthusiasm. The expression that met his carried such warmth and quiet relief that he suspected she had not been entirely certain of his reception.
For a moment, he could not speak. The idea echoed in his mind with quiet force. He would soon be a father.
As he reflected upon the past six months, he recognised how many arrangements had been set in motion, some without his knowledge or consent. Alliances had been proposed, estates transferred to different owners, expectations advanced or discreetly refused; each handled with deliberate calculation.
This life, this marriage, this child had not been contrived for either of them.
They had chosen this arrangement, however unsuitable some might once have deemed it.
In that choice, he found himself wholly content.