Chapter Nine #2
Mr. Darcy came around the desk to stand next to him.
“My poor boy. But you will not make yourself a fool over a woman whose position is so decidedly beneath your own. I see why you have come here, spouting this poison against my godson. I should have understood it from the first. My dear boy, there is so, so, so much that I have wanted in my life, but which I never let myself have. I wish you did not need to follow my example in this as well, but I have every confidence in you. You will do as your conscience and your duty demand.”
“Sir, I have spoken of your duty. I tell you that Mr. Wickham should not be allowed to marry Jane Bennet. He should never be given a living. In so far as I have the power to prevent either of those travesties, I shall use it.”
“Fitzwilliam.” Sharp, snapping voice. Reprimand.
Mr. Darcy’s voice was suddenly as it always had been.
“I am still the master here. Jane Bennet was entrusted to me by her father, not to you. Not to you. And she is not for you. As much as you would wish to follow your heart, harden yourself. Act as a Darcy. Remember what you owe your family. Remember what you owe yourself. I have seldom been so disappointed in you as I am right now. You must understand that you must allow her to marry another.”
“I am not—”
“Silence.”
His son stood tall, strong, like a grand stallion rearing for the race.
Soon his own race would end, and Fitzwilliam’s would begin.
All that he could do now was give a few parting words of wisdom, a few orders.
And he could make it impossible for Fitzwilliam to make the particular mistake he hovered above.
“The passions inside a man’s heart are hard to control.
I know this is true. But you shall win over your inner struggle.
You understand what you must do. Fitzwilliam, go.
Go to Matlock; Richard has finally returned from India.
You must wish to see him again before he joins his new regiment; you two will enjoy your time together.
I will not see you here again until Jane is safely married, and it is too late for you to engage in any further foolishness. ”
“Papa, I—” Darcy felt sick inside. He did not want to leave his father. And not because his father believed that ridiculous notion that Wickham suggested that he was in love with Miss Bennet. “Papa, I don’t want to leave. I hurried across the seas to return to you as fast as I could. And I—”
“My dear boy, it is for the best. You have now seen me again. There is no reason why you must remain. You will leave, and you will not speak to Jane at all. Do you hear me? Swear to me. Fitzwilliam—I trust your honor. Even in a case where your heart is engaged, you will not speak to her if you swear that you will not.”
“I have no—”
“Swear!” Mr. Darcy’s eyes bulged out. He pressed his hand against his stomach. He leaned weakly against the side of his desk. He in fact felt quite ill and weak after that spasm of rage, and the pain was greater than he could remember.
That was good. Fitzwilliam would see, and he would listen and do as he must. Both Fitzwilliam and George hurried to his side to help him, but Mr. Darcy pushed his son away and only let his godson help him.
“Swear to me, Fitzwilliam, swear to me that you will make no attempt to communicate further with Jane Bennet until she is married.”
At this point Darcy made a choice that would sit uneasily upon his conscience for many years.
He later thought that it would have been his duty to make any attempt, no matter how unlikely it was to succeed, to directly speak with Jane and dissuade her from her marriage to Wickham.
However, in blaming himself on these grounds, he was unfair to himself, since it was only after he made the oath that he even thought of speaking to Jane directly for that purpose.
“I swear that I will not speak with her until she is married,” Darcy said, and he had the happiness of seeing his father relax. He had been most unsettled by his father’s temper, and by his father’s present weakness. It was unlike what he had always been.
Mr. Darcy was satisfied to hear that much, but he knew he must ask more of his son.
This was when he could ensure that his son would never be overcome by any unsuitable attachment.
He added in a pained whisper, “Swear that you will never marry a woman who is not worthy in position and fortune to be connected to the Darcy name.”
“Of course I will not—”
“Swear it. Upon your honor as a gentleman. For your old father. I trust your honor, even if not always your wisdom. If you swear solemnly to such a thing, I will die knowing that it shall be so.”
Darcy felt an odd reluctance to say what his father wished him to. He of course had no intentions to marry anyone beneath him. That would be absurd. But when asked to make this a solemn oath, he hesitated. It made little sense.
Papa’s face twisted in pain. “Oh, it progresses. My son, my son. Swear to me, I beg you. It is a simple thing, and then I may be satisfied. Please swear.”
“I swear,” Darcy said slowly.
“What do you swear?”
“I swear, upon my honor as a gentleman…” Darcy’s voice cracked.
Wickham watched them.
This was ridiculous. He had come here to tell his father about Wickham’s misbehaviors, and now that gentleman was grinning at him, his position in Papa’s affections unharmed.
Wickham’s marriage with Jane Bennet would still occur, and he had even now sworn to make no attempt to talk her out of it.
“Fitzwilliam, please, say it. Do not delay. I know that you shall always do what you say. You know what you owe your family. Do as your conscience demands.”
“I swear,” Darcy said in a confident voice, “that I shall never marry a woman if my conscience rebels against the marriage. I will never marry a woman whose character I consider to be unworthy of my family name.”
“Swear that you will never marry a woman without position or fortune, simply on account of her beauty.”
“Do you wish for me to swear to marry a wealthy woman? Or would you be satisfied by the daughter of an impoverished gambling duke? I must know the particulars before I make the oath to put connections and wealth above all else, so that I can know the meaning to attach to my words.”
“Fitzwilliam, I wish you to swear to me that you will never make a fool of yourself over a woman. That you will not be weak like I have seen many of my friends to be.”
“Then I will happily swear to never marry a woman simply on account of her beauty. I know that beauty without character is of no account. But I also know—Papa, though you die right here before me, I will not make an oath that my conscience refuses. I do hope to marry a woman of fortune and connections, but there is something ill in your insistence upon this. I shall make no solemn oath to be as mercenary as a banker or a slave trader. And if you were to attend to your duty and conscience, you would prevent the marriage between Miss Bennet and Mr. Wickham. Further, since you must provide a place for him—our honor is pledged in that matter—give him an estate, support him in the law, buy him a commission—anything, anything at all. But do not place him into supervision of the souls of honest men.”
“Fitzwilliam, you disappoint me.”
“Papa, you have disappointed me—I shall be off as soon as I say a few words to Georgiana. Will an exile of a fortnight be sufficient for this unfortunate marriage to be completed? I shall see you again afterwards.”