Chapter 23
“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,” the butler of Matlock intoned stentoriously.
Lady Matlock, who had been drowsing by the parlor fire, leaped to her feet at these remarkable words, her mouth dropping open at the sight before her.
Her nephew she knew well enough; tall, handsome, dressed soberly and elegantly. She had never seen him with such a joyful expression, however, and that exuberance must be the result of the young lady on his arm.
Rachel Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, realized that she did not recognize the new Mrs. Darcy at all.
She had an unwed son of marriageable age and thus always kept a sharp eye out for eligible young ladies.
This woman was young and handsome, though dressed in a simple lavender dress which suggested a recent death in the family. Who was she?
All these thoughts passed through her mind in an instant as she stepped forward to greet her guests.
“Lady Matlock,” her nephew said with a formal bow, “May I please introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy? Elizabeth, Lady Matlock, my aunt and the mother of Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth curtsied deeply and smiled, revealing an adorable dimple in her cheek, “Lady Matlock, it is truly an honor to meet you. I met your son, Colonel Fitzwilliam, in Kent last year when I was visiting a friend.”
“It is wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Darcy!” Rachel Matlock replied mechanically, her mind working busily. Richard had mentioned a young lady visiting ... the parson’s wife, perhaps? Who was this girl, and why had Darcy, of all people, married her on the sly?
“May I inquire as to when you were married?” she continued, struggling to retain her equanimity. She did hope that Darcy had not done anything excessively stupid; Lord Matlock was a good humored man, but prone to irritability if his young relations ran riot.
“It has been seven weeks since we were married,” Darcy explained, his gaze on his wife’s piquant face.
Now Lady Matlock was astounded, “Seven weeks? Darcy, how could you keep such a thing from us all this time?”
“It was a question of distance, dear aunt. We were married in St. Croix in the Caribbean Sea,” Darcy declared solemnly, though there was a look of devilry in his eyes.
Really, for a moment Lady Matlock thought she was looking into the face of her dear son Richard, who could be quite impertinent at times!
“The Caribbean Sea?”
“I was forced by circumstances to travel to St. Croix after the death of my father, Lady Matlock,” Elizabeth explained smoothly.
“Mr. Darcy followed me there, and after a short courtship, we were married by the Anglican parson. The governor of St. Croix and his wife were kind enough to act as witnesses to the ceremony.”
Lady Matlock looked at the girl with increased respect. It had occurred to her that if the woman was completely unsuitable, a Caribbean marriage could be annulled or discounted. Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy was putting her on notice; the marriage was clearly a valid one and the witnesses respectable.
There was nothing to do but put a good face on it. The young lady was well mannered and beautiful, and Pemberley needed an heir.
“Please do sit down,” she invited, gesturing to the nearby couch. “You took me quite by surprise, and I have forgotten my manners.”
“Thank you, Lady Matlock.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet!” a feminine voice bellowed.
Darcy and Elizabeth turned to face Lady Catherine, who was standing at the door, dressed in an unbecoming shade of purple, a furious scowl adorning her face.
“Miss Bennet,” she continued, stalking closer to Elizabeth, “I am frankly appalled at your conduct! The death of your father, regrettable as it was for your family, is no excuse for your puerile behavior. It was eminently gracious of me to arrange for your engagement to Sir Claude, and then you ran off without a word, requiring my nephew to take valuable time to ...”
“That is enough, Lady Catherine,” Darcy boomed suddenly, causing everyone in the parlor to jump a little.
Lady Catherine stared at him in disbelief, “Darcy ...”
“No, you will listen to me, Lady Catherine,” her nephew ordered in an icy tone, placing a protective arm around his young bride. “Sir Claude is a dissolute reprobate. I followed Elizabeth to St. Croix in the hopes of making her my bride and I did; Elizabeth and I are married.”
Lady Matlock gazed at her sister by marriage with a mixture of astonishment, amusement and a smidgen of concern. Catherine’s face, always highly colored, was rapidly turning a shade of purple. Really, was she going to have a stroke?
“You conniving hussy!” Catherine de Bourgh finally shrieked. “How dare you seduce my nephew! He is engaged to my daughter ...”
“Silence!” Darcy bellowed, cutting off his aunt’s vitriol.
“You will not insult my wife! Is that completely clear? I pursued Elizabeth across the ocean after she fled from Sir Claude Daw, who is a vile, licentious, abusive creature. I have loved her for many months. I never had serious intentions of offering for Anne, and I am the happiest man on earth now that Elizabeth is my wife. You will cease this idiotic tantrum at once! I daresay none of us want an open breach in the family, but I assure you that Elizabeth is my primary concern and I will not hesitate to take steps to protect her.”
Lady Matlock drew in a quick breath at this. It appeared she needed to provide a buffer between the two combatants before things were said that could not be unsaid.
“Mrs. Darcy,” she began rather desperately, “Would you care to, er, take a tour of Matlock House?”
“I have a better idea,” a new voice suggested from the door. “Mrs. Darcy, would you be so kind as to join me in the drawing room? I long to hear of your travels.”
All gazed in surprise at Anne de Bourgh, who was hovering in the doorway, her face wreathed in a welcoming smile.
“Go ahead, my dear,” Darcy encouraged. “I believe that Lady Catherine and I must discuss the situation at more length.”
Elizabeth nodded and boldly rose to her tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss on her husband’s cheek, provoking a hiss of outrage from the mistress of Rosings.
She curtsied deeply to Lady Matlock and sailed out of the room.
/
“St. Croix!” Anne de Bourgh exclaimed, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “Oh, Miss ... Mrs. Darcy, will you please tell me about your voyage and time on St. Croix? I am fascinated by descriptions of other lands.”
Elizabeth Darcy hesitated a moment before responding, “I would be delighted, Miss de Bourgh, but I must ask first whether you are distressed that I am married to Mr. Darcy?”
Anne chuckled and shook her head, “Not at all. I am, in truth, delighted. I hope I value my cousin appropriately, but he is not the man for me, nor am I the woman for him. He is a sober individual and so am I. You are a vibrant, beautiful lady and will make him a most happy wife, not to mention a vigorous mistress of Pemberley. I am not a healthy woman, when all is said and done; indeed, I find it astonishing that my mother has always insisted that I marry Darcy. I really ought not to attempt to bear a child, but you will do very well in that arena. Pemberley must have an heir, after all.”
Elizabeth blushed at this as she eyed the other woman with understanding. Childbirth was a dangerous business and it was true that Miss de Bourgh was a thin and feeble woman.
“Are you happy at Rosings?” she asked before she could think better of it.
Anne shrugged, “I am comfortable, at any rate, and sometimes happy. My mother is a trial, I confess, but I have Mrs. Jenkinson and my own pursuits. I would say I am content.”
Elizabeth considered this before nodding slowly, “I hope you will take this in the spirit in which it is intended, Miss de Bourgh. If you ever wish to spend time away from Lady Catherine, please send a letter to us requesting an invitation. We would be delighted to have you visit either here in London or at Pemberley.”
“Thank you,” Anne replied, her heart touched, her mind racing. In truth, she would enjoy some time at Pemberley; the landscapes of the north were very different from the softly rolling hills of her home county. She was quite ready to write a book whose characters lived in the north.
“I appreciate it,” she finished belatedly, realizing she had fallen silent for a minute. “But now, please tell me of your journey to St. Croix!”
/
Lady Matlock was not certain whether she should be pleased or worried that the Earl of Matlock had joined the group in the parlor. On the one hand, her husband had more influence over Lady Catherine than anyone else on Earth. On the other hand ...
“You married an impoverished country girl?” the Earl demanded of his nephew. “How could you be such a fool, Darcy?”
Lady Catherine was idiotic enough to chime in, “Indeed, it is ridiculous. The girl is an impertinent seductress with no fortune and connections to trade. She is also promised to my relation, Sir Claude! I am quite certain this marriage can be annulled ...”
Lady Matlock shot a horrified look at the thunderous countenance of her nephew and leaped into the fray, “Lady Catherine, you must realize that is absurd. Darcy married the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet in an Anglican Church in a British territory, and the governor of the island and his wife were witnesses. The marriage is entirely legal and cannot be overturned. Furthermore, it is clear that Mrs. Darcy was not at all desirous in marrying this Sir Claude, whomever he might be.”
“The Baronet?” Lord Matlock demanded, turning a disapproving eye on his sister. “Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s degenerate cousin? The man must be five and forty if he is a day!”
Catherine de Bourgh straightened herself up regally, “Sir Claude is desirous of wedding a gentlewoman in the hopes of producing an heir, since his first wife foolishly failed to provide a son. Miss Bennet would be fortunate to wed such a man.”
“Daw is a drunkard, a spendthrift and he physically harmed his first wife,” Darcy retorted with rage in his eyes.
“You will not pair Mrs. Darcy with that reprobate again, Lady Catherine. I have already visited Sir Claude; I left him with an aching jaw and a threat to buy up his debts and have him cast into debtors’ prison if he so much as whispers my wife’s name in company. ”
The Earl stared at his nephew in astonishment. Darcy had always been a strong-willed young cub, but he had also been constrained by the dictates of polite society. It seemed that the young Mrs. Darcy had kindled true devotion in the heart of the master of Pemberley.
“How dare you?” Lady Catherine snarled, her color rising. “I am your aunt and ...”
“Enough of this,” Matlock interrupted without compunction.
“Enough, Catherine. Darcy is right about Daw. He has a bad reputation in polite company, and the truth of the matter may be far worse. In any case, the marriage is legal and the young lady is Mrs. Darcy. There is no point in contesting it. Besides, as autocratic as you are, did you really imagine you could force Darcy to marry Anne if he did not wish to do so?”
This left his sister gaping and mercifully silent, and he turned his attention to his wife.
“My dear, I have not met the young lady, but it appears she will need to be launched into society.”
“Indeed,” his lady answered with a relieved smile. “Mrs. Darcy is a lovely woman with charming manners and I will be overjoyed to introduce her to the haut ton. May I ask, Darcy, when her father died?”
“It has been about six months,” her nephew replied, taking deep breaths to calm his ire. “Mr. Bennet passed on to his reward in early June.”
His aunt nodded her relief, “Excellent. She will be completely out of mourning soon, I presume? If you are amenable, I will arrange for a ball here at Matlock House in March or April at the beginning of the Season?”
Darcy sighed and relaxed. He had, he admitted, been somewhat fearful that his Matlock relations would be unwilling to accept Elizabeth and was relieved that Lady Matlock was ready to sponsor his beloved into society.
“That would be wonderful,” he replied. “Thank you, Lady Matlock. I expect that Mrs. Darcy and I, along with Georgiana, will be traveling to Pemberley soon, but we will return to London at the appropriate time.”
“But what of Anne?” his other aunt demanded, having recovered sufficiently from her outrage to speak. “How could you abuse her so, Darcy? All these years she has been waiting for you! Now what will she do?”
“Anne is the incredibly wealthy heiress to a vast estate,” her undutiful nephew snapped back. “She is hardly in danger of dying of starvation nor, I suppose, will you permit a vile middle-aged man to attempt to make her his wife by force. Anne will be well, Lady Catherine.”