Chapter 12
SMALL MEASURE
“When at first my son informed me of his desire to meet your eldest daughter, I confess to suffering a bit of skepticism.”
Detecting in his friend’s countenance no small measure of bewilderment, Mr. Darcy continued, “Do not mistake me, my friend. My reasoning has nothing at all to do with your lovely daughter. Quite the contrary. It has to do with what I know of my son. He has long resisted the idea of marrying.
“I sometimes fear his heart is not so easily touched as countless young ladies will no doubt attest, but then he suddenly suffered what appears to be a change of heart, almost overnight.” Darcy rubbed his hand along his bearded chin. “It is as if he knows—”
“Knows what, my friend?” Bennet asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“That is a matter for another time. As grateful as I am to welcome you to Pemberley after all these years, I suppose what I really am trying to say is I would not expect too much to become of your trip.”
“You know your son better than I do, of course. However, I would not be so quick to wager that young Darcy’s heart is not easily touched. Surely you have observed how he looks at my daughter when he supposes no one is looking.”
“I will neither deny nor confirm your point, however I would ask you this. Of which of your two lovely daughters do you speak?”
“That, my friend, is indeed the question. You know me too well not to take my meaning, and thus I shall say no more. Besides, it is my turn to pose a question.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“This matter that you wish to speak of at a later time, might it have anything to do with your health?”
Darcy pursed his lips. “Your powers of perception have never failed to impress me, my old friend. Indeed, it has everything to do with my health. Pray you will join me for a walk about the grounds, and I shall confide in you that which I have yet to speak of with my own flesh and blood.”
The two gentlemen set off for a long, leisurely stroll. One talked. The other listened. When almost everything that could be said was said and compassionate sentiments and sympathetic words were all but exhausted, the latter said, “And you have told no one about this? Not even your own son?”
The other man nodded. “Indeed, I have not.”
“But why in heavens not—if I may be allowed to ask?”
“I am a proud man. More than that, I am a private man. I will not have people making a fuss over me. Heaven forbid I should be subjected to anyone’s pity. I have lived life to the fullest, my friend—each and every day, on my own terms.
“If I could change but one thing, my dearest wife, Lady Anne, would not have preceded me in death.” Here, he could not help but smile in remembrance of his lady.
“How I wish the events of our respective lives had not conspired to keep us apart for so long, my friend. I believe you would have loved her. She was nothing at all like her sister, Lady Catherine—let me assure you.”
Bennet nodded. “By the sound of it, the two of you were very much in love,” he said, wishing he could espouse similar sentiments regarding his own situation.
“A love match in the truest sense of the word, which is precisely why neither of us would wish for anything less for our children, I am sure.”
“No less, indeed,” Bennet replied. “No less, indeed.”
And this from a man who had married a woman who possessed far more beauty than intellect.
The fact of the matter was for a man whose property consisted almost entirely in an estate of two thousand a year, he had done a poor job of managing his affairs—both personal as well as financial.
Were he to precede his wife in death, the unfortunate lady might very well be thrown out of Longbourn into the hedgerows.
An advantageous marriage by one or more of his five daughters would be just the thing to make up for his own lapses.
But having witnessed first-hand the results of an alliance not based on a true meeting of the minds, one that lacked mutual admiration and respect, he honestly did not wish for such a union for either of his girls.
Not even an alliance with the most eligible young man in Derbyshire.