Chapter Twenty-three
Darcy
One week later
“You appear pleased with yourself,” Arthur observed, settling into the chair beside him with a brandy in hand.
The entire family was gathered in the drawing room, the atmosphere lighter than it had been in some while.
“I take it Elizabeth’s mood has improved?
She is no longer distant? She does not appear to be. ”
“No,” Darcy replied with a sly smile. “Perhaps it was merely the fact that she was so unaccustomed to being around my family which caused her to be distant. She has been far more personable of late. I suppose I am easily unsettled due to how quickly we were wed and jump at shadows, so to speak.”
“You are not usually so easily vexed, but I must say, I have also never seen you so attached to a woman before.”
Arthur’s gaze shifted to where Richard stood near the pianoforte, ostensibly turning pages for Georgiana as his attention remained fixed with transparent interest on Kitty Bennet.
“Mrs Darcy is an excellent woman. You are fortunate to have found each other, however accidentally. I suspect yours may not be the only match to emerge from this Irish adventure.”
Darcy followed his cousin’s line of sight, observing what had become increasingly obvious to anyone paying attention over the past several days.
Richard and Kitty had been increasingly inseparable, their attachment evident in the way they sought each other’s company.
Mrs Bennet certainly had noticed, her satisfaction radiating like heat from a fire whenever they occupied the same room.
The dinner bell sounded, drawing the company towards the dining room in a loose procession. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, pleased when she took it with a smile.
“You seem content this evening,” he murmured as they walked, pitching his voice low enough that only she could hear.
“I am content. These past days have been...” She paused, searching for words adequate to convey whatever she was feeling. “Unexpected. In the best possible way.”
At the table, they were seated adjacent to each other. It allowed for quiet exchanges beneath the general conversation and small intimacies that had begun to characterize their interactions.
Their hands met beneath the tablecloth during the fish course, fingers intertwining briefly before duty required attending to the meal. But the contact lingered in his awareness, warmth spreading from that simple touch in ways that made concentrating difficult.
“I have an announcement,” Richard declared when the second course had been cleared.
He arose, drawing all attention to where he stood beside Kitty’s chair.
“Miss Catherine Bennet has done me the very great honour of agreeing to enter formal courtship with me. With her father’s permission, naturally, which I sought this afternoon and which he graciously granted. ”
Applause erupted around the table. Mrs Bennet’s shriek of delight nearly drowned out Lady Matlock’s more measured congratulations. Kitty blushed prettily as Richard beamed with obvious satisfaction.
Lady Matlock raised her glass in toast. “This is wonderful news! Kitty, dear, I could not be more pleased. You shall make an excellent addition to our family and a most delightful shopping companion. We must visit the modiste in Town together once the Season begins. I have recommendations I shall share with you.”
Kitty’s voice held, just. “You are too kind, my lady. I am honoured by your approval.”
“Approval?” Mrs Bennet could contain herself no longer.
“Of course Lady Matlock approves! And why should she not? My daughters are perfectly suitable matches for any gentleman, regardless of consequence. Why, I knew from the moment Elizabeth married Mr Darcy that it would throw my other girls in the way of rich men! Such connections inevitably lead to further advantageous alliances.”
The specific phrasing echoed in Darcy’s mind with uncomfortable clarity.
Throw my other girls in the way of rich men.
Not introduce them to appropriate society or naturally allow opportunities for suitable matches, but deliberately position them to capture wealthy husbands, as if such captures were the primary objective.
His old unease about fortune hunting stirred, that familiar wariness that had dogged him through years of navigating society as a wealthy unmarried man.
The suspicion that every unmarried woman viewed him primarily as a prize to be won, that every introduction concealed mercenary calculation beneath it.
But no. He rejected that interpretation even as it formed.
This was merely Mrs Bennet being Mrs Bennet, tactless but essentially harmless in her enthusiasms. There was nothing sinister in wanting her daughters secure and comfortable, however inelegantly expressed.
Every mother with unmarried daughters harboured similar hopes, even if most possessed sufficient social awareness to avoid voicing them quite so baldly.
“Mama,” Jane said in a gentle voice. “I think you mean that we are happy Kitty has found love. That is what matters most, not wealth or connection, but true affection between two people who suit each other.”
“Well, naturally love matters,” Mrs Bennet conceded, her tone suggesting love was perhaps secondary to more practical considerations. “But one cannot deny the material advantages of such matches. Rich men, after all, make for far more comfortable marriages than poor ones.”
The remainder of dinner passed in celebration of Richard’s announcement, Mrs Bennet’s earlier commentary gradually forgotten beneath discussion of courtship customs and Lady Matlock’s generous offers to assist Kitty in preparing for her eventual entry into higher society.
“I must beg your pardon,” Elizabeth said to him as a few people gathered afterwards for tea and cards.
“I promised Jane and Mary time together before they depart tomorrow. A proper farewell without all the chaos that will inevitably accompany the actual departure. Would you mind if I joined them upstairs?”
“Of course not. Family is important, particularly when you will be separated from them for some time. However, I admit I shall miss your company even for that brief period.”
“I shall wait up for you,” she promised. “We can speak properly then, without all these interruptions.”
He watched her depart with her sisters, observing the affectionate way they linked arms together in comfortable familiarity.
Then he accepted brandy from Lord Matlock and settled near the fire with Arthur and Richard, who was still basking in the glow of his successful courtship announcement. The conversation turned to politics and comfortable topics that required minimal attention.
“Fitzwilliam.”
Lady Catherine stood in the doorway, her expression severe even by her usual exacting standards.
Every instinct urged refusal. But years of ingrained courtesy compelled him to rise, to excuse himself from his cousins and follow his aunt into the small study off the main corridor.
She closed the door, then turned to face him with an expression that managed to combine triumph and disapproval.
“I have proof,” she announced without preamble. “Proof that your wife has been deceiving you from the beginning. And she has been secretly involved with those Irish fortune hunters who attempted to trap you.”
The pleasant anticipation that had been occupying his thoughts dissipated at once, replaced by irritation.
“You will cease this nonsense immediately. I have tolerated your disapproval of my marriage out of respect for familial connection and your relationship to my late mother, but I will not permit you to continue to malign my wife with baseless accusations!”
Lady Catherine’s eyebrows rose. “Baseless? I think not. And before you dismiss my concerns as mere prejudice, perhaps you ought to examine this.”
She withdrew a folded letter from her reticule and extended it towards him.
He made no move to accept it, revulsion at the entire situation making him reluctant to touch whatever his aunt offered. “Where did you acquire correspondence presumably not addressed to you?”
“I assigned a maid to monitor your wife’s letters.
Do not look at me in that scandalized fashion.
It was necessary precaution given the suspicious nature of your rushed matrimony.
” She thrust the letter closer. “The sender’s name may interest you.
Annabelle Sempill. I believe she was among those who cornered you at the garden party. ”
Cold moved through him like ice water. He remembered that name. Mrs Ahearn had mentioned it in passing, identifying the women as members of the Sempill family, known for having a scheming grandmother inclined towards scrupulous marital measures.
“From the look on your face, it is clear that you recognise it. The name meant nothing to me initially when I first examined the correspondence. But upon reading the contents and making certain inquiries...” She pressed the missive into his reluctant hand. “Perhaps you ought to judge for yourself.”
Against every inclination, Darcy unfolded the pages. The script was feminine and unfamiliar. He skimmed the opening pleasantries before catching on phrases that set his mind whirling.
My sweet Elizabeth,
How wonderful to receive your letter! I confess I had feared our old friendship entirely severed after so long. Your kindness in writing, despite everything that has transpired, means more than I can adequately express...
Nausea rose in his throat, but he knew he had to finish the letter.
Congratulations are certainly in order regarding your marriage to Mr Darcy. I think I extended such in our previous correspondence, but I truly must tell you how delighted I am for you. Your mother must be pleased also, given the implications.
He seems an excellent match, far better suited to you than he ever would have been to me, regardless of our original hopes. I am relieved matters resolved as they did. You were always destined for something greater than the schemes desperation forced upon us...
The words blurred. His mind raced through implications, possibilities, and explanations that might make this mean something other than what it appeared to mean.
But the phrases lingered, impossibly damning.
Our original hopes. The schemes desperation forced upon us.
There was the clear suggestion of coordination, likely proof of Elizabeth’s involvement in the very plots against which she had supposedly rescued him.
I understand your position does not allow you to financially assist as of right now, but in due course, I would be grateful for anything that can be spared…
He could not continue reading. The words were already burning themselves into his memory.
His aunt’s voice seemed to come from a great distance, filtered through the roaring in his ears.
“You see? She has been corresponding with these people and offering them assistance. The entire scheme—your supposed rescue, the hasty engagement, everything else—was orchestrated from the beginning. You have been deceived, Fitzwilliam, by a woman who clearly works in concert with fortune hunters to entrap wealthy men. I would not be surprised to learn that her family’s also involved in this. ”
“That is…” He barely recognised the voice that came out. He cleared his throat and tried again with marginally more success. “You cannot know with certainty that the Bennets are involved in this.”
“Can I not? Mrs Bennet’s comments at dinner this evening, what was that if not admission of coordinated strategy?
I take no pleasure in this revelation. Nor do I derive satisfaction from being proven correct about your wife’s unsuitability.
But you must face the truth. Her entire rescue was theatre designed to position her as your saviour, thereby obligating you to her through gratitude and honour.
A brilliant strategy, actually, far more sophisticated than simple compromise. ”
Darcy stared down at the pages, unable to look away.
Elizabeth had written to these people, maintaining secret correspondence and promising them help from his own coffers most likely.
These weren’t just any women. These were individuals who had attempted to trap him into unwanted matrimony, without regard for his own involvement.
What possible explanation could justify such contact? What reason could she have for corresponding with his attempted entrappers except...
The obvious answer loomed before him, unavoidable however much he wished to deny it.
She had played her role in an elaborate scheme that had succeeded beyond anything simple compromise could have achieved, because instead of trapping him into marriage with a stranger, she had secured the position herself whilst appearing to be his rescuer rather than another hunter.
“I know this is difficult to accept, but you must protect yourself and the dignity of your position. An annulment might still be possible if the marriage has not been…if you have not...”
“Enough.” His utterance was sharp enough to make his aunt pause mid-sentence. “Leave me. I need... I need to think.”
“Of course. Take whatever time you require.” She paused at the door. “But Fitzwilliam, do not allow sentiment to blind you to reality. Whatever feelings you may have developed for this woman, they were built on deception. Remember that when you confront her.”
The door closed behind her, leaving Darcy alone with the wreckage of everything he had allowed himself to believe.
He sank into the nearest chair, forcing himself to read the correspondence again. He searched desperately for alternative interpretations, anything that might make this mean something other than total betrayal.
Yet the words remained stubbornly damning. Elizabeth had let him fall hopelessly in love with her while scheming in secret.
Did she truly care for him?
And how long did she intend to maintain the pretence, appearing to be affectionate while laughing privately at how thoroughly she had deceived him into believing their union was a genuine partnership?
The fire burned low in the grate, casting shadows that seemed to mock his earlier contentment. He stared into it, the letter still clutched in his grasp like an accusation he could not release.
As he sat alone in the study, he wondered if anything between them had ever been real at all.