Epilogue 2
Edward Lansfield, Marquess of Aylesbury and only son of the Duke of Essex, shifted nervously as he waited for the front door to be opened at his sister’s house. Finally, the door opened, and Edward breathed a sigh of relief when the butler took him directly to Darcy’s study.
Darcy stood up when Edward entered and greeted him with a friendly smile that Edward could only be grateful for. “I did not expect you for many hours, yet,” said Darcy. “I assumed we would not see you until the dinner party tonight. Is there something amiss?”
Edward shook his head. “Not truly,” he said. “I was simply hoping to ask your advice on a rather delicate matter.”
Darcy’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, merely waved to a chair as an invitation to sit.
As Edward settled into his chair, he attempted to compose his thoughts.
Edward looked up to Darcy a great deal. The man was a dozen years his senior, not quite old enough to be a father figure but definitely old enough to offer sound advice.
In the ten years since his sister had married the man, Edward had frequently sought him out, as well as his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam who was a frequent guest of the Darcys, whenever he needed assistance navigating the rocky waters of London society.
The two men together had become Edward’s role models, far more so than his father had ever been. He admired the strength they exuded, their steadiness, and the respect they commanded, but he admired even more the way their wives loved them and they loved their wives.
Once Edward was settled, he said, “Father has become quite insistent that I marry soon. Every time I see him, he is shoving another lady at me. He says that since neither he nor I have any brothers, I must do my duty and secure our lineage. The whole thing is becoming quite irritating.”
He sighed. “It isn’t that I am opposed to marriage in general.
I’ve had plenty of time to enjoy myself as a single gentleman, and I wouldn’t mind moving on to the next stage of life.
It’s just that none of these ladies interest me in the slightest. I can never tell what they are thinking or who they really are.
Everything is covered up by their manners much like heavy makeup covers up what an opera singer truly looks like. ”
Darcy appeared to understand, though he still said nothing. The silence wasn’t oppressive. Rather it was welcoming, making it easier for Edward to share his thoughts.
“What I truly want is what you have, what Colonel Fitzwilliam has,” said Edward with a frustrated sigh.
“I want to love my wife and be loved by her in return, but without being able to see who these ladies truly are, I run the risk of marrying someone more like my mother than my sister.” He shivered. “What a disaster that would be.”
“I am afraid I can’t help much,” said Darcy. “I wasn’t looking for love or a wife when I found Elizabeth. Love simply struck me unexpectedly. I can understand your frustrations, though, since I felt the same way before I met her. It was one of many reasons why I had not sought out a wife earlier.”
“Can you at least tell me how I can know what kind of wife a lady will be?” asked Edward.
Darcy looked at him for several moments as he clearly thought about Edward’s question. “Is there no lady that you are comfortable with, that you feel you already know?” asked Darcy. “You have been circulating in society for at least five years. You must have come to know someone.”
A freckled, smiling face with kind, cheerful eyes swam to the surface of Edward’s mind. “I suppose there is one lady, though she is hardly suitable to be the wife of a future duke. Miss Mary King.”
He first met Miss King nine years ago, when she was staying with Elizabeth for the Season.
Apparently, she was one of Elizabeth’s friends from her time growing up in Hertfordshire.
When he met her, she was just the niece of a wealthy gentleman from the country.
He knew nothing about her family, other than that her parents were deceased, or about her circumstance, and he didn’t care.
He treated her as a friend of his sister’s, respectfully but not with any sort of particular attention.
Two years later, however, Miss King’s uncle inherited the title of Baron Crawford.
Even Elizabeth had been surprised. Mr. King had never advertised his connection to that family, because he never expected to inherit.
There had been three people between him and the title, after all.
Besides, they were all his mother’s relatives who she had become estranged from.
Miss King had little experience with the ton, so Elizabeth had sponsored her and mentored her as she navigated her way through such a shift in expectations. It was during this time that Edward had come to know her better.
He was old enough by then to have a bit of experience with how gentlemen thought and what they expected, so whenever they were in company together, Miss King would seek him out for advice or simple knowledge about society or gentlemen.
Gradually they became friends since she was relaxing to be around, and she seemed to genuinely enjoy his company.
Despite her hard work, Miss King had never been particularly popular or socially successful. Edward had never understood it. While she was not necessarily beautiful, she was hardly repulsive either, and her friendliness and kindness should have appealed to at least some of his peers.
But no. Seven years had passed, and Miss King was still unmarried. He was fairly certain she was twenty-eight now, three years older than he was, and she was quickly approaching the age when she would not be considered for marriage at all.
He wondered why her image had appeared in his mind in that moment, but the question did not remain unanswered for long. Darcy had asked if there was any lady he knew well, that he was comfortable with, and that described Miss King perfectly.
She was his friend, his relaxing companion when balls or dinners became stuffy or oppressive. She was easy to talk to and pleasant to be around. Yet, he couldn’t honestly say he was attracted to her. She lacked that curviness that spoke to a man’s baser instincts.
“And why would you say Miss King is not suitable to be your wife?” asked Darcy. Before Edward could answer, Darcy hastily added, “I am neither agreeing nor disagreeing with you. I am merely curious about your reasoning.”
“Well, for one thing, her status is quite low. She is merely the niece of a baron. She does not even have a courtesy title,” said Edward. “Her fortune, though quite suitable for her station, is also not particularly great.”
“Are those the only reasons?” asked Darcy as he looked at Edward piercingly.
Edward said nothing, but he shifted in his seat.
“Tell me, if you truly loved her, would these circumstances deter you?” asked Darcy.
“I don’t know for certain. I can’t say I have ever been in love. Obsession, attraction, lust. I have felt all these things. But I have never felt the way you feel about Elizabeth, that I would defy all powers simply for the chance to be with her.”
Edward paused and thought for a moment. “Even so, compared to all the ladies I have met who are of a suitable status and fortune, Miss King is vastly superior.”
Edward began to think of what it would be like to marry Miss King. She would be good company to ward off a lonely evening or a boring Sunday afternoon. He was all too familiar with that kind of loneliness, and he well knew that poor company could make such times even worse.
She could play the piano moderately well, enough to play simple dancing tunes, which was all Edward cared about. She would also make an excellent hostess. With her genuine kindness, she would ensure that any guest in their home was always welcome and happy.
The more he thought about it, the more pleased he was with the prospect. As a comparison, he tried imagining living with the most pleasant of the Ladies of his acquaintance. Nothing came to mind. It was a blank, because he knew so little of them.
If Elizabeth had never come back home, Edward was nearly certain he would be content with such blankness.
He had grown up with it, and though he didn’t like it, he would have never known anything else was possible.
Elizabeth, however, had brought warmth and light to Pollaner.
Now that he knew such warmth existed, Edward did not think he could be happy with a wife who did not or could not do the same.
Darcy had still not spoken, and Edward was grateful he had been given time to think. “I believe that, if I must marry, perhaps Miss King would make a suitable wife after all. There is only one thing, one small impediment, that remains.”
“And that is?” asked Darcy.
“I am not attracted to her,” said Edward, not looking directly at his brother-in-law.
“Are you repulsed by her?”
“No, not at all.” Edward waved his hands to emphasize his denial. “It is nothing like that. It is just that she is not…does not…I mean…” He trailed off, not knowing how to complete the thought.
“I think I understand,” said Darcy. After a bit of silence, Darcy said, “I don’t know if this helps, but I have observed that the way a man feels about a woman depends a great deal on how he labels her in his mind.
For example, you would not likely fall in love or wish to marry an opera dancer, because your mind labels them as suitable for distant admiration or possibly a mutually agreed upon dalliance but not for marriage.
Additionally, you would not even think of dallying with the unmarried daughter of a marquess, because you well know that she is the kind of lady one marries and one doesn’t trifle with.
Of course, this also applies to ladies one defines as friends. ”