Chapter 21
WHERE MR DARCY INFORMS HIS LORDSHIP OF HIS NEWS, AND HIS LORDSHIP IS SERIOUSLY DISPLEASED.
“Mr Darcy, my lord.”
Lord Carlisle raised his eyes from his breakfast plate and dismissed his butler with a brusque wave of his hand. “Nephew,” he said gruffly, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “I see you have come back. I thought you were staying with your friends in Exeter until Christmas.”
Darcy greeted his uncle and kissed Lady Carlisle’s proffered hand. “I have been in Hertfordshire, not Exeter. My plans have since changed. Bingley and his bride have removed to town with their family, and I decided to follow them.”
Lord Carlisle grunted. “Sit down, Darcy. Have a scone.”
“I am glad you are come back, Darcy,” said Lady Carlisle brightly as she handed him a cup of tea.
“Now I can plan my dinner with our friends sooner than later. Lady Eliza will be overjoyed to see you. She was desolate when she heard you had left town, and I daresay so was Lady Harrow. If I did not know better, I would think the countess fancied you herself! She barely batted an eye when Lord Townsend failed to make an appearance the other night.”
The earl snorted derisively. “Townsend is twice Darcy’s age. Of course, she would prefer a young stallion to an old goat.”
“You know nothing of the sort,” the countess replied haughtily. “Lady Harrow is nearly twenty years Darcy’s senior. She is old enough to be his mother.”
“His mother!” Lord Carlisle laughed coarsely. “Mothering is the last thing on that woman’s mind, especially when she looks at Darcy.”
“Henry!” Her face was pinched with anger.
Her husband rolled his eyes and waved her off. “What brings you here this morning, Nephew? Surely, it is not to indulge your aunt’s folly by speaking of the Harrows.”
In his mind, Darcy was asking himself that same question.
He had been in his uncle’s house for less than five minutes and already he had been provoked and mortified.
He took a fortifying sip of tea and lamented the fact there was no hope of acquiring anything stronger.
Where the earl was concerned, getting to the point as expediently as possible was his best form of recourse.
The sooner he disclosed his purpose, the sooner he could take his leave.
He set his teacup upon the table and looked his uncle in the eye. “I am engaged to be married.”
Her ladyship gasped with delight. “How wonderful! I knew you would come to your senses and make dear Eliza an offer!”
“I am not engaged to Lady Eliza,” Darcy told her firmly.
“Of course, you are not,” the earl said sardonically, giving his wife an exasperated look.
“Eliza Harrow is not Darcy’s cup of tea.
He wants a girl with a brain. With opinions, and convictions.
” He looked pointedly at his nephew. “You are stubborn, but not so foolish you would dare to choose unwisely. Who is she?”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire.”
“Eliza Bennet?” said his aunt in confusion. “I do not know any Bennets.”
Lord Carlisle frowned. “I have never heard of her either. Who is her father?”
“Miss Bennet’s father owns a modest but thriving estate called Longbourn. The Bennets are the principal family of the village there.”
“What is she worth?”
Darcy bristled. He knew his uncle would ask about Elizabeth’s dowry, but the earl’s manner of enquiry, much like his manner in general, was offensive.
He was tempted to say that Elizabeth Bennet was worth more than money or a title but knew such romantic notions would never satisfy his practical uncle.
It would only try his patience. “Miss Bennet will receive one thousand pounds upon her mother’s death. ”
The earl choked on his bacon. “A thousand pounds!” he sputtered once his coughing fit had waned. “That is nothing! That is pin money!”
“Miss Bennet is not chattel,” Darcy replied sternly. “She is lovely, intelligent, and witty. I hold her in the highest regard. She makes me happy.”
“She will make you a laughingstock!” Lord Carlisle said disgustedly, shoving his plate aside. “I cannot believe what I am hearing. She has drawn you in! You, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, one of the most eligible men in England, trapped into marriage by a penniless chit! A fortune hunter!”
“Miss Bennet is no fortune hunter,” Darcy said coldly.
Lord Carlisle swore under his breath. “You had to go to the country. You had to stand up with your damned friend. You would have been better off staying in London and sowing your oats in King’s Place or Drury Lane like the rest of society!”
“I have no desire to pass my time with bit actresses and courtesans. I want a wife.”
“So, you picked the first piece of muslin you saw in that blasted shire, dipped your pen, and succumbed to her charms!”
Darcy was furious. “I did nothing of the sort! Miss Bennet is a gentleman’s daughter! I have known her for more than a year and have admired her for nearly as long. This was not the first time I proposed marriage to her, but it is the first time Miss Bennet has done me the honour of accepting me.”
Lord Carlisle stared at Darcy as though his nephew was a stranger.
“Let me rightly understand you,” he said lowly.
“You proposed marriage to this girl—this, this upstart—only to be refused, and yet you returned to her with your tail tucked between your legs to beg like a dog?” He slapped his hand heavily upon the table.
“You are George Darcy’s son! You are the grandson of an earl! You are the master of Pemberley!”
Darcy stood so abruptly his chair tipped over and made a resounding bang as it hit the floor. “I am more than Pemberley!” he informed his uncle, livid. He struck the table with his fist, rattling the china.
Lady Carlisle flinched.
“I am more than a piece of property! I am more than an annual income, or an exclusive address in town, or a private box at Covent Garden!”
“You are the sum of the parts that make up the whole!” Lord Carlisle spat, seething as he leapt from his own chair. “Pemberley is a part of that whole! It is a damned big part!”
“There is also honour,” Darcy reminded him, tugging impatiently at his coat as he struggled to regain control of his temper. “There is conviction. There is benevolence and self-respect.”
“And what of duty! What of sacrifice!”
“My entire life I have done nothing but my duty—to Pemberley, to my parents, to my sister, and to you. I have made sacrifices. I have made concessions. I will make no more.”
“You are making a grave mistake,” his uncle warned in a cold, hard voice.
“Such a girl will be your ruin! I cannot abide this. Georgiana needs a woman who knows her stuff! This country nobody cannot help her become a member of good standing in London society! What does this girl have to recommend her? Nothing! What does she have to offer you? Nothing! She has no right to such an honour!”
“She has every right! She has my respect! She has my esteem! She has my admiration and my regard! Miss Bennet is not a simpering, disingenuous girl, but a warm-hearted, clever woman who somehow, despite my poor behaviour to her in the past, has seen past my offences and decided I am worthy of her. I will marry Miss Bennet. You may attend us or not, but, by God, you will not disrespect her, or I will sever my ties with this house.”
Disappointed and furious, Darcy looked to his aunt, who stared at him with her mouth hanging open. He bowed curtly, turned on his heel, and quit the house.
“I hear it did not go well,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam as he claimed a chair in Darcy’s study. He settled into the soft, burnished leather, crossed his ankles, and linked his fingers behind his head.
Darcy glared at him from behind his desk, though it was not his cousin who had angered him, but Fitzwilliam’s father. “I would be lying if I said I expected it to go smoothly. The man is a misery. There is no pleasing him. He actually suggested I take a mistress in front of your mother.”
The colonel grimaced. “Yes. I understand the subject was revisited after you departed. My father has frequented Drury Lane with great regularity over the course of their marriage. Until this morning, my mother was under the impression he had an insatiable appetite for the theatre, not a rapacious passion for several of its actresses. There was much screaming and flailing about. She locked herself in her apartment, but not before hurling half the china at my father’s head and threatening to divorce him. ”
Darcy raised his brows. “Divorce? Surely, her ladyship would not dare.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head. “My mother is angry and humiliated, but I doubt she will actually sever ties with him, nor would my father allow it. He would view it as a scandal from which the honourable House of Fitzwilliam will never recover. He will take pains to make amends, though by the look of things I am not so sure my mother is of a mind to forgive him any time soon.”
“Nor am I,” Darcy muttered, running a hand over his face. “But it is done. I paid the call, and I informed him of my intent.”
Fitzwilliam grinned. “Congratulations, Cousin. Her meagre dowry aside, Miss Bennet is everything you deserve. I daresay she will make you very happy.”
“I could not care less about her dowry but yes, Elizabeth is wonderful. She returns my regard. She loves me.”
“Of course, she does,” his cousin said matter-of-factly. “I envy you. You swallowed your pride and followed your heart and won Miss Bennet’s in the process. If I could have but half your good fortune in my choice of wife, I will consider myself a lucky man.”
“When I was last in town, Lady Carlisle informed me you were to entertain Miss Morrison. Dare I ask how you got on?”
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “Miss Morrison was not awful. Neither was she exceptional. Have you seen her?”
“I have not had that pleasure.”