Chapter 12
Darcy arrived at the Matlock estate in Leicestershire on the very day Netherfield celebrated Bingley’s marriage to Miss Bennet. He had accompanied Lady Catherine and Anne, while Georgiana had travelled with Lord and Lady Wharton a few days earlier.
It had been a comfortable journey, as he travelled alone in his carriage; still, it was not an entirely pleasant one, for from time to time his aunt chose to change carriages to keep him “company,” as she expressed it more than once.
In the end, it was only natural that he should accompany them, and he endeavoured not to betray his true feelings.
Yet, it was distressing not to be present at his friend’s wedding.
Almost from the beginning of their friendship they had agreed that whichever married first should have the other as a witness, but that promise could not now be fulfilled.
He could not face Miss Elizabeth—not until some of his resolutions were accomplished.
The colonel had urged him—more than once—to reconsider his decision regarding her, but Darcy could not act in such a manner.
It was not in his nature; neither his education nor his character permitted him to be uncertain or hesitant, or to disregard what he considered his duty to family and society.
Miss Elizabeth was too independent—not suited to him.
They arrived late in the evening, and, to Darcy’s relief, were conducted directly to their rooms by a drowsy footman.
Eager to rest at last in a proper bed, he tried in vain to sleep.
In spite of his fatigue, rest would not come.
The actions of the previous week weighed heavily upon him, yet it was already impossible to retreat.
He was neither calm nor entirely resigned.
The day before, while he slumbered in the carriage, he had a strange dream: his mother was angrily scolding him, her beautiful eyes on fire in an attitude uncommon for her.
He woke with a feeling of loss and dissatisfaction impossible to overcome.
He attempted to persuade himself that it arose only from his absence at Bingley’s wedding, but he knew it to be false. To have gone to Netherfield would have been to depart from the course he had chosen a week before.
When at last he fell asleep, the night seemed scarcely to have passed, for he was awakened by loud knocking at his door, followed by laughter.
He recognised at once his cousins’ attempt to rouse him and carry him off on a shooting party.
He was tempted to refuse, but then considered how slowly the hours would pass if he remained indoors.
He sprang from his bed and was soon ready.
“Come, you indolent fellow,” Fitzwilliam called, as they rode through the morning mist. “Let us have a race!”
They spent a pleasant day, and Darcy found himself, for a time, able to relax and enjoy it. The shooting, and the masculine spirit of the occasion—which he had always relished—restored something of his former ease.
They dined at a cottage and drank a rustic wine, made by a local farmer from the grapes of a nearby vineyard. This, at least, belonged to his life and might continue unchanged after marriage. The thought afforded him some relief.
He had resolved to marry, but his life need not be altered. A wife would be no more than a pleasing presence at Pemberley or in town whenever he returned home. He would not renounce his pleasures, his friends, or those pursuits which had always suited him.
With this persuasion, he spoke after dinner, with an air of confidence, in the large parlour of the house.
“I have requested you all to be here because I have an important announcement to make.”
As Lady Catherine was about to speak, he prevented her. “In fact, we have something to announce.” Only then did his aunt appear satisfied.
A general curiosity spread through the room, but no one was prepared for what followed.
“I have asked my cousin Anne to marry me, and she has accepted.”
A profound silence succeeded his words. No one knew how to respond. Lord Matlock appeared astonished, though not displeased, while the colonel coloured so deeply that Darcy feared he might lose his composure altogether.
Georgiana looked uneasy, though her brother had already informed her that afternoon. Whatever her confusion or distress, she did not speak; Darcy would not have allowed her to oppose him.
The only person who seemed truly pleased was Lady Catherine, who smiled in a manner none of them had seen for some time. She nodded repeatedly, while Anne herself, unexpectedly, regarded Darcy with perfect composure.
It was a shock to all. Lady Eleanor attempted a word of congratulation, but her husband interrupted her, unaware that she had begun to speak.
“I must speak with you. At once,” he said, addressing Darcy alone. As Lady Catherine rose also, he fixed her with a look. “Remain seated, Catherine. We shall withdraw for a glass of wine.”
And before another word could be uttered, all the gentlemen had left the room.
Scarcely had the door closed behind them when Lord Matlock demanded, in a tone of grave authority, “What is the meaning of this, young man?”
As Darcy did not immediately reply, he continued, “It is not that I oppose the match, but I cannot understand why you did not come to London and consult me before announcing it in this manner.”
“It is absurd!” the colonel exclaimed, still incapable of accepting his cousin’s marriage, concluded in such haste and at so difficult a moment, when Miss Elizabeth had surely not faded from his memory.
“Be silent, Richard!” Lord Matlock said sharply; but his son would not be restrained.
“No, sir, I will not be silent. It is madness. Not that he should wish to marry—that I approve—but London is full of beautiful women—”
“I cannot deny it,” Lord Matlock returned. “Why Anne?”
“Richard is aware that I had resolved to marry, and that my search has proved unsuccessful.”
“But you have all the time in the world,” the colonel insisted.
Darcy drank nearly half his glass of brandy. “I have determined not to pursue it further. I might spend my life seeking and never find a woman suited to me. Gentlemen, my decision is made. I have proposed to Anne, and she has accepted.”
“She has accepted?” The colonel gave a short, incredulous laugh, which filled the room with uneasiness. “She cannot even dine without looking to her mother for approval.”
“Enough, Richard!” Lord Matlock said sternly. “Let him speak.”
There was little more to be said, yet Darcy had prepared his explanation.
“The time we spent together during the presentation at court was essential, I began to consider the possibility. I have sought a wife in vain, when perhaps the best choice was within my own family. When I saw her again last week, I perceived how much she had changed.”
“You may be right,” his uncle said, thoughtfully. “Separated from her mother, she might become a very tolerable woman.”
“Yes—that was…is…precisely my view. After my proposal, I informed Lady Catherine that my only condition for the marriage was that Anne should live independently.”
“No!” Albert laughed. “You told that to the old dragon—”
“Albert!” Lord Matlock interrupted sharply. “What has come over you all? This gentleman has resolved to marry, and his choice is a respectable young lady, who is moreover your cousin. Show a little propriety.”
“So you intend to give your consent?” the colonel asked, still indignant.
Anne de Bourgh could not marry without the approval of both her mother and Lord Matlock.
By her father’s will, she held her fortune only on that condition; otherwise, the greater part would pass, at Lady Catherine’s death, to Sir Lewis’s nephews, the eldest inheriting Rosings, while Anne would be left with a comparatively modest income from an estate still in Kent that came from Sir Lewis’s parents.
“Certainly, I give my consent—if this is indeed what Darcy desires.”
“Only wait a little—be patient—look further,” Richard urged.
“Cousin, for some months I have frequented every fashionable circle in London. I have met more young women than ever before, and not one has possessed better qualities than Anne. I am persuaded she will make a good wife, and, in time, with proper guidance, a suitable mistress of Pemberley.”
They sat in silence for some moments, each reflecting on what had passed.
“In the end,” Albert said carelessly, “a wife is no more than a woman in one’s house. A man’s life goes on much the same after marriage.”
Lord Matlock cast upon his heir a look of marked displeasure. “This is not the moment—but we must speak seriously, Albert.”
There was something in his tone that suggested a determination to reform his son’s manner of life. Viscount Wharton still lived very much as a bachelor, and his conduct was freely discussed in London.
“In two days, Lady Catherine’s solicitors will arrive with the marriage settlements,” Darcy added, confident now of his uncle’s approval. He had never doubted it. The match might be unexpected, but alliances within the family were often highly valued by the older generation.
∞∞∞
“Give me one reason,” the colonel said that night, when they found themselves alone in the garden. “Are you in financial difficulty? Is it for the de Bourgh fortune?”
Darcy turned to him and laughed. The night was clear, the sky filled with stars, and the slender crescent of a new moon hung above them. They stood looking over the house and the park, which appeared almost enchanted in the soft light.
“Come, my dear cousin,” Darcy said, with warmth.
There was between them a closeness that admitted of few reserves.
“You know me. Even in our wildest days, I was moderate. My fortune is not diminished—indeed, I may say it is increased since my father’s death.
I have made improvements at Pemberley, and the estate prospers. ”
“Then why?”
“Because, of late, I have perceived in Anne a certain promise. She is not aware of what she might become. She is changed—I assure you.”
“So you imagine her as your wife—in every sense?” the colonel said, unable to restrain himself. “I do not wish to be indelicate, but—”
Darcy inclined his head. He had not neglected to consider that part of marriage.
“It may be difficult at first; but the domestic life is only one part of the whole.”
An important part, Richard thought, though he did not speak it aloud. It was evident that Darcy’s mind was fixed.
∞∞∞
“When do you intend the wedding to take place?” Lady Eleanor eventually asked.
Lady Catherine, accustomed to being the principal speaker, attempted to reply. Still, Darcy, with firmness—perhaps even bordering upon incivility—turned to her and said, “Pray—from this moment, everything concerning our marriage shall be decided and announced only by Anne and myself.”
The reproof was so unexpected that Lady Catherine coloured, and for once had nothing to say. Darcy was the man: he decided, and she was obliged to submit.
Darcy then turned to Lady Eleanor, as though nothing had occurred, and answered in a composed tone, “At the beginning of October—we generally have some fine days at that season. We shall be married in London, and then immediately proceed to Pemberley.”
Lady Eleanor nodded, smiling with evident satisfaction.
“And Lady Eleanor, Lady Wharton, I must request that you prepare the wedding breakfast and attend to my future wife’s trousseau.”
He then looked at Anne and asked, “Is that agreeable to you, my dear?”
To the general surprise, Anne, though slightly blushing, answered with firmness, “It is perfectly so—thank you, Cousin Darcy.”
They all avoided looking towards her mother, for Lady Catherine’s colour had risen so high that an outburst seemed inevitable—and indeed it came.
“This girl has a mother! I shall arrange her wedding festivities,” she cried, in a tone of great indignation.
“Certainly she has, my dear sister,” Lord Matlock replied, “but, as has been shown, my ladies possess a particular talent for such occasions.”
“It is inconceivable—” Lady Catherine began; but her brother rose and shook his head.
“That is enough, sister. We shall now attend with Darcy to meet the solicitors and settle the marriage articles.”
Lady Catherine rose, composed but resolute. The matter was too important to admit of error. She knew well when silence was necessary. Once the settlement was signed, nothing could be altered.
Yet even as she yielded, she began to perceive that many of the rights she had long exercised would pass into Darcy’s hands. Not only would the fortune, according to her late husband’s will, devolve entirely upon Anne’s husband, but also that maternal authority she had so long possessed.
She would continue to reside at Rosings and retain access to its advantages during her lifetime; but Anne would depart with her husband and be lost to her.
Anne had never been of much consequence to her while she remained under her roof; yet now, for the first time, she perceived how solitary her life might become, unless she secured her influence within her daughter’s future household.
As she proceeded towards the library, where the solicitors were waiting, she resolved to act with great prudence—and, for the present, to appear entirely compliant with Darcy’s wishes.