Chapter 17 #2
“Yes, she knows everything. We both deplored Miss Elizabeth’s unhappiness and felt very sorry for her.
Before we left, we even thought of writing to you—as a farewell—and telling you about that dinner and the feelings Miss Bennet has for you.
She kept looking towards the door even after my mother told everyone you had gone to London. ”
He fell silent again, struck by the thought that he had learned too late of her regret. For a few moments, Elizabeth was ready to take hold of his thoughts, but he forced himself back. That evening was not about her.
He began to understand how lonely and cut off from the world Anne must have felt. If, in the past, he had thought Lady Catherine merely severe, he now saw her as something else entirely—a mother who had ruled and confined her daughter’s life thinking only at her interests.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said, and there was something new in her manner—steady, composed, and perfectly capable—“I saw you with Miss Elizabeth at the Bingleys’ dinner. You stood next to each other, and only a few moments were enough for me to understand how much you love each other.”
“But that was after I proposed to you…and you agreed to be my wife.”
“Yes. It only confirmed that my plan would harm no one—that you have another road to take in your life.”
“Another road?” he repeated, in complete disbelief. “You cannot mean that. Our marriage is a serious commitment.”
“I am sorry that I misled you. It was not my intention to betray your confidence or to make a mockery of our marriage. It was the only way to save myself, and perhaps to save you as well.”
“It is difficult to understand your plan,” he said, though he already understood more than he wished to admit.
“When you proposed to me, everything became clear. You were deeply unhappy, and even to me it was obvious that you wanted only to marry—to forget the past and build a future. But that is not the state of mind and heart for marriage. For me, however, it was an unexpected way to improve my plan and leave England with sufficient funds. You are the only man who would give me part of what is mine and still be content to leave this marriage before it has truly begun, even in such circumstances.”
“You cannot be serious. Let us sleep on this, and perhaps tomorrow—”
“Fitzwilliam, my decision is made. In seven days, we shall board a boat in Liverpool that will take us to Dublin, and then to Philadelphia.”
“But we cannot separate. Divorce is impossible.”
“It is difficult—I agree—but not impossible. Not for someone like you, who has the highest connexions in Parliament. Lord Matlock will do anything to rescue you from this mess, and your new marriage will be met with compassion and understanding in society.”
“We could obtain an annulment,” he said, already thinking of another possibility.
“No. An annulment would return the estate to its position before our marriage—but with an angry Lord Matlock, who would make sure I never receive anything that is mine, neither the estate nor the income.”
At once, a strange calm settled over him.
Though he was involved in a situation beyond anything he had ever imagined, he felt no anger towards Anne’s plans.
After months of unrest, dark thoughts, suffering, and difficult decisions, he now had the vivid sensation of standing apart from his own life, observing it from a distance.
It was, by far, the calmest he had felt in a long time.
“I hope you do not hate me,” she said softly, with a timid smile.
“No, I am far from hating you. But I am still shocked.”
“I understand. I am ready to answer any questions.”
In truth, Darcy looked at her with growing admiration. He still could not fully believe that this was real. The whole situation had the quality of a dream—but not a bad one—for Anne was calm, and somewhere, in the distance of his thoughts, he could see the face of another woman.
“It is impossible,” he murmured, more to himself than in answer to her.
“It is possible, Cousin.” In that moment, she spoke to him as a cousin, not as a wife.
“I should be enraged…devastated…” he said, looking at her.
“But you are not,” she observed.
“No. But if I am to speak honestly…Cousin Anne, I begin to feel almost sorry that you have decided to leave me…on our wedding night!”
Anne blushed, though her smile did not fade.
“That is such a sweet compliment coming from you,” she said, her cheeks warm with colour.
“Are you quite certain you do not wish to abandon your plan and make another—simpler one—a life with me at Pemberley?”
“Thank you. You cannot imagine what your words mean to me. But they only give me the courage to continue…with my plan. And then, when everything is settled, you must go to Hertfordshire. You need this divorce even more than I do.”
“The only recognised ground for a man’s divorce and remarriage is the adultery of his wife,” Darcy said.
“I know. Then we shall give them adultery. I am eloping with a man.”
She spoke steadily, looking directly into his eyes, and this time she did not blush. The idea struck him as unexpected—a man in Anne’s life.
“So, Cousin Anne, there is another man.”
And the young lady—so often considered fragile, if not slow—smiled and said, “Yes, there is a man. But this is not about him. Let us discuss all the other matters in detail.”
“Then you know that, to marry again, I shall need a private bill in Parliament.”
“Yes—but only after you bring successful suits in the Ecclesiastical Court for separation from bed and board, and in the civil courts for financial damages.”
“You could be a solicitor.”
She smiled. “Let us say that the other man is one.”
“But not important enough for your mother to accept him.”
“No, of course not. In her eyes, he stands no higher than Mr Collins. And she fears any man who would marry me and take control of my proprieties.”
“I see. And did this gentleman have any involvement…in our marriage?”
Anne looked at him in surprise. “Of course not—you remember, I accepted your proposal immediately.”
That was true—which meant she had been clever enough to put together such a plan in only a few moments.
“A divorce may be very expensive,” Anne continued, and he remained silent so she might finish. “But of course that would not be a problem for you. In time, you need only give me half of the fortune you received some weeks ago.”
So that was the full plan.
It made perfect sense. That was why she had accepted him so quickly. Not only did she wish to escape her mother, but he was the only man in the world to whom she could propose such an arrangement. It was nothing more or less than a carefully planned understanding.
“You know now that Papa was a very wealthy man—even wealthier than you.”
Darcy had not known that, not before signing the documents. Lady Catherine had been far from forthcoming regarding her fortune, and even with the solicitors, she had tried to secure more than was properly hers. But that had never troubled him. He had always relied on his own means.
“There is another estate in Kent besides Rosings, smaller but highly productive, that comes from my paternal grandparents,” Anne said.
“You know I do not need your money.”
“Of course I know, but it is impossible to turn all our properties into money and take everything to America. And I would rather have a steady income for the rest of my life. When everything is settled, we shall exchange letters and decide how to arrange it.”
“But what happens if Lady Catherine takes control of the estate, helped by Lord Matlock?”
“That is where you come in. Before the divorce, I will agree to transfer—completely and permanently—the second property, Bourgh, to Richard. I shall claim that our joint fortune is now more than sufficient, and refer to a supposed wish of my father, who was very fond of him. You must speak first with Lady Matlock.”
“Very skilful,” Darcy said, for he understood the plan at once.
Lady Matlock would do anything to see Richard—her son, who stood to inherit nothing from the Matlock estate—securely provided for.
Persuading Lord Matlock would be easy. Anne, so long quiet and withdrawn, had understood every undercurrent of the family and knew exactly which levers to press to bring her plan to success.
“Rosings to you, Bourgh to Richard—and my mother left with only the right to live at Rosings, with a substantial income.”
“Perhaps you will return one day.”
“It is possible. But as long as my mother lives, there is no chance that England will see me again.”
“I understand. But there are two properties and a considerable income.”
“I think that five thousand a year would be enough for me. Your uncle Robert will certainly help you.”
Again, Darcy was struck by her clear understanding of her fortune, and by her sound judgement. It was not easy to move such sums, but Anne knew they had excellent banking connections, and that one of his paternal uncles owned a respected bank in Scotland.
“So, you even know about Uncle Robert.”
“Yes. Once you decided to marry me, I made sure I understood everything. I had help.”
“From your Mr Solicitor,” Darcy said, without malice. “But are you certain he loves you?”
“Well, we are not…involved. The idea of America came from him. He worked at our solicitors’ office, and he came to the house nearly a year ago to prepare some papers.
We spoke, and he told us about America and his plans.
He meant to go, but he had no money—neither for the journey nor to begin a new life there.
So we proposed that he accompany us—for the adultery’s sake--and in return we would pay for his passage and employ him to help us settle.
In America, an unmarried woman may own property and make contracts in her own name. ”
“I understand. That is the kind of freedom you want.”
“I want to decide for myself. And if that means remaining alone, then I shall accept the life of a spinster.”
“You will need a house first.”
Anne looked at him with gratitude.
When he proposed to her, she did not know him well.
He had been only a distant cousin, one who had never shown any particular interest in her.
Her first impulse had been to refuse him, but she accepted in haste.
In that single moment, she remembered Lady Anne, for whom she had been named—a kind and graceful woman—and believed that such a lady must have raised her son to resemble her, not Lady Catherine.
That was her chance to go to America with money.
Then, during the two months of their engagement, her hopes had grown.
He was Lady Anne’s son, and each time they met, he showed honesty and kindness, determined to build a tolerable life with her, even while he still loved another.
He behaved as an attentive betrothed. The journey to Pemberley convinced her she need not fear him, and that she could tell him the truth.
And his response had gone beyond anything she imagined. For a moment, she had almost wished to forget everything and remain at Pemberley as his wife. But the thought did not last.
“Yes, I shall need a house.”
“Then find one—bright and pleasant—and I will buy it for you. You shall have the means to live as you wish.”
He helped her to her feet and drew her into a long embrace. She returned it with warmth, with gratitude—and with a quiet affection.
“My departure must remain a secret. We shall travel north and be seen in Liverpool, but we shall take a boat to Dublin, and from Dublin sail to America.”
“No one will follow you, I assure you. I shall not announce your departure until you are far out at sea.” He was prepared to oppose the whole family—even Lady Catherine—to secure her freedom.
“I have written a long letter for you, as proof that I left you and eloped. I do not name Ireland, but it will be inferred. Mr Rowland—the solicitor—is waiting for us at Uttoxeter. There is an inn and a posting station there; these will serve as the proofs you require. Meanwhile, with your own solicitor, we shall draw up the instrument that will make Richard the owner of Brough.”
Darcy nodded.
“You will take the carriage and sell it in Liverpool,” he said, already entering into her plans.
“Are you sure you do not want to come with us?” she asked, half in jest.
“Do not tempt me,” he replied with a smile. “I find I am enjoying your adventure.”
“As soon as you discover that your wife has eloped, you must not go after her.”
“No,” Darcy said quietly. “I will wait a few days, and then I shall go to Hertfordshire...and London.”