Chapter 9 #2
“And you have known her how long? A week? Not that it would not make any difference if you have known her for a whole year. It is very simple. She is not one of us. You cannot throw away your legacy, built carefully over generations, for a woman no one in our acquaintance would ever consider inviting into their home.”
“Are you saying I should walk away and allow her to be ruined?”
“She is a tradesman's niece, Darcy. You need not concern yourself with her any further. Besides, what reputation are you talking about? She is not even a member of Society. Think, Darcy. This is not about her. It is about Pemberley. Why do you think she deserves to become mistress of such an illustrious estate? How can you justify elevating her above women of far better birth? What kind of training has she received? You do not even know if she has received any education. You cannot allow a vulgar, ignorant person to take charge of Pemberley.”
It was a strong argument. As far as he could tell from his interaction with Miss Bennet, he had seen no signs of vulgarity. Her aunt and uncle’s manner were beyond reproach. He had the impression that she was intelligent and well-educated, but he had not spoken enough with her to pass judgement.”
Darcy shook his head. “So you think I should just leave her to suffer the consequences, when none of this was her fault?”
Richard looked exasperated. “None of this was your fault, either. You cannot sacrifice Pemberley. For her, marrying you is a dream beyond her wildest imagination. For you, it is a blot on the family name. How could you even consider it, even for a moment?” He leaned forward.
“Besides, there are other ways of dealing with the problem, you know.”
Darcy had a sinking feeling he knew what Richard was going to propose. “Such as?”
Richard waved his hand expansively. “Ease your conscience in other ways. Give her a generous dowry so someone would want to marry her, by all means, if it will make you feel better. Find a husband, if necessary. But you cannot allow guilt to reshape your future and the future of generations to come”
Money. It came down to that. Money could ease one’s conscience, if you had enough of it. Money would resolve the problem.
He took a deep breath and stood up. He needed time to consider all this. “I will think about it.”
Richard took this as his cue to leave and stood up as well. He came and clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “You can think about it all you wish, but you know it is the only possible solution.”
Darcy had an unpleasant feeling his cousin was right.
In his bedroom, wrapped in the same silk banyan he had worn after he arrived soaked and shivering from Hyde Park, he squatted and stoked the fire, trying to ward off the chill that was sinking into his very bones. He had sat here that day, while Miss Bennet slept by the fireplace.
He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath. Miss Bennet did not even know yet that her life was about to be ruined. The last time they had spoken, they had discussed embroidery.
How much of what had happened was his fault?
Darcy had given the young horseman his name that morning when he had asked him to fetch the coachmen.
Would they have spread the word if they did not know he was Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?
Would they have done anything beyond ogling Miss Bennet in her wet clothes?
There was no way to answer, but the question weighed on him heavily.
One could not live wondering how things could have been different, worrying about the ‘what if’ of the situation.
He had tried to avoid mistakes. He was willing to walk home to prevent gossip.
But surely sending her to his house in his carriage was just as bad as getting in himself.
Assuming, then, that it was his fault, did it mean he had to marry Miss Bennet, considering the circumstances? There had been no impropriety. If a few young men with nothing better to do had decided to spread rumors, should he allow them to have the power over him to force his hand?
Your duty is to your family and Pemberley, not to Miss Nobody of Cheapside. Even if her father is a gentleman and owns an estate.
Darcy knew full well that Richard’s advice was sound.
He could turn on his side and fall asleep with a clear conscience, dismissing the whole possibility.
He should be asleep — content, even — for he had done all that was expected and more, and Miss Bennet was not his responsibility.
The child was safe. How could anyone expect more of him?
What was she to him in any case? He had not even known her name until today. No impropriety had passed between them beyond wet skirts and speculation.
They had braved the cold water together, and that had created some kind of connection between them, but that was no reason to do something as irrevocable as marriage.
His duty was clear. He was Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.
The Darcys did not marry into trade. They married into their own class.
His role was to maintain the family’s wealth and build alliances with other powerful families of the same status.
And yet, here he was. While the rest of the house was slumbering peacefully, he was lying awake in the dark, the ticking of the clock drumming on his thoughts. He could not understand why taking the rational path left him feeling so troubled.
She is a tradesman's niece, Darcy. You need not concern yourself further."
What, in heaven’s name, was he supposed to do? Which path was the more honorable? Fulfilling his duty to Pemberley, or saving Miss Bennet?
Deep down, a part of him recognized that his unease was caused by more than a dilemma. At least some of his uncertainty had to do with a pair of dark eyes that refused to fade from his thoughts.
Then he remembered something. In their brief conversation, he had told her in so many words that he would come to her aid in the future if needed. I hope as a gentleman I will always come to the defence of a young lady.
By the time the sun peered past the curtains in his window, he had his answer. Heaven help him.