Chapter 13
Office
Matlock House
London
Three Days Later
Sunlight glowed across the deep polish of Lord Matlock’s cherrywood desk. A playful breeze tiptoed through the open window to riffle at the edges of the papers neatly stacked along one side of the desk which were composed of bills and correspondence and accounts. A cut crystal glass half-filled with a deep amber brandy sparkled in the sun, the air perfumed with a sophisticated aroma. Birds sang in the trees and formal garden outside the window, while puffs of white cloud ambled across a deep blue firmament like contented sheep in their pasture.
It was an idyllic day, but the frown on Lord Matlock’s brow belied any enjoyment of it. He scowled at the letter in his hand, which had entirely cut up his peace. He had already read it through once in incredulity, irritation, and alarm. Now he perused it again, paying close attention to the individual sentences.
Rosings
18 th May, 1812
Adam,
A truly dreadful thing has happened; Darcy has gone mad! I traveled to Hertfordshire some days ago – a truly dreary county, if there ever was one – to a small estate called Longbourn, the home of Mr. Bennet, his wife, and his five daughters. Mr. Bennet is a country gentleman, his wife is the daughter of a solicitor, and there are multiple family members in trade. It should be obvious, therefore, that this is not a family with any pretensions of true gentility.
Now, to explain the horrific situation we are dealing with. The second daughter is pursuing our mutual nephew, Darcy, and incredibly enough, Darcy seems entirely caught up in the lady’s snare!
Darcy was visiting at Longbourn when I arrived, and I attempted to bring him back to some semblance of reason, but he was enraptured with Miss Bennet and went so far as to place hands on me and force me out of the house!
I returned to Kent immediately, of course, and have been pondering how best to manage this dreadful situation. You must know that Mr. Collins, who holds the Hunsford living, is the legal heir of Longbourn because it is entailed away from the female line.
I have spoken at length with Mr. Collins on this matter, and he is eager to use his position as heir to threaten the Bennet ladies with penury if Miss Bennet does not give up her wanton pursuit of Darcy. While I am confident my parson would do his best, I have reluctantly concluded that it will not serve my purposes. The eldest of the Bennet daughters just married a wealthy man by the name of Bingley, and he will doubtless support his multitude of new female relations. Moreover, I know Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and as much as I despise her, I realize she is an intelligent girl and is not likely to be intimidated by Mr. Collins. How could she not be clever, given that she has managed to catch our nephew in her web?
In any case, Brother, I write to you begging that you will intervene in this horrific matter. Miss Bennet is not a worthy bride for Darcy, nor at all a reasonable sister to Georgiana. You are the head of the family, and I beg you…
The door opened at this juncture, and he looked up with a frown to observe his butler standing in the doorway.
“Yes, Stills?” he asked, straightening his back.
“Lady Matlock requests that you join her in the drawing room, my lord. Mr. Darcy has called.”
“Thank you, Stills,” Matlock said with relief. Darcy’s supposed pursuit of a mere country girl was dismaying, but he could not trust Lady Catherine to speak accurately about anything at all, as she always looked at the world through the lens of her own autocratic desires. It was good that he would be able to speak to Darcy and learn what was actually happening.
He laid the letter on his desk and then, changing his mind, locked it in a drawer. No one should enter his private office unannounced, but the letter was sufficiently incendiary that he would not want it to be seen by anyone outside the family or, for that matter, anyone in the family either. Really, what was Catherine thinking to put such harsh, reckless words onto paper?
He tugged his coat straight as he stood and followed Stills down the hall to the drawing room, where the butler opened the door and stepped back. Matlock’s eyes went at once to the two figures standing together by the largest window. Darcy, of course, was immediately familiar, but the lovely young woman by his side was entirely unknown. She must be the mysterious Miss Bennet, and while no incandescent beauty, she was nonetheless handsome, and her eyes were keen with intelligence as she gazed at him.
Matlock stepped further into the room, looking at his wife as he did so. She was sitting a little too erect in her favorite leather wingback chair situated halfway between the cold fireplace and the window. She liked it best, she had confided in him, because it looked quite as elegant as the rest of the furniture but was far more comfortable. She was wearing her familiar polished smile, but there was a tightness around her eyes, which he recognized as unease.
“Darcy,” he said coolly. “Good morning. Will you please introduce me to your companion?”
“Indeed, uncle,” Darcy replied with equal calm. “Elizabeth, my uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Uncle, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my fiancée.”
Matlock could not help a gasp from escaping, and he turned to look at his wife, who nostrils were somewhat pinched with exasperation. The countess lifted one dark eyebrow and shrugged slightly, obviously wishing for him to take the lead in this complex and delicate situation.
It was moments like these that the earl was thankful for his experience in politics.
“Miss Bennet, Darcy, please do sit down,” he said courteously.
The couple did so, side by side on a loveseat, and the earl, noting Darcy’s demeanor, decided that he had best tread very carefully indeed. His nephew had always been a calm and clever gentleman, but there was a sparkle in his eye, and a rigidity in his form, which suggested that any criticisms of his new engagement would not be accepted.
“Well,” Matlock said, “I do not surprise easily, but I am genuinely astonished, and that in spite of a hysterical letter from Lady Catherine de Bourgh this morning.”
The young pair exchanged glances, and Darcy leaned forward slightly. “What, exactly, did Lady Catherine say?”
“A number of things,” the earl replied, waving a casual hand. “You need not concern yourself. I will burn the letter, and I promise you that I have no intention of interfering with your engagement and upcoming marriage.”
This provoked another gasp, this one from the countess, and he turned to look at his wife. “Priscilla, I know you are surprised at this news, but I am confident that Darcy has chosen his bride with great care, and we would be best served by welcoming Miss Bennet into the family with open arms.”
In truth, he was not at all pleased at such a misalliance, but Darcy was sufficiently wealthy that he could marry where he chose, and the earl had no hold over him, unlike his sons, who were dependent on allowances from their father. However, all was not lost – not yet. If Miss Bennet was a fortune hunter, Matlock would find out and pay her off or discover some other way to get rid of her. But for now, there was every reason to be polite about the engagement.
Lady Matlock stared at her husband for ten seconds and then produced a rather artificial smile.
“Miss Bennet,” she said, “we are indeed pleased at this news though, as the earl said, quite surprised as well. How long have you known our nephew?”
Miss Bennet turned an amused look on her fiancé and said, “We met last autumn in Hertfordshire, when Fitzwilliam was a guest of Mr. Charles Bingley at Netherfield Hall, which is but a few miles from my family’s home of Longbourn. I fear that our first interactions were rather negative, and thus our courtship began only a few weeks ago.”
“Though I have been in love with Elizabeth for many months now,” Darcy said fervently, and Matlock, watching his nephew, was startled at the glow of genuine adoration in his eyes.
“Well, many congratulations to you both,” the countess said politely. “May I ask when you think you will marry?”
The two lovebirds exchanged glances again, and Miss Bennet said, “It will be at ten o’clock in the morning, Saturday, 30 th May, in St. George’s, Hanover Square. We do hope you will be able to attend.”
The earl suppressed a grimace. The ceremony was scheduled for less than a fortnight away, which was hardly enough time to break the engagement. Miss Bennet would soon be Mrs. Darcy, whether he liked it or not. Well, the girl was very attractive, and her manners were excellent. With Lady Matlock’s patronage, she would launch into society with relative ease, he hoped.
He turned his gaze on Darcy and felt his heart soften at the love and adoration on his nephew’s face. If Miss Bennet would make his nephew happy, he would not complain.
***
St. George’s Church
Hanover Square
10 a.m., Saturday, 30 th May, 1812
Elizabeth laid her gloved hand on her father’s arm, returning his small smile with a beaming smile of her own. A cheerful servant pushed open the massive ornate doors, and the bride and her father stepped into the sanctuary of the church. Mrs. Bennet had bewailed the lack of time that had not permitted her to bedeck the church with flowers and ribbons, but Elizabeth, looking around in awe, thought that it did not need further ornamentation. The light through the stained glass of the windows was bright as any bouquets of blossoms, the pews ancient and venerable, needing no tawdry decoration to gilt them, while bright red carpet was as cheery as any ribbon. The soaring ceiling dwarfed those who stood beneath it, the chandeliers unnecessary and unlit in the morning sun.
Elizabeth was, at least, dressed appropriately to be married in such grandeur. Her aunt Gardiner had quietly arranged for her to acquire a dress from Madame Fanchon’s shop on short notice. Elizabeth and her mother had come to a compromise; the overdress was of white silk, and the underdress of a soft ivory muslin with embroidered roses, rather than the silk with lamé that Mrs. Bennet had wished. A white hat with lace and net covered Elizabeth’s hair, and hothouse flowers had been acquired for both hers and Mary’s bouquets.
Mary had cheerfully agreed to act as Elizabeth’s bridesmaid and looked well in a new dress of her own, a deep blush pink that flattered her otherwise mousy hair and made her look less sallow than the darker, more severe gowns she usually wore. She paced behind Elizabeth and their father, eyes modestly downcast at the nosegay in her hands. They ought to invite her for a visit after the honeymoon, Elizabeth thought. It would do her good to leave Longbourn for a while. Indeed, it would do all three of her unmarried sisters good, but the third Bennet daughter most of all. Mary would flourish away from her mother’s constant unflattering comparisons of her plainness to her sisters’ beauty, away from the noise and the gossip, and enjoy the careful tutelage of learned music masters. She would take pleasure in Georgiana’s company as well.
Georgiana was present, of course, looking very sweet in light blue, her expression delighted as she watched the bridal procession. Anne de Bourgh, sitting next to her, smiled beatifically upon the proceedings.
In front of them, the Earl and Countess of Matlock sat, appearing vaguely resigned and determined to be pleased. Beside his parents, Richard Fitzwilliam sat grinning in earnest, and Elizabeth gave him an especially warm smile. After all, it was due to his careless words at Rosings regarding Darcy’s part in initially separating Jane and Charles that prompted her discussion with Darcy that had clarified so much. That conversation, too, owed its inception to Richard Fitzwilliam. It was not an unreasonable stretch, Elizabeth thought, to say that he was the reason that she and Darcy had reconciled, providing her the opportunity to fall in love with this wonderful man.
On the other side of the aisle sat the bride’s family. Mrs. Bennet sobbed enthusiastically into what seemed a square yard of white cotton, her two youngest daughters flanking her. On the far side of Kitty, Jane sat looking amused and smiled as she caught Elizabeth’s eye. Elizabeth smiled back gratefully. When she had told Jane and Charles that she and Darcy were marrying in London on short notice, she had been careful to say that she and her love did not expect the Bingleys to travel to Town so soon after their own marriage. Jane had written back that of course they were coming, and Elizabeth was enormously grateful at having her favorite sister at her nuptials.
At last, she and her father reached the end of the aisle where Darcy stood tall and striking and handsome, while Bingley, grinning jubilantly, acted as best man. Elizabeth’s eyes fastened on her beloved’s face and stayed there as Mr. Bennet carefully transferred her hand from his own arm to Darcy’s. The couple shared a deeply loving look and turned to where the rector waited with his prayer book open.
“Dearly beloved,” the man said with a smile, “we are gathered together…”