Chapter Seventy-Two
T he next day, Mr. Darcy took himself to Matlock House. The moment he saw his aunt, he burst out, “How could you?”
“I knew you would figure out where she was eventually,” the Countess said, with a careless shrug.
“And in the meantime you were willing to put me through agonies of suspense and worry?”
“You deserved every one of those agonies,” she replied, sharply. “She was treated infamously by you and your mother, and it was good for you to have a taste of your own medicine.”
Mr. Darcy stared at her for a long minute before realising the futility of further discussion. He sat back on the sofa, arms folded.
Seeing that he had capitulated, she laughed at him, saying that she had very much enjoyed getting to know her new niece. “Did she tell you that I cut Caroline Bingley in public?”
“She did not, no; tell me!”
She did, and the two had a good laugh over Miss Bingley’s distress.
“I am sorry to say it, but it was well-deserved,” Mr. Darcy said, shaking his head.
“I would not have done it, had she not tried to compromise you,” the Countess assured him. “And in other news, my son Richard has been calling on Miss Bennet.”
“Really? I am surprised, although – well, I am not sure why I am surprised. My sister, Mary, has turned out to be an exceptional lady.”
“He certainly thinks so.”
“Did I hear my name?” The Colonel entered the drawing room. “I did not know you were in Town, Darcy.”
“I am newly arrived, and I suppose that you, too, will tell me that I was left in the dark about my wife’s whereabouts for my own good.”
“Not at all; it was for your wife’s own good. She both needed and deserved a break from anything Darcy.”
“I have already been berated enough by your mother, Richard; I can do without the same from you.”
“Very well; let us instead discuss Miss Bennet.”
“You do understand that in the absence of her father, I am responsible for her, do you not?”
“I hope you do not plan to tell her that, Darcy; she is now a devotee of Mary Wollstonecraft, and she doubtless understands that she is responsible for herself.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled. “No, I will not tell her that, but I want to make certain that you understand I will take my responsibility with regard to Mary Bennet seriously.”
“I expect nothing less.”
“I did not think you could afford to marry a woman who is not an heiress, though, Richard.”
The Colonel raised his eyebrows. “I think I could manage. I have a small inheritance from an aunt, and I could sell my commission. Miss Bennet strikes me as a young lady who does not require an extravagant lifestyle.”
Mr. Darcy said, “She has a dowry of five thousand pounds.”
The Colonel looked shocked. “What? I was given to understand that she had almost nothing!”
“She does not yet know, as I have only recently decided to bestow it.”
“I see. Darcy, I do not need your charity.” The Colonel frowned at his cousin.
“And you are not getting my charity. It is to be her money, and only the earnings would be available for her husband, whoever he may be.”
“Will you inform her of her good fortune, Darcy?”
“When I think the time is right, yes.”
***
It was a full week before the Darcys began the return trip to Pemberley. During that week, they dined with the Matlocks and the Gardiners, visited the Menagerie and the British Museum, and spent an evening at the theatre. Colonel Fitzwilliam was often one of the party.
Mindful of the Christmas holiday approaching in six weeks’ time, Elizabeth purchased gifts for her Darcy and Bennet families, and even bought an ivory fan for Lady Anne, just in case a rapprochement was in fact reached, though she privately thought such an event unlikely. She secured a new winter cloak for Lydia, hoping to make up for the great sin of separating her from a villain, as well as one for Kitty.
Two carriages were required to transport the party, as both Kate and Mary were coming to Pemberley; unsurprisingly, Richard Fitzwilliam insisted on being part of the group.