Prologue #2
“I am assuming we will not see or hear from you for six months,” Darcy remarked seriously. “I will not expect anything from you in that time, and have warned Georgiana of the same. May she write to you?”
“Maybe even twelve months,” his cousin warned him soberly. “Georgiana may always write, so long as she understands I may not reply to her letters. Indeed, I may not receive them at all.”
“Well, you will be missed,” Darcy assured him. “Both by Georgiana and by me. Your wise counsel and good humour are important to our family.”
“You will keep her safe, I know,” the colonel said meaningfully before returning his attention to the roast meat.
“Very good beef, Darcy. Well chosen. Yes, you will both manage perfectly adequately, and Ludlow will take over my part in her guardianship with you until I return. I don’t expect he will need to do much beyond signing occasional bank letters if you are indisposed.
My brother can manage that well enough.”
“Is Ludlow very busy with your father’s estate these days? I imagine that, as heir to the Earl of Matlock, and with what you have said of my uncle’s health, he must be.”
His cousin shrugged, his good-natured face turning pensive.
“I suppose so, although I scarcely know what Ludlow does with himself up in Matlock these days. Since I joined the army, we have moved in very different circles. While I consider myself Ludlow’s superior in good humour and military discipline, I am sure my older brother can step into my shoes in most other matters.
Do not hesitate to call upon him if needed. ”
“Thank you, Richard. As you say, all will be well here in England. I only wish you luck in France and beyond.”
“Enough about me and my luck,” said the colonel with a casual wave of his hand, consigning his future to fate with the ease of the professional soldier. “What do you plan to do with yourself in the coming months, Darcy? Will you have Christmas at Pemberley or in London?”
“Certainly Christmas at Pemberley,” Darcy replied without hesitation. “Before then, I am considering a sojourn in Hertfordshire with a good friend of mine who is seeking a country estate – Mr Charles Bingley. I would be within reach of Georgiana there, but away from London.”
“Will your friend Bingley rent or buy?”
“I cannot say. I believe he will consider either option in the short term. In the longer term, Bingley wishes to create a permanent establishment in line with his fortune and social connections. There is no property in his family, despite their wealth.”
“Ah,” the colonel nodded knowingly, understanding the Bingley family to have risen up from the prosperous middle class.
“Bingley is a very good sort of man, with the best kind of manners and principles,” Darcy continued, obscurely feeling he ought to qualify the connection further.
“You need make no case to me, Darcy,” his cousin laughed.
“As a second son, I have never been able to afford the social fastidiousness and prejudices of many of our own class. When I marry, I would consider myself lucky to find a rich bride whose grandfather was a grocer or haberdasher. Has this Bingley sisters?”
Darcy could not help laughing himself at his cousin’s frankness.
“Two sisters, in fact, and one unmarried. I do not find Miss Caroline Bingley sympathetic personally, but see no reason why another man should not be pleased enough.”
“Well, on the strength of that recommendation of her charms, do be sure to introduce me to Miss Bingley on my return from the Continent,” the colonel chuckled.
“If Bingley finds a suitable house, she will likely play mistress to it while he is unmarried, and you may meet her there as my cousin. Miss Bingley is particularly keen that I accompany her brother in his search,” Darcy remarked.
“Is he not to be trusted?” his cousin enquired.
“Charles Bingley is most trustworthy in his intentions,” Darcy answered slowly.
“Nor is he deficient in good sense. However, he is a man of more amiability than caution and would admit this freely himself. His sisters would not like to see him make any regrettable mistakes in Hertfordshire, whether with local houses or local ladies. Nor would I.”
“Well, it sounds to me as though you must go with him,” Colonel Fitzwilliam declared after another mouthful of claret.
“You are growing peevish in London, and a visit to the countryside and a useful occupation are just what you need. Your presence seems to be much welcomed by all involved. Does this Miss Bingley have an eye on Pemberley, perhaps?”
“Pemberley has no eye on Miss Bingley,” Darcy retorted immediately. “Nor on any other lady. Marriage is not on my mind, Richard.”
“Good, then my own future introduction to rich Miss Bingley is not such a long shot. Still, is Pemberley never to have a mistress of its own?”
“I have not yet met the woman worthy to be Pemberley’s mistress,” Darcy said plainly, without doubt or reservation.
Richard Fitzwilliam laughed again at this pronouncement, although its humour was lost on Darcy, who had intended it only as a simple statement of fact.
“How high-handed you can be, Cousin!” The colonel chuckled.
“I suppose the master of Pemberley can afford such an attitude. Mere second sons can only aspire to monetary value in their future wives, with a pretty face and compatibility of character if we are lucky. I could not afford worthiness of the kind you likely mean.”
“I mean that my wife must be worthy of the Darcy name before every other consideration, in her rank, her fortune, her character and her accomplishments.”
Even to Darcy himself, this sounded a little pompous, and he was not surprised that Richard’s pale blue eyes continued to twinkle with amusement.
“Is that so? Dear me. Some would say that a man with such a view might benefit from being brought down a peg or two by love. I would question whether you might also have to prove yourself worthy of your wife.”
Darcy shook his head, partly in incomprehension and partly in disagreement. His rank and fortune were obvious to all, and his name well known in both Derbyshire and London. He lived by his principles, and no one who knew him could say otherwise. What was there left to be proved?
“Unless I were foolhardy enough to seek the hand of royalty, I fail to see how I could be in an unfavourable position,” he said rather blankly.
“Oh, the future can take care of itself,” Colonel Fitzwilliam told him with a smile.
“Do not be cross again. I shall tease you no more until I return. Let us go back to our immediate obligations instead. Lord Hamforth over there knows both of us and would serve perfectly as a witness. Do you have the documents to hand?”
Glancing across the room and seeing the mutual acquaintance his cousin had mentioned entering the dining room, Darcy nodded and tapped on the case beside his chair. It contained documents drawn up by his solicitors earlier that week.
“It would save us a visit to my agent or solicitor after luncheon, wouldn’t it?” Darcy agreed with his cousin’s idea. “I shall go over and ask him before he sits down.”
An hour later in the club’s library, full of roast beef and fine claret, and with Lord Hamforth as witness, the requisite legal documents were signed to temporarily cede Colonel Fitzwilliam’s co-guardianship of Georgiana to his older brother, Ludlow.
At the front doors of the club shortly afterwards, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam shook hands and then embraced briefly.
“Au revoir, Darcy. Enjoy the countryside!” said the colonel cheerfully.
“Bonne chance, Richard. Come to Pemberley when you return. Georgiana and I will be waiting for you.”
The cousins parted there on St James’s Street to walk in opposite directions, one heading for certain dangers in France and beyond, and the other for adventures yet unknown in the presumably less perilous country of Hertfordshire.