Chapter 6 #2
“Mrs Bennet, I suppose you have heard about the new neighbours we are expecting at Michaelmas? I am sorely disappointed in the good ladies of Meryton if you have not,” he teased.
“Yes, I heard. I am certain the young man will make a welcome addition to the neighbourhood.” Mrs Bennet spoke disinterestedly, her attention engaged on selecting a new thread for the handkerchief she was embroidering.
“Am I correct in assuming that I should be among the first to visit Netherfield and make Mr Bingley’s acquaintance?”
Mrs Bennet appeared to be absorbed in her needlework. “If you would like. I have no objection to your visiting Mr Bingley. ’Tis the proper etiquette, to be sure.”
Mr Bennet stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowed. A young, unmarried man worth five thousand a year had come into the neighbourhood, and his wife appeared unaffected. “Mrs Bennet, is something wrong?”
“Not at all. Why do you ask?”
“I think it curious that this eligible young man should come into the neighbourhood and you would not wish for him to become immediately betrothed to one of our five daughters.”
“I suppose that is his design in settling here? To marry one of our daughters?” Mrs Bennet looked teasingly at her husband.
“His design—Oh, what nonsense you speak! No, no, but he may very well take a liking to one of them.”
“I pray he would not.”
“Indeed?” Mr Bennet was now thoroughly perplexed. Was it not still his wife’s ambition to see her daughters married to wealthy men? When had this change come about?
“A fortune from trade? I suppose the size of the fortune itself is respectable enough, but Lizzy is of the first circles now. She will return to London in a few months, and then think of the rich and titled gentlemen with whom she will acquaint her sisters! No, Mr Bingley and his five thousand a year from trade can be no more than a pleasant diversion. Our daughters will marry dukes and earls or, at the very least, extremely rich landowners.”
Mr Bennet frowned. He could not like such sentiments. Nevertheless, he knew his wife: once her mind was set to something, neither reason nor sense would dissuade her. Sighing, he picked up his paper and hoped young Bingley would take a liking to Maria Lucas for his own sake.
Darcy reluctantly accepted an invitation to dine at his uncle’s house, suspecting he was being summoned for advisement—or perhaps even admonishment—pertaining to Georgiana. His uncle could have nothing to say that Darcy had not already thought, but nevertheless, he knew he must give him his due.
When the ladies withdrew from dinner, Darcy watched his uncle lean forwards and draw a deep breath, and he knew the time had come.
“I am loath to tell you how I think you should be raising your sister.”
“Then, pray, do not,” Darcy replied firmly. “I assure you, I hear from my aunt daily on the subject.”
“You have been an excellent and diligent guardian. We simply feel there are things about a girl at such an age that a bachelor cannot apprehend.”
“Once the right sort of companion has been secured—”
“No, no.” Lord Matlock shook his head vehemently. “It will not do, and in any case, the good candidates have all gone running.”
Darcy took a drink of his port. “Georgiana’s reputation as a difficult and spirited young lady precedes her.
” He rose, laid his napkin on the table, and walked to the window.
“How has this happened? She was once such a pleasant young girl, so demure and sweet. This bold defiance is entirely unexpected.”
The earl poured another glass of port and swirled it in his glass. In a tone that implied the idea had just occurred to him, he said, “What if you were to take a wife? Someone to guide her is certainly just what she needs.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “I wondered how long it would take you to say it.”
“Do you disagree?”
“I cannot.” Darcy returned to his chair with a sigh. “A wife would be of great benefit to Georgiana, as well as to myself.”
“At least you are relieved of the urgings of Lady Catherine to take her daughter as your wife.”
Darcy leant back. “I am happy for my cousin Anne and hope she will find great felicity with Mr Maddox. As for myself…” He sank into his thoughts.
“Yes?”
Drumming his fingers against the table, Darcy considered how much to confide. “I know I must marry a lady of excellent fortune and good connexions to credit my station.”
He stopped for a moment, causing his uncle to prompt, “However?”
“I should like someone who is interesting and witty—someone I enjoy spending time with and not merely to fulfil my duty and bed occasionally to produce an heir. To marry any of the ladies of my acquaintance would be to consign myself to this infernal loneliness I always feel. The only difference is that I would still be alone but with someone else in the room.”
His uncle showed a surprisingly compassionate countenance. “Why are you lonely? You have us, and you know we love you as a son.”
“I thank you, but alas, it is not the same.”
Darcy raised himself up a moment later, not wishing to seem glum. “I have much in my life for which to be thankful, and I am. However, I wish to marry in a manner that does not condemn me to eternal wistfulness.”
“Is there someone who holds your fancy?”
“My efforts have been directed towards avoiding attachments, not forming one,”
“Would you like our assistance?”
Darcy pressed his lips together tightly as he considered what he would say next. “I am not quite ready to turn my future over to you.”
Lord Matlock protested immediately, “We understand your needs and have only—”
“It says nothing to my trust in you. I am not quite ready yet to commit to it. I am for Hertfordshire soon. Bingley let a house there and wants me to look at it. When I return, we may revisit the topic.”
“Hertfordshire, eh?” Lord Matlock raised an eyebrow at his nephew, bringing his glass to his lips to hide a faint smile. “Well, perhaps you will meet someone of interest there.”
“In Hertfordshire? I think not!” Darcy laughed.
“The society there is nothing short of savage. Nevertheless, the estate, should it prove all it is reported to be, will be suitable for Bingley. I shall accompany him to be certain he does not find himself purchasing a crumbling castle with poorly drained fields or falling in love with some farmer’s daughter.
Do not worry: I shall not return with an attachment for myself. ”
Lord Matlock only shrugged and smiled.