Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Returning to the drawing room, Darcy was disappointed—but not surprised—to find his relations had remained where they had been when he, Bramwell, and Fitzwilliam had left them.
There were cups and plates scattered on various tables, showing that one of Bingley’s servants had supplied them with tea; it was more than they deserved.
He yearned for a period of quiet reflection, but he knew that was currently impossible.
Before anyone else spoke, he did, his tone firm. “I am not, and never will be, engaged to Anne. Repeatedly saying that it is so does not make it true. I am not obligated by law to marry my cousin. Neither am I bound by honour—”
“You always led Anne and me to believe you agreed to the match,” Lady Catherine interjected.
“I have not. What I have done is inform you time and again that I would not marry her.”
“What of the discussions you had about marrying this autumn, last spring when you were in Kent?” Lord Romsley said, his question drowned by Lady Catherine’s next statement.
“You only said you were not thinking of marriage or not ready for it yet,” his aunt retorted. “Now that Georgiana is finished school, she needs a sister, as I told you at Easter.”
“And I intend to give her an excellent one. No lady could be better suited to the role than Elizabeth Bennet!” Darcy said, struggling not to raise his voice.
As she had earlier, Lady Catherine spoke of his father making preparations for a marriage between Anne and Darcy. “All that was lacking was another month to see the business concluded. The contract would have been finalised.”
“What year do you think it is? You cannot force me into a marriage, contract or not! There is no clergy in the world that would perform the ceremony against my wishes. It is 1812, not 1712, and people can no longer force their children to marry whomever they decide upon when they are in their cradles.”
“Too true,” Fitzwilliam said, barely loud enough to be heard.
Lady Catherine acted as though she had not, saying, “Perhaps not, but are you going to deny your parents’ dearest wish for your future?”
“You know your father dreamt of uniting the two estates,” Lord Romsley added. “It would create a further tie between his beloved wife’s family and his own, as well as providing better for the tenants of both estates and future generations.”
“Why are you so insistent on this matter?” Darcy asked him, managing to sound respectful. He truly did not understand it and supposed that, if he did, he would be able to overcome his uncle’s objections.
The earl regarded him steadily. “I am attempting to protect our family, especially you, from allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment, emotions that most likely are fleeting.”
Lady Catherine said, “I vow to you, Nephew, if you persist with this madness, I shall ensure everyone sees Elizabeth Bennet for what she is: a scheming minx who entrapped you with her base tricks and artfulness.” Her features twisted into an almost menacing expression, though Darcy thought that might be more his imagination than reality.
“I can ruin your reputation, ensure everyone knows you went against your parents’ wishes and those of your family, that you have thrown over every expectation your cousin and I have, for a girl of inferior birth, one who does not even have a fortune to excuse your attraction.
You will be castigated for breaking Anne’s heart and for being a fool. ”
The heat in his belly was momentarily replaced by chilling dread. He did not fear for himself, but Elizabeth was another matter.
“Your father wanted it, and you would have obeyed him,” Lord Romsley said. “You are to follow his instructions, even though he is no longer here to insist upon it himself.”
“Because of a few letters he may have written years ago, without my knowledge, without even speaking to me of it or asking what I wanted? You cannot possibly believe that constitutes a legal basis for forcing me to—” Darcy cried.
“I say it is,” the earl was quick to reply. “And if you choose to challenge it, I shall use my influence—”
“If you continue to threaten me, as I assume you intend to, our connexion will be at an end, sir.” Darcy spoke with icy severity.
He had had enough and was prepared to demand all six interlopers remove themselves from Netherfield at once.
It was not his house, however, and he wondered where Bingley was; his friend might tell them to go, especially once he realised they were insulting the Bennets.
The countess made a noise of distress, and the earl held up his hands, palms facing Darcy, and, in a somewhat conciliatory manner, said, “Let us keep our tempers under good regulation.” Looking towards his sister, she added, “All of us.”
Darcy nodded and took in the other members of his family. Lady Romsley sat beside Anne, one hand resting on her niece’s, while Bramwell and Fitzwilliam stood together near the fireplace once again. They met his eye, and he saw support in their expressions, for which he was grateful.
After a moment, the earl said, “Nephew, the simple fact is that your family expects your union to Anne, and you have implied for years that you would fulfil our expectations. Your continued stubbornness is ungentlemanly, and it is upsetting your aunt and cousin. It is too late to change your mind, just because some country miss has caught your eye.” His voice was not unkind—more like that of a firm rather than angry parent.
Lady Catherine’s tone had lost none of its bitter fury, however. She took a step towards him as she spoke. “That is the truth I shall advertise. There might not be a signed contract, but you did agree to marry Anne.”
Darcy stared at his aunt for a long moment, the small threads of respect he had once had for her breaking one by one.
Rather than direct his next comment to her, he turned to his cousin and asked, “Did I ever propose to you? Did I ever speak of our marriage, of you being my wife or living at Pemberley?”
Anne regarded him, unblinking. Her eyes were over-large in her thin face, and in them, he saw confusion. She did not respond; rather, her mother answered for her, as was her custom.
“Your engagement has never been a formal one, but that is immaterial.”
“A fictional engagement,” Bramwell said. “I understand they are quite en vogue this year.”
Predictably, Fitzwilliam laughed, and the earl and countess reprimanded them. Darcy appreciated his effort to alleviate the tense atmosphere.
“Your father would be disappointed by you,” Lord Romsley said to Darcy.
“As would your mother, God rest her soul. I cannot believe you would choose to marry a girl who would bring nothing to your marriage, knowing it would make them unhappy and that, if your father were alive, he would never approve, never accept her as his daughter-in-law.”
Darcy swallowed heavily, thinking his uncle’s words were cruel and preyed on his grief.
He hated the thought of displeasing his parents, whom he had loved and respected—but he believed the earl was wrong.
“If my mother and father were alive and they met Elizabeth, they would welcome her to our family and understand exactly why she is the best lady to be my wife.”
“There are benefits beyond, you know, fortune and connexions our future wives, whoever they might be, will bring to our marriages,” Bramwell said, sounding unusually tentative. “Companionship and love.”
Lady Catherine scoffed. “Love? You are going to decide who you like based on how pretty she is, how charming she looks when she flutters her eyelashes at you, how she stirs your—”
“Enough, Catherine,” the earl hissed.
“Nephew,” Lady Romsley said, drawing Darcy’s attention.
“You care for Anne already, and more can grow from such a beginning. Even if you never feel a grand passion such as novelists write about—and I doubt few ever do—there are different types of love, and you and she will share a good sort of steady, companionable love.”
Lord Romsley said, “Anne, did you believe yourself bound to Darcy and that he agreed?” Anne nodded. “Is it what you want?” Again, his cousin nodded and dabbed at her eyes with her fine linen handkerchief.
The earl’s next comment was directed at Darcy.
“That ends the matter. Catherine and Anne, to say nothing of my wife and I—and I dare say Georgiana and your father’s people—all anticipate the match.
We shall all rejoice at your union, and you will be pleased to know how glad your parents would have been.
It will bring prosperity and stability to your family for decades to come.
Even were all this not true, you cannot possibly marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Who is her mother? Who are her aunts and uncles? ”
“And her sister lately married that Wickham boy! No matter how her father and uncle tried to patch it up, I have been told by a reliable source that the couple eloped. Eloped!” Lady Catherine added, glee in her tone.
“Darcy, you would tie yourself to your father’s steward’s son?
The connexion would be shameful. There is nothing more to be said.
You and Bramwell are both old enough to be married and produce heirs.
You have responsibilities to this family.
You will marry Anne, Bramwell will marry Lady Cassandra Nort—”
“I will not!” Bramwell interjected, his cheeks darkening.
Darcy scratched his forehead and spent the next moment listening to his eldest cousin and uncle debate the matter of Lady Cassandra Northcote.
The truth was, the lady and Bramwell despised each other—possibly because they knew their parents wished for their marriage, possibly because they were just two exceedingly different people—but it was an eligible match that would strengthen certain political alliances.
“I do not like her,” Bramwell said, carefully enunciating each word.