Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
At Darcy’s insistence, he and Fitzwilliam made the trip to Derbyshire as quickly as possible, taking advantage of each possible hour of daylight.
In the carriage, he talked through his strategy with his cousin, and when they stopped for the night, he wrote letters, most necessarily to the solicitors his father had typically consulted, but also the earl and many to Elizabeth.
The latter were filled with explanations of what he was doing, reassurances that he would succeed and meet the implied demands of her father, and expressions of his deep, never-ending love.
He might not be able to send them to her, but he would give them to her eventually, once they were married.
Knowing her as he did, in the future, she would find a way to laugh at everything that was causing them such anxiety currently and making him feel as though he were ageing a decade each hour.
And she will make me laugh at it too, he reflected with wonder.
She was astonishing in all the best ways.
Before parting at Netherfield, Darcy had asked Lord Romsley if he was truly willing to cause a breach by refusing to accept Darcy’s right to make his own decisions.
The earl had retorted, “Are you willing to risk it over this girl? Are you so infatuated with her that you do not care how much distress your union might cause?”
Darcy’s answer had been swift and decisive. “I do love her that much, but this is not just about her. It is about your interference. As much as I respect you and do not want to quarrel, I cannot accept you or Lady Catherine telling me what I may and may not do.”
Writing to him currently, Darcy reiterated his stance, doing his best to calmly and clearly express why Elizabeth was the lady he wanted as his wife and why he was so resolved.
He knew he had not been as eloquent on the matter when they were at Netherfield; he had been too stunned, and it never was particularly easy for him to express himself when speaking, as his first proposal to Elizabeth had demonstrated all too well.
Fitzwilliam reviewed the letter and approved.
“I am convinced my parents will see reason. I understand from my mother that our aunt told them you, she, and Anne had agreed to an autumnal wedding when we were in Kent together. I assured her I knew nothing of it and asked if she genuinely thought you would jilt Anne, which—for your information—she does not.” He rolled his eyes.
“She and Father only need to be away from Lady Catherine and take a few moments to reflect.”
“That is what I believe—or want to believe,” Darcy said. “Especially if I can assure them that I have searched through my father’s papers and consulted his solicitors and can find no evidence that he was that intent on me marrying Anne.”
Unspoken was that, for himself, and to assure Elizabeth, he had to know what his father had really thought.
Was Lady Catherine correct that the union had been his father’s express desire?
Had he lived, would he have done his best to convince Darcy to agree, even to demand he do so?
I refuse to accept that he would have, knowing how little I liked the prospect!
Likewise, he truly believed his father would have approved of Elizabeth, especially knowing how happy she made him.
Darcy had sent word to Georgiana to expect them, thus their arrival Saturday night was not a surprise in itself.
Yet, he had offered no explanation for his trip or Fitzwilliam’s reason for coming with him, and it was evident that his sister understood something significant had happened.
As he and his cousin ate a late dinner, she sat with them, her gaze continually shifting between them, but resting most often on him, her hands clasped together and resting on top of the fine mahogany table.
They spoke of the roads, the weather they had encountered, and which inns they had stayed at, the conversation stilted.
Only after they had finished eating did he and Fitzwilliam inform her of recent events in Meryton. Her mouth hung open inelegantly.
“But why would they act so-so—?” she cried. “Miss Elizabeth is lovely and kind.”
“You know Lady Catherine’s hopes,” Fitzwilliam said gently.
Georgiana nodded impatiently. “But my brother has never wanted to marry Anne! They must know that.”
“Know and accept are very different matters.” As he spoke, Darcy stood and began to slowly pace about the room. He was agitated, longing to leap into the tasks he had planned, but recognising the importance of speaking to his sister.
“Poor Miss Elizabeth,” she said. Her eyes were round and bright with tears and, as he walked by her, he briefly stopped to kiss the top of her head. “You will not give up, will you?” she asked. “Surely, our aunt and uncle Romsley can be made to accept her.”
“I think so,” Fitzwilliam said. “Your brother has an idea or two regarding them, but especially how to clip Lady Catherine’s wings, so to speak.”
Georgiana stood and regarded him. “How? Please let me help you, Brother!”
Darcy smiled and, stepping towards her, took her by the shoulders. “I am very glad to hear you say that. You, my dear, are part of my plan.”
For the next hour or so, they drank tea and discussed what Darcy had expected to accomplish by coming to Pemberley.
His stay would not be long, and they agreed that, when he travelled south again in a few days, Georgiana and her companion, as well as Fitzwilliam, would go with him.
In the meantime, his sister and cousin would do whatever they could to assist him.
What that mostly involved was reading through old papers of his father’s that had not been destroyed after his death.
Hugh Darcy had kept everything—letters, notebooks in which he recorded his activities and lists of items he wished to attend to so that he would not forget, to say nothing of information related to important business matters.
Darcy had looked through the latter out of necessity soon after his father’s death, but in his grief, he had not the strength to read the more personal records.
It was these, in particular, that they searched, looking for anything he had written regarding his son’s marriage, either to Anne de Bourgh or more generally.
Darcy used part of his time to consult with several people who lived locally, notably the vicar and a neighbour his father had considered a close friend.
None of them could recall his father ever speaking of the matter, certainly not of referring to Anne—or any other lady—as the future Mrs Darcy.
Late Tuesday afternoon, the three of them concluded that they had accomplished all they could at Pemberley and should depart for London the next day.
“You should be satisfied with what we have discovered,” Fitzwilliam said when Darcy expressed frustration; he gave his cousin a sceptical look in response.
“He is correct,” Georgiana insisted. “I think that, if Papa had truly wanted you to marry Anne, he would have told someone. Yet, you have uncovered nothing like that. Mrs Reynolds cannot recall any offhanded remarks, and Papa certainly would have mentioned it in relation to redecorating rooms or the like. They often spoke of such matters. And if he had written to Uncle Darcy or one of his friends about his supposed intentions, there would have been a hint of it in their letters. Although I would not like to say Lady Catherine was less than truthful, none of her letters to Papa make mention of the marriage contract she claimed they were discussing.”
“When did you become so wise?” he asked.
She blushed and shyly averted her eyes. “It is only that I very, very much want you to marry Miss Elizabeth. I know she will make you happy and, although I know this is horribly selfish to say, I do so want her to be my sister.”
“Say exactly that, and in the same manner, to my mother and father, and they will drop all opposition to her becoming your brother’s wife,” Fitzwilliam said.
Unfortunately, Lady Catherine would not be so easy to convince. I shall threaten her, if necessary! Darcy thought, accepting the bitterness in his reflections as her due.
Darcy remained awake long after his cousin and sister retired, again writing letters, one to inform the earl of what they had discovered—or failed to—and the other to Elizabeth.
He would send the former by express, permitting the earl and countess time to contemplate the situation carefully before he next spoke to them in person, which would be soon after he arrived in town.
The latter missive was added to the collection he would present to Elizabeth.
He imagined the two of them sitting on a sofa in the mistress’s chamber, his arms wrapped around her, as she read his words, of how wonderful it would feel to finally be free to love her as she deserved.
Before that happy day was possible, he must gain his family’s approval—reluctant or enthusiastic, he did not care—and he felt more confident than ever that he would.
After all, there was no proof that his father would have insisted he marry Anne, no basis for supposing that he was honour-bound to his cousin, apart from the oft-repeated wishes of her mother.
He was free to marry where he liked. And there would be little gossip about Elizabeth being an imprudent match, so long as his relations showed they accepted her as Mrs Darcy.
Once his family agreed, all that would be left was assuring Mr Bennet that there were no more impediments, and then—for the third and, he trusted, final time—he would propose to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth did her best to attend to her usual activities despite being increasingly distracted each day, wondering where Mr Darcy was and whether—when—she would see him again.
Several times, her mother asked if she was unwell, but she was easily satisfied by Elizabeth’s assurances that she was not.
Her father attempted to console her once or twice, but Elizabeth found little comfort in his company.
If she was a different sort of woman, she would tell him that she blamed him for not—at the least—delaying his decision regarding Mr Darcy.
Without speaking to the gentleman, and perhaps the earl or some other of his family, her father had decided he would not support a marriage between her and the man she loved.
It mattered not that she understood and even reluctantly agreed with part of his concern.
Instead of accepting his assurances that he had acted in her best interests, Elizabeth told him that he was mistaken about Mr Darcy, who was an excellent gentleman, and she was as resolved to marry him as he was to marry her.
Displaying confidence, she asked him to be prepared to reconsider his opinion when Mr Darcy returned with proof the situation with his family had been resolved.
She was not quite as certain that day would arrive as she let on, although she mostly was; fear of losing what they might have had—either because of his family or her father’s refusal—made it impossible to banish the last iota of doubt.
Keeping her vexation, anxiety, and disappointment secret was difficult, but she smiled and laughed, and rejoiced in Jane’s happiness to the best of her ability.
The situation had one benefit: she and Mr Bingley became better friends. He took the time to talk to her, brought her into his conversations with her elder sister, attempted to amuse her, and so forth. And he spoke to her of Mr Darcy.
“I know you will not ask, but there was no letter from Darcy today. I did not expect one, necessarily, especially if he has no news to share. I have known him many years, as I suppose you know?” Mr Bingley said one evening.
They were at Purvis Lodge and were sitting together in the drawing room after dinner.
Jane was at his other side, chatting with Maria Lucas.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said with a slight smile. That Mr Darcy had not yet written his friend left her with a hollow sensation in her belly. “He told me of your meeting at school as boys.”
“When he became my mentor and—I do not think he knows this, and it is a bit embarrassing—the example I followed to become a gentleman, as my father wished me to be. He is a good man, the best I know.”
Her smile was more heartfelt this time. “I think so too.”
“To be sure, he has his flaws and makes mistakes, just as we all do.” His eyes drifted to Jane momentarily before he returned his attention to Elizabeth.
“I know you are aware of his and my sisters’ interference with…
” He indicated her sister, and when she nodded, he continued.
“He told me you did when we spoke of it. That was a long conversation, but during it, I learnt some important lessons, mainly to trust my own opinion more.” He shook himself.
“What I wanted to say is that he does not give his friendship or confidence easily, and I have never heard him even hint that he had a special regard for any lady. That he does for you assures me he has given you his loyalty along with his devotion. He will not soon forget, and he will not stop his efforts to convince his relations that he is making the best possible choice of wife. I know you are well suited. Jane and I had spoken of how much we would like to see the two of you form an attachment and then, to our astonishment, we discovered that you had!” He laughed.
“I shall do whatever I can to help, although I do not really know what I might actually do.”
Elizabeth lightly lay her hand on his arm in a gesture of gratitude and affection.
“I have struggled with the same question, longed to discover some step I might take, and have failed to find an answer. Thank you, and please permit me to tell you again how glad I am you will be my brother. I could not imagine one better.”
At that moment, the pianoforte was opened, and Elizabeth was asked to play, effectively ending their conversation.