Chapter 5 #2
Darcy believed he meant them. For the first time since George Darcy's death, someone sounded genuinely sorry rather than merely shocked.
An idea occurred to him. “There is something you could do. Would you take Georgiana?”
Lord Matlock’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Take her?”
“For her education.” Darcy folded his hands together. “I intend to retrench aggressively. My plan is to lease this house. Most of the London servants will be dismissed with references. At Pemberley, I intend to close all but a small portion of the house.”
The words sounded severe when spoken aloud. Yet Darcy had spent days calculating alternatives.
There were none.
“I can afford governesses and masters for Georgiana from the income of her trust,” he continued. “But she deserves society. Family. Stability. Richard, was chosen to be her second guardian. I am only relieved it was not Wickham.”
The earl screwed his face up at this, and Darcy smiled slightly.
“And I confess I would feel easier knowing she was surrounded by people who loved her.”
For a long moment, Lord Matlock simply looked at him, then he nodded. “Of course.”
Relief spread quietly through Darcy's chest.
The earl continued. “Your aunt would be delighted. Marianne has always been particularly fond of Georgiana, though they have only met a few times.”
Darcy smiled faintly. “Georgiana is the very image of my mother.”
“Is she?” The earl's eyes brightened.
“Just wait until you see her.”
Lord Matlock sighed, but then his expression darkened once more. “I wish I could do more,” he repeated, his hand tightening slightly upon the arm of his chair. “But most of the Fitzwilliam fortune is tied up.”
Darcy nodded. He understood immediately. “The trusts.”
“Exactly.” The earl gave a humorless laugh and leaned back heavily.
“My grandfather established half of them, and my father established the remainder.
When I was younger, I thought the restrictions excessive.
Entire portions of the estate are protected from even the earl's direct interference. It seemed absurd to me then.”
His gaze drifted toward the furniture awaiting valuation, the paintings stacked against the wall, and the ledgers spread across nearly every available surface.
“Now I understand perfectly why they did it. One foolish generation can destroy centuries of work.”
The words struck closer than either of them cared to admit.
Darcy found himself thinking unexpectedly of Rome.
Not the glorious republic celebrated in histories, nor the mighty empire that stretched from Britain to the eastern Mediterranean, but the slow decay that followed.
The neglected frontiers. The corruption.
The generations who inherited greatness and assumed it could never truly disappear.
Yet it had disappeared.
Entire civilizations had fallen because too many men believed someone else would preserve them.
“Yes,” Darcy said quietly. “It can.”
The earl regarded him thoughtfully for several moments before an expression almost resembling relief softened his features.
“I am glad of one thing, however.”
Darcy looked up from the ledger resting open before him.
“And what is that?”
A faint smile touched Lord Matlock's face.
“You have more of Anne in you than George.”
The remark caught Darcy entirely by surprise.
For a moment he found himself unable to answer.
Throughout childhood he had heard endlessly of his resemblance to his father—the same dark hair, the same height, the same serious disposition.
Yet sitting there amidst the wreckage George Darcy had left behind, he realized no compliment could have pleased him more.
Silence settled comfortably between them. At length Lord Matlock cleared his throat. “You know, Fitzwilliam—”
Darcy glanced up.
“If you wished it, there would be room for you as well.”
For a brief moment, the offer tempted him, but then he shook his head. “No, I must go to Pemberley.”
He rose and crossed toward the rain-streaked window. Beyond it, London blurred beneath gray skies and gathering evening. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, making him look far older than his twenty-one years.
“The servants who remain stayed despite everything. If I am asking them to sacrifice and endure while matters improve...” He paused briefly. “Then I cannot very well hide in comfort elsewhere.”
The earl watched him quietly.
Darcy continued. “I shall live simply.” The words felt oddly freeing. “No large staff. No entertainments. No unnecessary expenses.”
He looked back toward his uncle. “Just work.”
For a moment, Lord Matlock's eyes grew suspiciously bright, then he stood and crossed the room to place his hand on Darcy’s shoulder. When he spoke, his voice trembled. “Anne would have been very proud of you.”
Of all the compliments Darcy had received in his life, none struck deeper.
Because for the first time since his mother's death, he found himself wishing desperately that she could see what had become of her son.
∞∞∞
The morning Darcy was to leave London arrived gray and overcast, with low clouds hanging over Grosvenor Square and a fine drizzle misting the windows.
He stood alone in the drawing room and looked around.
For the first time in his life, the house felt honest.
Gone were the marble statues his father had imported from Italy simply because another gentleman possessed similar ones.
Gone were the gilded French tables, the elaborate clocks, the collections of porcelain, and the paintings George Darcy had purchased more to impress guests than because he admired them.
The room still contained furniture. It remained comfortable. A future tenant would find it entirely suitable.
But all pretense had been stripped away.
The realization ought to have saddened him.
Instead, Darcy found it oddly satisfying.
His father had spent years pretending to possess wealth that no longer existed. Every room in the house had been designed to project prosperity, influence, and consequence. Yet beneath the glittering surface had lurked unpaid accounts, mounting obligations, and financial ruin.
Now, at least, appearances matched reality.
He crossed to the window and looked out over the square.
A tenant would soon occupy the house under favorable terms. The lease would provide desperately needed income for several years. It was not enough to solve Pemberley's problems, but it would help.
Everything helped.
A hundred pounds helped.
Ten pounds helped.
At present, even a single pound seemed worthy of consideration.
The butler, who had moved through the past weeks with increasing gratitude for every sign of order restored, entered and bowed, then extended his hand with a card. “Mr. Edward Gardiner, sir.”
Darcy closed his eyes for one brief moment before schooling his features.
Another creditor. There could be no other reason for a tradesman to call upon the morning of his departure, and though Darcy had believed all urgent accounts settled or arranged, the discovery of one more did not surprise him. Nothing surprised him any longer.
“Show him into the study.”
Mr. Gardiner proved to be younger than Darcy expected and was fashionably dressed.
“Mr. Darcy, I must apologize for not calling sooner,” he said after the first bows.
“I was recently married and have only just returned from my wedding journey. Business, I am afraid, has been waiting for me with rather less sentiment than my wife.”
Darcy gave a faint smile at that, but it faded when the invoices were laid before him.
The sum was only a little more than one hundred pounds.
A year earlier, such an amount would scarcely have troubled him.
Now it felt impossible. He looked down at the figures, then at the neat columns in his ledger, and said with quiet honesty, “Mr. Gardiner, the account is just, but I cannot pay the whole of it today. I can offer a portion now and the remainder in installments, with interest.”
Gardiner did not answer immediately. He glanced over the open ledger with the practical eye of a man accustomed to accounts, and Darcy saw the moment he understood the pattern of payments.
The servants had been paid. Smaller tradesmen had been paid before larger ones.
Those most likely to suffer from delay had received what was owed as soon as Darcy could manage it.
“You have been paying everyone you can,” Gardiner said at last.
“I am trying.”
“No,” the other man replied, closing the ledger. “You have. I know the difference between a gentleman who cannot pay at once and one who never intended to pay at all.”
The remark struck Darcy more deeply than he expected. He had endured anger, desperation, accusation, and relief from creditors over the past weeks, but very little understanding. “I still owe the money.”