Chapter Twenty
George approached the neat frontage of Lydia Bennet's home with more trepidation than he had felt in the midst of some sea battles.
He was freshly shaved, a considerably more painful process than usual due to his current bruising, and wore his finest blue coat and a clean white shirt, his previous one having been consigned to the fire the night before.
He had agonised over his cravat for far too long that morning, though how a well-tied knot was meant to influence Mr Darcy's judgement of him, he did not know.
He stood for a moment before the house and looked up, noticing a figure at one of the upper windows.
There was no mistaking the large dark eyes looking down upon him.
Bella's hair was loose around her shoulders but now appeared neat and clean, falling in glossy ringlets around her face, and his heart leapt painfully at the sight of her.
The day before, he had almost asked her to marry him.
It was a situation he would not have been able to countenance a few days earlier, but at some point in that horrible dark little room his heart had become hers.
He had looked at her, so beautiful, so full of life despite her dirt-stained gown and wild hair, and the organ that he had always taken such care to guard had slipped away from him.
He had never believed in great romantic love.
He had always thought that love, like all life's major decisions, should be a calculated choice, one that brought satisfaction to both parties and was founded on practical ideals.
He had not expected it to bloom so joyfully or so fast. But little of that mattered if he could not gain her father's approval.
George lifted a hand in greeting and Bella smiled down at him before he walked to the door and raised the knocker.
A maid answered and dropped into a neat curtsey before showing him into the entrance hall.
She directed him to a small chair painted with tiny daffodils across almost every available surface.
It was not quite a child's chair, but neither was it well suited to supporting a full-grown man, and George sat awkwardly upon it, fiddling with his cravat for more than ten minutes before Mr Darcy finally appeared.
"Captain Harwood. Please follow me."
He offered no greeting and no conversation, but simply turned on his heel.
George followed him through the house to a small room that he suspected the older man was using as a temporary study.
A quantity of feminine clutter had been pushed to one side and replaced by neatly stacked documents, ink and pens.
"Sit," Mr Darcy said, and it felt more like a command than an invitation.
"Thank you, sir." George lowered himself into the chair opposite Bella's father and tried to appear composed.
"I have spoken to my wife regarding your actions towards my daughter," Mr Darcy began. He spoke each word carefully, as though measuring the value of it before allowing it to leave his mouth, and his eyes never left George. His eyes were dark like Bella’s, but where hers were warm and liquid, his were cold and assessing.
Frankly terrifying. George would not put it past the man to throttle him still.
"I understand that you played a crucial role in helping my daughter escape the clutches of that fiend, Mr Trevethan, and I am further given to understand that the information you supplied to the Customs Office last night has enabled Collector Brown and his men to make several raids and arrests this morning.
" Mr Darcy paused. "You are to be commended, sir.
You have the gratitude not only of myself but of my entire family, and I would like to reward you for those actions. "
He pushed a piece of paper smoothly across the desk.
George picked it up and examined it. It was a banker's draft for five thousand pounds.
He opened and closed his mouth several times before managing to speak.
"I cannot accept this, sir. My actions were not undertaken for any pecuniary gain.
I would have done anything to secure the safety of Bella, I mean Miss Darcy, and I cannot countenance accepting any sort of reward for doing so. "
He noticed a tick in Mr Darcy’s cheek at his use of his daughter’s given name. "That is very noble of you," he said, although George thought he heard the faintest edge in his voice. The older man sat back in his chair. "Which brings us to the other matter."
George clenched and unclenched his fists beneath the desk.
"You importuned my daughter, sir, in broad daylight and in a most ungentlemanly fashion.
She is but twenty years old and has seen very little of the world.
I appreciate that the circumstances in which you found yourselves thrown together were highly unusual, and it is for that reason, and that reason alone, that I will not call you out.
But I would ask that you do not contact her again.
You are not to attempt to form any further connection with her. "
George felt all the warmth leave his body.
"I will not have her forced into an arrangement because of actions taken under heightened emotion and extraordinary circumstances," Mr Darcy continued. "I love my daughter and my family more dearly than anything in this world, and I will do whatever it takes to protect them."
He placed a particular emphasis on whatever it takes, and George swallowed.
"Sir, I respect the care and devotion you have towards your family.
It is most admirable, and I have seen the effect of that care in your daughter.
She is clever, kind and resourceful as well as very, very direct.
" He chuckled softly at this last attribute, though by the look on Mr Darcy’s face the comment was not received with the good humour it was given.
"You have had a very short acquaintance with my daughter, sir. I would advise you not to counsel me on her better qualities."
"Of course." George knew immediately that he had employed the wrong strategy, but there seemed little point in retreating now.
"Nevertheless, I would like your permission to court your daughter, sir, with a view to a respectable marriage.
She is more dear to me than I can say, and I do not wish to be parted from her. "
"You do not wish to be parted from her?" Darcy repeated, his lips pulling into a tight line. "My daughter is not yet of age and she remains under my protection. It is for me to determine whether I allow you to continue any sort of friendship with her."
"And does she have a say in any of this?" George asked. "She does not seem the type of woman who likes to be commanded, particularly in matters of the heart."
"Matters of the heart?" Mr Darcy's expression hardened.
"What do you know of matters of the heart?
How long have you known my daughter? A week?
Two weeks, if that? You may have spent an unusual amount of time in her company, Captain, but you speak very boldly for a man with such a slight acquaintance. "
"It is not a slight acquaintance," George said before he could stop himself. "I have spent more hours speaking to your daughter than many couples do in the course of an entire courtship. I know the contents of her heart, and she knows the contents of mine."
Mr Darcy stared at him for a long moment before pushing back his chair and standing. He walked towards the window and looked out across the harbour, clasping his hands behind his back. "Have you any experience in running an estate, Captain Harwood?"
George stumbled over his answer, unsure what had prompted the sudden change of subject. "Very little, sir. My father was a country squire, but unfortunately he managed his estate very poorly and it was eventually given up to cover his debts. I was still a boy when this occurred."
Darcy did not turn towards him. "Bella is the heiress of one of the greatest estates in the country, Pemberley.
That is not to mention the other Darcy properties in London and several smaller estates spread across the country.
The man who will one day stand beside her must be capable of helping her manage those interests. "
George shifted in his chair. "I understand."
"Do you?" There was no mockery in Mr Darcy's voice now, and George suddenly felt very small.
"And how do you propose to support her until such time as she comes into her majority and eventually takes up her role as mistress of Pemberley?"
"I have a small nest egg, enough to support a modest life, and the Customs Office has offered me a permanent role travelling around the country and advising ports on suspected smuggling activity.
It is not the income of a great estate, certainly, but it is honest work.
I have worked since I was fifteen, Mr Darcy, and I do not believe there is any skill I cannot learn if it is required to support my wife. "
Mr Darcy turned at that. "She is not your wife, Captain. She is not your intended. As of this moment, she is nothing to you."
He felt the blood drain from his face.
Mr Darcy's expression softened only slightly.
"Do you understand the pressures placed upon a person at this level of society?
Bella has already felt the weight of them, and those pressures have influenced her into unwise actions.
I had imagined her supported by a partner who understood this world and could help her navigate it, not a retired sailor travelling from port to port and coming into constant contact with dangerous men. "
George said nothing, examining the material of his breeches very closely.
"Would you want that for your daughter, sir?" Darcy asked. "Or your sister? Any woman in your family whom you cared for deeply?"
George did not look up. "No, sir."
"Then how can you possibly expect me to welcome your suit?"
Darcy returned to his desk. "You have known her but a very short time.
You are not her match in income or society.
You have admitted that you have just accepted a position that will see you travelling around the country, very likely staying in accommodations I would never choose for my daughter, and it would take her away from the business of learning how to manage the estate she will one day inherit. "
"Perhaps there is some compromise," George began.
"There is no compromise," Darcy said sharply.
"This is madness. I fear that you have both been deeply affected by what you endured together, and as I have already said, emotions have run high.
I will not permit either of you to make a decision of such consequence while still caught up in the aftermath of it.
Now please leave this house, sir. I have a daughter to attend to and a family who require me. "
George stood, feeling strangely numb, and bowed. "I see. Good day, Mr Darcy."
He walked from the room in a daze. Mr Darcy had been stiff and unpleasant, certainly, but was he wrong?
His objections had sounded perfectly reasonable when laid out so logically.
If George looked at the matter as he looked at every other important part of his life, it was incredible that he should be asking for the hand of one of the most eligible heiresses in the country, and even more incredible that he should feel ready to marry a woman after less than two weeks of acquaintance.
He turned towards the front door just as footsteps rattled down the staircase. George paused and looked back. Bella stood at the bottom of the stairs, her hair still loose around her shoulders, her face clean and bright and her large eyes sparkling at him with expectation.
"George," she said softly. "You have spoken to my father."
"I have had an interview with your father, yes."
"And?"
Her eyes were teasing at first, then hopeful, and George looked at her and felt his heart shatter.
He could not find the words to tell her that he was not good enough for her, that what they had shared had perhaps been a moment born of fear and danger, and that there was no way he could become the sort of partner she needed.
"I must go, Miss Darcy," he said, willing his voice not to shake. "I am needed at the Customs Office. I bid you good day."
Her smile slowly faded. She reached out and touched his sleeve, but before either of them could say another word, Mr Darcy appeared in the corridor behind her.
"Bella, what are you doing out of bed? You need your rest, sweetheart. Captain Harwood was just leaving."
George looked at her one final time. Her face had gone pale and her eyes were already beginning to fill with tears. He almost lost his resolve then. Almost snatched her hand and pulled her out of the house with him. Her sanctimonious father be damned.
Instead he bowed stiffly. "Good day, Miss Darcy." Then he turned and fled the house.