Chapter 27 #2
At that moment, if I could have declared that my affection for him was more than the love of a sister, I surely would have—thus rescuing him from such an unhappy alliance.
If he would have me…
I turned away, staring out towards the park, the oaks and elms clothed in the dark green of summer.
Tears clouded my eyes; I could barely see the distant folly, where the statue of Diana mocked us with its immodest display.
I flushed. Did Fitzwilliam hold more affection for me than a brother ought?
Marianne held that it was so. My affection for him, I had supposed, was the equal of his…
‘Oh, Lizzy, I cannot but think of Fitzwilliam as beautiful, just as Lydia says.’ Kitty was disconsolate, yet there was little comfort I could afford her.
* * *
“Miss Bennet, on behalf of our family, I wish to thank you for rescuing our niece. It was bravely done.” Lord Matlock addressed me directly, following my introduction to his lordship and Lady Matlock. The Earl was tall like his sons, with a commanding presence that filled the room.
I glanced at Georgiana, whose broad smile was so like Darcy’s that I knew, without seeing, that she also had the sweetest dimples. “My lord, we both know it was foolhardy in the extreme. I am only grateful that Georgiana is safe. Then, and now, she is like a sister to me—I could have done no less.”
Lord Matlock held my gaze for a few moments, then nodded. “Notwithstanding your modesty, my dear, it was indeed boldly done.” He turned to Mr. Darcy. “I believe, George, we are very proud of our new niece.”
Hope flared. Was Mama truly to marry Mr. Darcy? Had the Earl and Countess given their blessing?
Mrs. Reynolds and Jacob quietly entered, carrying trays holding goblets of sparkling wine.
“A toast to Mrs. Bennet, soon Mrs. Darcy. Welcome, Fanny, to our family!” Lord Matlock raised his glass, and we all toasted Mama, who blushed, taking Mr. Darcy’s hand in hers.
“Thank you, Henry,” replied Mr. Darcy. “The blessing of the Fitzwilliams is well appreciated, very well indeed. Now, let us sit to breakfast, and enjoy this Sillery and A? champagne, which has been sitting in my cellar far too long.”
“I never discovered it, Uncle,” said Milton, taking a long draught, which was quickly refilled by Jacob.
“Pemberley still has secrets, Milton. I was well advised that either you or Richard would search my cellars. Even Fitzwilliam does not know where I keep the very best wines.”
Darcy gave that quiet smile which I knew signified he held a secret himself.
As hot dishes were placed on the table—coddled eggs, grilled bacon, lamb chops, and kedgeree—Lady Catherine spoke up from the head of the table.
Matlock had taken the seat at the foot, with Lady Matlock and Mrs. Bennet to either side.
“Well, Henry, you are prepared to dishonour your sister’s memory by allowing this woman—” she glared at Mrs. Bennet “—to preside over Anne’s house. It is not to be borne!”
I caught Jacob’s eye—he quickly ushered the serving maids out of the room and closed the parlour door.
“Catherine, you will cease to speak so in front of the servants! Miss Bennet—nay, Elizabeth, for she is soon to be my niece—has the manners that you lack to ensure they are not privy to your ill temper. Mrs. Bennet, I apologise for my sister’s rudeness—she must be quite overcome with the events of the day.
” Matlock glared at Lady Catherine, but the lady was not to be gainsaid.
“Harrumph! And you, Susan, do you support this travesty?”
Lady Matlock laid down her fork, calmly took a sip of wine, and leant across the table, taking Mama’s hand.
“Mrs. Bennet, though of new acquaintance, is a lovely lady. From the very first moment, I saw she puts George’s well-being ahead of her own.
She confessed to me that, were Henry and I to disapprove of her marriage, she would withdraw. ”
Mr. Darcy abruptly turned to her, tears in his eyes.
“No, never!” he muttered. I knew then that he would abandon even Pemberley itself, leaving it to Darcy to manage, rather than lose Mama.
My heart fluttered; their love was blossoming so quickly, just as the Monthly Rose in Lady Anne’s garden came into bloom month after month.
Lady Matlock paused, her eyes catching mine. “We have heard nothing but good of her daughter, Elizabeth. A gentlewoman who has raised such a lovely young lady is certainly a suitable mistress of Pemberley, and mother to our dear niece, Georgiana.”
Lady Catherine was about to renew her protest when her countenance changed from outrage to calculation. “And Miss Bennet is to be sister to Fitzwilliam?”
“Of course, Catherine. The children of a married couple are siblings under law, no matter their blood ties.” Mr. Darcy gave Lady Catherine a puzzled look, as though speaking to a child.
“Well, indeed!” Lady Catherine turned to Darcy who, by some mischance, was sitting adjacent to her, opposite his cousin. “Thus, there can be no impediment to his marrying Anne!”
“I do not take your meaning, Aunt,” Darcy frowned, as confused as we all were.
“The young chit, as well you know, Darcy, has been drawing you in by her wiles. I have seen it—having you sit next to her, your carrying her upstairs when she can surely walk. But now, as your sister, she cannot entrap you further—siblings cannot marry!” Lady Catherine looked directly at me, gloating.
“What now, Miss Bennet? Are you to turn your charms, meagre as they are, on to Milton, or have you already befuddled Richard?”
All four gentlemen were immediately to their feet.
I sat in stunned silence. Darcy was staring at me; I glanced up and caught his look: compassion for the cruel words of his aunt; anger that she should so abuse me.
Yet, there was something deeper that I had fought to deny, even to myself.
There was tenderness, concern, warmth, understanding, respect, admiration—all the ingredients of love—not the love of a dear brother, but the love of the best man I had ever known.
I burst into tears, giving Lady Catherine the satisfaction of knowing she had wounded me; that she had seen our affection for what it was, and now exulted that Darcy was lost to me.
‘That which we have, we prize not to the worth, whiles we enjoy it, but being lack’d and lost, why, then we rack the value,’ whispered Mary.
“Much ado about nothing,” murmured Darcy, his breath barely stirring the air. “Yet, dearest Elizabeth, certainly it is not nothing to love; and, as must be, to forfeit its happy conclusion.”
* * *