Chapter Eight
Darcy managed to enter Rosings quietly, attracting the attention of only a single footman, who did an excellent job of feigning interest in the opposite end of the hall.
He could hear the sharp tones of his aunt’s voice from somewhere deeper in the house but was not close enough to discern the words.
This was probably for the best. He felt no desire to encounter her before he had washed the cellar dust from his person.
Burke attended him and said nothing as Darcy bathed and changed, though the occasional quirk of an eyebrow was enough to let his master know that the valet likely had a full understanding of the night’s proceedings and had definite opinions concerning them.
Once returned to something approaching his usual appearance, Darcy sat at the desk and began to write.
The first letter was to his man of business, with instructions concerning the marriage settlement.
The second was to Georgiana. He spent longer over that one, uncertain how much he could safely commit to paper and signed it off by saying he could not wait to introduce her to Elizabeth Bennet as his wife.
He read the final sentence twice before folding the letter, unable to prevent the warmth that rose in his chest at the thought.
The final letter was to Mr Bennet. That one gave him more pause. Darcy consigned the first two versions to the fire. After much staring at the third blank page, he began again and forced himself to keep the missive direct and factual.
He wrote of his affection for Elizabeth and his intention, should Mr Bennet grant his consent, to make her his wife without delay.
He set out the settlement he proposed clearly, the figure larger than might have been customary, but, to Darcy’s mind, entirely appropriate.
Elizabeth would come to him with little fortune of her own, and he was determined that no one, least of all Elizabeth herself, should ever imagine that she was worth less than any other lady.
Her face rose in his mind and he placed down his quill and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
She was worth so much more to him than he could ever provide in material terms.
He dipped his pen again. There would be no question of Elizabeth being left dependent upon his goodwill.
Her jointure would be substantial, her personal allowance generous and provisions would be made for any children of the marriage, girl or boy.
He added that he intended to extend his protection to the Bennet family where it might ever be required, particularly in the event of Mr Bennet’s death, when the entail would leave Mrs Bennet and her unmarried daughters without a home.
Darcy frowned at the page and added another sentence:
I hope, sir, that you will believe me when I say that your daughter’s happiness will always be my first consideration.
Darcy sat back and read the letter from beginning to end.
He knew its very existence would infuriate Elizabeth, not least because she had yet to give him anything resembling a favourable answer.
But what else was he supposed to do? What had passed between them could only be answered by marriage, and he prayed, fervently, that he could bring her round to his way of thinking before she discovered just how far he had already proceeded.
He sanded and sealed the letter and placed it neatly on top of the other two missives. A knock sounded at the door immediately and it opened before Darcy could answer.
Fitzwilliam entered carrying a cup of coffee and looking offensively cheerful. His gaze went at once to the three sealed letters upon Darcy’s desk.
"Busy morning?"
"You do realise it is customary to knock, cousin?"
Fitzwilliam ignored the comment and folded himself into the chair beside the desk. He took a long drink of his coffee and nodded towards the letter on top of the pile. "Mr Bennet?"
"Yes." Darcy hoped the terse reply would prevent further interrogation. He was wrong.
His cousin stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. "Has Miss Bennet actually agreed to be wed to you?"
Darcy did not care for his tone. "There is no other possible course of action and no reason to delay."
Fitzwilliam smiled at him, an infuriatingly superior smile. "She is not the sort of woman who will appreciate being backed into a corner."
"I am not backing her into a corner."
"No, not one bit. You have commanded her to marry you and written to her father before receiving her answer." He tipped his head towards the stack of letters. "And if I know you at all, you have begun arranging the settlement. Entirely different."
Darcy rose from the desk and moved towards the window, irritation prickling beneath his skin. "What would you have me do? Pretend that last night did not occur? If anyone learns that we spent the night alone together, her reputation will be ruined."
"I am not suggesting you do nothing. I am suggesting that, somewhere amongst all this honour and efficiency, you remember that Miss Bennet is expected to agree to the marriage as well."
Darcy turned back towards him. "She will agree."
Fitzwilliam lifted his brows.
Darcy disliked the expression immensely. "She must," he added.
"Ah. Much better."
Darcy glared at him, but Fitzwilliam only took another drink of coffee, plainly enjoying himself.
Darcy thought of Elizabeth standing in the parsonage kitchen with her arms folded, glaring at him while his coat hung loosely around her small frame. His confidence faltered slightly. "I will speak to her again."
"Excellent," Fitzwilliam said, slapping his knee.
"And this time, I will explain the matter properly."
Fitzwilliam’s mouth twitched. "Even better."
Darcy narrowed his eyes. "You appear to find this very amusing."
"I find you very amusing, my impressively dour and love-sick cousin. The situation itself is rather serious."
"Your sympathy is overwhelming."
"I have plenty of sympathy. It is only that I think the greater share belongs to Miss Bennet."
Darcy gave him a fierce look which Fitzwilliam received with infuriating good humour, then turned away before his cousin could offer any further observations.
He had no intention of discussing Elizabeth’s feelings when he understood so little of them himself.
She had looked furious when he spoke of marriage that morning, but somehow he must persuade her to agree.
He told himself it was because marriage was the only honourable course left to them, though the thought of her refusing him again filled him with panic he did not want to examine too closely.
Before Darcy could answer, another knock came at the door. This time one of Lady Catherine’s footmen entered, looking pained. Darcy suspected the man had endured his aunt's displeasure. "Her ladyship requests your presence in the drawing room, sir. Colonel Fitzwilliam also."
Fitzwilliam stood with a sigh. "I knew the morning was going too well."
Darcy reached for the letters upon his desk and handed them to the servant.
He indicated the one addressed to Mr Bennet and said, "Have this sent by express immediately.
" The man bowed and withdrew, and Darcy had barely heard the door close before he became aware that Fitzwilliam was smiling at him again.
"What?" he said, thoroughly sick of his cousin’s attentions.
"Nothing," his cousin said, though the smile remained.
"Must you look quite so delighted?"
"I was merely considering how much Miss Elizabeth is going to enjoy discovering that you have written to her father before receiving her answer."
Darcy’s mouth tightened. "She will understand that it is an unusual situation."
Fitzwilliam took another leisurely drink of coffee. "I admire your confidence."
***
They found Lady Catherine in the drawing room with Anne seated beside the fire.
Both women looked up as they entered, their physical resemblance divided by very different expressions.
Anne wore a small determined smile while Darcy knew his aunt well enough to recognise the rigid set of her shoulders and tight line of her mouth as a warning.
She did not invite either of her nephews to sit, but turned upon them the moment the door had closed.
"Darcy, I trust you have had sufficient time to reflect upon your behaviour last night."
Darcy glanced towards his cousin, who was standing as rigidly as if he was on parade with his regiment. His face was completely neutral.
"I have, Aunt," Darcy said stiffly.
"And have you reached any conclusions, nephew?"
Darcy considered this. He had reached a great many conclusions, though he doubted Lady Catherine would approve of any of them. "I regret leaving the ballroom in such a sudden manner. I am sorry if my actions caused distress."
"Regret?" Lady Catherine repeated. "Sorry to cause distress!
" Her voice was becoming increasingly nasal and high-pitched as she went on.
"You disappeared in the middle of my ball after behaving with extraordinary rudeness, and Richard was obliged to inform me that you had retired to your chambers because your temper had rendered you unfit for company.
Your temper! As if a man of eight and twenty could have so little control over himself.
Ridiculous! I endured several uncomfortable questions from my guests and poor Anne was utterly embarrassed. "
Darcy turned slowly towards Anne. She looked neither embarrassed nor distressed. She was watching her mother with an expression of firm resolution, her back straight and chin lifted.
"I was not absent because of my temper," he said, turning back to his aunt. "Richard was attempting to spare you an explanation which could not properly be given last night."
"Careful cousin," Richard said under his breath.
Lady Catherine's eyes snapped to the Colonel and then settled back on Darcy. "And what explanation might that be?"