Chapter Eight #2
Darcy was conscious of Fitzwilliam becoming very still beside him.
There were limits to what family loyalty could reasonably demand of a man.
He had no intention of informing his aunt that while she had been entertaining her guests above stairs, he had been locked in her wine cellar with Elizabeth Bennet, spending a considerable portion of the night curled around her upon the floor.
He lost himself in the memory of her warm body tucked closely against him.
He shook his head to clear it. "I had arrangements to make. "
"Arrangements?" His aunt's tone was now so high and sharp that he half expected the local cats to start yowling.
"Yes."
Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. "What arrangements could possibly have been more important than your duty to your family?"
Darcy drew a breath. He had always known that sooner or later he would be obliged to correct his aunt's assumptions regarding Anne.
He had hoped to do so under different circumstances, ideally after the lady he intended to marry had actually agreed to marry him.
"I have come to a decision regarding my future. "
Lady Catherine's expression went from suspicion to delight in a flash.
Her eyes opened wide and she smiled widely, showing uneven teeth.
The expression did not sit easily on her.
"At last," she said with satisfaction. "I had begun to think you intended to leave the matter unsettled indefinitely.
Anne, you see? Your cousin has only required time to recognise what has always been perfectly obvious. "
"Aunt," Darcy said, before she could proceed any further, "you misunderstand me."
Lady Catherine opened her mouth to protest but he spoke quickly. "I have decided to marry, but I do not intend to marry Anne."
For several seconds there was absolute silence.
Darcy had known his aunt all his life and had seen her displeasure in all its forms. He had seen her shout and whine, even bellow with rage.
He had never before seen her rendered entirely incapable of speech.
They all stood frozen with only the ticking of the ornate mantelpiece clock to punctuate the silence.
Darcy’s eyes flicked to the maid who stood off to the side. She looked terrified.
After a long pause, she said in a quiet and unnaturally calm voice. "Not Anne? Then whom, pray?"
Darcy paused. Elizabeth had agreed that they must marry, but she had not yet properly accepted him. He had no doubt of his own intentions, but he would not give Lady Catherine her name—and the ammunition that would provide—before matters were settled between them.
"The lady's name is not presently important."
"Not presently important?" She bit off every word individually as if trying to make sense of them.
"I have known her for some time," he said quickly. "I had already given serious consideration to marrying her, and after spending a considerable amount of time in her company, I am satisfied that my decision is the correct one."
Fitzwilliam made a peculiar sound beside him. Darcy did not look round. He was aware that his description of events was generous to the point of absurdity. He had also omitted the small matter of them spending much of the previous evening in each other’s arms.
His aunt had gone very pale. "You have known this woman for some time?"
"Yes."
"And all the while you have permitted me to believe that you understood what was expected of you?"
Darcy frowned. "I have never given you reason to believe that I intended to marry Anne."
"You have never given me reason to believe otherwise!"
"I was not aware that I was required to issue regular declarations upon all the women I did not intend to marry."
Lady Catherine's anger returned with force. "Do not be impertinent with me, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Your mother and I determined upon this union when you and Anne were infants. It has been the settled wish of both families for years."
"The settled wish of two members of those families. One of whom is long gone," Darcy corrected. "Neither Anne nor I was consulted."
"Anne has always understood her duty."
At that, Anne rose. The movement was slow and considered and it drew every eye in the room. She stood beside Colonel Fitzwilliam and planted her feet firmly.
"No, Mama," she said in a mild tone. "I have always understood what you wished me to do. But I do not consider it my duty to marry Darcy."
Lady Catherine turned towards her daughter and waved a hand at her. "Anne, this does not concern you."
"I think you will find that it concerns me a great deal. My heart is engaged elsewhere." As she spoke, Anne reached for Fitzwilliam's arm and rested her hand upon his sleeve. He glanced down at it, then covered her hand with his own.
Lady Catherine stared at Anne's hand upon Fitzwilliam's arm and then at his hand covering hers. For a long moment she said nothing at all. The clock upon the mantel was again loud in the silence. "What is the meaning of this?"
Anne did not move her hand. "I should have thought that was clear, Mama. Richard and I intend to marry. I had hoped to wait until I had come into my inheritance to share this news, but with Darcy’s… situation… it seemed prudent to make our connection known."
Lady Catherine's eyes widened. "You intend to marry Richard?" She turned upon Fitzwilliam before Anne could answer, and Darcy saw his cousin brace himself. "And you have encouraged this? Knowing perfectly well what has always been intended for Anne? Knowing what is expected of her?"
"I know what you expect of her," Fitzwilliam said firmly. There was none of his usual lightness now. "I also know what Anne wants, which I think ought to count for something."
Lady Catherine drew herself up. "You are a younger son with no estate of your own and an income entirely unsuited to Anne's position. What possible right had you to involve her in this?"
"I love him," Anne said simply.
That stopped her mother for perhaps two ticks of the clock. Darcy had never heard Anne speak so plainly to her before, and judging by Lady Catherine's face, neither had she. "You do not know what you are saying you silly girl."
"I know exactly what I am saying. I have known for some time, Mama. I am not a girl, and very shortly I shall be mistress of this estate. I think I am old enough to decide whom I wish to marry."
Lady Catherine seemed to have no answer to that, but only for a moment. She turned upon Fitzwilliam instead. "And you allowed this to continue behind my back? You came into my house, accepted my hospitality and all the while you were carrying on some secret understanding with my daughter?"
Fitzwilliam's jaw tightened. "We kept it from you because we knew precisely what your reaction would be. You may be the mistress of Rosings, madam, but you are not lord and master of everyone in your orbit!"
"My reaction!" Lady Catherine's voice rose again. "You presume to criticise my reaction when within five minutes I have discovered that my daughter has formed an attachment to a man entirely unsuitable for her and my other nephew has apparently decided to marry some nameless harlot!"
"Elizabeth Bennet is not a harlot." The words were out before Darcy could prevent them.
"You are not helping," Fitzwilliam hissed. Anne gave a long sigh and rested her head against his arm.
Lady Catherine turned towards Darcy, her eyes bulging. "Elizabeth Bennet?"
Darcy could see no useful way of withdrawing the name now. "Yes."
For several seconds his aunt merely stared at him.
Then she seemed to find a fresh reserve of energy.
"Elizabeth Bennet! That impertinent girl from Hertfordshire?
The daughter of a country gentleman with four sisters—all out mind— and connections in trade?
You mean to tell me that you intend to marry her? "
"I do."
Lady Catherine made a sound somewhere between outrage and disbelief. "After everything that has been intended for you? After everything your mother expected? You would pollute the shades of Pemberley with someone so far below you?"
Darcy's temper, already sorely tried, finally gave way. "I would be very proud to make Elizabeth mistress of Pemberley. She is above me in every way that matters."
He closed his eyes expecting another wave of her rage, but when he opened them Lady Catherine was staring at him, her mouth opening and closing with no sound escaping. She sank heavily into her chair and suddenly looked much smaller and much older. Her elaborate gown seemed to deflate around her.
Anne released Fitzwilliam's arm and went to her mother.
For all the firmness she had shown, there was nothing triumphant in her manner as she sat beside her.
"Mama, Rosings is not being taken from you, nor from me.
Richard and I shall make our home here, and one day our children will inherit it.
Fitzwilliam children," she added softly.
"Your family. Your blood. Rosings will remain with the Fitzwilliams for another generation and, God willing, for many more after that. "
That appeared to give Lady Catherine pause.
Darcy watched the argument find its mark.
She had been a Fitzwilliam before she was ever Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and family pride was a language she understood.
Rosings preserved, Anne still mistress of it, and grandchildren who would carry the Fitzwilliam name forward.
It was the first thing said that morning which seemed to reach her.
Fitzwilliam seemed to recognise the opportunity. He crossed to Anne's side and said, with more gravity than Darcy was accustomed to hearing from him, "I know I am not the husband you chose for her, Aunt, but I love Anne. I will take care of her, and I will take care of Rosings. You have my word."