Chapter 30
More than a week had passed since the ball. During that time, the colonel had been absent for several days, having gone to meet his parents, who were coming to spend a few weeks at their Derbyshire estate, Matlock Lodge.
The colonel had never particularly enjoyed staying there.
Ever since leaving London each summer, he had established himself at Pemberley, sometimes accompanied by his brother, though more often alone.
Nothing had changed with maturity. To him, Pemberley remained home, whilst Matlock Lodge was merely a place he visited from time to time together with the Darcys.
This year, however, matters were different.
He had corresponded extensively with his mother, describing the situation he found himself in honestly and in detail.
He had always known that his only possible future was to marry a wealthy heiress, and therefore had never permitted himself dreams of love.
Yet love had arrived unexpectedly. The wealthy heiress had appeared, though in a form he had never anticipated.
She was a widow. A wealthy widow, certainly, beautiful, and elegant, but a woman with two children.
The poor colonel wished very much to have his mother on his side.
He knew perfectly well what his father would say, for Lord Matlock had always desired a young lady from the ton.
His concern was not for himself, as his mind was already made up, but for Mrs Cooper.
He wished to bring her into their London society, yet that would be impossible without his mother’s approval.
Only Lady Matlock could properly present her, and only through her could she hope to be accepted.
He told his mother everything, and it seemed that his honesty had won her over. She had always protected him, knowing he was the less favoured son, and the prospect of his marrying a wealthy woman for love delighted her. Yet before saying anything definite, she wished to meet Mrs Cooper.
The three days spent at Matlock would prove decisive.
∞∞∞
“Well?” Darcy greeted him eagerly, curious to know how the meeting had gone.
In truth, few words were necessary. The colonel was positively radiant.
“It went well!” he declared.
Darcy laughed as the colonel settled into an armchair and took a sip from the glass of cognac waiting for him.
“Speak, man!”
“Oh, so the gentleman does not care for secrets unless they are his own,” said the colonel at last.
“Enough. I told you everything there was to tell. Now it is your turn.”
“Well then, I took advantage of my father’s departure on a hunting excursion with some friends and brought Agnes to meet my mother.”
“Alice already?”
“Yes, Agnes already to meet the countess,” admitted the colonel cheerfully.
“Poor woman!” exclaimed Darcy with amusement. He knew his aunt well. She was the most delightful of women…provided she liked you.
“Well, Agnes won her over from the very first moment—”
“No!” cried Darcy delightedly, rising to refill his glass. “Excellent. Go on.”
“I had imagined every possible outcome, each more dramatic than the last. Yet Agnes arrived at precisely the hour my mother had appointed, beautiful, elegant, wearing the proper jewels and a pleasant smile without being too broad. My mother examined her several times, assessed her curtsey, looked at her shoes, as she always does, because that, in her opinion, is where a lady reveals herself, and then invited her to sit down after dismissing me.”
“She remained alone with the countess?”
“Exactly. You can imagine my state. I walked hundreds of steps through the gardens, across the terrace, and through the hall until the butler summoned me. I found two smiling ladies who welcomed me, each delighted in her own fashion.”
“So you proposed?” asked Darcy, surprised, for the colonel had provided very few details before leaving.
“I did before that meeting. I explained the situation honestly. If my mother disapproved, we would scarcely be received anywhere in London except your house and those of a few close friends…and not even there freely, for my mother’s influence is considerable.”
“True,” said Darcy.
He himself had suffered similar anxieties when he first proposed to Elizabeth, uncertain whether their London society, so often snobbish and arrogant, would receive her.
Yet Elizabeth had been in a wholly different position.
She was a beautiful, unmarried young lady with no obligations, not a widow with two children.
“I also told Agnes that had she been poor, I should never have resolved to ask her to marry me—”
“You told her that?”
“Well, yes. I had an excellent teacher in you. The difference is that you spoiled your moment of honesty with an attitude that might have been somewhat gentler.”
“And you were gentle.”
“Precisely. I told the truth, but only after telling her that I loved her and after becoming certain that she loved me.”
“Indeed…I was wrong, and I am pleased that you learned something from it. Though perhaps you did not need that lesson. You have always been diplomatic and cautious.”
“I told her that from the moment I met her, I wished to marry her—”
“Truly?”
“Entirely true. She was exactly what I needed. Then I fell in love with her.”
“In three days.”
“Do cease that mocking tone. If I remember correctly, you liked Miss Elizabeth within hours of meeting her—”
“Leave me out of this,” said Darcy.
This time, however, the colonel was far too happy to notice the sadness that briefly crossed his cousin’s face.
“It is possible to discover a person first and love afterwards. I simply happen to be rather quicker in my reactions.”
“And I think you are entirely right,” said Darcy unexpectedly. “Now tell me about the countess.”
“I made certain to tell her beforehand exactly how wealthy Agnes is. She is extraordinarily wealthy, which works very much in my favour. I was prepared to remain in Derbyshire for the rest of my life if necessary. In any case, we shall spend more time there to oversee the business interests.”
“And the army?”
“It has lost me. My mother said as much herself, and I could see that the subject had already been discussed. The ladies had agreed that I could no longer continue in the army.”
“So the ladies agreed on several matters.”
“On all of them,” replied the colonel, his happiness impossible to conceal. “Alice was invited to return the following day because my mother required time and privacy to…prepare my father.”
“And?” asked Darcy, curious to know how his uncle had reacted.
However, once the countess was convinced, it was unlikely that Lord Matlock would offer much resistance.
If he did, it was usually to assert his authority within the household, an exercise that rarely lasted more than a few days.
Lady Matlock always prevailed, though the earl occasionally remained ill-tempered for a longer period.
“Well, this is where the story divides. I shall leave my father for later and tell you another tale first.”
“I hope it is not about Miss Elizabeth—”
“Who else could it be, my dear fellow?” replied the colonel with complete good humour and not the slightest trace of irony.
Darcy appeared cheerful and interested in his cousin’s adventure. Yet, when Miss Elizabeth’s name was mentioned, that familiar shadow crossed his features. The colonel had rarely seen it before he met her, and scarcely ever when she was present. Evidently, Darcy himself was unaware of it.
“I do not believe I wish to hear anything.”
The protest was useless. The colonel had no intention of remaining silent.
“Whether you wish it or not, you shall listen. We shall not discuss it, as you requested, but perhaps you ought to think more carefully about what you intend to do. Once again, circumstances have changed.”
“I do not believe anything can change sufficiently to make me reconsider.”
“That is your decision. Fortunately, matters in Meryton have progressed towards a happier solution with remarkable speed. After taking Agnes home following the conversation with my mother, I intended to return immediately. The ladies, however, insisted that I remain. We were returning to Matlock the following day in any case.”
“The ladies invited you,” said Darcy with a smile. “Both of them.”
“Yes, precisely. Both insisted that I stay, and I had the distinct impression that the detailed account I heard over dinner was intended as much for you as for me.”
“You imagine too much,” said Darcy rather dryly.
“Then allow me at least my imagination, if you are no longer capable of doing anything except sitting and watching the woman you love drift away from you.”
“Richard,” said Darcy in the same flat tone.
“I shall not comment further. I shall merely repeat what I learned that evening from Miss Elizabeth, who provided some rather unexpected details for a light dinner conversation.”
“Well?”
“Well…it appears that Bingley, that great fool Bingley, finally decided to discover whether he had made a mistake in leaving Hertfordshire.”
“Yes, I imagined he would do so after receiving the letter in which I apologised for my interference. I was not certain he would act, but it is hardly surprising.”
“Miss Elizabeth had received letters from Meryton each day for the past week, long delighted letters from every lady in the family all telling the same happy story, each in her own fashion. Bingley returned to Netherfield alone, reopened the house, and appears determined to remain there.”
“Good for him,” said Darcy sincerely. “It is curious how some people always require advice and encouragement before making a decision.”
“Not nearly so curious as those who never follow advice because they believe themselves the sole possessors of wisdom.”
“I know your opinion. Continue.”
“Bingley called upon the ladies. There were condolences, much sadness, and then he announced that he intended to remain at Netherfield because he had serious reasons for staying in the neighbourhood. He looked at Miss Bennet, and she looked at him. Everyone present noticed and reported the exchange.”
The colonel took another sip of cognac.
“My opinion is that Bingley will propose very soon, once he judges that sufficient time has passed since offering his condolences. Miss Bennet will become mistress of Netherfield. Thus, less than four months after the tragedy, two of the Bennet sisters will be more than secure in affluent marriages, whilst the remaining three will undoubtedly be invited to reside with their sisters. A far more comfortable arrangement than depending upon other relations.”
“They are not yet married; for now, there are only plans…possibly made by Mrs Bennet. This is precisely what happened in November, when Mrs Bennet was already planning an engagement that existed only in her imagination.”
“No. What I have told you is merely my conclusion. The ladies described only Jane’s happiness.”
“Because she is certain of marriage.”
“Would you kindly cease using that sarcastic tone? I wish to ask you something. Why do you assume that the only truly accomplished sister among the five is Miss Elizabeth?”
“Because I have seen the others. Miss Lydia flirted shamelessly with officers, whilst another admired her for it. Then Miss Mary spoke of nothing but platitudes.”
“That is hardly a fault. I understand Miss Mary has read more than any of them. And Miss Bennet is the sister closest to Miss Elizabeth. Do you truly believe a friendship of such depth can exist between two ladies who are complete opposites? One determined to marry for love, the other eager only for wealth? Remember that Miss Elizabeth’s principal reproach was your interference between Bingley and her sister.
If Miss Bennet is indeed as Miss Elizabeth describes her, shy and rather compliant—”
“Richard.”
“I am silent. I merely tell you that matters in Meryton have improved beyond recognition.”
“Well, let us say that I knew,” recognised Darcy. “I received a letter from Bingley, an express showing his hurry to give me this news.
“You knew, and you let me speak with all details?”
“I wanted to see the other side of the story.
“And what did Bingley write?”
Darcy took a letter from the table near him and immediately began reading aloud, ignoring his cousin’s grin.
“I write to you before informing anyone else. A few days ago, I returned to Netherfield and renewed the lease for a further two years after Miss Bennet accepted my offer of marriage. We shall wait until Miss Kitty is married first, and then we shall follow. You cannot imagine my happiness. I remain grateful for your letter and wish you were here to share in this happy event. I shall write again as soon as a date is fixed. Given the mourning, the wedding will naturally be a quiet one, limited to family, though you and Miss Darcy will be most welcome.”
Darcy lowered the letter, suddenly deep in thought, as if it were the first time he read those words.
The colonel, however, was satisfied. His own story and Bingley’s unexpected letter had clearly given his cousin something to consider. The gift of the cameo had been noble, and Darcy had wished it to appear final, yet the struggle within him plainly continued.
“Well, my father was not delighted. You know him. Nevertheless, he behaved with considerable civility. Agnes’s beauty and warmth softened him.”
“Or perhaps your mother’s arguments, which no doubt included several threats should he refuse.”
“I do not know whether she threatened him, but my father has always worried that he must leave me something substantial, lest I be entirely disadvantaged or obliged to live beneath the standard of our family. Now, thanks to Agnes, matters may be arranged differently. He will probably leave me something, though largely symbolic. That happy resolution was reflected in a very pleasant dinner.”
He smiled into his glass.
“The wedding will take place here, though my mother wishes Agnes were presented in London before Christmas. And the children must be adopted. No one at the table was deceived, however. Once they become Fitzwilliams, the Cooper children will inherit exactly as any future children of our own.”
“You wish for children?”
“Who does not?”