Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Darcy had left Pemberley with the intention of stopping for one night in London before going on to Netherfield Park in Hertfordshire. Georgiana had chosen to remain behind at Pemberley.
His sister was doing well after her terrible experience at Ramsgate. It had helped that Richard had immediately put the cause of that experience on a ship bound for the Americas, and Mrs. Younge had disappeared into the stews of London. She need never see either of them again.
Georgiana had had several difficult weeks, blaming herself for her poor choices, but her new companion, Mrs. Annesley, had done a good deal to steady Georgiana and help her return to her usual cheerful self.
Upon arriving at Matlock house, he informed his Aunt Eleanor that he would be off to Hertfordshire the following day.
But his Aunt Eleanor was having none of it.
“You must not dash off, Darcy,” she informed him.
“I have several young ladies in mind for you, and I will not allow you to leave until you have met them all. No, you need not scowl at me. I have known you since you were in clouts, and am not in the least intimidated by you.”
“Aunt, I have promised Bingley, and I am already quite behind my time.”
“If he has waited this long, he will wait another week,” she replied, imperturbably. “Stay here with us; there is surely no need to open Darcy House for so short a time.”
He argued, “Aunt, why do you not work your matchmaking wiles on Reginald? Does not the Earl’s heir need to set up his nursery first? He is older than I am, and still unmarried.”
“Do you not think I have tried?” the Countess exclaimed.
“You know how hopeless he is at social events. I fear that he might never marry, and the earldom will rest on Richard’s shoulders; which would not be so dreadful, were he not in constant danger on the Continent.
In any case, you are here, and Reginald is at the Matlock Estate, where he makes his home, and so there we are. ”
Mr. Darcy ground his teeth, but he knew full well that she would not be happy until she had introduced him to this new set of young ladies.
He also knew, equally well, that it was time for him to consider a wife.
His heir, at this point, was a distant cousin with no estate management experience whatsoever, and that was an unacceptable situation. He sighed.
Knowing that she had won, the Countess of Matlock permitted herself a small smile. “We will start at dinner tonight, Darcy. Miss Carmichael will be in attendance.
***
Miss Carmichael turned out to be a tall blonde, with large blue eyes and a cloud of blond hair.
She was pretty, of course, though more Bingley’s taste than his own.
He was seated beside her at dinner, as he had expected, and he did his duty as a gentleman, ensuring that she had the food and drink she preferred.
She spoke little, beyond asking for more fish.
After dinner, she entertained them at the pianoforte. Her playing was adequate, but when she opened her mouth to sing, he had to stop himself from wincing. But he chided himself; a good singing voice was hardly required to be mistress of Pemberley.
Intelligence was, however, as was good character; he had not been able to determine if Miss Carmichael possessed either attribute.
He made it a point to sit beside her when she returned from the piano. “Thank you for playing for us, Miss Carmichael,” he began.
She looked at him, blinking those large blue eyes. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered.
“Do you enjoy the country, Miss Carmichael?”
“Oh, I love the country,” she said. “All those adorable lambs and calves…and lambs…” she trailed off.
Adorable lambs? What on earth was she talking about? He tried again. “Where is your family’s estate?”
“Kent,” she replied.
“Ah, I have an aunt in Kent, so I have some familiarity with the area. What crops does your father favour?”
“Crops?” She looked baffled.
No. Miss Carmichael was not a possibility.
After the Carmichaels had left, his aunt asked him, “Well?”
“She loves the country because of the adorable little lambs, but had no idea that crops were grown there.” His voice was tired.
“Oh, dear.”
“Indeed. Very well; who is next?”
***
A tea party was to be held the very next afternoon at the home of Lord and Lady Donahugh.
Their eldest daughter had come out this past Season, but had not yet found anyone she wished to marry; or no one had offered for her, depending on who you asked.
Mr. Darcy guessed that this daughter would be entertaining the company at tea.
Miss Donahugh, the daughter in question, did indeed play for everyone. Her performance was adequate; happily, she did not attempt to sing. He found himself seated beside her as tea was served, and he began his usual round of questions.
“Do you enjoy the country, Miss Donahugh?”
“Very much,” she returned. “The air is better for one’s health, do you not agree?”
“I do agree, yes. There is also a good deal less noise.”
“That is true. City noise gives me a headache.”
“That sounds most inconvenient.”
“It is, indeed. I bear it as best I can; I never complain.”
“I see.”
“The water in the country is more healthful as well, I am quite convinced of it!”
“I am certain you are right about that.”
“So you see that it is inevitable that I am ill a good deal of the time in Town. I am often ill in the country as well, but the air and the water are so much better there that I recover a good deal more quickly.”
Mr. Darcy excused himself and went to sit beside his aunt.
“Well?” she whispered.
“She is ill a good deal of the time, or at least fancies herself so. I have no patience for such vagaries, and certainly no desire to tie myself to someone who will always be too ill to fulfill her duties.”
***
Dear Georgiana,
I hope this letter finds you well in body and spirit. I am delighted at how well you have recovered from the events of this past summer!
As for me, our Aunt has insisted that I remain here in London so that she might introduce me to a number of young ladies that she believes might be suitable to be the Mistress of Pemberley.
I was not delighted by the idea, as you may imagine, but I certainly recognise the need for a wife.
I also know that you would very much like to have a sister.
But it is not an easy process. Yesterday evening, I was introduced to a young lady who enjoyed living in the country because of the adorable lambs, but she could not name a single crop grown.
This afternoon, the young lady to whom I was introduced informed me that she preferred the country because she was less often ill in the country than in Town.
As you may imagine, neither of them could possibly be the next Mistress of Pemberley!
Frankly, I am ready to give up and go to Netherfield, as Bingley has been expecting me for some time, but I will do my duty here in London.
Your adoring brother,
William