A Perilous Match

Chapter 7

One Week Later

Matlock House, London

“W hat can you mean by singling out a young lady at such a time as this?” asked Lord Matlock, flinging the latest Morning Post onto the billiard table where Darcy and Richard had been playing a casual game. “And a lady who is unconnected to the family?”

Darcy sat his cue stick to the side to take up the paper. He had seen the earlier mention of himself walking with Elizabeth in Hyde Park. Half-way down various comings and goings, he saw another thinly veiled citation and cursed the nosy busybodies of the Ton who often ran to the Post with various suppositions and sightings.

“An unknown carriage was spotted in the vicinity of Grosvenor Square, where it might be supposed that the mysterious young lady with laughing eyes was actually dining with Lord D— and Miss D—. If it be true, what can such intimacy mean while the family is still mourning for the late Marquess? Will this young Hertfordshire miss long bear the name of B?”

He could only imagine what Elizabeth must be thinking, that she must be angry with him for making her an object of discussion across Mayfair. He should have known better. He did know better, but he did not often think clearly in her presence, nor act rationally with the possibility of seeing her again.

Darcy refrained from threading his fingers through his hair or seeking a finger of whiskey, which would reveal his agitation and the importance of Elizabeth to him.

“Well?” Lord Matlock urged. “What does all this mean? Who is the lady?”

“I did not take you for a reader of these columns, Uncle,” Darcy said, and tossed the paper to a side table with studied casualness.

“It is important to be aware of the talk in Society as a peer. You will soon learn that the gossip of the drawing rooms is consequential to the alliances of the Lords, Nephew,” he replied.

“Mother is a great reader of them,” Richard explained, “and reports interesting bits to Father.”

Before Richard could take up the paper to read it for himself, Phillip jumped up to seize it and let out a low whistle. “Twice in two weeks, Fitzwilliam. You will be raising expectations.”

Lord Matlock looked hard at this revelation. “Lady Matlock neglected to tell me of the first mention.”

“I hardly think that taking a walk in Hyde Park is a newsworthy affair,” Darcy retorted. “Nor do I see why anyone would be interested in who I invite to dine at Darcy House.”

Lord Matlock’s brow remained knitted. “It would not normally be newsworthy, my boy, but as the Post points out, you have invited a young lady to an intimate family dinner whilst you are still in deep mourning. For God’s sake, you haven’t even appeared yet in the House of Lords, but this unknown miss is gracing your table.”

“I think you are making too much of it, Uncle.”

His uncle looked entirely exasperated. “Who is the lady? Who are her parents?”

Darcy admitted with some reluctance, “Her name is Elizabeth Bennet and her father has an estate near Meryton in Hertfordshire.” He picked up his cue to return to the game.

“A perfectly respectable family,” Richard volunteered as a measure of support.

“What of her connections? Does she have a suitable fortune?”

Before either Darcy or Richard could be properly annoyed by the line of interrogation, Phillip interrupted, “I hardly see what it matters. To my knowledge, my cousin has no plan to marry soon, least of all to a Miss Bennet of Hertfordshire.”

Lord Matlock seemed buoyed by the declaration. “It is true that you shouldn’t marry until your three months of mourning are up, unless, of course, it was a pre-existing engagement,” he paused and sat near Phillip, who offered him a snifter of brandy. “You should formally announce your engagement to Anne soon.”

Darcy finished his turn and carefully chalked the tip of his cue stick. “I have no intention of doing so.”

“Why? No one will think it strange since everyone expects it, Fitzwilliam. It would ease my mind to see you well settled into your station with a proper hostess before the next session of Parliament.”

“And you think Anne suited to that office?” asked Richard with great incredulity.

“Anne’s connections are sound. Her uncle Thomas de Bourgh is a great Whig ally in the Commons.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “I will not marry Anne.”

“She would be a credit to you, Nephew.”

“I do not want to marry her and I will not.”

“Have you some romantical notion of marriage, my boy?” his uncle asked, which sparked irritation in Darcy’s breast.

“Marriage is a partnership, a matter of loyalty,” Lord Matlock continued. “You’d do better to put aside the idea of a companionate marriage for one of soundness and practicality. That is a better foundation than the flimsy notion of love.”

“I do not believe that I have ever shared what my notion of marriage should be with anyone and I do not plan to do so now, unless it be someone with whom I plan to enter into that state,” Darcy said.

Richard looked like he wished to say something but held his tongue.

“Anne would be a good match for you with her connections and her fifty thousand pounds” his uncle tried again.

“I have no need of Anne’s connections or her money, and I’ve heard this argument enough from Aunt Catherine,” Darcy said. “Let me be clear, I will not, will not marry Anne.”

Lord Matlock flushed in irritation, but Phillip interrupted again before he could make another argument. “There is no need for Fitzwilliam to rush into any marriage. He has just ascended to the marquessate—let him settle into that role before he rushes into another.”

***

Richard and Darcy were silent for much of the walk back to Darcy House. Phillip had bid them adieu for the livelier company to be found at White’s, though he had promised to escort Grandmama to dinner later that evening.

“My father may relent for a while, Fitzwilliam, but he is determined to cement the power and influence of the Dorset marquessate to the Matlocks and, thus, the Whigs.”

“So I see,” Darcy snorted. “My mother was a Fitzwilliam, is that not connection enough?”

“Better to have a wife with Fitzwilliam blood too than to bring an unknown into the family. An unknown you can never predict and you know as well as I that my father despises what he cannot predict and direct.”

“Then he must prepare himself to be disappointed. The more that he and Aunt Catherine push me to marry Anne, the less inclined I am to oblige them.”

“I know that, but they do not know you so well as I do. He sees you as a surer bet for his party than your uncle ever was. The old Marquess had too many Tories amongst his closest associates to make my father easy.”

“I will not be a puppet for Lord Matlock.”

“I believe my father knows that, but he also recognises that you have convictions, which your uncle never had. Father can work with that, because he knows your boundaries.”

They turned the corner, leaving Brook Street for Grosvenor Square proper. The lane was more crowded and the pair nodded to several ladies and gentlemen ambling towards Hyde Park as it was nearing the fashionable hour.

“The pressure will only increase, Fitzwilliam,” said Richard. “My mother and Cassandra have been drawing up a veritable list of potential brides.”

Darcy groaned. He was not yet recovered enough from Elizabeth to think of any other lady. He was not ready to make permanent and irrevocable her absence by offering her place to someone else. Even the thought of it made him ill, it would be unfair to another when he was still so deeply in love with her.

“I do not understand this urgency,” Darcy said. “They have never before been so determined to see me married.”

“Cassandra would not mind seeing her sister as your Marchioness.”

“Then, Lady Aspen is bound to be as disappointed as the rest. Margaret Seymour is barely older than Georgie.”

Richard winced. “Yes, so I have told my sister when the young lady has been promoted to me as well. My brother Aspen says she is determined to marry Margot to one of the family.”

That was hardly a secret. Richard’s sister-in-law Cassandra, the Viscountess Aspen had used her position as Patroness of Almack’s to liberally promote her own family.

“I believe that Mother is a little nervous that you will succumb to Aunt Catherine’s wishes,” Richard continued. “Though she has nothing against Anne, Mother says that it is bad enough to count her a sister. She doesn’t want to see her as your mother.”

Darcy murmured some acknowledgement. It was not surprising. There was little love between the two women. Lady Matlock had been Lady Anne’s closest friend and jealous of the usurpation of a maternal role that Lady Catherine had tried to play for him and Georgiana upon their mother’s death.

“I will not oblige them either. I mean to please only myself in my choice of a wife. It is important for Georgiana to like her future sister, but no one else’s opinion will at all matter to me.”

Richard arched a brow. “Then you should marry Miss Elizabeth. Georgiana certainly liked her.”

“Miss Elizabeth will not have me.” He was growing used to the flash of pain that accompanied this acknowledgement. Sometimes such pain was welcome, because it was better than the alternative of numbness, which he otherwise felt. The shock had not completely worn away.

She did not want him. The thought rang like a constant echo, recalling him with a jolt throughout his day and reminding him of his ridiculous stupidity. He must have said something of this sentiment aloud for Richard dismissed the suggestion.

“I am not so certain that Miss Elizabeth is so unmoveable upon the point as you believe. She seemed to be warm enough at dinner the other night.”

“Miss Elizabeth is all politeness.”

Richard snorted, “I know that you are lovesick for her, Fitzwilliam, but she is not all politeness. I rather think you like that about her.”

Darcy could not deny it.

“Miss Elizabeth wouldn’t cut you, certainly,” Richard was saying, “and she made a genuine effort with Georgie. She was friendlier than I’ve seen to you. She defended you against Phillip’s mild teasing of your character.”

His heart turned over, and Darcy looked away, so that Richard would not see the smile that threatened. It was ridiculous, really, that such small evidence against absolute dislike could thrill him.

“You should propose to her again, Fitzwilliam.”

“What?” Darcy stopped, forcing Richard to stop as well.

“You should propose. Her answer may be different this time.”

Darcy scoffed. “You did not hear the tenor of her refusal, Richard.”

“That was before your circumstances were changed and before you made amends with Bingley.”

Darcy began walking.

“Miss Elizabeth is not mercenary. If she was, she would have accepted my first offer however I presented it.”

“True,” Richard acknowledged as they entered Darcy House.

They continued to his study, where they would be assured of more privacy. Darcy poured them each a tumbler of cognac, a unique vintage that he found amongst his uncle’s collection.

“Miss Elizabeth is the practical sort, I think,” Richard said. “We know that her father failed in breaking the entail for lack of funds. You could use that to your advantage.”

“I will not bribe her to marry me.”

“I did not say that you should, but she may be more aware of the material advantages of such a match now, since we know from Aunt Catherine’s loose tongue that she advised Collins not to accept anything less than fifteen thousand pounds to break the entail.”

“Pretty piece of business, was it not?” Darcy scoffed. “To Collins, Aunt Catherine’s word is sacrosanct. He will hold out for that fifteen thousand until the grave whatever argument is presented to him, and when he inherits Longbourn, he’ll run it to the ground. He has not the sense to be a proper landowner.”

Richard smiled. “Perhaps that is the argument you should make to Miss Elizabeth. Besides, that sum is nothing to you now.”

Darcy bristled. It was still unsettling to consider the increase in his fortune which now made him the wealthiest unmarried noble in England—and the resultant unpainted target upon his back. It felt the change even in his family, and most certainly in his Uncle Matlock, who now seemed to view Darcy as some unclaimed Fitzwilliam property.

He took a long drink and sat back into his chair. “There is still the matter of Wickham. She blames me for ruining his life.”

“I still think you should tell her the full truth about Wickham.”

“I did warn her to be on her guard.”

Richard shook his head. “She needs to know the truth, especially if that is why she will not agree to marry you.”

“I will not betray Georgie’s confidence,” he muttered. No matter what it cost him. He sat up straighter when a tentative knock was heard at the door. Georgiana appeared. She held a roll of parchment in her hand, which she presented excitedly to her brother.

“What is this?” he asked.

“A list of items in the Duke of Roxburghe’s library, which will be auctioned later this month. You will see a first edition of the Decameron listed. Are you not pleased, Brother?”

Darcy smiled widely and felt a spark of something almost like happiness. “Very pleased, my dear.”

“How was your outing with Eleanor and Cassandra?” Richard asked. His sister-in-law Lady Aspen and his younger sister Eleanor had been determined to draw Georgiana out of her shyness and to provide her with more feminine companionship since they had detected a lingering sadness the past autumn. Darcy had been grateful; despite his best efforts, he was not of a disposition given to comforting others easily, especially young women suffering from heartbreak.

“Very well. I found some new sheet music and some bonnets and ribbons, which you will care nothing for,” she replied, still standing in the doorway. Her eyes sparkled, and she even teased them. “However, I interrupted you both and you appeared very serious when I walked in, so I shall leave you both to it. You shall hear all about my ribbons at dinner tonight with Grandmama, if it pleases you.”

“Georgie appears more recovered every time I see her,” Richard observed when she left.

“Yes, I am very proud of her.”

“Miss Elizabeth would be good for her. She needs a sister.”

Darcy frowned. “I do not need everyone in my family trying to marry me off.”

Richard shrugged. “At least my choice aligns with yours.”

Darcy stared into his glass. He ought to deny Richard’s reasoning outright. He did not want to be twice rejected, but there was some soundness in his cousin’s argument. He had made some headway with Elizabeth. She seemed to think better of him than she had, but there was still some distance and measure of distrust, which could not be helped by the Morning Post ’s notice of them. And yet, he wanted to hope, desperately wanted to hope that there was still some way of making her his wife.

“I will think on it,” Darcy finally acceded, ready to be done with the conversation. The last thing he wanted to do was waste more time on this tiring topic. He knew in his heart, there would never be another he’d admire as much as Elizabeth Bennet, no matter what his family desired.