A Perilous Match

Chapter 13

“I ndeed, Miss Bennet is surely a diamond of the first water,” observed Lord Matlock, as he joined Darcy at the table at White’s. “She is exceedingly handsome, to be sure.”

“I am gratified that you had the opportunity to make her acquaintance, Uncle,” Darcy replied.

Elizabeth had been somewhat nervous when Darcy suggested the introduction at the theatre, but she had acquitted herself admirably, charming his uncle with her quick wit and, naturally, her striking appearance.

His uncle was seldom indifferent to such outward beauty, and Elizabeth’s evident charms could only have endeared her further to him.

“Yes, she is a most engaging young lady,” Lord Matlock conceded, taking a reflective sip of his brandy. “It is only a pity about the family.”

“I must admit that this is so,” interjected Phillip, who had been silent until that moment—Darcy shot him a warning glance. “I do not deny that she is amiable,” Phillip continued, undeterred. “Were you still merely the master of Pemberley, I would commend your choice without hesitation. But now, as Lord Dorset, such a position demands greater circumspection.”

“I am afraid your cousin is not without reason in this matter,” sighed Lord Matlock. “We may anticipate opposition from certain quarters, not least your aunt.”

Darcy frowned. “I have written to her by express, apprising her of the situation and requesting her assistance with the arrangements regarding the entailment.”

“Indeed, I am aware,” his uncle replied, causing Darcy to realise that a response had already been received.

“She replied by return express,” Lord Matlock continued, drawing a letter from his waistcoat pocket and unfolding it.

“My dearest brother,” he read aloud, “I am most distressed by the intelligence from London. Our nephew, the Marquess of Dorset, to be married to a gentleman’s daughter? It cannot be. I had the misfortune of encountering Miss Elizabeth Bennet when she visited her friend Mrs Collins last May. While she is not without beauty or sense, she is one of five daughters, and the reports I have from Mr Collins, who is to inherit Longbourn, are not favourable. The mother is vulgar and unsophisticated, and some of the younger daughters are exceedingly imprudent, keeping company with officers of the militia.”

His cousin, Richard, who had been listening quietly, raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware my aunt held the military in such low esteem. She has always been quite proud to introduce me as Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“My dear sister can be very particular,” Lord Matlock remarked. “She may take pride in you as an officer, but when it comes to matters of marriage and family, her opinions are not always so predictable.”

“Moreover,” added Bingley, “I believe your aunt refers to officers of the militia, not the regular army. Many of them were invited to the ball at Meryton, and some behaved with less decorum than might be desired.”

“That you dismiss so easily those who are willing to lay down their lives for the country,” said Richard sharply.

Darcy, who had sensed a tension brewing between his friends ever since both had shown an interest in Jane Bennet, tightened his grip on his glass. He had planned to advise Richard against pursuing Miss Bennet, based on Elizabeth’s own concerns, but after his previous misjudgement in meddling with Bingley’s affections, he had refrained from intervening further. Yet, if the situation deteriorated, he might have no choice.

“I do not diminish the militia’s service,” Bingley responded, more composed. “But there is a distinction between the militia and the regular army, as you well know.”

“Of course,” Richard replied with a biting tone, “your observations are known for their infallibility.”

Darcy closed his eyes, sensing the argument might escalate. He opened them only when his uncle shifted in his seat, noticing Lord Matlock appeared slightly uneasy.

“Uncle, are you troubled by my aunt’s sentiments?” Darcy asked, swiftly redirecting the conversation.

“I stand by what I said. Nevertheless, it does concern me that there is division within the family. It is never well for a family to be at odds. However, I understand this opposition arises from Catherine’s desire to see her own daughter as Marchioness. While I would have preferred such an outcome, we must accept what is.”

“Will she attend the wedding then?” Phillip enquired. Lord Matlock shook his head. “She refuses.”

“Perhaps it is for the best,” Phillip remarked with a shrug. “If she is opposed, her presence might be unpleasant. It is unfortunate she cannot set aside her feelings for her nephew’s sake.”

“And what of your own feelings, Phillip?” Darcy asked.

“I have expressed my opinion that it is not the most advantageous match,” Phillip replied. “However, I will not stand in the way of my cousin’s happiness. We have been companions since childhood, as have we all,” he added, glancing at Bingley and Richard. “I shall curb my own objections. In time, I am sure Miss Bennet will grow into her role.”

Pleased by this declaration, Darcy leaned back. He had no doubt Elizabeth would indeed grow into her role. She was nothing short of remarkable. As Marchioness of Dorset, she would be an ideal partner at his side. He could envision them at dinners with Marquesses and Dukes, Elizabeth captivating the company with her wit and beauty.

He imagined himself in the House of Lords, delivering impassioned speeches, while Elizabeth watched from the gallery, supporting his causes—the abolition of slavery, the rights of chimney sweeps, and Catholic emancipation—issues on which they were in full agreement. He could almost hear her words of pride and affection as they returned home, her hand in his, as she expressed her love for him.

But no—what was he thinking? Such indulgent fantasies were foolish. She was not marrying him out of love; she had been clear about that. This was a practical arrangement, nothing more. Elizabeth had been forthright from the beginning.

He must abandon these hopeless longings. He might have her respect, and in time her friendship, but he must accept that her love might never be his. Better to reconcile himself to that now.

“Fitzwilliam?” Phillip’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes?” Darcy replied, returning to the present.

“I asked if you would join Bingley, your cousin, and myself in a game of billiards.”

Darcy looked up, realising that Bingley and Richard had already made their way to the billiards table.

He rose and followed his cousin, however, upon reaching the table, it was clear the two young gentlemen had resumed their earlier quarrel. Without Lord Matlock’s presence to temper them, they were less restrained.

“I daresay the young lady was quite happy to join me in promenading,” said Richard, while Bingley narrowed his eyes.

“And she told me of the pleasant walk you took along the Serpentine, accompanied by Lady Aspen, Lord Aspen, Lady Aspen’s sister, and Miss Darcy. She described it as a delightful group outing,” Bingley responded in a tone Darcy found unsettling. It was evident to everyone that Bingley desired Jane Bennet; there was no need for him to be so combative with Richard.

“Is that so? She seemed to enjoy it, group or not. She even expressed interest in accompanying me to the ballet, though I am aware you find it dull.”

Bingley looked surprised. “She said this?” he asked, sounding hurt. How quickly the tables had turned, Darcy thought.

“It is true, is it not? You find the ballet tiresome. You would not attend for anything, not even for the entertainment of the woman you profess to love.”

“I would take Jane to the moon if she so desired,” Bingley retorted. “I would do anything for her. Anything,” he declared, and Darcy wetted his lips, uncertain how to intervene.

“You would do anything for her, but make an offer when it was most prudent,” Richard retorted. “I shall not make such a blunder. She could be your wife now, yet another gentleman, more worthy of her affections, has come into the picture.”

Bingley moved around the billiards table, and Darcy feared a physical confrontation was imminent. He quickly positioned himself between the two gentlemen.

“Pray, let us not escalate this. We cannot afford to be thrown out of White’s for fighting before I am even seated in the House of Lords. That would be a true disaster.”

“All four of us would end up in the scandal sheets, even those of us not directly involved in this dispute,” Phillip interjected, helping Darcy to defuse the situation. “Moreover,” Phillip continued, “I doubt Miss Bennet was the one who mentioned your dislike of the theatre. I distinctly recall you saying it yourself only last week, in front of Miss Darcy and Lord Aspen. Your sister Caroline was attempting to persuade you to take her.”

Bingley blinked. “Indeed, I did say that,” he admitted. Then, looking at Richard, he asked, “Was it Miss Darcy who repeated it to Lady Aspen? Yet you would have me believe it was Jane.”

Richard shrugged. “It was said, I do not recall by whom. In any case, I intend to take her to the ballet.”

“Not if I invite her first,” Bingley replied, and Darcy sighed, while Phillip chuckled.

“This reminds me of our days at Eton, when foolish young gentlemen would fight over the ladies at the finishing school down the road. Darcy, do you remember?”

“Indeed, I do. Now, I must say that this has entirely spoiled my spirits. I am going home.”

“Shall I accompany you?” Phillip offered. “I had thought to visit our grandmother after this, if you would like to come.”

“No, I believe I require rest more than anything. But I thank you.”

With that, Darcy took his leave. He bid his uncle goodnight and stepped out into the London streets. He had intended to spend the rest of the evening with his friends, but the argument between Bingley and Richard, along with his uncle’s unsettling news about his aunt, had left him in no mood for company.

Pulling his greatcoat tighter as the wind nipped at his skin, he turned right, intending to take a shortcut through an alleyway.

The wind whipped between the houses, and he soon realised that the alley he had chosen was rather dark. He hesitated, considering whether to retrace his steps and take a more well-lit route, when suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. He turned just as a shadowy figure lunged towards him, the glint of a blade catching the dim light.

Darcy instinctively raised his arm to ward off the attacker, but before he could fully react, another figure appeared. Richard, who had evidently followed him out, sprang forward and engaged the assailant. A brief but intense struggle ensued, with Darcy joining in to assist his cousin. Together, they managed to disarm the man, who dropped his knife before fleeing into the night.

Breathing heavily, Darcy looked down at the weapon, the realisation of what had nearly happened settling over him. He was shaken, though he endeavoured to conceal it.

“You are unharmed, I trust?” Richard asked, his voice steady but concerned.

“Yes,” Darcy replied, though his voice wavered slightly. “Thanks to you.”

Richard retrieved the discarded knife and examined it. “It seems I interrupted a robbery, though it is strange the man fled without further resistance.”

Darcy nodded, still trying to steady his nerves.

“Perhaps, as a peer, you might take up the matter of crime in the city,” Richard suggested lightly, though there was an edge to his tone.

“It is certainly something to consider,” Darcy replied, his thoughts already beginning to turn over the implications of the attack.

They walked in silence back to Darcy’s residence, each lost in their own thoughts. Darcy could not shake the feeling that there was more to this than mere robbery, though he had no proof. For now, he would take his cousin’s advice and consider what action he might take. But the unsettling notion that someone had intended him harm lingered in his mind.