Darcy did not go to bed the night of his aunt’s visit. He did not consider having shared Elizabeth’s bed as actually sleeping, particularly since those emotionally exhausting hours were mostly spent in earnest, yet painful conversation, and in reassuring her of his steadfastness, his devotion, and his ardent love. It was not a night he ever wished to repeat.
It was but a matter of moments after Georgiana had left them that Darcy’s deepest fears had been realized. It had mattered not to Elizabeth that she had already given herself to him completely—that she had become his wife, both in heart and in body, if not yet in the eyes of God—for her sweet, unsteady voice had uttered the words he had dreaded to hear above any others: “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I am afraid I can no longer agree to be your wife. I hereby release you from our engagement.”
Hearing her refer to him in so stiff and formal a manner made him feel as though a knife had been driven into his heart. It had taken Darcy nearly half the night to convince Elizabeth to reconsider taking such a rash measure, and now, as he looked back upon those wretched hours, he was not the least bit ashamed to admit he had done everything within his power to hold on to her. He could no more have stopped the tears that had threatened to fall from his eyes than he could have prevented himself from dropping to his knees as he begged her, his voice quivering with raw emotion, not to leave him. He told her of the emptiness in his life before he had met her, of how her liveliness and intelligence had brought such joy and fulfillment to his mundane existence. He told her of how the tediousness of his responsibilities and position in society would become, once more, a punishment for him if he could not gaze into her eyes every day and hold her in his arms every night. He could not bear the thought of living without her, for a life without her would be no life for him at all.
It was not until the clock had struck half past four in the early hours of the morning that Elizabeth had finally accepted another proposal from him—My third one, Darcy had thought with some irony—and finally, through glistening eyes, she had proclaimed, and with a passion to rival his own, what Darcy had been praying all night long to hear—that she could no more bear the thought of living without him than he could bear contemplating a life without her.
They had not made love—both were far too emotionally and physically drained for that—but, by unspoken agreement, Darcy had stayed with her, cradling Elizabeth in his arms and caressing her hair long after she had finally succumbed to sleep. When he had finally forced himself to leave the comfortable warmth of her bed, it was only to be discovered in a most untenable position by Mr. Bennet.
By the time a rather displeased, but resigned, Mr. Bennet had left Darcy alone in his study, the sun had already begun to show over the horizon. Given it was now morning, Darcy had chosen to remain there, deep in reflection and tormenting himself with what Elizabeth had been prepared to do to spare him further censure from people whose opinions he cared nothing for in the first place. It matters not in any case, for she must marry me now that her father has discovered the extent of our intimacy. Darcy stifled a yawn and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of his chair. It was then that Lord and Lady Matlock were shown into his study—at far too early an hour for polite visitation—to find him far from being at his best.
“Goodness, Nephew,” cried Lady Matlock as she took in Darcy’s haggard appearance. “You look absolutely wretched. Did you not get any sleep at all?”
Darcy rose to his feet and raked his hand through his hair. “Forgive my appearance, Aunt Rebecca. I fear your visit this morning has taken me by surprise.”
She gave him an appraising look and raised her brow. He was not wearing his tailcoat, waistcoat, or cravat. “That is apparent, Fitzwilliam.”
Lord Matlock spoke in his usual gruff manner. “Well, I certainly hope your young lady is faring better than you look, Nephew.”
Darcy averted his eyes. “I have yet to see Elizabeth this morning.”
The earl raised his brows. “Hmm. Interesting… interesting. By the look of you, I would be willing to wager a great deal that you have.”
Darcy’s head snapped up; his lips tightly pursed.
“Henry, that is enough,” Lady Matlock admonished. “We did not come here to make further accusations. We came to offer our support.”
Darcy stared at her. “You did?”
Lord Matlock grumbled. “Yes, well, I suppose your aunt is correct. We did not come to upset you, Darcy. I imagine Catherine has already done that job admirably. No, no, we came to show our support for you and your Elizabeth. Fine girl, if I do say so myself. Beautiful features, excellent mind, and a tongue as sharp as a double-edged blade! Ha-ha! I daresay you could not expect to do better if you were to court every eligible lady in the first circles of society!”
Darcy raised his chin. “I have no intention of looking elsewhere, Uncle. There is no other woman who could ever make me happy. I am to take Elizabeth as my wife by the end of the week and not a day later. We have yet to finalize all the arrangements, but I hope very much you will both attend.”
Lady Matlock smiled and moved to embrace him, placing a kiss upon his unshaven cheek. “Of course, we will be there, Fitzwilliam. We are very pleased for you, dear. I enjoyed Elizabeth’s company immensely, as did Richard. She shall make an excellent addition to our family. I should like to see her now, if I may. Which room have you given her?” Darcy told her and, before he could move to accompany her, she had quit the room, leaving him very much alone with his uncle.
“Well, Darcy, I know it is early still, but I would like to partake in some brandy. Catherine always manages to have that effect on me. Even as a girl, she drove me to my wits’ end. Meddlesome woman,” he muttered. Darcy accommodated him, pouring a glass for himself, as well, though it was not generally his habit to imbibe so early in the day. They settled into silence, nursing their drinks.
At length, the earl fixed him with a serious look. “I would speak to you, Nephew. Keep in mind now, it is not my intention to judge you. But, ah, well… Catherine has thrown out some mighty offensive accusations regarding your engagement, some of them downright vulgar—foremost, the circumstances surrounding your interest in Miss Bennet.”
Darcy opened his mouth to object, but the earl held up a hand and continued. “Save your breath, Nephew. You forget I have already seen you together. I know a love match when I see it. I had one myself with Rebecca and still do to this very day.” Here, Lord Matlock gave Darcy a significant look. “And I am not such an old man not to remember how it once felt to be a young one. My Rebecca was always a stunning woman, as is your Elizabeth. From the moment we laid eyes on each other, I wanted nothing more than to make her my wife in every sense of the word. We loved one another with a passion that consumed us, so much so that, eventually, it did not much signify to us how the means were achieved—or when.” Darcy quirked his brow at such an implication, and the earl cleared his throat. “However, much like your aunt, Elizabeth seems to be too much of a gentlewoman to have initiated… ah, well… let us just say I believe my sister is entirely in the wrong as far as your wife is concerned. You, Darcy, are another matter entirely.”
Darcy bristled and demanded, “Am I? How?”
Lord Matlock chuckled. “For starters, the way you look at her. The way you touch her—yes, Darcy, I have seen you caress her hand, her arm, the small of her back. I have seen you innocently pretend to brush against her—repeatedly, I might add. You were in full company, and you fooled no one, including your aunt, and Elizabeth handled it all with grace and dignity, as a well-bred wife who has a true affection for her husband would.” He gave Darcy another pointed look. “I say wife, Nephew, because I suspect you have already taken her as your own. Am I wrong to think it?”
Darcy stood and walked to the window. He placed his forearm against the casement, his other hand on his hip, and expelled a deep breath. Several minutes ticked by in silence before he admitted “It is true.” A moment later, however, he spun around and added, “And do not dare to call her my mistress!”
The earl considered his words with a grim countenance. “Has someone aside from your Aunt Catherine referred to her as such?”
Darcy turned away and said tightly, “Elizabeth’s father, after he discovered me leaving her room just before dawn this morning.”
Lord Matlock pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. “That could not have gone well for either of you.”
Darcy laughed ruefully. “Believe me, it went far better than it would have with any other lady’s father. Elizabeth has always been his particular favorite, and Mr. Bennet is a reasonable and, I daresay, extremely forgiving man, even under such circumstances. His daughter’s happiness is his foremost concern. In short, he has not called me out nor demanded satisfaction in any way other than to ascertain that I hold Elizabeth in the highest regard and will restrain myself from any further contact with her until after we exchange our vows on Saturday. She has yet to learn of his knowledge of our situation. I would, of course, prefer she does not.”
The earl nodded and asked, “And he is the only one you know of who has discovered this facet of your relationship, aside from Catherine and her parson?”
“I… after Lady Catherine left last night I went to Elizabeth in her room. Georgiana was with her. I confess myself to have been so furious with my aunt and so concerned for what Elizabeth was suffering, I gave very little thought to propriety. I soon became so caught up in offering my comfort to Elizabeth, I had completely forgotten Georgiana was present, witnessing my attentions. Though nothing scandalous took place between Elizabeth and me in her presence, per se, I believe she now suspects something of the truth. At one point”—and here Darcy hesitated, his voice becoming hoarse—“at one point Elizabeth withdrew from me. She had such a look of sorrow and hopelessness in her eyes. I was terrified she was going to break our engagement. I could not… I could not think, for the fear that gripped me. I demanded Georgiana leave us, which she reluctantly did, but only after I had lost my temper.” He walked a few paces and slammed his fist against the wall. “Would to God that I had been more careful!”
Lord Matlock rose and went to Darcy, placing his hand upon his shoulder. “Darcy, what has been done is done. Unfortunately, you must now deal with the repercussions of your actions. Like I said, your aunt and I can be counted on to welcome Elizabeth into society, as can your cousins. Should any rumors get out, we will do all in our power to quell them. Once they have the pleasure of meeting your Elizabeth, I very much doubt many members of our circle will believe any of it anyway. It shall be dismissed as malicious gossip and die a quick death. Any reverberation will not be of a long duration, and neither of you will have to bear this alone, my boy. Therefore, do not worry yourself over it any further. All will be well.” Lord Matlock embraced him, clapping him upon the back.
Darcy returned the gesture with no little emotion. “Thank you, Uncle.”
Lady Matlock knocked upon the door to Elizabeth’s rooms and waited. “Elizabeth?” she called. “It is Lady Matlock. I would very much like to speak with you, my dear.”
The door opened, and Elizabeth appeared. Though she was dressed far more appropriately to receive visitors than Darcy had been, she happened to have the same worn, defeated look about her Darcy had exhibited when his aunt had first seen him earlier. It pained Lady Matlock no less to see it on Elizabeth’s lovely features than it had to see it upon the face of her nephew. She smiled kindly and stepped into the room. “Well, my dear, I believe you have had a rather trying night, have you not?”
Elizabeth managed a weak smile and averted her eyes. “Will you not sit down, your ladyship?” she asked as she indicated a small sofa and several chairs in the sitting room.
Lady Matlock took a seat upon the sofa and indicated that Elizabeth should join her. Taking her hands in her own, she said, “It would please me very much if you would call me Aunt, Elizabeth, especially since I have just spoken with my nephew regarding your marriage. From what I understand, you are to become my niece sooner than we expected.”
Elizabeth blushed and bowed her head.
Lady Matlock gave her hands a squeeze. “I know my saying so can be of little consolation after what has so recently occurred, but Lady Catherine can hardly lay claim to a reputation for affability and warmth. It was her dearest wish that Fitzwilliam marry her daughter, Anne, though, I must say it was by no means his wish any more than it was Anne’s. Elizabeth, you must understand, my nephew could have chosen the most affluent, well-connected young lady in all of England to be his bride, and still, my sister-in-law would have found some unfounded reason to berate his choice for the simple reason it was not hers. You must not dwell on what was said last night, my dear, for it matters not to Lord Matlock and me what has occurred privately between you and my nephew, so long as you have found love and joy with each other. To those of us who truly care for your happiness, nothing else can be of any significance.”
Elizabeth was too stunned to speak.
Lady Matlock smiled as she added, “I must say, I am almost relieved Catherine did not approve of you, for if she had, I would have been forced to question Fitzwilliam’s soundness of mind. You see, he and my sister-in-law have never shared the same tastes, the same opinions, or the same ideals. Yes, I am, indeed, delighted to be gaining such a lovely niece! And your marriage cannot come too soon for our family, I am afraid.”
Elizabeth’s expression showed her puzzlement, but Lady Matlock only continued to smile as she explained, “Thus far, Georgiana and Anne have been our only girls. I believe they found their childhood rather trying at times due to the exuberance of their male cousins and their overactive imaginations. To be always teased by such spirited young men can be an experience, to say the least.”
Elizabeth imagined Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam as boys and smiled. Lady Matlock continued, “Both young ladies were rather shy, so I daresay they found themselves easy targets for mischief. It was all in good fun, mind you, and Fitzwilliam, excellent brother that he was, never allowed their pranks to get out of hand. He was always attuned to Georgiana’s feelings. I am convinced someday he will make an exceptional father, as well.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, “I have often thought so.”
“Lord Matlock and I have three sons, you know. My eldest, and my husband’s heir, is Harold. He is currently at our estate in the country, seeing to some affairs but will soon join us for Christmas. You met Richard the other day, and my youngest, Ethan, is in his final year at Cambridge. He is to take orders soon and will also join us at the end of the week.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I confess I am quite envious. I have no brothers, only four sisters.”
“Oh! Better and better,” exclaimed Lady Matlock with genuine enthusiasm. “I can hardly wait to see Richard’s face when he finally finds himself outnumbered and, I daresay, outwitted by so many ladies! But you did mention your sisters the other day, did you not?”
“Yes, I did. We are all as different as night and day. Though we certainly have engaged in our own share of teasing and mischief—and still do when the moment strikes us—we do happen to love one another dearly.”
“Of course you do, my dear. I believe they are all here now, are they not?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, my elder sister, Jane, informed me this morning they were not going out and could all be found in one of the drawing rooms with my mother.”
“Then I should like it very much if you would introduce us, Elizabeth. Let us go down now and join them. Perhaps you can ring for tea?” She rose and offered Elizabeth her arm.
Elizabeth felt a tingle of trepidation as she linked her arm with that of Darcy’s aunt. “As you wish… Aunt, but I must caution you. Several of my sisters are young still, and their manners in company can be a bit wanting, particularly when in the presence of a handsome young man in a red coat.” She smiled meaningfully. “You may wish to keep Colonel Fitzwilliam’s profession a secret; otherwise, he may never have any peace so long as Kitty and Lydia remain in Town.”
Lady Matlock laughed. “Excellent! I daresay Richard would deserve it, too! Oh, no, my dear. We must leave your younger sisters in no doubt of his noble profession. It is about time my most troublesome son receives his just desserts for teasing poor Georgiana and Anne so mercilessly all these years!”
When Lord Matlock and Darcy, who was now refreshed, shaved, and presentably attired, went in search of the ladies an hour or so later, they found them all ensconced in the music room. It was a sight Darcy would not soon forget. Georgiana sat at the pianoforte as she chatted with Kitty and Lydia, her serious expression from the previous night now replaced by a happy smile as she played a lively duet with Mary, who also seemed to be enjoying herself. Elizabeth, whose disposition could only have been described as wretched before he had parted from her not five hours earlier, was now smiling and laughing with Jane. Jane was seated next to his aunt, who appeared to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in her conversation with Mrs. Bennet. He was astounded, to say the least.
He turned toward his uncle and, leaning in so he would not be overheard by any of the ladies, inquired, “Exactly how much brandy did I consume this morning, Uncle?”
Lord Matlock looked at him for a moment before clapping him on the back and erupting into hearty laughter.
Darcy grinned. Yes, perhaps all will yet be well.
Mr. Bennet entered the room then, carrying a long, slender package, and made his way over to Darcy with great enthusiasm. “Ah, Darcy! Just the man I have been looking for,” he said with a wide smile. “I have just this morning acquired an excellent new hunting rifle. Come and have a look. I daresay the craftsmanship is superior to many in Mr. Bingley’s collection, and the gunsmith has assured me that the accuracy is unparalleled.”
Darcy’s smile was rapidly replaced by a look of undisguised panic.